The Leaves of October Part 8

Dawn Folk and Hlutr sing together now, sing in sound and in the soundless waves of the Inner Voice, sing triumph and the joy of life's endless cycles renewed. There is a truth, which most races learn but which Hlutr and Dawn People know instinctively from the first moment of existence, and this truth is that all life is one. From one end of the Galactic Spiral to the other, from the slow-living crystalline Talebba off in deep s.p.a.ce to the fleeting insects of green Tcherlatha to the majesty of the Hlutr themselves and beyond, every creature that lives is a part of all others. This is what Khria must learn, if he is to wield his power wisely.

In that sun-warmed glade beneath Sebya's eternal blue sky, my dream comes to a sudden and shocking end. For while the White Rocks tribe stands enraptured, Khria points, and his followers tear one of the new seedlings out of the nouris.h.i.+ng ground. The newborn's cry of anguish rocks the forest, and every creature within it stiffens and pauses as if an enemy has just appeared.

In that terrible moment, my song is attuned to Khria's, and I feel the emotions that beat in his mind, the pa.s.sions that flow through his animal glands. And what I find sickens me. Khria is happy- he actually enjoys what he has done, he drinks the pain of the Little One as a thirsty flower drinks the Spring rain.

Quick action is not the Hlutr way- we prefer to deal with problems over generations, not seconds. I least of all, who have lived so slowly and so long, am accustomed to acting fast. So Khria and his fellows are in their skys.h.i.+p and above the treetops before I can respond.

Khria has betrayed me. More...I have been a fool. To have trusted a Human, especially when I could not read his hidden emotions! Now the enormity of my deed comes upon me with the shock of sudden winter.

Questions fill my mind, but there is no time for them. Why, Khria, have you done this? What possesses you, to repudiate a solemn agreement made to a Hlutr Elder? Answers must needs come later, for now I must act.

My view of the glade is shadowy and indistinct now, for my brothers and sisters who carry that image to me are reeling with consternation. Close the curtain, I tell them, And send the Humans to me. I will know from Khria himself why he has done this.

One Hlutr voice sounds clear in the confusion, and others follow it: the curtain is built up, shutting out Humans from the Forest of the Dawn and, more important, closing in those who are already there. Khria's men cannot stand against the united Hlutr will.

Too late, I find that Khria has antic.i.p.ated me. A bright bolt of red lashes from his skys.h.i.+p into the very body of a mature Hlut on the outskirts of the glade- that one's pain deafens all nearby, and brings the song of the curtain to an abrupt halt.

The glade vanishes from my sight in a blur of screams and flame, and Khria...Khria has escaped.

It is over.

Khria thinks to hide from me in his laboratory deep beneath the Human settlement; Khria is a fool. He believes that he can forswear himself before the Hlutr and pay no penalty, that he can scamper to his burrow like a tiny animal and escape the minds of his masters.

Know truly, Little Ones, what I have said: not an insect falls in the Forest of the Dawn, that the Hlutr do not know. My roots drive deep, deeper than even Khria can comprehend, and now I strain forward, pus.h.i.+ng them on through bedrock while my leaves drink deep of the golden sun above.

I must live faster than I have ever lived before, faster than the Humans live, faster than the dawnflies live, faster than ever a Hlut on Sebya has lived. Rock splinters like rotted wood before the swift advance of my roots, my new-formed limbs; in seventy-times-seventy places I burst forth into the tunnels of the Human settlement.

All this motion is not without price. I, who have felt the continents s.h.i.+ft beneath me, will burn out most of my remaining span before the sun sets this evening. I will never live to see the Dawn People fulfill my hopes and my dreams for them. It was a mistake to trust Khria, and a mistake whose consequences I must bear.

I find Khria in a secluded apartment next to a laboratory where the Dawn Person seedling is being dismembered. Khria intently studies glowing vision screens before him, oblivious to the gentle entrance of my leaves and soft, young branches.

It is an effort for me to vibrate these new leaves to form Human speech. "Why, Darineb Khria, have you done this?"

Now Khria sees me, and his metal body rises as his cameras track around the room. He knows that he is too late- I have thrust shoots forth through every wall, and one of my firm roots holds his door shut against motors which strain to open it.

"I needed to examine the transition phase," Khria says. His mind is cool. "You wouldn't have given me permission "

"I told you to wait. Dawn People die in the transition; soon enough one such would have been yours to examine."

"Years, decades maybe."

"You promise immortality, and yet cannot wait a few short years?" Inside me there is regret. For a dream that will never be- for I truly believe that Khria could have given the Hlutr race immortality, and could have brought the Dawn People to their heritage far in advance of Hlutr plans.

