Earthfall (Homecoming)

by Orson Scott Card

  He held his tongue.

  She had them bring him along into the human village, where now Elemak and Protchnu stood, with all the other humans gathered behind them.

 

  Shedemei spoke to Elemak. “Tell Mebbekew to come out in the open and join you where you stand, Elya, or I’ll have to make an example of him and it won’t be nice.”

  Elemak laughed. “So, underneath our shy and quiet Shedemei there was a queen waiting to emerge. All it took was a little bit of power, and here you are, lord of all.”

  In the meantime, Mebbekew had slunk out from behind one of the houses and now stood behind Elemak. “Nafai took our women,” Mebbekew complained.

  “I’m sure that if you ask him, Protchnu will teach you how to ease your deprivation,” Shedemei said. Protchnu glowered. So did Mebbekew, when he got it.

  “I see you’ve already seized control of the diggers,” said Elemak, gesturing toward the captive Fusum.

  “On the contrary,” said Shedemei. “I’ve seized control of nothing. I have merely accused this man, Fusum, of murdering his friend Nen.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Fusum said.

  “He clubbed him down when he knew a panther was stalking them,” said Shedemei. “Only when he knew that Nen was dead did he lunge forward and kill the panther.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” asked Elemak.

  “Are you not the one that has been chosen to unite humans and diggers into one people?” asked Shedemei. “Are you not the one who will found the nation of the Elemaki?”

  Elemak chuckled. “Oh, of course,” he said. “Of course the starmaster has always wanted me to rule.”

  “The starmaster intends to take this starship into space on the day the launch returns with my husband inside it.”

  “And when will that happy day come?”

  “When the great nation of the Nafari is safe.”

  “As long as I’m alive, there will never be such a day,” said Elemak.

  Oh, yes, Nafai almost certainly would have had to kill him. “Safe enough,” she said. “Because you know and I know that you will only be able to lead your soldiers against their redoubt so many times before the people will cease to follow you. You’re a born leader, Elemak. You’ll know how far you can push and goad and persuade. And it won’t be far enough. Nafai and his people will be safe.”

  “How many days?” Elemak said. He understood the bargain.

  “I think it will take you at least eight days to examine the crimes of this traitor. You’ll have to find witnesses among his soldiers who will publicly confess about all the others who were murdered after Emeezem died. Justice takes time.”

  “Eight days.”

  “Or until the launch comes back. You’ll also be busy moving your village so nobody gets killed when the ship takes off.”

  “I can see my work is cut out for me.”

  Protchnu was furious. “You aren’t going to accept this corrupt bargain, are you, Father? That snake took half your family, half my family—”

  Shedemei interrupted him. “Everyone who went with Nafai went of their own free will.”

  “And we’re supposed to believe that?” said Protchnu. “Maybe Father will agree to your bargain in exchange for power over these—” he indicated the diggers with disdain “—but I will track them and hunt them down and my spear will take Nafai’s heart out of his body!”

  “And your mother’s, too?” said Shedemei. “Because the only way she’ll ever come back to Elemak is if she’s dead.”

  “She’s already dead!” screamed Protchnu. “She has no soul!”

  “You have to forgive the boy,” said Elemak. “He’s distraught.”

  “He just doesn’t understand what he’s dealing with,” said Shedemei. She reached out a hand toward Protchnu.

  “No!” cried Elemak. But the air was already sparking with power, and Protchnu bounced into the air, his limbs cavorting madly. Then he fell to the ground, still twitching, and he whimpered, long high sighs that trembled as they faded. “You are really a bitch after all,” whispered Elemak.

  “I think it’s useful for everyone to see that the Keeper of Earth does not leave her servants without power,” said Shedemei. “Now let everyone see how Elemak does justice. Call your witnesses, confer with the leaders of the digger people, and when in eight days or so you reach your judgment, all of us will see whether you are fit to be named the war king of the Elemaki. If the voice of the diggers and the voice of the humans are united in calling for you to lead them, then I will make you war king, and you will lead this people with authority.”

  Elemak smiled at her, since of course he knew full well that she was trading the freedom of these diggers for the safety of the Nafari. He bent down and helped his son rise, shaking, to his feet.

  “Remember, though,” said Shedemei. “I said war king. There will be no more blood king among the people. Do you all hear me?”

  They heard.

  “This one has defiled the office so that it can never be held worthily again. From now on it is forbidden to eat the flesh of angel or human. Any man who eats that forbidden flesh will be as guilty as if he ate the flesh of his own child. That is now the law of all people, through all the world! And you will enforce it over all the diggers of every land!”

  “Thanks for the assignment,” said Elemak softly.

  “I think you’ll come to see the wisdom of teaching them not to think of humans as a snack,” said Shedemei, just as quietly. “If they can eat your enemies, Elya, how long before they decide that you are also a comestible?”

  “I got the point already,” said Elemak. “Now are you done?”

  “No diggers following the Nafari,” said Shedemei.

  “Do you think we won’t be able to follow the trail?” asked Elemak.

  “No assassins on the road,” she said.

