by Karen Lord
We were hardly halfway to the other side when we heard it coming, like thunder.
Dllenahkh’s quickening steps set the bridge swaying so that I stumbled. He took my arm briefly to steady me and then urged me on with a light push. White water came pouring down the slope, crashing toward us with terrifying speed. Panic kept my feet moving as the wooden planks began to heave beneath me. Still trying to move forward, I watched in helpless fascination as the water surged over and under the bridge, tipping and twisting it vertical.
I remember the fall. The weight of my pack pulled me immediately backward and horizontal. I looked down between my feet at the white froth of breaking water and saw Dllenahkh move quickly, reaching for me, fingers sliding along my left leg and coming to rest firmly around my ankle. Not the slightest hint of anxiety or surprise showed on his face, so it took me a while to realize that he was falling too, a vast weight of water following behind his back. He hauled me toward him, grabbed my belt with his other hand, and hauled again, reeling me in. Then he looked beyond me with an expression of intense concentration and pulled my head protectively against his shoulder.
We hit. Water is hard. I lost breath, memory, and finally consciousness.
I found awareness again in a dream. I was riding my elephant through wooded marshes, dry savanna, and dim green forest. He moved slowly, strongly, each step striking ground solidly yet gently. Swaying slightly with his gait, I leaned over so that my mouth came close to the languidly fanning giant ear.
Dark you are, and golden-eyed, I whispered to the beast.
I lay on my stomach along his broad back and patted his huge head. He brought up his trunk and found my face without seeing, gently touching my cheeks and forehead. The skin of the trunk’s tip was soft, its dexterity handlike. His breath surrounded my face like a hot tropical breeze. I smiled. I felt so comfortable. Then the gentle brush against my skin vibrated strangely as if dragging over a patch rougher than elephant skin, like scabbing on a nasty scrape. When did that happen?
I woke up—and I mean woke up, because my eyes were already open and waiting for consciousness to return. There was a half-healed scab on my cheekbone. There was also a warm hand on my face. I instinctively grasped it with my left hand as I blinked and tried to focus. Not one meter away, lying like me on a thin pallet on the floor, was Dllenahkh. We had been given tunics of roughly woven linen and light blankets of some material I could not identify. Dllenahkh’s eyes were shut, his face perfectly blank, but it was his hand that rested on my face. As I began to draw away, there was an impression in my mind of a golden eye that winked and faded out.
“Wait.” Dllenahkh’s eyes were still closed, but it was his voice that spoke, the voice of someone whose vocal chords have been unused for hours. “Stay still.”
I stopped moving, biddable in my drowsiness. Warm tendrils untangled from my nervous system, withdrawing gently but swiftly like the leaf-brush of startled mimosa. I frowned, feeling their absence like the niggling pain of a familiar but forgotten name.
Dllenahkh cleared his throat, sat up slowly, and said, “Thank you.”
I tried to speak, choked on a dry throat, and merely nodded.
He gazed at me sleepily, then looked around the room. There was a low table against a nearby wall with two covered plates, two cups, and a pot. He slowly rearranged his legs to sit on his heels before the table, poured the cups full, and handed me one.
“Drink. Your body needs water and energy.”
I took the cup with slightly shaking hands and drank deeply, reclining on one elbow. It was both bitter and sweet and not really something I’d usually drink, but I downed it as if it were the most delicious thing in the world.
Dllenahkh drank slowly. His eyes scanned my face and looked me up and down in a cataloging fashion. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?”
I set down my cup, lightly touched the scab on my cheek, felt along my arms and ribs, arched my back, and pointed and flexed my toes. “I think everything works. A little sore, which is to be expected from being battered by water and rock. How about you?”
“I am well,” he replied.
“Is it you I should be thanking for the quick-heal?” I asked.
“In part. The adepts showed me how to link to you and guide your body in the healing process.”