"Such a small sacrifice to make," he says, "A couple seedlings here and there, some of the adults...it's not too late, you know."

"It is far too late, Darineb Khria."

"What makes you care so much about these creatures? You've never cared that much for Humans, or any of the other races you've dealt with. What makes these Dawn People of Sebya so special?"

I knew how to answer him now, an answer that in my foolishness I had not known before this day. Even so old as me, the Hlutr can learn. "The Dawn People are our immortality...not any genetic alterations that you might make. Individual Hlutr will die, and in the distant future our whole species will be gone but the Dawn People will be there, so that the best of the Hlutr will live forever."

All the time we speak, I have been extending myself further into Khria's apartment, tightening my hold on rock and soil, forming hard Hlutr wood in minutes that otherwise would take generations to lay down.

Only now, as he sees my substance closing about him like a coc.o.o.n, does Khria begin to fear. And still his mind is dominated by ego, by the dreadful arrogance that made him tempt a Hlut...and almost succeed. "How long do you think you can hold me? Rescue teams will blast me out. My reactor will keep me alive for a century or more."

This expense of energy has been frightening and has left me with a vastly diminished span...but I will live far longer than Darineb Khria. My wood magnifies the sound as I answer him, "Rescue teams will not reach you. Once this place is wrecked, no Human will want to come here for seventy times seventy generations and beyond. My brethren will see to that. The Humans in the south will leave the Forest alone, else they will be persuaded to leave this world."

"What do you mean, when this place is wrecked? You can't -"

Only now does he realize the magnitude of what he has done, and Khria stops as his fear flashes outward to the stars.

I am tired, and the sun is creeping toward horizon. It is time to end this thing. "I wish it could have been different, Khria. Now do we both pay for our sins."

I strain, like a Dawn Person struggling to tear himself from the ground- and all around me, the mountain shudders and tumbles, the Human settlement shatters and falls in upon itself...and Khria is buried under more stone and steel than a thousand Human rescue parties could lift.

Three seasons fly by as I stand contemplating this thing I have done. I do not regret killing Khria, for he was a thing that should have been killed far sooner. What I did, I did to save the Dawn People- and that is my chiefest reason for being. However, I do regret that I have thrown away so much: My own chance for a personal immortality, buried now in the chambers of Khria's mind; but also my part in the Hlutr racial immortality. For even as I feel the heaviness of snow upon my limbs and the rush of wind through my branches, I know that I will never again contribute to the grand evolution of the Little Ones I have endangered. It is a sad and terrible thing, to cast away the eternal future.

I spend more seasons in contemplation, seeking solace in the infinity of voices, Hlutr and otherwise, that make up the Universal Song. And at last, the merest whisper comes to me in that song, and I find myself touched by the attention of the Eldest of all.

Suffer no more, child. We have need of you.

Eldest, I can be of no more use here. Long before the Dawn People near their goal, my span will be ended.

We need your attention here, now. Do you imagine that the Dawn People are our only attempt for a successor race, or that Sebya is the sole source of the Hlutr future? I need your wisdom and experience in the councils of the Elders from all worlds.

Eldest, I fear that I will not live long enough to do you good. A few sevens of centuries as the Humans count time....

Nonsense. Live as quickly as you are accustomed to, and your span will be short. Allow me to teach you to live more slowly, and you can counsel me for a lifetime yet.

The Eldest pauses, a pause that may be a Human generation long. Of course, you must bid farewell to Sebya. Your body may remain there, but living far too slowly to be conscious of the place.

I look about, surprised that the snow has melted and a fresh carpet of green covers the tumbled remains of the mountain. Birdcalls are shrill in the quiet afternoon, and I can sense a tribe of Dawn People hunting a few Hlutr-lengths away. Overhead, the sun is bright in a cloudless sky.

Immortality, yet again? To leave Sebya behind, and take my place in the councils of the Eldest of us all, to shape Hlutr destiny in upcoming ages? Or to stay, allow my consciousness to submerge into the flow of life around me, and eventually give my substance and memories to the community of life which I have so profoundly touched?

I do not hesitate; and when again my mind touches the Eldest's, I know She is ready for my decision. I will stay, Eldest, I say. And here, I will live forever.

INTERLUDE 3.

Three days after his fourteenth birthday, Kev went aloft in a small stars.h.i.+p with his school and his Father Alekos. By the time they returned to Amny s.p.a.ceport five hours later, the school was satisfied of Kev's piloting proficiency, and issued him a license to fly anywhere in the Scattered Worlds.

