Requiem Of Homo Sapiens - The Wild Part 34

'Naman worlds.'

'From Solsken to Farfara, there are a thousand of the Civilized Worlds,' Malaclypse said. These are not wholly naman worlds. Many branches of the Cybernetic Church have established themselves there for a thousand years.'

'The Reformist heretics,' Bertram spat out. 'They are no longer of our Eternal Church.'

'And yet they too would forbid the rise of the would-be G.o.ds, if they could.'

'You imply that these so-called Civilized Worlds have allowed the hakra devils to live?'

'It can be hard to keep a man from moving G.o.dward.'

'Which worlds?' Bertram wanted to know. 'Which hakras do they have names?'

'It's said that the Solid State Ent.i.ty of whom the Pilot has spoken had its origins on one of the Civilized Worlds.'

Her true name is Kalinda of the Flowers, Danlo remembered. It is known that She was born of Qallar and once a time She was the greatest warrior-poet there has ever been.

'Are there other hakra devils?' Bertram asked.

'None so evolved as this Ent.i.ty.'

'But there are those who have turned their eyes G.o.dward in l.u.s.t for the infinite lights?'

'It's possible,' Malaclypse said.

Danlo turned to look at Malaclypse's beautiful hands. They were folded beneath his chin almost as if he was ready for prayer. The two red rings encircling his fingers touched each other in a figure of eight, thus forming the ancient symbol for infinity.

The light from the rings s.h.i.+mmered crimson, and Danlo remembered that Kalinda had been the only other warrior-poet to wear two red rings. But in the end She had betrayed the Order of Warrior-Poets to become a G.o.ddess. Might Malaclypse be planning revenge? Did he somehow hope to slay the G.o.ddess, She whose vast brain and being was spread across thousands of stars? No, that was not possible. But it was possible, he thought, that Malaclypse could hurt the Ent.i.ty in another way. Twenty- five years ago, Mallory Ringess had befriended the Ent.i.ty and had made an alliance with Her. Some said that this union had been almost a marriage. Perhaps Malaclypse hoped to wound the Ent.i.ty by finding Mallory Ringess and slaying him. If Mallory Ringess truly had tried to become a G.o.d, Malaclypse was bound by the new rule of the warrior-poets to slay all hakras and potential G.o.ds.

But why, Danlo wondered, did the Ent.i.ty not slay him when he fell out above the Earth? Did She spare his life simply because he wore two red rings?

'Do you know the names of these other hakra devils?' Bertram asked Malaclypse again.

'I know a name,' Malaclypse said. He stared at Bertram, and it seemed an immediate understanding pa.s.sed between them as if he had handed Bertram a bloodfruit to eat.

'And what is that name?' Bertram asked. He spoke loudly and with calculated purpose, letting his voice carry out to the Elders around him.

'There is a man,' Malaclypse said, 'who may have attempted to become a G.o.d. He was a pilot who lived in Neverness.'

'A pilot?'

'A pilot, indeed. He was the Lord Pilot of the Order of Mystic Mathematicians.'

This news, dropped into the Hall of the Koivuniemin like a bomb, caused the Elders to explode into shouts of disbelief. The vast room shook with the force of a thousand voices. For a long time, Danlo watched and waited, counting the beats of his heart. Then Harrah Ivi en li Ede called for quiet. She looked down from her reading desk, and to Malaclypse she said, 'Please tell us this Lord Pilot's name.'

Now a thousand Elder Architects were watching the warrior-poet and waiting, too.

'His name,' Malaclypse said, 'is Mallory Ringess.'

'Mallory Ringess?' Bertram immediately asked. He cast Danlo a long, venomous look.

'That was his birth name, the name by which he was commonly known.'

'Then does he have another name?'

'His proper name is Mallory wi Soli Ringess.'

Bertram continued to stare at Danlo. 'Does this Lord Pilot bear relation to Danlo wi Soli Ringess?'

'He is his father.'

