Eye of the Comet

by Pamela Sargent

  — Daiya still believes we’ll be saved — Luret thought.

  — Daiya is wrong — Lydee replied.

  — You’re not frightened —

  Lydee shook her head. — No, I’m not. It seems easier to be frightened when you think there’s something you can do. It’s out of our hands now — She glanced at Reiho, whose fear had crystallized; it was turning his mind into a glassy network of ice that she could barely stand to touch.

  — Perhaps the Minds will help us now — Luret said.

  — The Minds — Wiland responded. — The Minds might have kept them away in the first place, yet They did nothing —

  Lydee walked toward a field, gazing out across the meadow to the hill where Daiya’s old hut still stood. Earthfolk on blankets perched along the slopes, and she noticed that the shuttle had been dragged toward the meadow. A few people were running their hands over its sides; a door opened and they jumped away, pointing and waving their hands. The door closed. Several gray-haired people eyed the shuttle from a distance; one was shaking his head. Had they known how to work the synthesizer, they could have supplied themselves with food indefinitely while waiting for the villagers to die.

  — Now they’ll know that someone unlike them is here — Lydee said to the others, suppressing the rest of her thoughts. That alone would be enough to condemn the village.

  * * *

  At dusk, the villagers began to carry their tables out of their huts, setting them up in a circle just inside the invisible wall. Torches were lighted and planted in the ground as the village prepared for its last feast. Spits holding the bodies of pigs and fowl turned as minds directed the heat at the roasting meat.

  — Bring the food — Cerwen ordered, and men and women carried platters to the tables. — Bring the wine. Let those outside see that we are ready to welcome our fate — His thoughts and those of the other Merging Selves were serene. The villagers had always held feasts before sending their young people out to face their ordeals; it had seemed only proper that they should celebrate before undergoing this last ordeal. No one had objected to Cerwen’s proposal. They would have their feast and die unafraid instead of wasting away in front of their enemies.

  Lydee sat at one table, trying to ignore the odor of meat. The villagers had slaughtered the animals gently, careful not to cause pain, yet each death had seemed a precursor of the human deaths that would soon follow. Lydee and Reiho, sickened, had been forced to keep up their walls. Two of the village cats crouched at her feet, snarling at each other over a piece of meat on the ground.

  The field outside the wall was reddened by the setting sun. A few fires burned in the encampment; men and women stood at the edge of the field, watching the village. She lifted her head defiantly, then turned toward Reiho, who was seated at her left. He nibbled at a few grapes while eyeing his wine cup dubiously.

  — Drink it — she said. — You needn’t worry about it making you sick now — He grimaced. — I wish I could believe what the Earthpeople do — she continued.

  Reiho sipped his wine. — I’m glad now that I don’t believe such things. I don’t have to fear punishment, and I won’t be rewarded. There’s only the darkness. If you look at it that way, it’s almost comforting. At least we won’t have to struggle on. I can always hope that somehow our friends on the Wanderer will learn from what’s happened here —

  — What could they possibly learn from this? That people are capable of killing others who seem different, or who doubt? That doesn’t seem much of a lesson —

  — Perhaps they’ll learn that life isn’t something to be wasted and frittered away. We have everything we want. These people have almost nothing, and yet their lives have a purpose. They see death all the time, and maybe that heightens the few joys they do have. We keep real life, along with death, at a distance — He paused, collecting his thoughts. — The cometdwellers are in part responsible for what’s happened here. We rejected our past and forgot, just as the people here did. We hid from Earth. We might have come back sooner. If we had —

  — Might — Daiya interrupted. — If. Those words have such power for you. You pick at them and think they’ll reveal some secret — She was sitting across from them, devouring a meat pie with grim determination. — I refuse to accept death until the moment comes. Until then, I’ll hope, and so should you —

  — We’ll feast — Kal said, reaching for a corn cake. — Tomorrow, we’ll hurl our minds at the wall, and as we weaken, we’ll die. And even if we manage to open it, those outside will strike us down. That’s all that can happen, cousin. This is our last night in this life —

  Daiya finished her pie and took a sip of wine. — They could have destroyed us from a distance — she said. — They didn’t have to come here and wait outside — She glanced at Marellon as he set a bowl of fruit on the table and sat down at Lydee’s right. — I’ve been watching them. We can’t touch their minds, and yet I feel as though I have. I think they’re afraid —

  — How can they fear us? — Luret asked as Nenla handed her a bowl of soup.

  — Maybe they have their own doubts — Daiya reached for a peach. — Maybe they disagree. They put up a wall, but did not strike. They enclosed us here, but did not crush us. Now they have seen that vessel outside, and they must know that none of us could have built it. And they do not know what powers our visitors might have —

  Lydee nibbled at a carrot. She was eating without tasting the food; her throat tightened as she swallowed.

  Daiya still hoped. Her face brightened, as if a light were shining inside her. A tendril other mind brushed against Lydee; Lydee reached out to Reiho. Soon those at the table were linked in a chain touching all of the villagers. Nenla gazed out at the encampment and laughed, throwing her head back. A blond young man at the next table lifted his cup; his mind was filled with chants and prayers. The wine had gone to Lydee’s head; she wondered if she was sensing her own drunkenness or someone else’s.