"This doesn't mean that you can go joy-hopping all over creation," said Father Alekos. "Before you fly anywhere I want you to let one the family know where you're going. And that doesn't mean beaming a message to the house computers from the outskirts of the system."

"Yes, sir." Alekos was Kev's favorite father, and the boy felt honored that the man had taken time to make this flight with him. Alekos Mathis was a doctor, one of the best- computers called him when they had trouble with a diagnosis, and patients flew to Amny from all over the Galaxy just so he could see them.

"Good. Now I know that Tiponya is programming a great meal to celebrate, and I have orders to keep you away from the house until eighteen o'clock at least. What do you want to do until then?"

What to do? Kev had the freedom of the Galaxy. In an hour he could be on Credix, in the First Empire museums he loved so much; in less time he could be on any of two dozen worlds that had once been colonies of Mankind.

He shook his head. That wasn't what he wanted. He gave Alekos a shy smile. "Do you want to see my treehouse?"

"Treehouse? What a thing to come up with! All right, Kev, I'd be glad to see your treehouse."

Father Alekos chuckled when they approached the tree. "Here? You built a treehouse in the branches of a Hlut?"

"I thought you knew. I thought everyone knew."

Alekos leaned back, s.h.i.+elding his eyes from the sun, and examined the treehouse. "It looks pretty solid. I'm surprised that you were allowed to build there. Still, if the Hlutr haven't said anything...." He shrugged. "What's so special about this treehouse?"

Kev took a deep breath. "Sometimes...sometimes I feel like the tree is talking to me."

This time Alekos didn't laugh. "Tell me about it."

Kev told him, and for a wonder Father Alekos didn't roll his eyes or smile in that patronizing grownup way. He just nodded, then put his arm around Kev's shoulders and said, "This is a great gift you have, son. The Hlutr love our children, but it's a rare child who can comprehend their songs. Don't let anyone ever talk you out of that ability."

"What do you mean?"

"As you grow up, you'll feel a lot of pressures to behave the way everyone else does. You won't find many other people who are lucky enough to hear the song of the Elders; you might be tempted to stop listening. Don't let that happen."

"I won't. I promise."

"Good. Look, we've still got two hours until dinner if we hurry, we could make it to the southern continent to pick up some fresh flowers for your mothers. What do you think?"

"Can I pilot?"

"Of course."

"Okay, you're on." Hand in hand, Kev and his father ran back toward their flier, laughing.

It was a clear, cool night; it seemed to Kev as if a million bright stars looked down over the valley. He'd been awake since dawn, but he didn't feel at all tired.

The party was still going on- half of Dar's family had stopped by, and the grownups seemed content to sit around the table drinking and talking all night. Kev had excused himself when he could stand it no longer, and started walking at random. There was nothing in the valley- indeed, on all Amny-that could hurt him; his terminal kept him constantly linked to the house computers as well as the navsat network. Help was literally a shout away.

He didn't go that far. Inevitably, Kev found his steps leading toward the treehouse. He climbed the ladder carefully, noting that the sixth rung needed some more glue. He'd take care of it tomorrow.

Alone on the platform, he felt silly. He was almost sorry he'd said anything to Father Alekos; some secrets were best kept to oneself.

It was windy. Kev s.h.i.+vered, and took shelter in the lee of the great trunk. The tree's bark, which had a texture like rough, strong plastic, seemed almost warm.

Kev stretched, yawned, and snuggled closer to the tree. All around him was the sound of wind in leaves, a sound mixed with an almost-unheard ethereal music...

Sleep well, Little One. Sleep, and dream with us.

PART FOUR: Artist.

The great experiment, you tell me, is nearing its end. Humans are fading, and they will soon be gone. I hear you, my brothers and sisters...but I am not sure that I believe.

You have facts, drawn from the libraries of the Daamin and the minds of Human beings themselves. Once Mankind lived on over twelve thousand worlds in this Galaxy; now fewer than nine thousand planets feel the tread of his boots. Human population has been in ever-quickening decline since the aftermath of the Great Death nearly three Human millennia ago. Their once-volatile politics is moribund, and their culture and technology- the twin prides of the Human animal- have for centuries been receding from their peak.

The experiment nears an end, you say. Twice seventy Human generations have pa.s.sed since our races first met in that sunlit grove on distant Amny, and at last you are relieved that the wave of Humanity has crested. Another seventy generations, and doubtless Humans will be gone.

So you sing, and your Inner Voices fill the starry skies with calm rejoicing. Even you who should know better, you who live on Human worlds and cherish these peculiar Little Ones even you are glad that you will soon lay down your burden.

You are wrong, brethren. You do a disservice to the memory of those Hlutr who first loved Mankind, and first promised to guide him. I have sung their songs: the Traveler, his Teacher, the Watchers and Elders who befriended Humanity. And their message is clear.

