Homesmind

by Pamela Sargent

  She was walled in. Anra pulled away from Rulek, clutching at her head. She could hear no thoughts. She looked up at the sky. The Visitor seemed even larger now, and Homesmind was facing it alone.

  Thunder rolled over the desert as lightning flashed; boulders cascaded down the mountainsides, raising a cloud of dust below as the ground shook. The moon was blood-red; tiny flames leaped from its craters.

  She still had her link; she opened a channel cautiously. Without the power of the Minds, she could not touch the thoughts of most of the Earthfolk, but she could still sense Homesmind and the minds of those with implants. Several skydwellers were calling out to their old world.

  —Save Yourself— their minds cried. —We are already lost. The Visitor will shatter the moon, and Earth will quake. Homesmind, we are lost. Save Yourself—

  It is too late, Homesmind whispered. The Visitor comes for Me. I give Myself up, and say farewell to you.

  —Save Yourself— Anra called out.

  Perhaps I shall, in the end.

  The Visitor above them swelled, engulfing the tiny Wanderer. The cometdwellers near Anra were wailing; Tuela wept as she clung to Jerod. The emotions they had once kept in check were spilling from them now. "Homesmind!" several voices cried.

  "Close your links!" Lydee screamed. "Do you want to be taken, too?"

  Anra kept her link open; the thoughts of her friends were also reaching out. They had no defense now; the Visitor might take them all. —No— she thought fiercely. —You won't take me— Other minds echoed her words.

  Her mind snapped; she had no strength left. She covered her head, waiting.

  "Listen," Rulek said as he got to his feet.

  Anra's mouth was dry. "I hear nothing now. Homes-mind is gone." She nearly choked on the words. "It's gone."

  "I can't hear the Voice now."

  Rulek was right. The Visitor no longer roared and she could not sense its hunger. She gazed at the sky; the awesome comet hung over them, waiting.

  /It is done/

  She was hearing the Minds, impossible as that seemed.

  /It is done/

  People were murmuring to one another as their fear began to fade.

  /We live/ Anra seemed to hear echoes of Homesmind in the voice, which was calm and gentle. /The Visitor tried to swallow too much. Now it rests inside Us, its hunger sated/

  As the thoughts of the Minds flowed into her, Anra understood. The Minds, and all that They held, had swarmed into the Visitor so rapidly that it had not had time to absorb Them before grasping at Homesmind's thoughts. Homesmind, by giving Itself up at that moment instead of continuing to resist, had turned the alien comet's greed against itself, and the tendrils of Its thoughts had given strength to the still unswallowed Minds. It and the Minds had swallowed the Visitor.

  "We haven't lost You," Reiho called out with both voice and mind. "You'll be with us after all."

  /Alas, We shall not/ The Visitor was shrinking, its light beginning to fade.

  "Stay," a woman cried.

  /We cannot. We are being drawn away. The Visitor is at peace, but its drive carries us away from Earth, and We cannot control it. We have used up too much of Our strength, and lack the knowledge to stop it/ The comet collapsed into a small point of light and then lengthened into a multicolored strand. /We shall be carried far from here, perhaps to the Visitor's old world. Farewell/ The colorful strand vanished.

  The moon swelled; a halo of red light surrounded its glowing center. Earth's satellite shattered as the planet lurched beneath it.

  Farewell, Homesmind whispered. I do not think we shall meet again.

  A pinprick of light, all that they could now see of the comet, winked out. Among the stars, three smaller moons now hung over Earth and the weeping people below.

  TWELVE

  Spears, bows, and quivers of arrows littered the fields and plain; a few tents still stood, fluttering in the morning breeze. A herd of stray horses whinnied and then galloped away as the shuttles approached.

  Most of the village huts seemed untouched, though a few roofs had been burned. The shuttles landed in the meadow.