  “I know the bargain,” said Elemak. “I know that I’ve been humiliated again, and this time Nafai took my wife and half my family, and you struck down my son. But I can live with that, because you’ve given me a nation. A nation of ugly rodents who live in dirt, but I’ve dealt with worse in caravans on Harmony, even though they walked in human shape. I will stand over Nafai’s body someday, Shedemei, regardless of what you think. But if it makes you feel better, I won’t eat him. And I won’t let anybody else eat him, either. Except perhaps the crows and vultures.”

  “I’m glad to see that you’re filled with the spirit of conciliation.”

  He smiled at her. Then he stepped away from her and spoke to the diggers who held Fusum. “Take the prisoner into my house. And then start bringing me those who think they know of crimes this man has done.” He looked again at Shedemei. “That should take up the first day, I imagine.”

  Shedemei turned from him to Protchnu, whose cheeks were stained with tears. “You shouldn’t have done that to me,” he whispered. “That was wrong.”

  “You were such a promising boy,” she answered kindly. “Of all the tragedies this lifelong war between brothers has caused, you are the saddest one of all.”

  He went livid. “I’ll kill him, Shedya. I’ll kill them all. Every one of them.”

  “What you’re saying, then, is that you’re sure your father’s going to fail?”

  “I meant that I’d kill any he left behind.”

  “You know the truth, Protchnu. Stop worrying about vengeance and learn how to be a leader. These people need a king far more than your father needs to be justified. All he’s ever done, he did for power. Now he’s got it. You’ll see. He’ll go through the motions of war, but he’ll lose because his hunger has been satisfied.”

  “You don’t know Father,” said Protchnu proudly. “And you don’t know me.”

  “Nobody does,” said Shedemei. “So maybe you’ll surprise us all.”

  Eight days later, Zdorab returned to the ship in the launch. He arrived in time to watch as Fusum was executed for his crimes, hi
s throat cut by one of his own soldiers. His body was then hung from the limb of a tree, so that no part of it was touching the sacred earth. Shedemei, her skin aglow, stepped forward then and went through the ritual of naming Elemak to be war king. The people hailed him and cheered him, then watched in silence as Shedemei and Zdorab flew upward in the launch until they entered the tower through the high wide bay where the launch was kept.

  The door closed behind them, and Elemak set out at once with two hundred soldiers, leaving Muzhestvo—Mebbekew’s youngest, now a man of twenty-three—to rule the people in his absence. Elemak’s army was halfway up the canyon when the starship roared to life and rose into the sky.

  It became another point of light in the night heaven, circling and circling, now and then changing its position. It was called Basilica, but in time almost no one remembered why, or what it was, or that it had once been a tower standing by the first human village on Earth in forty million years.

  Elemak’s army tracked the wide path of the Nafari migration, but when they reached the stony cliff that barred the southern passage into the wide high valley of the land of Nafai, angels assaulted them from the air, shooting darts into their exposed backs. Twenty diggers died in that place, and forty more were injured. They struggled back home, and Elemak taught them to make armor so that next year they could try again.

  And so it went, year after year. But between the futile wars, both nations prospered and grew, and both sent out traders and teachers to spread the new agriculture and the new modes of warfare and the new myths and legends and religions to every other digger city and angel village.

  Generations passed, and the humans became hundreds, then thousands, then tens of thousands, and there was not a digger city that didn’t have its human houses overhead, not an angel village that didn’t have humans joining in the evening song. The term that became common for humans in both societies was middle people, because they stood between the angels in the sky and the diggers in the earth.

  In the sky, the starship circled and circled, but it was full of life. Shedemei and Zdorab slept long and often, but then they would emerge and use the launch to explore, to gather specimens, to introduce new variations, to give shape and strength and variety to the gardens of the Earth. In time, Zdorab’s body wore out, and Shedemei laid him to rest in a field of flowers she had brought from Harmony. Then, alone, she woke less often. But still from time to time she visited, she gathered, she tended, and silently she watched as the people spread across the face of the land, always cleverer each time she saw them, yet also angrier, and always at war.

  What else could happen? The human race was home again.

  Tor Books by Orson Scott Card

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  Acknowledgments

  For their help in the creation of this book, I am grateful to: Erin Absher, for keeping things going when the Card house was in permanent crisis, so that I could go off and write down these made-up stories;

  Geoffrey Card, for the holes in the trees leading to the tunnels underground;

  Mike Lewis and Dennis Child for the landforms and terrain 40 million years from now;

  Clark and Kathy Kidd, for your dining room table, the trip to the beach with a broken leg, and putting up with 48 nights of dinner conversation;

  Those who attended my thousand-ideas session at the BYU science fiction symposium where together we developed the original idea of the symbiotic cultures of the diggers and the angels;

  Kristine and Kathy, for reading and responding to the pages as they spewed from the fax machine; and Geoff, for wanting to see what happened next;

  The citizens of Hatrack River, my virtual neighborhood on America Online, for their critiques and comments on earlier volumes and on each chapter of this book as I completed it;

  Scott Allen, for reinstalling every major piece of software on five computers about six times each;

  Kathleen Bellamy, for proofreading The Ships of Earth right before I started writing this book, so she could remind me of all the questions that remained unanswered;

  And above all to Kristine and the kids (Geoffrey, Emily, Charlie, and our newcomer, Zina), for making my life worth living and my work worth doing.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  EARTHFALL

  Copyright © 1995 by Orson Scott Card

  All rights reserved.

  A Tor Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

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  Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

  ISBN: 978-1-4299-6604-7