  — I could leave this world willingly — Silla was saying, — if I knew you cared for me — She was sitting with Harel at one end of the table, her head bound by a cloth. Her right arm was in a sling; her injured leg, dressed in a splint, rested on her partner’s lap. — But I know Daiya still draws you —

  Harel shook his head. — What I love in you is what I love in her. How can I separate those feelings? I’ve never betrayed you, Silla, and neither has she. I was wrong to hide part of myself from you — He leaned closer to her, weaving their minds together as he tried to help his partner heal more quickly.

  Lydee withdrew, walling herself in for a moment. Their resolutions, she thought cynically, would never be tested, so it was easy to make promises. These people drew together only for death; if rescue were suddenly offered to them, they would resume their bickering before long. Even Reiho had fallen under the spell, hoping to find a purpose in his approaching extinction. She no longer felt the hope Daiya had conveyed. Reaching for her cup, she emptied it and poured herself more wine.

  Nenla and Kal leaned against each other. Luret had left the table and was communing with Wiland, who turned toward Lydee. — The Merged One might accept your soul — he thought gently. — We may be blessed, for we only tried to do what was right. The coming ordeal will purge us of sin and prepare us for the next life — He scowled. — And those outside will be punished for their crime —

  — No, Wiland — Luret said as she took his arm. — You must not wish for that —

  Lydee finished a piece of bread, then got up and walked toward the force field. The sun had set; fires flickered in the encampment. A family to her right was dancing, arms linked as they hummed a wordless song. Other villagers were entering huts.

  — Lydee — Marellon was approaching her; she turned to face him. — I must ask you this now, because there is not much time left — His mind was drawn tight, a string about to break. She waited. He looked down, poking at the ground with his toes.

  — Ask me anything you like — she said, trying to ease
his embarrassment.

  — Will you be my partner? — The words tumbled from his mind. — I’ll ask for nothing of you except the pledge —

  Her mind swelled; she took a breath. Her joy had disoriented her; she had nearly agreed. — Marellon — She tried to collect her thoughts.

  — You have grown to feel something for me. I see it now —

  She could not deny it. — This is new for me — she responded. — I don’t know how to answer you. If we die, we cannot be partners. If we live, I may not be able to keep the promise — Even though she had tried to mute her thoughts, she sensed his pain and regretted the answer.

  — I’ll pledge myself to you, then — he said. — You may do as you wish, but I’ll have no other partner —

  — You’re young, Marellon. Your feelings run high and you believe that now, but later you would forget me and find another partner, and you would wonder at your impulsiveness. Don’t promise yourself to me only to find that you must break the promise later —

  — You seem to think we’ll live —

  — No. I don’t know. We skydwellers are so used to thinking of death as something we choose, something that won’t often come upon us against our will —

  — If you live, you’ll go back to your world —

  She looked up at the comet. — Yes. But I won’t forget you —

  — You will. Earth will seem very far away —

  She took his arm. — How foolish we are, Marellon. We’re arguing about something that will never come to pass, most likely — They walked alongside the wall. Their enemies, who should have been celebrating their approaching victory, were hiding in their tents while the doomed village danced and sang.

  She thought of Home. Would her friends there mourn her? Homesmind would quickly ease their sorrow. When the cometdwellers learned of her fate, and Reiho’s, they would reject the mindpowers Homesmind could give them. She could already hear the arguments. Such abilities would shatter the customs that had kept their world peaceful; with their inner feelings so open to others, the cometdwellers might even come to fight one another as the Earthfolk had. Her short life, and Reiho’s, would be no more than a ripple in the sea, altering nothing.

  Marellon stopped and took her gently by the elbows. Half of his face was shadowed, the other half lighted by a nearby torch. — It isn’t true — he thought. — You’ve changed me. I once looked at you with loathing, seeing one alien to me, but now I can touch your mind and know you for what you are. Daiya has her lost sister back, and Silla and Harel have healed themselves —

  — That is nothing. I touched a few small lives, and my own has changed, and it’ll come to nothing when we die —

  — You’re wrong, Lydee. Touching other lives during the short time we have — why, it’s all we’ve ever had, isn’t it? —

  She gazed into his eyes. His face had changed; his features seemed finer. Perhaps his face had always looked that way, brave and intelligent instead of hard and coarse, and she had simply been unable to see it.

  — I’ll make a pledge, Marellon. But I make it only until we meet our fate. If we live, I won’t hold you to it. It would be easy for me to say that I would be your partner always, but it would be a false promise, and you would know that. I can’t die with a lie between us —

  — Then that is what I’ll promise you, Lydee. Even that’s more than you’re accustomed to giving —

  — Let’s go inside —

  His mind warmed as he read her intention. Together, they walked back to his sister’s hut.

  * * *

  Lydee opened her eyes. Marellon slept at her side. They were still alone; she supposed that the others were saying farewell to friends.