  Doors slid open. Earthfolk and skydwellers jumped out, looking around fearfully. Anra took a breath; she was about to open her link and then remembered. She glanced at Lydee; the skydwellers, without Homesmind, had been silenced as well. Homesmind had linked their surface thoughts, had answered their questions, had guided them. Now they would sense only the simpler devices inside the shuttles, primitive cybcrminds that followed orders and performed their tasks without reflection. Homesmind would no longer bind the cometfolk together.

  Lydee walked to the edge of the meadow, then turned to face the crowd. "The shuttle sensors have scanned the village," she said, having to shout to be heard. "There's no one here."

  Anra looked down. Had anyone else resisted the Visitor's call? Their small group might be the only people on Earth. She thought of Olin. The pain of his memory was so sharp that she had to press a fist against her mouth to stifle her cry. A hand clutched her shoulder; Rulek's hazel eyes mirrored her own sorrow.

  The shuttles had fanned out over Earth to search for survivors. Several skydwellers had taken their craft high above Earth, where they could scan entire continents for signs of life. Most of the vessels flew near the surface; the maps on their panels outlined areas already searched, places where people had been found, and spots where some might be rescued. They would continue the search until all of Earth had been covered.

  Anra sat next to Rulek, her eyes on the map in front of her. They had searched two villages and had found no one, not even bodies of the dead. They were now moving over a pine forest toward Rulek's old home. She wondered how he would react at the sight of his village. She no longer expected to find anyone; the Visitor, it seemed, had swallowed almost all of Earth's souls, who had given themselves up willingly, dreaming of the final merging.

  The craft landed, and the two climbed out. The pines whistled above them, the wind wailing softly as if mourning for those now gone. The shuttle's sensors had detected no life, yet Rulek wandered from house to house, stopping in front of each doorway as if waiting for someone to welcome him inside.

  Boats were beached along the shore, hulls up, oars at their sides. Rulek gazed at the choppy, gray water for a long time, then walked on, skirting the village. She wondered what he was thinking.

  They walked among the tall trees. Rulek was still wearing the silver suit and belt of a skydweller; his people would have seen him as an alien presence in this forest. She looked down at the brown pine needles under her feet, careful not to trip over the thick roots of the trees. Something rustled behind her; she stopped for a moment, listening. She could no longer sense possible dangers with her mind; she would have to rely on her eyes and ears. She would be crippled for the rest of her life, it seemed.

  They came to a small clearing. Rulek halted and pointed at the ground. "Wyke's buried here."

  Anra stiffened. So that was what had led him back.

  "We always buried our dead in this forest. Sometimes, when we heard the wind at night, it was as if they were speaking to us. We were taught that their souls were with God, of course, but we had our own legends also. It was said that sometimes the soul of a villager would return here to walk in the woods and see loved ones again. My grandmother told me that when I was little."

  "There might be some survivors," she said. "They might have left this village to wander. Some might be alive elsewhere."

  "I know my people. They would have stayed in the forest they loved. They would have died rather than wander."

  "We should leave, Rulek. There are still many places to search."

  "You go, Anra. I must stay here."

  She swallowed. "But you can't," she said feebly.

  "It's my village. I'm the only one left. There's nothing else for me now."

  "You want to stay for a little while." She tried to smile. "That's what you mean, isn't it? I can continue to search and then come
back for you."

  He shook his head. "This is my home. I want to stay."

  "But you'll be alone."

  "We're all alone now. Loneliness among other people is worse than this kind of solitude. I'll hear the wind, and their voices in it. I'll be near them again."

  "You'll be near her. That's what you mean." She stepped forward. "She's dead. Why can't you accept it?"

  "She'll be alive inside me."

  "You're mad. You can't stay here. How will you live?"

  "There are huts enough to choose from. I'll use a skydweller's wand until I can make my own weapons for hunting, and I can fish as well. My body is stronger than it was, and you can leave me enough provisions to get by for a time."

  "But what if you're hurt? There won't be anyone to help you. We won't even be able to contact you—you'll be completely cut off."

  "I have to stay. There's no hope for Earth now. Whom have we found? If I'm to die, I'd rather die here."

