— You foolish girl — Daiya dragged her to her feet. Lydee staggered, almost too weak to stand. — Do you want to draw their wrath? —
“I’ve shown that the wall can be breached.”
— I see that you’re proud of your great strength, but you cannot tear it down alone —
“Others could help me. Are you content to live behind it forever?”
— Those outside may feel safe from us now — Daiya replied, — but they won’t if you assault the wall. They will only make it stronger —
— They cannot keep it up indefinitely — Reiho said.
Daiya shook her head. — I don’t know. They must be drawing on most of their strength now, and that will weary them. But there are many of them. Some will sustain it while others rest —
— Perhaps you should do something besides wait — Lydee thought; she was recovering her strength. — We could add our minds to yours, and then —
— Break the wall? — Daiya’s thoughts stung. — And then what? Are you willing to face death? Do you want Reiho to face it again? —
Lydee spun around and strode toward the shuttles. Daiya’s passivity was beginning to annoy her. — You’ll endanger us — Daiya continued as she came up to the girl’s side. — Your carelessness will bring harm. Reiho’s fear will seize him, and you’ll be free to run away in your craft while we’ll be left to face the consequences of your actions. And you might not get away. You might be torn from the sky —
— Stop! — Lydee cried out as she turned. Daiya tensed; Reiho, behind her, looked pained. She had given the word too much force. That was what came of sharing thoughts, Lydee said to herself; too many strong feelings were released, however much she struggled for control.
— Reiho overcame his fear to come here — she continued. — You should not remind him of his terrors. And I am trying to help you —
Daiya was silent for a moment; her mind’s tendrils curled inward. — You are right — she said at last. — But heed me. You have both learned quickly, but this is my world, and you must take my advice. You, Lydee, are still a child. Don’t feel so resentful, I’m only stating a fact. You must let me guide you —
Lydee did not reply. Reiho was shielding his thoughts.
— Perhaps you have shown me something important — Daiya said more gently. — If a hole can be torn in that wall, we may find a way to destroy it. But until we know what those outside will do, it is wiser not to act —
— But we’re cut off from their thoughts — Lydee said. — You can’t know what they’re planning —
— Be patient. Your power can injure those you are trying to help — Daiya was directing her thoughts only to Lydee as Reiho climbed into the craft to fetch food. — Reiho was not the only one who died when I was trying to protect him long ago. Many in my village died, struck down by their despair when they saw that the world was not what they believed it to be. I’ll carry that guilt for the rest of my life. You would not want to have that burden —
Lydee sat down. Reiho came to her and handed her some fruit; she ate without tasting it. He was nibbling at his own food, as if forcing himself to eat. The wind sang mournfully; she caught the icy thoughts of a lizard, so rooted to instinct that they were hardly thoughts at all.
— We have worked here long enough — Daiya said as she ate. — We must go to the village now —
Reiho seemed pained. “I can’t,” he said aloud.
Daiya glanced at him. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Open your mind and let me see. You knew we would have to go there.”
“You know what I mean without seeing my thoughts. I’ve come this far, but I’m not ready for that.”
“Am I to leave you here? Or are you going to go back to the sky?”
“Please try to understand. My former self died there, and I’m still afraid to face it.”
“The village won’t harm you now.”
“They killed my former self.”
“What are you going to do, then?” Daiya was restraining herself; Lydee could feel the woman’s urge to rip at Reiho’s mental wall.
“I can come with you part of the way. You’ll still be able to send your thoughts out to me. I need time to overcome this last vestige of my fear — surely you can see that. I must prepare myself.”
— Very well — Daiya said with her mind. — But if you cannot grow braver in a little while, it might be best if you left Earth entirely. My people can’t trust you if you don’t trust them — The woman was trying to cloak her disappointment with compassion.
Lydee swallowed. She would see the place where she might have lived and the people who had turned her away.
* * *
The shuttle landed at the bottom of a hill. Daiya climbed out, glancing skeptically at the craft; she still distrusted the vehicle and had kept her eyes closed during most of the journey, opening them only when they were near the village.
Lydee hung back, checked her pack, then pulled at the sleeves of her brown shirt. Daiya had insisted that she wear a shirt and pants over her silver suit, telling Lydee that the clothes would make her look more human. She put on her pack and climbed out.
To the east, the mountains jutted toward the sky. Reiho was near the foothills, too far away to be seen; she began to wish she had stayed with him. Daiya motioned to her; Lydee followed the woman up the hill.
Daiya’s hut, made of mud bricks, was at the top of the slope in a grove of trees. As Lydee neared it, she could glimpse the village beyond. A grassy expanse separated the village from the hill; she could now imagine, even without touching Daiya’s thoughts, how cruel her exile must have been. She had lived here on this hill, able to watch the community without being able to share in its life except as a visitor, knowing that no other village would give her a home. Even absolute solitude might have been easier to bear.
