I suspected that it might be necessary.
She was only Homesmind’s puppet. She and everyone linked to It were no more than Its eyes, ears, limbs, and organs. It only let them believe their lives were their own until It had need of them.
“You can’t force me to go, Homesmind.”
That is true. I can only ask. But do you feel that you can ever be at peace here until you come to terms with the world where you were born?
“Of course I can,” she replied, wanting to believe it.
Stubborn, child. Homesmind’s words stung. You might be the link through which Home and Earth could be bound together. Earth was your world. Do you owe nothing to the one who gave you to Me? Can you forget those like you who are still put to death on that planet?
She covered her ears, though she could not silence Homesmind that way.
You have seen Reiho’s fear. You will acquire your own fear, which will grow more intense the more you hide from it. I have prepared you for a journey, though you do not realize it. It paused. Now I must show you My discovery. Do you see the bottle on the table there before you?
She looked at the crystal bottle, which stood on a piece of wood resting on thick stems. “Of course.”
I have opened a channel in your link. Concentrate on that bottle. Lift it with your mind without grasping it with your hands.
Lydee almost laughed. “But that’s impossible.”
Try.
Etey fidgeted; Reiho seemed puzzled. Lydee gazed at the bottle. An invisible tendril seemed to flow from her; the bottle suddenly raised itself. She cried out. It hovered over the table, then fell to the ground, rolling toward her.
Etey’s eyes were wide. Reiho was staring at the bottle. Lydee was afraid even to think, fearing what might happen next.
I’ve closed the channel now, Homesmind said. Your mind is as it was.
“How did that happen?” Etey asked; her voice was shrill. “It isn’t possible.”
Reiho shook his head. “I can guess. Homesmind has somehow channeled power from Earth’s Mindcores to Lydee.” He paused. “But Lydee has no powers. She shouldn’t be able to draw on the power of those Minds.”
I have found a way. In every human mind, there is such ability. In some, it is so weak that it cannot function, cannot even be perceived by the Earthpeople themselves. Such people need an implant to aid them, as someone without an arm would need a prosthesis. Theoretically, I could now channel such power to everyone here, though in fact it is beyond My present capacities. Lydee has just demonstrated my discovery.
Reiho was pale. “I had once hoped Homesmind might be capable of this. Our minds and those of the Earthfolk are so similar that I thought a way might be found to give us the powers they have. Now it seems we’ve had them all along.”
“It’s deceived us,” Etey said. “It told us nothing of Its investigations. We don’t need such powers here. They’ll destroy us, as Earth was nearly destroyed.”
Don’t you understand? Homesmind murmured.
Lydee could sense Its distress. Your ancestors were rejected and despised by Earthfolk because they believed you lacked the powers common to all of them. But if they learn otherwise, they may come to accept you. And Lydee will not be helpless on Earth. Through this new channel, she will, while on Earth near the Mindcores there, be able to draw on power from Them directly, without My intercession. Do you see?
“Now I know I can’t return to Earth,” Reiho murmured. “My fear would touch the minds of everyone there through such a channel.” He brushed back a lock of black hair. “And You cannot send Lydee. She would have to confront people who are skilled in the use of those powers, while she is not.”
She can be trained. But there is not much time. The Earthfolk are human beings, and so are you. You have diverged from one another long enough. Perhaps it is time you drew together. Ignorance breeds fear. If you believe knowledge is a good, then you cannot reject this knowledge because you find it inconvenient.
Lydee picked up the bottle, turning it in her hands. The room faded. She was lying on her back, squinting at bright light; where had the darkness gone? Two fleshy blobs hovered overhead; a gaping hole appeared in one. Someone was crying. A claw was squeezing her mind; she cried out as the light collapsed into blackness and knew she was dying.
She was back in her cave, stretched out on the mossy floor. Reiho was kneeling over her. Her right hand clutched pieces of glass; she had crushed the bottle. Reiho brushed the shards from her uncut hand.
That is how infants on Earth still die, Homesmind said. That is how you would have died if you hadn’t been given to Me. Are you content to let it go on happening when you might prevent it?
She sat up, leaning against Reiho for a moment, then climbed to her feet. “I must consider this,” she murmured. Her fear was gone, replaced by a feeling of helplessness and a gnawing anxiety. “I can’t decide now.”
“Lydee, let me help,” Reiho said.
“You can’t.” You’ve failed me, she wanted to say. You’ll let me go and be glad it’s not you who are going. She walked toward the mouth of the cave; the vines let her pass.
* * *
She sat by the river, recalling her recent celebration. She had been happy then, and had not fully appreciated it at the time. Let me go back, her thoughts whispered to Homesmind. Erase what I know now — let me wonder about my origins without knowing. One can be happy in ignorance, in spite of what You think.
Homesmind did not reply.
Her link hummed softly. A ghostly shape shimmered near her, becoming the image of Jerod. Other images took shape, becoming Nara, Tila, and Pilo.
“May we speak?” Jerod asked through her link.
She nodded, keeping her mind still so that her friends would hear only her words and not her deeper thoughts.
“Homesmind has said that you might have need of us now.”