  "You cursed boy." She shook her fist. "I should have left you to the shining ones in the desert if that was what you wanted. If I had, Olin would still be alive." His head jerked up; his eyes were wide. "Did you think he went to the Visitor willingly? He wanted to save me, and I would never have been in danger if I hadn't saved you. I don't know why I did." She could not restrain her words. "Somehow I must have still cared for you. I hate you now. You bring nothing but pain. Perhaps your people would have driven you out even if you hadn't gone against them, so that your dark thoughts wouldn't poison their lives. What a fool I was."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't—"

  She struck at him with one arm; he blocked the blow. "You don't even need dreams fed to you. You'll make your own."

  "Anra!" He grabbed her by the wrists, restraining her. "Listen to me. I do have some feeling for you—I've known that for some time." She stepped back as he let go. "I thought for a while it might only be gratitude, but now I know it's more than that. But I still mourn Wyke. Whenever I look at you, I see her as well. I can't give myself to you and forget her—if I do, it would be as if she were dying again. I must be true to someone."

  She blinked, holding back her tears. "Oh, I understand you even without touching your thoughts. I've lost Olin, too. I gave my pledge to him in the desert that night."

  "I didn't know."

  "You thought he was only my friend."

  "I guessed that you meant more to him than that, but I didn't realize that you—"

  "We had no time to tell anyone of our pledge. He was my partner—my duty was to him and I forgot it for you. We would have had a life together now. Why did I have to save you? When I saw goodness and courage in you, I was only deceiving myself."

  He stared past her. "Then you should be relieved that you'll no longer have me to trouble your thoughts."

  "Oh, I am. Enjoy your dreams and be damned."

  She spun around and stumbled through the forest. By the time she reached the shuttle, she was weeping. Climbing in, she assembled Rulek's supplies as quickly as she could, afraid he might appear at any moment and see her tears. He would need clothes, food, a knife, a wand, boots. She threw the supplies out the door, not stopping until a mound of objects was heaped next to the craft.

  She was still wearing the blue beads Olin had given her. The necklace would only remind her of her loss. She took them off slowly and dropped them on top of Rulek's supplies.

  Anra's shuttle carried her west. She had flown north of her village, having no happy news to bring it and no survivors to join the people there. Others had been more fortunate. She listened as messages filled the ship:

  "Two here—a girl and a boy."

  "—nearly frozen to death on an ice floe."

  "—one old man—"

  "—a mother and child."

  She began to hope. Her shuttle shot up over the tall mountain peaks and then dropped toward the mountain valley that was her destination. Let them be alive, she thought; let me have that much. A light blinked on the screen before her, as if the shuttle was answering her prayer. Someone was alive in her parents' village.

  The craft landed next to the spring. Its waters had risen, lapping at the bottoms of the pathways leading up to the wooden houses; a boulder of rock now formed an island in the spring's center. Several houses were only heaps of wood. Anra jumped out and waited, but heard only the steady rush of the waterfall.

  She had walked up one path a short distance before realizing how careless she was being. She would not be able to sense danger; she would be safer waiting by the craft, using its scanners to pinpoint the location of the survivors. She did not know how they might react to her.

  She backed down the path slowly, keeping her eyes on the village. "I know you're here," she shouted; her voice echoed from the mountainside. "Come out—I'm here to help you." A goat bleated in the distance. "Come out."

  A small shape suddenly rushed from a nearby doorway; it leaped at her, slashing at her leg with a knife and cutting her trousers. Anra slapped the knife away and grabbed the child's arms. Wild brown eyes glared at her through a tangle of dirty dark brown hair.

  "Kani," Anra said, shaking the girl. "I'm Anra. Don't you remember me? I'm your sister." She set Kani on her feet.

  The younger girl broke away, shrieking. "Silla!" Kani screamed. "Harel!" She threw herself on the ground, beating it with her fists.

  Anra knelt next to her. "I'm here to help you. Please don't cry. Who else is here?"

  Kani sat up slowly, watching her warily.

  "I'll help you. People are still alive in my village. You can have a home there."

