by Diane Duane
Kit tried to stop, but he couldn’t. Ponch blundered into him from behind. Kit’s own momentum combined with the push from Ponch sent him forward, through the last curtain of creeper and fungus, down onto the path, and he was helpless in front of the merciless thing that waited.
Hands came down, grabbed him by the arms. “No!” Kit cried—
— and then realized that nothing had happened to him, and that he was facedown in the mud, and that the screaming above him was just screaming again — and that the hands were Darryl’s.
Darryl was stronger than Kit would have expected. He hauled Kit nearly upright, but Kit didn’t have the strength to stay that way; he collapsed down onto his butt again in a most undignified manner, and stayed there for a few moments, just panting and trying to get his breath back.
“Have to get up now,” Darryl said. “It’s coming.”
Kit tried, and had trouble. Once again Darryl reached down to him and took Kit by the forearms.
This time he swung him right up to his feet. Kit staggered a little, but managed to stay there, marveling again at how strong the youngster was. “Thanks,” Kit said. “Darryl, I’ve been trying to catch up with you for a long time. I’m on errantry, and do I ever greet you! Now can we go somewhere quiet and have a talk, because—”
“No,” Darryl said.
“You don’t understand,” Kit said, getting his breath again, but only slowly. “You really ought to get out of here while you’ve got the chance. It’s not here yet, but I think It’s coming—”
“That’s just why I can’t leave,” Darryl said. “There are still things I have to do here, and in all the other heres. It doesn’t matter whether—” He stopped, as if searching for words. “It doesn’t matter what else might be here. It doesn’t matter if there’s a way out. I can’t take it. I have to find the thing that still needs to be done before I can go.”
Kit had been tired enough to start with, but now the exhaustion was coming down on him hard.
He means it doesn’t matter who else is here
, Kit thought, but he doesn’t really believe in anyone else. Not me, for sure. Maybe the Lone Power… but in some way that I don’t understand, which is a problem, because when the Lone One gets here —
“I said I’d stay until what I came to do was done,” Darryl said. “The Silence said, ‘So here’s what it’s all about. Here are the words. What’re you going to do about them?’ They were clear that first time, but after that it was hard to hear them all at once. Every time I tried to make sense of them, the noise would get in the way. Once or twice the shouting got so loud that I thought I’d die of it. Maybe only once or twice after that, it got quiet enough for me to think. But finally I knew those words were what needed saying, though I had trouble visualizing what they meant. It took a long time to picture them, longer to say them… days and days. I kept forgetting. But finally I got them all together and said them. ‘In Life’s name…’“
Kit sat there listening to the words. Part of him knew them better than he knew almost anything else. But another part of him thought, wearily, Why does that sound familiar? And the roaring and screeching in his head were once again making it hard to pay attention, hard to care about anything.
“…I will fight to preserve what grows and lives well in its own way…”
It was amazing the way the incessant howling of the world could weary you, until you would do anything to distract yourself from the noise of it — bang your head on a wall, hammer your fists on a table, scream to drown it out. That noise got into your head and wouldn’t let you alone, wouldn’t let you be. In the face of that torment, you quickly got to the point where the pain was itself reassuring, something you could rely on, something less stressful than trying to think anything or do anything through the cacophony of life. And when you come right down to it, it doesn’t really matter. Nothing matters that much. Nothing’s worth that much struggle___
“…To these ends, in the practice of my Art, I will put aside fear for courage, and death for life…”
Not that any of those matter
The world seemed dim and far away, this world, any world.
“But I don’t think anyone else should be here now,” Darryl said, and he came over to Kit. Kit turned his head away.
“There was— Someone was… here before,” Darryl said. “In other ‘heres.’ It was…” He paused, as if hunting for the right term. “It was appreciated. But this isn’t the right way to be here. It’s dangerous like this. It’s a way to get linked to me… by a link that can’t be broken, to keep getting sucked back into the trap I’ve set—” Darryl turned him around, pushed him. “Go,” Darryl said. “Go.
It needs to—”
And Kit saw Darryl catch sight of Ponch.
Darryl froze.
Kit turned to look toward him, dulled, not understanding what he was seeing. Darryl and Ponch looked at each other. Ponch stood there with his head up, his tail wagging. It was a speculative look on Ponch’s part. He was no more sure what Darryl was reacting to than Kit was.
“You,” Darryl said. “You have to go.”
Up in the trees, the screaming was scaling up again. “Go on,” Darryl said — not to Kit, now, but to Ponch. “Don’t wait. I recognize you — what you’re becoming. But you can’t stay. It’ll be here soon. This time you’re here the wrong way, you’ve been sucked in with him, and It’ll see the two of you for sure. Go on!”
We will
, Ponch said.
Above them, the gloom started abruptly to get darker. But we won’t leave you here, Ponch said.
We’ll be back.
Ponch turned around and grabbed Kit by the wrist, gently, with his teeth. He pulled Kit back into the dimness of the stand of trees that surrounded the path.
The darkness increased behind them, and the screaming. Finally the blackness became total, and Kit staggered through it, blinded, deafened, being led by the hand, aware of nothing except that he was being led, and hoping it was to somewhere better.