The village’s huts stood in concentric circles surrounding an open space. Several people had gathered in the space; she thought she saw a few of them glance toward the hill. Others were on the riverbank, dipping buckets into the water. Ditches ran from the river to the fields bordering the town; villagers were laboring among the wheat and corn. Lydee cautiously let out a tendril, wary of being swamped by hundreds of thoughts, but the village remained silent. The Earthfolk had apparently decided to shield themselves from her, and she sensed only the weaker, more indirect thoughts of their hens, pigs, dogs, and cats.
— Don’t expect them to reach out to you right away — Daiya thought. Lydee took off her pack, and Daiya dropped it inside the doorway other hut. — I must go into the village now. You’ll be all right here, won’t you? —
Lydee nodded.
— Marellon and Luret will stay here for the night, outside my hut, so you won’t be alone. I must speak with our Merging Selves — She turned and walked down the slope toward the village.
The Merging Selves. Lydee’s mind curled tightly around that thought. The Merging Selves were the older villagers, people who mingled their thoughts so freely that at times they were almost one mind. She wondered how a person could endure such a loss of the self. It seemed a kind of death, yet all Earthpeople aspired to such a state and wanted to live long enough to become Merging Selves.
Lydee sat down, feeling disappointed. She had expected more of a reception; she was, after all, from another world, a transformed child of the village, yet they still shunned her. They might be hoping she would leave.
She turned toward the doorway, peering inside the hut. The dim light revealed blackened bits of wood inside a circle of stones in the center of the dirt floor. There were openings between the walls and the grass roof, shelves of earthen pots and bowls, and a reed mat. Even with her own supplies, she was likely to be uncomfortable at best; Daiya was expecting her to stay in the hut rather than in the shuttle, presumably to demonstrate to the village how like them she was.
I can’t stay here, she thought. The village seemed to alter as she gazed at it, becoming shabby and mean. The bright afternoon
sun dimmed, the river became brown and muddy, the fields overgrown. Daiya, striding away below, was an aging, worn woman too stubborn to give up her hard life for the ease the cometdwellers could offer. Lydee shook her head. Her mind shaped what she saw here; she wondered if she could actually see the village as it really was.
An invisible hand touched her shoulder. She tensed. A glow had appeared inside the hut. Standing, she crept through the doorway, then wondered if she should call for help. Another mind was touching hers; she put up her wall.
Her mental barrier suddenly shattered into shards of light.
Lydee gasped, staggering back against a wall. The glow brightened; her mind was humming with voices. She tried to run, but her legs would not move.
The brightness dimmed. A golden-haired woman in a long, blue robe stood before her. Lydee struggled; invisible arms were holding her.
“Who are you?” she cried, forgetting to speak with her mind. — Who are you? — she said again.
The woman smiled, holding out a hand. Lydee reached for her; her hand passed through the woman’s arm. She pulled back. — Are you from the village? Are you someone’s image sent to greet me? —
— I am not — The thought was strong; Lydee’s link trembled.
— Then you’re from another village — That would mean that the barrier had been breached; she shook with fear.
— I am not —
— Who are you, then? —
Inside her, Homesmind whispered, I know what you are.
— I am one who once lived — the woman replied. — My body is now dust. I speak to you first, because you are from another place. Prepare yourself. I see a time approaching when change will at last come to this village and to those outside it, and you are a tool of that change. Strengthen yourself. Purge yourself of anger, no matter what you may see. Open your mind to compassion and understanding, for they may be the weapons you will need. Remember that a mind striking out in rage will wound itself as well as its target. Forget your fear —
I know what you are, Homesmind said again.
— Silence, young Mind. Her ordeal approaches, and she must go to her fate without Your aid — The woman faded, then flickered out.
Lydee crumpled to the dirt floor. — Homesmind —
There was no answer.
“Homesmind!” Her channel would not open; something was wrong with her link. “Homesmind!” She was cut off from the comet, unable to transmit; she wondered if Homesmind could still hear her.
— It will observe — the woman’s voice said inside her. — But It cannot answer your call. You must rely on yourself —
“Restore my link!”
— You have your mindpowers. You do not need anything else —
“Don’t leave me like this!” She waited, expecting to hear the voice again, but her mind was silent now. Leaning over, she held her stomach, afraid she would be sick. An ordeal, the woman had said. She would never be able to endure it. “Homesmind,” she whispered.
She forced herself to sit up. The woman had told her that her body was dust; did that mean she had been speaking to a ghost? She shook her head. Daiya’s people had many odd beliefs, but even they knew that one could not summon the dead.
She got to her feet and hurried outside, afraid to stay inside the hut. Luret and Marellon were climbing up the hill. She clenched her teeth and buttressed the shield around her thoughts, afraid to let the two see them.
“You look more human,” Marellon said, gazing at her clothes as he dropped a rolled-up mat. “Have you learned how to mindspeak properly?”
“I can mindspeak.”
“Then please do so.”
— You are disturbed — Luret said, sitting down on her own mat. — You can’t hide that. Something has happened to you —
Lydee sank to the ground. Marellon sprawled in the grass, gazing at her with expressionless brown eyes; she could sense no sympathy from him.