Again, the Hall erupted with protest and shouts of anger. One of the Elders pointed her trembling finger at Danlo and cried out, 'He is the son of a hakra!'

And an old man near her shouted, 'What if he aspires to be a G.o.d, too?'

'He should be cleansed of his hubris!'

'But what if he is himself a hakra?'

'Then he should be cleansed completely. The universe must be cleansed of all hakras.'

For some time the Elders of the Koivuniemin discussed the urge to move G.o.dward, which was programmed inside all human beings. Some said that this was man's original program, a wholly negative program that must be rewritten and overcome.

Then, from her reading desk, Harrah spoke to the Elders, reminding them that no man was to be held accountable for the programs or actions of his father or of anyone else. Then Malaclypse Redring told of Mallory Ringess's astonis.h.i.+ng career, from his strange birth to his discovery of the Elder Eddas, and finally, his ascension as Lord of the Order. He told of how Mallory Ringess, on a dark, deep winter day, had climbed into his lights.h.i.+p one last time and had left Neverness, possibly to go out into the galaxy and become a G.o.d. From this great example, he said, a new religion called Ringism had blossomed like a fireflower almost overnight. The Ringists of Neverness and now many other Civilized Worlds taught that Mallory Ringess became a real G.o.d and would one day return to the city of his birth. They taught that all human beings could become G.o.ds, too, and that the path toward G.o.dhood was in remembrancing the Elder Eddas and following the way of the Ringess. These teachings were called the Three Pillars of Ringism; which were also the deepest of heresies against the tenets of the Old Church. The Elder Architects listened in horror to his every word. When he finished speaking, there was silence in the Hall. Then, all at once, the Iviomils jumped to their feet and called out such condemnations as, 'Heretics! Blasphemers! Hakras!'

Finally, Bertram Jaspari, greatest of the Iviomils, pointed at Danlo and demanded, 'And what role did this pilot play in the making of the cult called Ringism?'

'He was close to the founders of Ringism, a former pilot called the Bardo and the cetic, Hanuman li Tosh.'

'Is that all?'

'No. It's said that Danlo wi Soli Ringess drank the kalla drug and gained a great remembrance of the Elder Eddas. It's known that he shared this knowledge with other Ringists at a gathering that attracted a hundred thousand citizens of Neverness.'

'And what are these Elder Eddas?'

Malaclypse told the Koivuniemin of the deep, genetic memories which an elder race of G.o.ds had supposedly implanted inside all human beings. So great was the dis- belief in the Hall that even Bertram had trouble speaking. 'You say that these Elder Eddas are supposedly programs designed to guide humanity into G.o.dhood?'

'That is one part of the Elder Eddas, as I understand it,' Malaclypse said. 'We warrior-poets do not lose ourselves in remembrance.'

'But you imply that there are other parts?'

'It's also believed that the Eddas is pure information, pure memory the collective wisdom of the ancient G.o.ds known as the Ieldra.'

'But there are no G.o.ds!' Bertram reminded Malaclypse. 'No G.o.d is there but G.o.d, and Ede the G.o.d was the first and only G.o.d.'

'The Ringists, it would seem, do not share this theology.'

Bertram looked at Malaclypse, looked at Danlo, and then turned to look out at the many Elders sitting tensely at their tables behind him. 'The Narain heresy is a denial of our holy Algorithm and an affront to G.o.d,' he said. 'But this Way of Ringess is far worse.'

Perhaps he is right, Danlo thought.

As Danlo studied Bertram's sharp, fanatical face, he wondered if he should tell the Elders that the greatest of G.o.ds, the Solid State Ent.i.ty, had once been a warrior-poet, even as Malaclypse Redring. And he wondered if he should explain that he had separated himself from Bardo's new religion long before he had left Neverness and had made an enemy of Hanuman li Tosh even as he had set himself against the Way of Ringess and its dangerous doctrines. But Danlo did not wish to be seen as spiteful or defensive. He sensed that he still had the goodwill of Harrah and many of the Elders perhaps even most of them except the Iviomils.

