The Broken Sphere

by Nigel Findley

  With an effort, he forced the thoughts away. The trilaterals’ argument of thoughts had ended, and one of the creatures – not the first one he’d “spoken” to, though Teldin didn’t know what made him quite so sure of that – was approaching him again.

  Teldin stepped forward to meet it. “I am Teldin Moore,” he said.

  Greetings [curiosity], Cloakmaster, the trilateral “said.” Apparently the cloak had been unable to translate his name, Teldin realized. Interesting how it chose to identify him instead …. This one [pride] Speaks First, of the People. Incomplete person [acceptance] not of the People, not of the World of the People, but [curiosity] of elsewhere. True [anticipation]?

  Teldin paused. This trilateral’s mental “voice” was slower, more deliberate, and considerably clearer and easier to understand than the first one. Yet he still had to struggle to make sense of what it was trying to communicate. “Speaks First” seemed to be the creature’s name – an indication that it was some kind of a leader among “the People,” maybe? – and it seemed to view Teldin somewhat differently from the first individual: as an “incomplete person” rather than as an “incomplete animal.” Considering that the Cloakmaster only had four limbs instead of six, he could understand the “incomplete” part. Did the transition from “animal” to “person” mean that Speaks First was willing to consider him an equal?

  “Greetings, Speaks First,” Teldin said. “You’re right, we’re not of the People” – he pointed, one at a time, to the three trilaterals – “or of the World of the People” – he indicated the ground under his feet. “We came here from beyond the suns. And that seemed to scare the first of your group to talk with us. Why was that?”

  Looks Around lives the Legends too much [amusement]. No immediate understanding, then fear [condescension].

  Teldin nodded slowly. He’d met two-legged people like that: anything they didn’t understand at once was an object of fear. Yet there was more to it than that, wasn’t it? All that babbling about the “ancient time” and “the Others” …

  The creature edged forward. Although it moved slowly, Teldin didn’t get the sense that it did so out of fear – more that it didn’t want to frighten him with a precipitous approach. When it was less than a man’s height away, it stopped. May this one [fascination] touch? it asked.

  For a moment, Teldin considered refusing. This thing was just so alien – more so, he found, than even the beholder Beth-Abz. But he steeled himself and nodded.

  It took him a few seconds to realize the creature wouldn’t know how to interpret his gestures. But before he could express his agreement in words, the trilateral had started to reach toward him with one of its twice-trifurcated tentacles. Apparently the cloak will translate gestures as well, part of his mind noted. I’ll have to remember that ….

  With the delicacy of a lover’s caress, the nine tentacle tips touched his face, traced the lines of his cheekbones and jaw, brushed his nose and lips. The trilateral’s skin was as smooth as a baby’s, slightly cooler than human flesh. It exuded a complex, faint odor, with a slight undertone of musk-sharp, yet by no means distasteful. Teldin closed his eyes and felt feather touches across his eyelids.

  Then the examination was over. The creature backed a step away. Cloakmaster is not incomplete [curiosity-certainty], it stated mentally. Cloakmaster is not [resolution] of the People. Cloakmaster is not [doubt-decision) of the Others.

  “What are the Others?” Teldin demanded.

  Legends tell, Speaks First answered slowly. Legends [reverence] tell of Others, tell of place of People [certainty] in life. Legends [perplexity] for People only [doubt] … yet though Cloakmaster not of People [indecision] Cloakmaster speaks with People …. The creature’s mental voice fell silent for a moment. Then, Cloakmaster [decision] not-People [resolution], it stated firmly, yet Legends for Cloakmaster also. Cloakmaster to Place of People [certainty] will come. As though that had totally settled matters, Speaks First strode off to join its fellows.

  “Wait,” Teldin called after it. “What about my friends?”

  The trilateral paused. With five tentacle tips it indicated Djan, Julia, and the others. Other not-People [hesitation] speak with People? it queried.

  Teldin shook his head. “No,” he said unwillingly. Speaks First rubbed its tentacle tips together with a hissing sound. Legends [decision-determination] not for not-People not-Cloakmaster, it stated firmly. Cloakmaster alone [certainty] come.