“Well, It’s wrong. You can’t help me.”
“Lydee, we are your friends.”
“Are you?” She did not wait for an answer. “Homesmind has asked me to return to Earth. Let It tell you what It told me.”
“It has already done so,” Nara said.
“I see. It will use everyone here to force me to go.”
“No,” Tila responded. “We’re not speaking for It, but for ourselves. We’ll be your friends, whatever you decide. Homesmind is asking a lot of you, and It may be asking too much.”
“Would you go with me?” Lydee asked. “Would you go to Earth knowing that your mind, all of it, would be open to the thoughts of others? Would you travel to a world where people kill and think nothing of it? You might die there yourselves, as Reiho did.” She wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. Nara’s face was drawn; Pilo was shading his eyes. “You are thinking I speak too openly. I don’t have to look inside you to know that. You’ve already seen more of my feelings than is customary. But this is nothing compared to what happens on Earth.”
“I would go,” Jerod said. The others clearly had not heard him; he was speaking only to Lydee. “You may do something that will live on in the minds of those who will follow us, not just in Homesmind’s memories. I doubt that I shall. Don’t condemn the others because they can’t.”
“It’s the risk that attracts you, Jerod.”
“It’s more than that.”
Tila whispered a farewell, then vanished; Nara’s image disappeared. Pilo lingered, then was gone.
Jerod said, “I would go in your place if I could. But Homesmind says that this is not a task for me. I would do it for you, Lydee.”
She sat up, moved by the emotion in his words. “Your feelings are strong.”
“No stronger than yours. We have both been well trained to hide them.” He frowned. “I have said too much.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I see now that I have traits I might never have become fully aware of if I hadn’t known you, and what you are. I have wondered why Homesmind created me as I
am, making me a little more reckless and discontented than others. Now I know. This world might change, and we’ll be part of that change. People willing to take risks might be needed.”
Her mouth twisted. Perhaps Homesmind had created Jerod for only one purpose — to force her along on the journey It had always known she would have to make someday. The boy was probably speaking for Homesmind now without realizing it.
“I see that I’ll have to go,” she said. With those words, her anxiety faded; the decision had been made. “You’ll probably say I have a great adventure in store.”
“But you do.”
She smiled at his romantic notions; he would never have to test them against reality. “And you’ll think that I’ll discover that I’m braver than I thought.”
“That might be so.”
She rose. “I may only find out that I’m really like everyone else here after all.” She laughed joylessly. “That is what I’ve always wanted.”
5
Earth swelled as Lydee’s shuttle dropped through the clouds. The ground below rushed up toward her; the shuttle suddenly veered to the right, evading a barrier.
A force field, Homesmind murmured. A diagram flickered in her mind and on the shuttle’s screen. The field, reaching above the stratosphere, was an invisible wall enclosing green land, part of a mountain range, and a small bit of desert. Lydee shivered; the force field showed how much power Earthfolk could summon. She would be trapped inside its borders, along with Daiya and her village.
The shuttle fell toward the desert, landing inside the transparent barrier. She peered through the ship’s dome. The shadows of the barren mountains cloaked her craft; behind her, the desert stretched to the horizon, a barren landscape dotted by only a few prickly plants.
She huddled against her seat. Up until the moment she had left the comet, she had been hoping that Reiho would overcome his fear. He had talked to her of going, and had even tested the mindpowers Homesmind could now give to him.
He had come to the shuttle field with Etey, but had not boarded the craft. “I need more time,” he said as he turned away. Etey gripped him by the shoulders and said, “He’ll join you,” but Lydee had not believed it, and it was too late for her to turn back.
She lifted her hand. Her friends had said farewell at her cave. She gazed at the blue stone in the ring they had given to her. They had accepted her decision; better that she, who had come from Earth, should take the risk of establishing contact with that planet. All the years of believing that she would be fully part of Home had been an illusion. She was expendable.
Homesmind had told her to land in the desert; Daiya had wished to meet her away from the village. Lydee struggled with herself, afraid to step out under open sky. Homesmind had prepared her as well as It could, leading her through images of Earth that had seemed as real as the scene before her, but this was not an image. She would not be able to close her mind to it and find herself back in her cave.
She took a breath, then noticed that two figures, partly shadowed by the recess in which they stood, were standing on the mountainside in front of her. The shuttle’s sensors showed that they were human. She frowned, wondering who they were; she had thought that she would meet Daiya alone.
“Homesmind?” she called out.
They are two from Daiya’s village. She is nearby.
Lydee had not yet spoken to Daiya; the woman had relayed her brief instructions through Homesmind. The Earthwoman might also be apprehensive about their meeting; perhaps she was disappointed that Reiho had not come.
The two strangers leaped from their ledge, floating down toward her. They alighted gracefully, then sat down. One was a boy with reddish-brown hair that fell to his shoulders; the other was a girl with auburn curls. At least she assumed that was what they were; their clothing concealed so much of their bodies it was hard to be sure.
The shuttle door slid open. She stepped out, jumping the short distance to the ground.