'We must ask ourselves,' Bertram said to his fellow Elders, 'what should be done about this Ringism cult? What should be done about this pilot and emissary of heretics, Danlo wi Soli Ringess?'So adroit had been the verbal dancing between Bertram and the warrior-poet that Danlo wondered if Bertram was performing a play for the Koivuniemin. Had Bertram truly not known of Malaclypse's presence on Tannahill until Harrah had summoned him into the Hall? Perhaps Bertram somehow had contrived to meet with Malaclypse in secret; perhaps these two dangerous men had made a secret alliance. Looking at Malaclypse sitting so calmly at the table they shared, Danlo thought that this might be possible. For a moment, the whole of Danlo's awareness concentrated on the warrior- poet. He drank in the peppery essence of the kana oil perfume that Malaclypse wore as well as the intense light of Malaclypse's eyes. As always, Malaclypse seemed marvellously alive; he seemed always to be poised on the edge of eternity, waiting for some critical moment. Danlo wondered how well the Temple keepers had searched him for weapons. A warrior-poet, he knew, always kept weapons secreted about his person: hidden knives, false fingernails, poisoned darts disguised as toothpicks and especially explosive siriwa thread woven into the fabric of his garments. Had Malaclypse conspired with Bertram to slay Harrah Ivi en li Ede? It is possible, he thought, and he stared at Malaclypse for what seemed forever. And even as his eyes burned with the beauty of Malaclypse's deadly form, he saw Malaclypse reaching his red-ringed hand into an inner pocket of his kimono. He saw Malaclypse moving, and yet he was aware that Malaclypse moved not. It came to him that he must be scrying, that this was a prevision of moments yet to be. Because of Danlo's intense concentration, he took no notice of the other movement that came from behind his table. But just as Bertram p.r.o.nounced the words, 'What should be done about Danlo wi Soli Ringess?,' a large, fleshy-faced Elder named Janegg Iviorvan rose from his chair. He had the end position at a table two rows back behind Danlo, and it took him little time to bl.u.s.ter forth into the centre aisle as if it was his calling to address the Koivuniemin. But his purpose that day was neither speech nor communication. In his large, fleshy hand he brandished an ugly weapon. At the sight of this terrifying thing, several nearby Elders shouted out, 'He has an eye-tlolt!' And then, like a wave spreading through row after row, others picked up the panic, until the farthest reaches of the Hall echoed with the warning.

'Death to heretics!' Janegg Iviorvan cried out. 'Death to namans!'

In the moment that Danlo heard the hatred in Janegg Iviorvan's voice and turned to behold his a.s.sa.s.sin, many things happened at once. Many Elders tried to flee, their bodies jamming the narrow aisles. Danlo was distantly aware of how the men and women around him reacted according to their deepest programs whether for self- preservation or some other purpose. Across from him, at the other table of honour, Bertram Jaspari threw his hands across his face and fell shaking beneath his table and Jedrek Iviongeon, too, sought what little protection the plastic tabletop afforded.

Twenty feet away, the keepers standing around Harrah's reading desk jumped into motion as if they had been touched with nerve knives. In such situations it was their duty to swarm Harrah, to cover her with their bodies and bear her with all speed out of the Hall. This they tried to do, but Harrah confounded their efforts. As it happened, one of the Temple keepers was indeed her grandson, a young man named Leander en li Daru Ede. When Harrah perceived the threat of Janegg Iviorvan's eye-tlolt, almost without thinking, she arose from her chair and threw herself in front of Leander. So great was the force of her fierce old body and so unexpected her action that she crashed into Leander, throwing him off balance so that she fell protectively across his face and chest onto the red carpet of the dais. (And all the while, from the devotionary computer on the table in front of Danlo, the hologram of Nikolos Daru Ede flashed out finger signs, warning: 'Cover your eyes! Use your chair as a s.h.i.+eld and cover your face!') If Malaclypse Redring took any notice of these events, he gave no sign. Of all the people present, save one, he retained the greatest presence of mind. Even at the moment when Janegg Iviorvan's eye-tlolt was brought to bear in his and Danlo's direction, Malaclypse reached his red-ringed hand down into his kimono's inner pocket, and with blinding speed he pulled out a red needle-dart and sprang to his feet.