  And that seemed to be that.

  Chapter Eight

  As he’d expected, Teldin was hard pressed to match the pace the three People were setting through the forest. All three of the creatures were walking in front of him, “chattering” back and forth among themselves – probably thinking the “not-People” couldn’t overhear their conversation. The Cloakmaster smiled wryly. With the cloak’s help, he could decipher their crosstalk … if he wanted to. But he’d quickly decided the creatures didn’t have much to “say” that wasn’t banal-comments about the position of the mini-suns, the way the foliage was growing, and such things – and had soon “tuned out” their conversation until it became nothing more than a background mental hum.

  Even though they didn’t discuss him – presumably out of some sense of politeness – Teldin knew he still fascinated the creatures. When they didn’t think he was paying attention, all three of them oriented themselves so that one of their three eyes was fixed directly on him. As soon as they saw his own eyes on them, however, without breaking stride they pivoted slightly – a matter of sixty degrees or so – so they weren’t staring right at him. Each time he noticed this shift, he chuckled slightly to himself.

  It’s fascinating, he told himself. I have no fear of these creatures. Why is that?

  When Speaks First had made it clear that the invitation to the “Place of People” was for Teldin alone, the Cloakmaster had passed the message on to Julia and Djan. Predictably. both first and second mate had tried to talk him out of going alone with the trilateral – Julia even going so far as to call him an overtrusting, rock-headed idiot. But he’d been adamant, eventually “pulling rank” on the two of them, ordering them – as captain – to wait for his return. He shook his head. Maybe that hadn’t been such a swift move, particularly in Julia’s case. Odds were, she’d make him pay later, one way or another.

  The path the creatures were following was smooth and free of obstacles, an easy walk. That allowed Teldin to let his concentration wander from the ground at his feet to the grass-trees that towered around him. At first he’d thought the foliage and underbrush were empty of life. Once he’d figured out what to look for, and where, however, he was amazed by the profusion of creatures surrounding him.

  To his fascination, there wasn’t a single specimen that even vaguely resembled a creature with which he was familiar. Certainly, it was easy to pick out the niche each creature filled, or the function it fulfilled in the forest, but the details were decidedly alien.

  Take the “birds,” for example. They perched on the branches of the grass-trees, feeding on the leaves or on bright purple berries, delicately picking the fruit with one delicate, three-clawed foot while clinging to their perch with the other two, and consuming it with a mouth mounted on their undersides. When they flew from perch to perch, they did so, not by flapping their three wings – covered with short, wiry hair, he noticed, not feathers – but by whirling them around their bodies in complex, interwoven patterns. Althrough they looked like small, swirling bundles of chaos, he couldn’t help but notice the precision with which they avoided obstacles and landed on the slender branches.

  Is everything trilaterally symmetrical here? he asked himself. If so – and that was certainly how it appeared – the fact that the People matched Estriss’s vague description of the Juna didn’t necessarily mean much after all. There could well have been two intelligent races on Nex – the Juna and the People. In that case, the “Others” that Speaks First mentioned might be the Juna themselves.

 
But how likely was it that a race sharing a planet with the advanced Juna would remain at this relatively primitive level? He mused on that for a while. On Ansalon, there were more “primitive” races. But either the humans had “civilized” them to some degree, or – in the case of some of the humanoids – the other races had borrowed or stolen components of human civilization. No, he thought, it didn’t seem likely that advanced and primitive races could coexist without some kind of “cultural diffusion” between the two.

  So maybe the People arose after the Juna had left. That made a little more sense, didn’t it? When the Juna were present, the race that would become the People wasn’t intelligent. Perhaps they bore the same relationship to the Juna that apes bore to humankind. When the Star Folk moved on – or died out, or whatever – the People continued to evolve, increasing in intelligence and sophistication over the passing millennia. Maybe magic and other artifacts left behind by the Juna had helped this new race up the evolutionary ladder. In a way, then, if that were true, didn’t it make the People the heirs of the Juna? It was an interesting thought. He found himself staring at his three guides with ever deeper fascination.