The adepts. Interesting. I would investigate that thoroughly—after increasing my blood sugar level. I drained my cup and scooted to the table to pour out more, but I was soon distracted by the covered dishes. When I took a peek, I found nothing familiar, but the aromas were subtly tempting. I uncovered and offered a plate to Dllenahkh, part courtesy, part bribe.
“Tell me everything,” I said.
I couldn’t remember much after that first icy plunge, which was probably a mercy, because when Dllenahkh began to describe, albeit in a terse, unemotional way, how we had been sucked down by the swirling currents, I began to shiver. I have no doubt that whatever my injuries had been, I would have fared far worse had he not shielded me from the hardest impacts. As for the adepts, apparently we had washed up at one of the legendary monasteries via some underwater cave or passage or secret way that lurked behind or beneath the falls. I wanted to feel excited about such a beautiful cliché coming true, but mainly I felt hungry, worried, and very unsure about the place we had stumbled into. This was not an Indiana Jones classic holovid; it was real life.
Dllenahkh had no such qualms. “I do not understand how they have managed it, but these savants possess knowledge that goes far beyond the era when the taSadiri would have arrived at Cygnus Beta.”
“Parallel development of theories and practices, perhaps? A kind of Newton–Leibniz effect?”
He pondered. “It is a gross oversimplification to compare the discovery of calculus to the evolution of some of the most sophisticated techniques of mind and meditation the galaxy has seen, but I understand your point. Perhaps both branches of the disciplines exemplify a natural progression in Sadiri thought.”
“How do you know so much about them already?” I asked.
Dllenahkh looked away from me, not wanting to lie but clearly not wanting to answer. I finally got a clue. “Telepathy! And strong enough not to need touch for conversation. That is something.”
Dllenahkh sipped his tea and made a noise that sounded almost like satisfaction. “They have advanced the disciplines to a level even beyond what we attained in the monasteries on Sadira.”
“Will they go to the Sadiri settlement here or even to New Sadira?” I asked shrewdly.
His eyelids lowered slightly, a dimming of his quiet enthusiasm. “They do not wish to reveal themselves. Not even now.”
“Well, that doesn’t help anyone.” I sighed, feeling very tired. “Will they speak to me, or am I too brain-dumb to be worth the effort?”
Dllenahkh smiled at that. “I believe they are being mindful of your condition. You were unconscious when we arrived and have only recently awakened.”
“Very kind of them. Well, let them know from me that a light is more useful on a high hill than under a bushel. And after you’ve thanked them for their hospitality, ask them when we can go home.” I spoke as if the mission team was “home,” and I suppose that’s what it had become to me by then.
I spent most of the rest of that day in bed. While I was sleeping, Dllenahkh left the room to lodge elsewhere, so I woke alone in darkness. I lay peacefully listening to the sound of rainwater—or perhaps it was a heavy night dew—dripping from the eaves outside until the sun came up and filled the room with light. Minutes later, someone arrived—a small girl-woman dressed in a light woolen robe, her hair so closely cut that it was a mere shadow on her scalp.
“Good morning,” I said in Sadiri.
She looked confused and shy. “Good morning,” she answered hesitantly in my local dialect. “I will bring water for you to wash and your clothes so you can dress.”
I realized my backpack must have made the journey when I saw that the clothes she brought we
re those I had been carrying, not wearing. When I finished my simple cold-water ablutions and got dressed, she brought me a number of items in baskets, laid them neatly alongside a wall, and departed.
“Brilliant!” I said first, recognizing the contents of my backpack, undamaged by water. Those Forestry types know how to design proper gear.
“Blast it,” I said next. There was a carefully wrapped bundle of material that, when unfolded, revealed the many many fragments of my handheld. No quick message sending. Speaking of which, where was my comm?
Dllenahkh came into my room, no doubt in response to my cry of dismay. “Hey, Dllenahkh,” I said cheerfully. “They have women here! You can’t keep this treasure from the other Sadiri. But I’m surprised it’s a mixed community. Don’t these kinds of groups separate the sexes so they won’t get distracted from philosophizing or something?”