Janegg Iviorvan pointed the tip of the eye-tlolt directly at Danlo's face. His trembling red thumb held down its catch. The instant that he released his grip (or was struck down by Malaclypse or one of the Temple keepers), the eye-tlolt would fire a missile which would seek out Danlo's eye, break through the iris, retina and bone and tunnel into his brain. There it would explode, instantly destroying each of his hundred billion neurons, liquefying his brain much as a bloodfruit is pounded into red jelly.

I must not fear, Danlo thought. I must not return hatred with hate.

That Janegg Iviorvan had not immediately released the eye-tlolt's catch seemed strange. It gave Danlo hope for life. While his heart hammered in his chest like a pulsing star, he looked at Janegg. And Janegg stared at him with his madman's eyes as if he were looking for something much more than a mere target for his weapon's missile. Danlo was no cetic, and yet it was not hard to read Janegg's anguished face.

Like all men who hate so terribly, his deepest wish was to love. Like all who set their hearts to kill, he secretly desired life.

Hatred is the left hand of love, Danlo remembered. And joy is the right hand of fear.

With a deep breath and emptying of his lungs, Danlo let the fear run out of him like a sighing wind. He felt something deep in his belly, then, a hot rush of life, animajii the wild joy of simply being alive. He felt oxygen brightening his blood, and blood flowing to every tissue of his body. Although he was always aware of the eye-tlolt pointing at him, he concentrated on holding Janegg's intense gaze. He smiled at Janegg. Everything that he was, as a man and more than a man, went into this smile.

In the way he looked at Janegg openly, sadly and yet with the joy of infinite possibilities, there was no contrivance of gesture nor falsity of emotion. Danlo's deep blue eyes were as wild as Janegg's, and they s.h.i.+mmered with a shared pain.

I, too, have hated a man and wanted to kill him, Danlo thought. But I must never hate.

The cries of fear in the Hall around him seemed as distant as the farthest galaxies.

Danlo heard Janegg sucking desperately for air, and the inrush of his own breath, and then he heard himself say, 'If you kill me, you kill yourself.'

The Elders sitting frozen at their tables nearby, he supposed, might hear these words as a threat of retribution. But he did not mean them so. He only hoped to convey to Janegg the truth of ahimsa, which is that all beings were connected to each other in the deepest way and thus it was impossible to harm another without harming oneself. And so he gave this truth to Janegg. He held Janegg's fearsome gaze, and freely he gave him all his strength, his compa.s.sion, his wild love of life. This was his eye-tlolt, and he fired it at Janegg's eyes with all the force of his soul. He watched as it went in. Then the terrible hatred frozen within Janegg's face began to melt like an ice sculpture beneath a warm sun. He licked his lips, coughed, and looked down at the weapon in his hand almost as if he couldn't understand who had put it there. Danlo chose this moment to remove his shakuhachi from the pocket of his robes. He brought the bamboo flute up to his lips and began to play a melody that was full of suffering and sadness and yet full of hope, too, in the way that these darker emotions transformed themselves and ultimately gave birth to sheer joy. He played and played, and the notes rushed from his flute like a thousand tlolts, these little arrows of sound that found their way into Janegg's ears and those of Harrah Ivi en li Ede and the astonished Elders all around them. What happened then was both marvellous and tragic to behold. Janegg's face was finally free of fear, and he began to smile, grimly and with anguished self-understanding. His arm relaxed and fell to his side. The tip of the eye-tlolt dipped. 'I'm sorry,' he said. It seemed that he was speaking to himself, perhaps to Bertram Jaspari, to Harrah Ivi en li Ede and all the thousand Elder Architects of the Koivuniemin. 'I'm sorry I can't kill him.'