Eventually Kit found that he was looking at the wall by his bed. He’d been looking at it for a long time; there was no telling how long. Ponch was licking his ear, and there was no way to tell for sure how long that had been going on, either, except that the side of his head felt pretty wet.
I don’t think we should go there like that again
, Ponch said.
It took Kit a long time to collect his thoughts enough to answer. I think maybe you’re right about that
, he said. But at the same time, he found it hard to get excited about the concept. It just didn’t seem to matter that much.
Nothing seemed to matter that much.
Kit lay there for a long time, staring at the wall.
As Nita came through the dining room again, the phone rang.
She hurried over to answer it before it woke Dairine. “Hello?”
“Nita, it’s Carl.”
“Hi, Carl. What’s up?”
“Uh, have you seen Kit today?”
He sounded reluctant to be asking. “Haven’t seen him,” Nita said. “Heard from him, though. I think he had a late night last night.”
“Tom was expecting him for a debrief,” Carl said. “That hasn’t happened yet, though, and Tom was called away, so I need to handle it. You have any idea where Kit is at the moment?”
“I think he’s still asleep.” She paused a moment, checked to see if that was true. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s still out of it.”
“Okay,” Carl said, but he sounded uncomfortable to Nita. “It can wait a few hours, I suppose… but when he wakes up, make sure he gets in touch with me, all right?”
“Sure. I want to talk to him, too, because I found Darryl last night, and I think he’s an abdal.”
“You think he’s a what?”
“An abdal. You know… one of the Pillars.”
There was a brief silence at that. “Would you mind coming over here and telling me how you came to that conclusio
n?” Carl said.
There was something peculiar about his tone of voice. “I’m not in trouble, am I?” Nita said.
“What? No. But do me a favor? Bring your manual with you.”
“Okay. See you in a while.”
Nita pulled on her boots and parka and then made her way over to Tom and Carl’s house the quick way, popping out into six inches of untouched snow, and was very glad she’d remembered the boots. Carl was standing inside the door, looking out at the backyard, as Nita came up to the sliding doors. He pushed one aside for her. “It’s pretty out there, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. But cold.” She came in and stomped her boots on the tile floor of the kitchen to get rid of the snow as Carl closed the door. “Where’d Tom go? Anything important?”
“He’s meeting with the Sector Advisories,” Carl said. “Administrative business… something to do with reorganizing some planets’ worldgating systems. Nothing wildly exciting, but he’ll be gone for a couple of days.”
Nita went to the table, taking off her coat and hanging it over one of the chairs. “You’ve got some wires hanging down there,” she said as she sat down, noting the tangle extending from underneath the cupboards.
“Yeah. I’ve made a mess, and now I have to clean it up. Does your mom or dad know a good electrician?” Carl said wearily. And then stopped, and looked at Nita in shock, and passed a hand over his eyes.
“Oh, Nita,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Habit…”
“I know,” she said. “I know.” She swallowed. “It’s okay. I'll ask Dad. He just had a guy doing some stuff to our garage. He thinks he’s pretty good.”
“Thanks.”
Nita reached into the empty air beside her and pulled her manual out of the claudication that followed her around. “Here,” she said. “Is something wrong with it?”
Carl sat down. “I don’t think so,” he said, “but there’s something I want to check. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Carl opened Nita’s manual, turned to one particular page, and spoke to it softly under his breath.
Nita watched this curiously. The page filled up with characters in the Speech, cleared itself, and filled again, while Nita told Carl about the dreams she’d started having, how she’d decided to look into them more closely, and what she’d found. Well before she was finished, Carl had pushed her manual to one side and was giving Nita his undivided attention. When she finished, he let out a long breath.
“Well,” he said.
“What were you looking for?” Nita said, feeling slightly nervous.
“It’s all right. It’s nothing bad.” Carl folded his arms and sat back in the chair. “It’s just that the information you’ve been given normally isn’t made public.”
“Been given?” Nita said.
Carl nodded. “But someone at a higher level has seen to it that you got it. So I see from the authorization logs.”
Nita thought about that for a moment. “So he is an abdal?” she said.
Carl got a brooding look. “Tell me how he seemed to you, in twenty-five words or less.”
“Innocent,” Nita said. “He’s absolutely innocent. But he’s fierce about it. It just rolls off him.”
She shook her head. The impact of his personality, as communicated by just that one brief direct glance of Darryl’s eyes, was difficult to describe without sounding silly. If it was light, it would have been blinding. “And it’s not just the innocence. Even when he was screaming, I still liked him a lot.
He’s really good. And he just doesn’t notice, doesn’t seem to get it…”
“That would seem to clinch it, wouldn’t it?” Carl said. “The definition out of the manual, practically word for word.”
“That’s what I thought. And it scared me somehow.” Carl smiled a little. “Possibly a healthy response,” he said. “And one that convinces me you’re right. You met him out of the flesh, without the protective coloration that a body provides for a spirit like that. At such times you would get the full impact…and I imagine it’s an eye-opener.”