Dllenahkh folded his hands into his sleeves, an action that brought to my attention the fact that he was now wearing a robe very similar to the local style. “As they rarely use shielding among themselves, they are already aware of each others’ minds, and physical separation would not serve any purpose. Instead, they have an integrated society—celibates, singles, wedded couples, and children—all in full telepathic communication.”
“What a way to live!” I exclaimed. “I bet some areas stay shielded, like the couples’ quarters.”
Before I could laugh at my own words, I saw Dllenahkh’s lips twitch in a way that was all too familiar to me.
“I see,” I said soberly. “I have got to stop laughing at things. They’re turning out to be true too often for comfort. Now, have you asked them how we’re going to get back?”
“Have you eaten the morning meal as yet?” he asked.
“No,” I said, frowning. “Did you just avoid my question?”
“I would prefer to discuss it over breakfast,” he replied.
He knew where to go. As I followed him, I noticed that in spite of the near silence of the place, the few people we encountered directly greeted us verbally, sometimes in Sadiri, sometimes in my own dialect. The men kept their heads clean shaven, and the women allowed themselves only a shadow’s length, like the girl I had seen earlier. Not all wore robes, but all garments were of solid colors and in simple styles. In contrast to this superficial uniformity, their faces and bodies were strikingly, variably expressive, a constant reminder of the thousands of ongoing conversations that I could not hear.
After passing through a kind of communal refectory and gathering a tray of fruits, grains, broth, and tea, we found ourselves on a balcony that looked down a green gully with a small window of blue sky at the end. The trees dripped moisture, though the early morning mist was quickly burning off as the day warmed up. The breeze was cool, the view breathtaking, and the company … enigmatic. He ignored my questioning looks and urged me to eat. Only when nothing but lukewarm tea remained to be consumed did he sit back slightly on his heels and look reflective.
“I was once closely connected to a monastery on Sadira, what you would term an oblate. Although I worked as a government official and lived in secular society, my free time was devoted to the study of the mind and its potential.”
I forgot my cooling tea and listened avidly. I had never dared ask any Sadiri about their life before the disaster, and though I knew Dllenahkh better than any of them, all my knowledge of him was newly minted, scarcely over a year old.
“My time on Cygnus Beta has been spent similarly. I work in the local government of the homesteadings, and I teach the disciplines at various levels. Mainly, because I cannot be everywhere, I train others to teach.”
“It sounds to me,” I said very softly, loath to interrupt him, “as if you are among the most advanced of the savants on Cygnus Beta.”
He seemed to ponder momentarily. “I would say your assessment is correct, with one exception. I have not sought the highest levels: the development of the skill required to pilot a mindship.”
“May I ask why not?”
He looked at me as though it were obvious.
“Unlike the Zhinuvians, who link and delink from their technology with ease, Sadiri pilots are uniquely bonded to their ships. I do not wish to deny myself the profound bond that may be experienced in the connection between human minds.”
He paused and gazed at the distant patch of sky framed by leaf and vine. “For me, finding this place is like finding a treasure. I have asked about leaving. There is no problem with us doing so. They only require that we leave behind all memory of this place so that it may remain hidden.”
I pursed my lips. I wasn’t comfortable with gaps in my memory for obvious reasons, yet I could see that maintaining the security of this community was more important than my own personal issues. “Very well. When can we go?”
He gave me an intent look. “But must we go?”
I was aghast. He was serious. “Dllenahkh, I can’t stay. I—we have people depending on us to return.”
He spoke abruptly, almost an interruption. “While I appreciate that Cygnians are capable of forming attachments within a very short time period, I believe that Tonio—”
I cut him off, stung at his obtuseness. “I was talking about Rafi. I think even Sadiri understand family responsibility. And don’t you think Joral depends on you too?”
“Joral understands that he can rely on the guidance of any elder Sadiri of our community—”
“Yes,” I said impatiently, “but they won’t be you. You guys are like family, you know?”