The disorientation she had felt inside the shuttle was intensified. The air was thick, alive with sounds, whistling as the wind gusted past her. Carefully, she opened the channel to Earth’s Mindcores. Her body seemed to swell as the power rushed into her, a stream of strength and will. Homesmind had trained her to use this power, but she had not felt its full force before. She kept her mind still. I haven’t had enough time, part of her murmured to Homesmind. You trained me too hastily. Take me back.
— Go back, then — a voice said inside her. Lydee tensed. Someone else had heard her thoughts. She narrowed the channel, trying to concentrate. The Earthpeople rose and began to walk toward her.
She raised a hand in greeting, waited until they were a few paces away, then sat down, telling herself she had nothing to fear. Homesmind had shown her how to put a wall around her thoughts, and the silver lifesuit clinging to her body would protect her from physical harm. Such things had not helped Reiho. She repressed that thought.
— Can you mindspeak? — the voice asked.
“I can,” she said aloud in the language Homesmind had taught her, the language of Earth. “But it is still hard for me.”
“Then we must use words,” the boy replied, “and speak to you as we speak to a child who has uncontrolled thoughts.” Sensing his disdain, she raised a mental wall to shield herself. The boy’s eyes were brown, the girl’s a startling green. But there was a resemblance between them; they had the same round face, strong chin, and slender nose. They were clothed in brown tunics and pants; their feet, she noticed, were covered with leather slippers called moccasins. She swallowed; Earthpeople took leather from the hides of dead animals. She tried not to think of that.
“We were told that you are called Lydee,” the girl said. “You were born a solitary but were saved from death and sent to live in the sky. You are Lydee AnraBrun.”
“Only Lydee.”
“Anra LeitoMorgen is your mother and Brun RillaCerwen is your father. That means you are Lydee AnraBrun, doesn’t it?”
Lydee shrugged. Homesmind had told her of this custom; now she would have to get used to a name that would only remind her of how sordid her origins were. “Who are you?”
“I am Luret NenlaKal.” The girl gestured at the boy. “This is my mother’s brother, Marellon BariWil, but we are nearly the same age and grew up together — we even passed through our ordeal together, so we are almost brother and sister ourselves.”
“Nenla raised me,” the boy said coldly, “after our parents left this life. They couldn’t endure thinking that we might have to abandon old ways, and lost the will to live.” He glared at Lydee, as if blaming her for it; she shrank at such an open display of emotion.
“Daiya has told us of you,” Luret said, “that you live in the sky with other separate selves and were once a separate self also, but no longer are.”
“True enough,” Lydee said, though she would not have put it that way. “We do not have to be separate now. The ones you call separate selves or solitaries can be given your powers and taught how to use them. In fact, we all have them — it’s just that they are very weak in some.”
“Daiya’s told us that, too,” the boy Marellon said. “It means that one of her questions has been answered. Daiya once believed that God was cruel to create separate selves. Now she knows, through the Mind of your world, that God has given powers to all.”
Lydee tried not to frown at that reminder of Earth’s superstitions. “How much do you know of my world?”
“What Daiya has told us and shown us — that you live on a world of trees in the sky, and that its fiery tail, which we can see when you pass, does not consume it.” Marellon waved a hand. “All in our village know of you, but most have tried to forget.”
“Then you are much like my people,” she said sourly.
“We try to live as we have always, but our knowledge of you festers and makes us doubt. Daiya must live apart from us because she reminds us of this unwelcome knowledge. Few seek her out, and there are those who still curs
e her. We are two who have learned from her, but I must tell you there are times when we wish we hadn’t.”
Lydee was uneasy. She had first seen the two only a few moments ago, and already they were speaking of their feelings honestly.
“Our knowledge is a curse,” Luret murmured. “Now it divides our village from the rest of Earth, and has even divided us from one another. Perhaps we should have cleansed our minds of it, but then Daiya would always be there to remind us.” She got up. “Come with me.”
Lydee followed the girl, Marellon at her side. Her nose wrinkled; she could smell the dirt and sweat on their bodies. Homesmind had not prepared her for Earth’s odors. She gazed out at the desert, wondering where Luret was leading her.
The Earthgirl stopped abruptly and held out her hands. “Do you feel it?”
Lydee stepped forward, bumping into an invisible shield; they had reached the barrier. She pushed against it with her hands, but could move no farther.
“That’s the wall,” Luret said. “It stretches out across the desert and over the mountains yonder. It surrounds our village and our lands on all sides, and we’re trapped behind it. We can’t go through it, and we have tried, summoning all our power. Perhaps if we flew as high as your machine there does, we could escape it — it can’t reach to the stars — but we are not able to fly so high.”
“Can’t you call on the power of your Mindcores?”
Luret shook her head. “Our bodies weaken too quickly when we call on too much power, and we can’t sustain the assault. And we’re afraid that the wall would only be replaced with a stronger wall. So we wait, to see what will happen.”
Marellon kicked at the barrier. “I think the Minds under the mountains have abandoned us. Their power remains, but They no longer speak, even to Daiya.” He glared at Lydee; she sensed his anger and despair. “I don’t know why you’re here. You can do nothing. Let your sister see you and then go back to your accursed world. You’ll only bring more harm to us, and some in the village will not welcome you.”
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