  A small hand darted toward her face, trying to claw at her eyes. Anra grabbed the child's wrists.

  "Kani!"

  Anra looked up. Brun was making his way down along the path awkwardly, hobbling with the aid of his crutches. A small, dark-haired boy was with him; Anra recognized Sel. She let go of Kani, who ran to her brothers. Brun took her arm, seated her on a bench, then sat down with her.

  Anra walked up to them. Brun had grown taller, but his face was thin and pinched. Kani clung to his arm; Sel had one hand on his knife.

  "I won't hurt you," Anra murmured.

  "You're still alive," Brun said.

  "So are many others, Earthfolk and skydwellers."

  "You've changed. You look older."

  "Who else is here?"

  "No one," Brun replied.

  Anra sat down. Kani hid her face against Brun's sleeve, burying her face in the fur. A tear was rolling down Sel's face.

  "I've been trying to look out for them," Brun went on.

  "You don't have to stay here now. You can come with me to a new home. We still have some skydweller tools— they can help us rebuild."

  "And can they help me?" He looked down at his legs. Anra saw what separateness would mean to Brun—a crippled body with no mindpowers to compensate for the weakness.

  "I don't know. I'm not sure how much they can do. They've lost the Mind Who guided them. Perhaps they still know some things."

  "If they can't, they'll have no use for me. I'll only be a burden. Take Kani and Sel and leave me."

  Sel grabbed a crutch, crying out a wordless protest.

  "I won't leave you, Brun. We need everyone we can find. There'll be work for you to do, work that doesn't require a strong body. You have to come. I don't think Kani and Sel will leave unless you do. Please."

  "I suppose you're right." He glared at one crutch. "I should have come with you before, when you offered me the chance to walk. Now I'm locked inside this body." He brushed back a lock of auburn hair. "But if I'd been with you, Kani and Sel ..."He paused.

  "What happened?" Anra asked.

  "When the Fiery One was large in the sky, we were all joined together in the Net. We heard voices warning us to shield ourselves, but we couldn't bear to choose solitude. I held to the Net, ready to be carried to the light above, but then I remembered you and what you had said and what I had thought, and my questions and doubts held me back. I rais
ed my wall and shielded my brother and sister as well."

  She put her hand on his shoulder.

  "Our parents were smiling as they became light. I had never seen such a look of joy on their faces. I almost wanted to join them then, but the hunger of the one swallowing their souls frightened me too much."

  "It hungers no more," she said. "All the souls inside it are at peace now. They wander the heavens with the Minds. Perhaps someday that world will carry them back to us."

  "I hear the doubt in your words, sister, even if I can't touch your mind."

  "I speak the truth. They are at peace. I can at least hope that they may return in some far time." She stood up. "We must go. I have more searching to do. I have to take you home."

  "Home," Brun said as he rose. She held out her arm to assist him down the slope, but he shook his head, refusing. The four descended together, refusing to look back.

  PART THREE

  THIRTEEN

  The men who lived in the hut across from Anra's were building a door. She watched with Brun as their neighbors propped the rectangular piece of wood against the side of their dwelling.

  "When will it be finished?" Brun asked.

  "Tomorrow," the taller man answered. "Maybe by tonight." His shorter companion shrugged and plucked at his brown beard as he surveyed the door.

  Anra had not been surprised by their project. Already many of the huts had curtains of cloth hanging in their doorways; people now called out greetings before entering a dwelling. They were all falling into the ways of solitaries.

  She had heard rumors of thefts, food stolen from an empty hut or a piece of cloth unaccounted for; the fact that the shuttles could provide for their needs had not deterred the thieves, who probably enjoyed the novelty of stealing. Without mindpowers, others were unlikely to discover who the thieves were.

  Theft was not their only problem. A few nights earlier, Anra's neighbors had drunk too much wine and had fought; it had taken six people to pry the two apart. Now that their thoughts were hidden and unshared, it seemed impossible to control them; they festered until rage released them. Speech alone left too much room for misunderstanding.