Nita nodded. “I never thought goodness could be so tough,” she said. “So strong. But then again…I guess goodness isn’t something I’d think about a whole lot, anyway. Nobody uses the word much unless it’s in a commercial, and then they’re just trying to convince you that something has a lot of milk in it.”
Carl nodded, looking wry. “Virtue,” he said. “The real thing. It’s not some kind of cuddly teddy bear you can keep on the shelf until you need a hug. It’s dangerous, which is why it makes people so nervous. Virtue has its own agenda, and believe me, it’s not always yours. The word itself means strength, power. And when it gets loose, you’d better watch out.” “Something bad might happen…”
“Impossible. But possibly something painful.” Carl fell silent for a moment. “The manual makes the abdals sound like saints,” Nita said.
“Oh, they are saints,” Carl said. “That aspect of their power doesn’t have anything to do with wizardry as such, though it can coexist with it, the same way you could be, say, a mathematician and a really nice person at the same time.”
Nita made a face. “You haven’t met my statistics teacher.”
“I hear you. I still hate anything more complex than long division. But the trouble with sainthood these days is the robe-and-halo imagery that gets stuck onto it.” Carl got that brooding look again.
“People forget that robes were street clothes once… and still are, in a lot of places. And halos are to that fierce air of innocence what speech balloons in comics are to the sound of the voice itself.
Shorthand. But most people just see an old symbol and don’t bother looking behind it for the meaning. Sainthood starts to look old-fashioned, unattainable… even repellent. Actually, you can see it all around, once you learn to spot it.”
“You make it sound like there are saints all over the place.”
“Of course there are. You don’t think it’s just wizards that keep the universe running, do you?
But saints tend not to be obvious. For one thing, they don’t want to draw the Lone One’s attention to them. Also, they tend to be too busy. Mostly sainthood involves hard work.”
Carl leaned forward to pick up Nita’s manual again, paging through it. “Anyway, I think you can understand why information about the abdals would be pretty carefully controlled, most of the time.
The whole point of the way they function is that they’re not supposed to know what they are. And the more mortals who do know, the more might let it slip. Darryl is important. Far more important, in the larger scheme of things, than you or I, or than just about anybody else I know, or am likely to know. Abdals don’t exactly grow on trees.“ Carl looked suddenly thoughtful. ”Well, actually, some places they do. What I mean is, they’re not commonplace. The One invests a lot of power in them.
There wouldn’t be many of them on a given planet at any one time… and we want to keep the ones we’ve got. Or the one we’ve got, because as far as Earth goes at the moment, Darryl may well be it.
And his presence here, even when he doesn’t seem to be doing anything, is important for the world, because through him, the One channels into the world some of the power we use. If you’ll pardon the plumbing analogy, think of us as faucets and Darryl as the reservoir, or the well. Cut that off, and—“ Carl shook his head.
Nita was silent for some moments, digesting this. “So what do I do now?” she said at last. “I don’t want Kit to think I’m horning in on his assignment or something because I’m worried about him. But I think maybe I am. He was okay when he started this, pretty much… as far as I was able to tell anything clearly about his state of mind when I was so stuck in my own. But now… he doesn’t feel like he usually does. And I can’t tell for sure whether that’s good or bad.”
“I wouldn’t be sure, either,” Carl said. “Well, the first thing you can do is, when he gets up, tell him I want a word with him, pronto. I don’t like to lean on
my wizards as a rule, but Kit’s been a little less careful than usual, and with what you’ve discovered about the situation, he’d better sharpen up. The stakes have been raised.”
She came back from Tom and Carl’s the quick way, popping out into the backyard. The snow there was untouched, rather to her surprise. Dairine was as much a snow fiend as their mom had been. It was unusual to find that she hadn’t been out here at least long enough to make a couple of angels. Under more normal circumstances, there would have been a whole snowman by now. But the circumstances aren’t normal
…
Nita went in, shucked her parka off and left it by the back door, and went up the stairs to see what Dairine was up to. She found her in her bedroom, staring at her desk. Spot was sitting in her lap, also staring with its little stalky eyes at the construction sitting there.
Nita looked at the desk. It was covered with tinfoil. On the foil and on a subsidiary bed of newspaper rested what appeared to be a model volcano sculpted out of wet papier-mache. The volcano was extremely broad and flat, of the shield type, and Nita recognized it immediately.
“How does it look?” Dairine said.
“Not bad,” Nita said. “What’s it for?”
“We’re doing a geology unit in our science class.”
Nita raised her eyebrows. “Bending the rules a little, Dair?” she said. “That’s Olympus Mons. It hardly counts as geology.”
“Okay, areology, then.” Dairine sat there wiping her hands on a towel.
“It looks a little bare right now,” Nita said.
Her sister turned a look of withering scorn on her. Spot cocked one eye in Nita’s direction as if to suggest that she’d asked for this. “Of course it looks a little bare,” Dairine said. “I have to paint it first. My real project for today is constructing an airbrush out of nothing but wizardry.”
“Sounds like a moderate challenge,” Nita said.
“And when the volcano’s done, I’m going to make it blow up in class,” Dairine said.