  The trek through the forest lasted no more than a quarter hour. The path they followed led across the slope of the terrain, angling only slightly downward while the hills above and below the path itself were inclined at almost forty-five degrees. Eventually the path opened into a clearing only slightly smaller than the meadow where the Boundless had landed. As the three People continued into the open space, Teldin paused on the margin.

  There were more of the People in the clearing – almost twenty of them. Most were roughly the same size as Speaks First and its two companions, but he spotted four that were considerably smaller. Children, he guessed. This had to be a family group, then, or perhaps a tribe or clan. For a few moments the other People seemed unaware of Teldin’s presence. Then one of them stopped stock still, a bright gold eye staring directly at the Cloakmaster. In his mind he “heard” a mental cry of warning or alarm – the cloak didn’t bother to translate the exact meaning, but its significance was clear enough – and then all of the other People were frozen motionless, too, staring at him. They’re examining the “incomplete animal,” he thought with a wry smile; having seen the birds and other examples of three-legged Nex native life, the phrase made a lot more sense now.

  The stunned immobility lasted only a few moments. Teldin could “hear” Speaks First’s explanation that the “not-People not-Other” was a guest. As he’d figured from the outset, Speaks First had to be the equivalent of a clan leader.

  Cloakmaster come [pride] be seen by People. Speaks First’s mental voice rang clearly in Teldin’s head. The trilateral creature made a beckoning gesture with a twice-trifurcated tentacle.

  Slowly, Teldin advanced into the clearing, hands open to show he was unarmed. “I mean you no harm,” he said as calmly as he could manage, hoping the cloak would inject a reassuring note into the mental message it was broadcasting. The smaller, immature People dashed into the shelter of full-sized adults as he emerged from the forest. The adults themselves, however, exhibited no obvious signs of fear. More fascination than anything, he told himself. Several of the trilaterals were showing the same behavior as Looks Around, rotating about their axes to examine him with one eye after another.

  As Teldin approached, Speaks First indicated one of the trilaterals standing nearby. This one [reverence] Message Bearer, the creature’s mental voice stated. Message Bearer [respect-honor] memory of People, tell Cloakmaster of past [awe] of Others.

  Teldin looked at the one named Message Bearer. Its skin was slightly grayer than that of the others – drier-looking, almost dusty. Its eye, too, appeared slightly different, the Cloakmaster thought, with a duller yellow tinge to it instead of the bright gold luster of the others’. It’s old, he told himself. The aged storyteller? It had to be. “Greetings, Message Bearer,” he said with a slight bow.

  Message Bearer moved closer, stopping a man’s height away. Even at that distance, Teldin could smell the creature’s odor – sharper and somehow more sour than that of Speaks First. The creature’s oddly shaped pupil expanded and contracted, its size changes slower and less precise than those of the younger creatures. This [distaste] not-People, it “said” sharply.

  Teldin took a breath to speak, but Speaks First was already communicating with the older creature. Not-People not-Other [respect] Message Bearer correct. Yet not-animal [awe], yet from beyond suns Cloakmaster comes [certainty]. Cloakmaster has questions. Message Bearer [respect] answer [petition-order], Message Bearer speak [order-petition! of Others.

  The aging trilateral pivoted to examine Teldin with another eye that looked even more faded than the first. For a few seconds it remained mentally silent, and the Cloakmaster thought it was going to refuse. But then, Cloakmaster [resignation] ask, it answered. It widened its stance slightly, apparently taking up a more comfortable position. To Teldin’s surprise, a little squeaking creature – a trilateral analogue of a rat, he guessed – scurried from the edge of the forest carrying a fist-sized yellow-green fruit on its back, steadied by three tiny upper limbs. The creature stopped next to Message Bearer’s foot, waited calmly while the trilateral reached down with a tentacle to take the fruit, then bounded off again to disappear into the undergrowth. Message Bearer reached up underneath its cylindrical body, and the fruit disappeared.