And in that moment, the warrior-poet named Malaclypse Redring moved. He crossed the table and struck like a bolt of lightning. So quick was the flash of his kimono and limbs that it was difficult to make out what occurred between Janegg and him. But this is what Danlo and many others thought they saw: Malaclypse closing with Janegg, grappling with him hand to hand as he tried to disarm the eye- tlolt and rip it away from him. It seemed that the shock of their struggle must have caused Janegg's thumb to fall off the eye-tlolt's catch.

For, in a flash of crimson light, the eye-tlolt fired even as Danlo cried out, 'No!'

Instinctively, most of the women and men witnessing this event covered their eyes.

Janegg Iviorvan did as well. But before his hand could reach his face, the missile burned through the air and found the opening into his head as surely as a hawk homes in on his prey. All he could do was to claw at his eye as he cried out and writhed in sudden agony and this only for an instant before the tlolt exploded inside his skull.

His arms fell away from him even as he began to fall. And Danlo, who had jumped to his feet in a wild attempt to stop the warrior-poet, saw the little red hole at the centre of Janegg's left eye, and saw the cold ice of eternity fall across Janegg's other eye, and then Janegg's dead body was pulled to earth with a thud by the terrible force of gravity.

For a long time there was chaos in the Hall, frightened cries, open weeping, shouts of confusion. Bertram continued to crouch beneath his table, but the braver Jedrek Iviongeon grunted and groaned as he struggled to regain his chair. Malaclypse Redring stood over Janegg's corpse like a thallow guarding his kill. The Temple keepers, true to their duty, were still trying to bear Harrah Ivi en li Ede away from the dais. But Harrah commanded them to help her back to her reading desk and so great was the aura of her authority that they obeyed. She calmly took her seat while other keepers, grim-faced men in their clean white kimonos, rushed into the Hall and fairly swarmed Janegg's body. They were in a panic to spirit it away to deeper parts of the Temple where the vastening chamber and crematorium awaited all dead Architects. In these dark and secret rooms the programs and patterns of the brain the very soul could be lifted away from the flesh and preserved forever in the cybernetic s.p.a.ce of an eternal computer, or so it was said. For all Architects in good standing with the Church, this vastening of one's mind occurred at the end of the process of dying or at the moment of death itself. But for Janegg Iviorvan, Elder Architect though he was, there would be no salvation. And not because he had fallen mad or tried to a.s.sa.s.sinate Danlo, but because his brain was completely gone. This was the horror of eye-tlolts and other synapse-searing weapons. When a man's hundred billion neurons were reduced to a blood soup, there were no brain patterns to preserve. All Architects lived in dread of such a death. And so when one of the keepers knelt over Janegg's body and announced, 'Nothing can be done for this man,' there was a terrible silence in the Hall. Many Elders sat dumbfounded in their chairs staring at Janegg. Danlo stared at him, too. He stood almost still, grasping his shakuhachi while he pressed his hand to the scar above his eye. For the ten thousandth time in his life, he stood in awe of the great mystery of death. And then, as he had too many times before, he said a silent prayer for Janegg Iviorvan's spirit: O mansei alasharia la shantih! Although the Architects of the Cybernetic Universal Church might despair of Janegg's salvation, once a time Danlo had believed that a man's spirit self could never truly die.After that, the keepers took Janegg's body away. Harrah Ivi en li Ede asked the Elders to return to their seats, and they did as she bade them. However, there was no attempt to resume the day's agenda. Only with difficulty could Harrah quiet the Elders and keep them from pointing at Danlo as they whispered fearful interpretations of the afternoon's events. Many condemned him as a heretic and potential hakra and they blamed him for Janegg's horrible death. But others more devoted to truth and the Elidi master, Kissiah en li Ede, was one of these had tried not to turn away from terror. And so they had witnessed what had really happened between Janegg and Danlo. They had seen Danlo calmly playing his flute in the face of death, and they had watched the madness fall away from Janegg's eyes. Harrah Ivi en li Ede had beheld this marvel, too. In her clear, powerful voice, she told the Koivuniemin of what she had seen. And then she reminded them of the ideal of Architect virtue and accomplishment. She bowed her head toward Danlo. And then she quoted from Visions, saying, ' "A man without fear who will heal the living".'