  She gazed at the boy next to her, still feeling as though he had left part of his mind inside her. His love had been strong and heartfelt, almost frightening her with its intensity, yet she had welcomed it, seeing herself through Marellon’s eyes as he embraced her mind. The feeling she had once called love now seemed a frail sensation, an emotion so easily given to others that it was hardly a gift at all.

  She rose carefully, not wanting to disturb him, and crossed the room to the doorway, peering outside. Reiho looked up; he was sitting on the ground, back against the hut. At his side, Daiya slept on a blanket. Outside the invisible wall, the encampment was awake; a few people were forming a line in the field. Their waiting would soon be over.

  She loved Marellon; she knew that now, and at last understood why Earthfolk made their pledges. He had seen more of her mind than she had ever shown to anyone, and she wanted to explore his, but they would never have the time. Marellon, at least, would die content, secure in her love; she would never have the chance to disappoint him. She shivered; she did not want him to die at all.

  Villagers were leaving their huts, filing toward the riverbank, where they were to gather by the wall. “It’s time,” she said to Reiho in their own tongue.

  His eyes widened for a moment. “I know.” He straightened his shoulders. “You had better wake the boy.” He scowled. “We shall all sleep soon enough.”

  * * *

  As she and Marellon came to the riverbank, Lydee saw that several families were kneeling in prayer, while others had their arms locked in embraces. Tears ran down the faces of a few young people as their parents or friends sought to comfort them. Wiland had his arms around the shoulders of an older woman whose black eyes resembled his.

  Leito approached, then took Lydee’s hand. — Farewell, Granddaughter. I am sorry you had to come to this — Leito’s son Vasen was holding on to Kal with one pudgy hand; Nenla clung to another old woman, stroking her silver hair.

  — I wish I could have helped — Lydee said. Leito let go and went to Cerwen, who had gathered several Merging Selves around him.

  — It is time — the old man called out. — Those beyond will see us die bravely and know that we are not evil. We shall hurl our minds at the wall until the Merged One claims us at last —

  Lydee felt numb. Luret s eyes were pieces of green glass; she did not look at Wiland as he joined her. Lydee strengthened her mind, then tugged at the sleeves of her silver suit. She had put the garment back on, shedding her tunic and pants; Reiho also was clothed in silver. Let them see what we are, she thought as she gazed at the encampment across the river. She and Reiho, being the strongest, would likely be the last to die. She tried not to think of that.

  Cerwen tugged at the Net, binding them all as they drew power.

  — It is not time — Daiya protested. — The Minds said They would save us. Let Them come to our aid now —

  — We are abandoned — the Merging Selves whispered.

  — They must help us — Daiya said.

  The villagers hesitated. Flickers of hope warmed the strands of the Net. Images were forming along the bank. The people across the river threw up their hands as the images took shape; others retreated toward the tents.

  — Brun — Daiya thought as her father appeared; a female form sprang up beside him. — Anra —

  Other specters appeared, lining the banks; the villagers wailed. — The dead are with us — Cerwen thought. — They have come to claim us —

  — No, not to claim you — a thousand ghostly voices replied. — It is not yet your time. Remember this: The energy of the Minds under the mountains is yours. Guard yourselves. Do not seek to do evil, and you will live —

  On the other side of the river, people huddled near one another as others, running along the bank, tried to rally them. Horses reared as their masters struggled to hold their reins.

  /We are with you/ This voice was resonant; Lydee could sense its power.

  — The Minds — Daiya said. — They’ve spoken at last —

  /We are ready to help you now/ The voice was dispassionate, but there was an undercurrent of sorrow. /Remember that your strength lies in protecting yourselves, not in striking out/

  The crowd of ghostly images disappeared, yet Lydee felt that other minds were still with the
m, lending their strength. She stared out at the river, wondering if even the Minds could help them against so many.

  A wall of flame was suddenly in front of the villagers; a crack of thunder slapped their ears. The fire licked at their feet. Lydee covered her eyes as the wall fell. A strong wind washed over them, then died.

  It was time to confront their enemies.

  13

  The villagers waited. The Merging Selves lined up along the edge of the river and faced their antagonists, who still had not struck.

  Across the river, twenty old people were gathering along the bank, waving other Earthfolk away. One old man wore only beads and a loincloth, while another was dressed in a long, striped robe; two of the women wore leather leggings and high, fringed boots.

  — Truce — several minds called out. The villagers nodded, assenting.

  One woman stepped forward. Her white hair was tied back with a leather thong; a beaded belt circled her waist. Her long, brown robe fluttered around her ankles; one hand held a spear.

  — I am Talah NaisVel — the old woman said as she threw down her spear. — We offer a truce only for the time it takes to communicate with you. We are the oldest Merging Selves of several villages, and we shall speak for everyone here. All other minds are shielded so that your separateness does not stain them, and so that the eager among us do not strike at you before we are ready. If you attempt to lash out at us, we’ll wall you in again — She paused. Some of the younger people behind her glanced nervously from side to side. — Who will speak for you —