— I must tell someone — Lydee said. — A woman appeared to me. She took form inside the hut, but she was an image, not a body. She wasn’t one of you and she wasn’t one of my people, either —
— Show us — Luret said gently.
Lydee opened her mind, reluctantly allowing the two to see what she had experienced while masking her own reactions. Luret’s green eyes widened in surprise as she grasped the thoughts: Marellon scowled. They were obviously as puzzled by the woman’s appearance as she was.
— What can it mean? — Luret asked.
Lydee sighed. — I was expecting you to tell me —
— I have never heard of such a thing —
— It’s a delusion — Marellon thought. — She is not one of us and not from another village, and it’s clear she’s not from your world, either. So you imagined her and thought you saw her, but you saw only your mind’s imaginings —
— You’re wrong — Lydee responded. — Homesmind, the Mind of my world, sensed her as well. It said that It knew what she was —
— But It didn’t tell you — the boy said.
— It didn’t have a chance —
— No. You imagined it all. A mind can turn against itself, fall prey to illusion. And think of what she said, that she was appearing to you first. You think too much of yourself, skydweller. You come here for a short time and already you believe that you have some ability we don’t, and now your mind is feeding your pride —
— Marellon — Luret was trying to calm the boy, dulling the sharp edges of his thoughts.
Maybe it’s true, Lydee thought to herself. The apparition had seemed real enough, but her mind could create many illusions here. “No,” she said aloud, denying that. “I can’t speak to Homesmind. I could not have closed that channel by myself.”
— You’re mad — Marellon said. — Your mind is fighting itself, and you don’t even see it. You’re trying to find enough courage to stay, which is why you had your vision, but at the same time you long to flee, and forget us —
“I’m cut off from my world!” she cried.
— You can always go back —
— Stop it, Marellon — Luret protested. Lydee jumped to her feet. — There may be something important in all this. Lydee may have seen something new —
“I don’t care if I have,” Lydee said harshly. “You can stay in your filthy little village. I’m leaving.” She started down the hill toward her shuttle.
The craft suddenly rose in the air. She lifted a hand to her lips as the vehicle soared overhead, then fled from Earth, rushing up to the pink-edged evening clouds. “Come back!”
The shuttle was gone.
Marellon’s mouth was open. Luret slouched forward, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Reiho,” Lydee murmured. “I must go to Reiho.” She launched herself from the slope and flew toward the distant foothills, afraid of what she might find.
* * *
Reiho’s craft sat near a brook; he was inside, curled up on a seat, unmoving. Lydee had been calling to him through her link as she flew, but he had not answered. He’s dead, she thought; his fear’s crushed him.
She leaned against the ship; her flight had drained her. Gathering her strength, she pressed the door. It slid open and she climbed inside clumsily.
“Reiho.”
His eyes shot open; his hands flew up, as if he was warding off a blow.
“Reiho.”
“A man spoke to me.” His voice was hoarse. “He appeared inside the shuttle, and said I must prepare myself. I’m cut off from Homesmind, Lydee.”
“So am I.”
He groaned, covering his face. “Then we’re lost.”
“We’ll leave now, in your ship.”
“We can’t. I tried. It won’t take off.”
She clasped her hands together. “My shuttle’s gone, Reiho.”
“Then we’re trapped.”
She wanted to scream. “Homesmind will send help.”
“What if It can’t?”
She sat down next to him, huddli
ng against the seat. They were silent for a long time, walled inside themselves. At last she said, “Homesmind said It knew who the woman was. A woman appeared to me, you see, and told me to prepare for an ordeal.” She shivered at the word, which she had to say in Earth’s tongue; the same word in her own language seemed too muted. “It said It knew.”
“I think I know what she was, and what the man was, too.”
“What, then?”
He sat up slowly. “I think Earth’s Mindcores must have sent the images to us.”
She had not thought of that; now it seemed an obvious possibility.
“Consider,” he continued. “They might be images of people from Earth’s past. The man told me his body was dust. The Minds might have presented what They can remember of him, as Homesmind can do with those who once lived on the comet. The Minds may have finally broken Their silence.”
“But Daiya has been waiting for Them to speak. Why didn’t They speak to her?”
“Maybe They will now.”
She clutched at his hand. “Reiho, what will we do?”
“We’re Their prisoners now. I’m afraid —” His voice broke. “I’m afraid,” he said more softly, “that we’ll have to do whatever They want us to do.”
7
Reiho was kneeling by the brook. He dipped a cupped hand into the water, peered at the liquid, then sipped it tentatively.
Lydee shuddered. She sat in the shuttle’s open doorway, afraid to move any farther. She had spent part of the morning trying to communicate with Homesmind through the shuttle before admitting it was hopeless.
“This water seems clean enough,” Reiho said. “I analyzed it before, and it’s relatively uncontaminated. We could probably drink the village’s water, too. I don’t know about the food. I suppose we could get along on vegetables and fruit, but we might get a little sick until our digestion adjusts to it.”
Lydee made a face. He was assuming that they might lose his shuttle as well. Eating dirty fruit and vegetables would be bad enough; she would never be able to tolerate meat.
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