  What did I just see? Teldin asked himself. He had the unshakable feeling that something important had just happened, but that he simply wasn’t grasping the significance. Cloakmaster [impatience] ask, Message Bearer repeated. Teldin took a deep breath and schooled himself to calm. “Tell me about the Others,” he requested. Then, “Please,” he added.

  Message Bearer paused – reflectively, Teldin thought. Others [reverence] gone, it “said” at last. Long ago gone, gone [sadness] forever. Left behind World of the People, left behind Mind of the World.

  “Where did they go when they left?”

  Gone [certainty]. Gone only, nowhere.

  Teldin frowned. “What were the Others like, then?” he asked. “Were they like the People?”

  Like the People, the Others [reverence], yet not like. As People are like not-People animals of World of the People, yet not like. People learn of Others through Mind of the World [reverence-awe]. Long ago gone, the Others [sadness], before People see world and think-together.

  Teldin nodded slowly. If he was interpreting Message Bearer correctly, he could well have been right in his guess that the People had risen to intelligence and what level of civilization they had after – perhaps long after – the Juna’s disappearance.

  “Were the Others always here?” he asked. “Did they evolve here?” He wondered how the cloak would handle the word “evolve.”

  Not [certainty] always here, Others, Message Bearer answered firmly. Others from distant world come, [reverence] from Egg come with all life to World of the People, long before People see world and think-together.

  “The Egg. What is the Egg?”

  Is [surprise] the Egg. Cloakmaster [suspicion-doubt] not know of Egg? All nonanimals must know of Egg ….

  Doubt and emerging distrust were emanating from the trilateral in waves. “Maybe we call it something different,”

  Teldin said hurriedly. “Tell me about the Egg, and I’ll tell you what we call it.”

  Message Bearer seemed to think about that for a few moments. Then its mental voice continued, Egg is [reverence-awe] the Egg. All life came from Egg, [wonder] everything came from Egg. Egg hatched, and [certainty] everything then was.

  “The Broken Sphere …” Teldin murmured under his breath.

  This Broken Sphere [anticipation] Cloakmaster’s name for Egg?

  “Yes,” Teldin answered. “So the Juna – the Others – came from the Broken Sphere?”

  So this one [certainty] has said, Message Bearer confirmed.

  Teldin felt excitement flare in his chest. “And where is the Broke
n Sphere?” he asked breathlessly.

  At the center [certainty-awe] of all things.

  “And where’s that?”

  At the center, is all.

  “Where is the center?”

  [puzzlement] At the center, between the pearl clusters. Beyond the suns.

  Teldin sighed in disappointment. He shouldn’t have expected anything else, he told himself. After all, what did he think Message Bearer was going to do, pull out a star-chart and give him precise coordinates? These were racial myths that the creature was reciting to him, using terms and concepts that the People could understand. He shouldn’t have expected a meaningful answer, and he shouldn’t be disappointed. But he had, and he was.

  “Do you know anything about the Spelljammer!” he asked. “A great ship the size of a world?”

  To his amazement, he felt a wave of comprehension from the trilateral. The Spelljammer [surprise] is what Cloakmaster calls the Wanderer? Message Bearer asked. Memory of the People [reverence] knows the Wanderer [awe].

  “Did the Others build the Spell … the Wanderer?”

  What build [shock]? Message Bearer spun again to scrutinize Teldin with its third eye. No build, [outrage] Wanderer is. Wanderer and Others [reverence] together traveled from hatched Egg. Others to World of the People came, Wanderer [awe] throughout creation traveled then, [certainty] travels now.

  Teldin sighed again. Once more he realized he was listening to myths, which might or might not have any connection to the truth. Even though he knew it was hopeless, he asked, “Do you know where the Wanderer is now?”

  Wanderer is [certainty] where Wanderer is.

  Well, that was predictable, wasn’t it? Teldin thought with a wry grin. “Does the Wanderer ever come here?”

  Beyond the suns [surprise]? Any thing beyond the suns [certainly] driven away, or destroyed. Mind of the World [reverence] makes it so.