“There are so few of us left that all Sadiri may be considered family,” he said stubbornly.
“Then why cause him pain by letting him think you’re dead?” I said gently.
Dllenahkh said nothing, but I saw a flicker in his gaze that suggested I had scored a hit. After a short silence, he said, “Since you insist on returning, you could tell him that I am alive.”
“After they wipe my memories?” I said sarcastically.
His look was determined and perhaps a touch irritated. “You will not forget this. I will see to it.”
I went back to my room and packed up my things, even the bits of broken handheld. When I came out again, Dllenahkh was there with an elderly monk who looked at my readiness and smiled slightly.
“Few choose to stay with us. This is to be expected. It is not a life that everyone can understand.”
I felt more than mere courtesy compelling me to reply, and I did so in my best ceremonial Sadiri. “Few are truly free of obligations and responsibilities to others. Otherwise they would stay, if only for a while, because your harmonious society soothes both mind and spirit.”
He inclined his head in gracious acknowledgment of both the words and the sincerity.
“And yet I wonder,” I went on, emboldened by his gentleness, “why your secrecy is so important—important enough to tamper with a person’s mind.”
Dllenahkh began to frown, clearly considering this rudeness, but the monk bowed his head in apology, accepting the seriousness of the question. “We tried, once, to be open to the world. The effects on the community were distressing. You see, many people believed that we were the Caretakers and began to demand of us more than we could provide.”
“And you are not—”
“We are not now, nor have we ever been, the Caretakers,” he declared solemnly.
I almost sighed in disappointment. I had no strong feelings about the matter, but I had the usual amount of curiosity.
“Their powers are far beyond us,” he continued.
“So you have met them?” I asked quickly.
He smiled. “I really couldn’t say.”
He led us out of the building and into an orderly garden of green grass, dark rock, and low clusters of pale gold flowers. A central gravel path led to a glass-smooth pool that appeared to have no edge but blue horizon. I felt a tiny surge of worry.
“There is no safer way?” Dllenahkh inquired sharply.
“None that outsiders may
see,” was the placid response.
The monks walk on water and fly through the treetops. “So, this is what I think it is,” I said in leaden tones.
“She has only recently recovered. How can you be sure she is strong enough?” Dllenahkh turned to me suddenly. “Delarua, stay.”
“No, Dllenahkh. Rafi, remember? Joral. Qeturah. Even my sister Maria, who probably wishes me dead. And yes, even Tonio, who I’ve known for all of two weeks.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” he declared.
“Don’t.” I shook my head. “Don’t do this; don’t make me feel that I stood between you and your dream.”
His look of resolve told me he had already made up his mind. “If I am permitted, I will return some day, after I have completed my assignment. You were right, Delarua. There are people depending on us to return, and it was a lapse on my part to persuade myself otherwise.”
I glanced at the monk. He stood looking at us, as unsurprised as if he had known Dllenahkh’s mind before Dllenahkh had known it himself. I took in a huge breath of relief.
“Well, then, what are you waiting for?” I said with a grin. “Get your stuff.”
I walked the gardens with the monk while Dllenahkh was away. I know we had a good in-depth conversation, because I felt lighthearted at the end of it, and I’ve learned to trust my emotions. He must have taken particular care to remove all trace of his presence in my mind, because I cannot remember a single thing that we spoke about. I do remember when Dllenahkh returned, once more outfitted as a member of the mission team. My mind felt a space clearing, as if a single drop of oil had touched and spread, pushing back all other influence.
I looked at the monk, knowing but needing to hear him say it. He smiled and gestured at the pool.
“Walk on water. Fly through the treetops. Farewell.”
Indiana Jones holovid fans, eat your heart out. We did not walk; we ran. Our feet struck the water firmly, gripped impossibly, and propelled us to the horizon at the pool’s far edge. We hurtled into an element that should have destroyed us: high-vaulted air with a breeze too light for the wingless to hope.