This race, whom you believe to be entering its twilight, has yet to achieve its true greatness.

Far worse than the disservice to your forbears, you do a disservice to the Universal Song itself, by denying its clear truth. Mankind is destined for greatness- yet Hlutr neglect now threatens his promised future.

Not only the Hlutr have interest in Humans. Yet Hlutr indifference has made itself felt in the Council of Free Peoples of the Scattered Worlds. The Ancients of Nephestal, eternally scheming in their forever-dreams, have suspended their designs for the Terra's children; the Galactic Riders have almost ceased their visits to Human worlds; and perhaps worst of all, some Hlutr have even begun to turn away from their once-proud task of comforting Human children and madmen.

Brothers and sisters, your prophecy- that Humans will decline and never truly become part of the society of the Free Peoples- is fast fulfilling itself.

You turn your minds from me, and in your songs there is a hint of chiding. Yes, I am young...I broke soil only four times seventy Terran decades ago, just after we delivered Humankind from the terrible Death. Yes, I lack the experience of ages that belongs to my Elders. So you tell yourselves that you can pay no heed to what I sing.

And you turn from me for yet another reason. For who can take seriously the counsel of an Artist? Because I lack the Hlutr ability to adjust genetics, you pity me. The medium of my art is not the helices of life and the stuff of living beings, but the music of the Inner Voice. This you do not understand. So you mistrust me.

And because I have done the worst thing of all- taken a Human as my partner- you despise me.

In your disapproval, your mistrust and your hatred you have done to me the worst thing that Hlutr can do to one another. You have bound my mind within the curtain of your song, and sealed me off from the communion of my peers.

I do not care. I do not live, brothers and sisters, for your attention or your approval. I live for my art, for the truth of the Universal Song. And no one can give that truth form better than Hlut and Human, myself and Chiriga Ho.

It was Summer here on Inse when I first met her. Our world is not small- indeed, Chiriga tells me it is even larger than Terra- but our sun is weak, and even Summer is barely warm enough to melt the ice of tropical seas. No matter; here in the Valley of the Sun we are warm, for the inner heat of Inse's depths penetrates her crust and underground seas of steam give us life even in the dead of winter.

Still, without the Hlutr Inse could never support complex life. Volcanic gases trapped sunlight and made Inse warm enough for simple plant life to bring oxygen to the atmosphere. Hlutr spores arrived in time to control the unchecked growth of life that threatened Inse's future. My Elders and my ancestors inhibited the plants and encouraged animals to breed and fill Inse's dense atmosphere with their exhalations. Only constant attention by the Elders keeps the balance of plants and animals correct, and the temperature as high as possible.

A Summer day, with the sun high in the sky painting frozen mountain peaks a deep red, and a flock of winged creatures resting in my tall branches. I was deep in the communion of the Inner Voice, singing with my brothers and sisters beyond the sky, reaching for the perfection of tone that captures the truth of the Universal Song- when a sudden ripple of discontent drew my attention back to the valley.

She was a very small girl; Chiriga has never grown to even half of what Humans consider full size, and in childhood she was diminutive indeed. Disturbed, she was running from the Human mining settlement, which lies about half a kilometer down the valley from the small woods in which I stand. Her distress filled the wood. At first I thought her merely another of the timberland beasts, and reached out with the Inner Voice to soothe her disquiet.

When I touched her mind, I knew at once that this was no beast. Many Human children, I knew, were adept at the song of the Inner Voice; I had sung with not a few of them in my time. But here, here was an Inner Voice with a clarity and power that I had never before experienced in a Human. Here was a mind that could sing as well as a Hlut.

She was ten Terran years old: barely more than one of Inse's slow revolutions. There was no need to probe her muddled thoughts, for her tortured emotions told the full story of her pain. Scarcely two dozen children attended Inse's one school- and to a soul, each hated Chiriga. She was shorter, her deformed head and diminutive limbs were natural objects of ridicule...and her very sensitivity to the Inner Voice left her victim to the casual cruelty behind her playmates' taunts. Even then I knew that no Human child escapes the hostility of his fellows- but Chiriga's punishment was worst of all, for she felt it so much more keenly than the rest.

The images beating in Chiriga's mind told more than the scratches on her face and bits of ice frozen in her hair. Although she had fought, and screamed, and finally begged them to leave her alone, still the other children had their amus.e.m.e.nt. And feet-over-head, little Chiriga had tumbled down a hillside and into a shallow, half-frozen stream. Then- and her mind burned with shame and rage- they laughed at her, and then left her miserable and alone.