After the Elders had absorbed this astonis.h.i.+ng connection between Danlo and the well-known lines from the Algorithm, Harrah's impa.s.sioned gaze fell upon Bertram Jaspari. Here, her eyes seemed to say, was a man with much fear who couldn't even heal himself of his criminal ambition. It was to Bertram Jaspari, no less than to the entire body of the Koivuniemin, that Harrah addressed her next remarks.

'We have heard that Danlo wi Soli Ringess is the son of a hakra and has spoken at a gathering of the Ringist blasphemers. But it is no crime to be related to a hakra, and none of us have heard what he said at this gathering. We should rather concern ourselves with what we have seen here today. This much is clear: the Pilot faced his a.s.sa.s.sin without fear and played a music that healed him. Such music he played! We have never heard its like! We have never felt such power and beauty. Elder Janegg felt this, too. He was mad with hatred for the Pilot mad enough to murder and we must ask who programmed this pa.s.sion into him? Was it himself only? Perhaps. Per- haps not. This much is clear: we have seen Elder Janegg put aside his weapon and turn within himself to a new program. Was it not Danlo wi Soli Ringess who effected this reprogramming? Did he not, in the end, cure Janegg of his madness with the "pa.s.sing of his breath and the brilliance of his eyes"? Who has ever beheld such a miracle? Who does not remember the prophecy?'

Here Harrah paused to stare at Bertram as if he remembered little of the true spirit of the Algorithm, much less the requirements of being an Elder Architect or even a man. Then she continued, 'We must now recite the whole verse from the Visions.

Please abide with us for a moment.'

Harrah motioned to her grandson, Leander en li Daru Ede, who handed her a cup of water to drink. After she had moistened her lips, she cast Danlo a long, deep look and smiled at him strangely.

'"One day",' she said, quoting from words that Nikolos Daru Ede had spoken to his followers just before His vastening, '"One day, when you are near to despair, a man will come among you from the stars. He will rewrite your worst programs with the pa.s.sing of his breath and the brilliance of his eyes. He is a man without fear who will heal the living, walk with the dead, and look upon the heavenly lights within and not fall mad. This man will be only a man, as all men can only be. But he will be a true Architect of G.o.d; in him, G.o.d's Program for man will be perfectly realized. In a dark time, he will be a bringer of light, and like a star he will show the way toward all that is possible."'

These ancient words, directed at himself, amused Danlo and caused him to smile.

But they did not amuse the Elders of the Koivuniemin. Along with Kissiah en li Ede, many women and men were staring at him with new hope as if they were truly seeing him for the first time. But many of the Iviomils took great insult from Harrah's suggestion that Danlo might be the man of whom the Visions had once spoken.

Bertram Jaspari, in a rather childish display of energy and outrage, banged his table with his fist and suddenly called out, 'He is a naman and possibly a hakra! How dare our Holy Ivi suggest that he could possibly be the Lightbringer?'

'How dare you!' Harrah Ivi en li Ede said as she glared at this graceless man who would bring down her architetcy and lead the Church to ruin.

Almost all the Elders in the vast room looked back and forth between Bertram and their Holy Ivi.

'You have brought this Danlo wi Soli Ringess into our Hall and that alone is-'

'You will be silent now,' Harrah said. Like a sword sheathed in gossilk, beneath the politeness of her voice, there was keen-edged steel.

Bertram sat with his mouth open, his words cut off in mid-sentence. His little eyes were full of deviousness, impatience, hatred. For a moment, it seemed that he might not keep silent after all. But then, perhaps sensing that the shocked Elders were not yet ready to support him, he deferred to Harrah. He lowered his eyes and bowed his head, as all Architects must do when they face their Holy Ivi.

'We cannot know,' Harrah said, 'if this pilot is the Lightbringer who has been promised to us. But we can put the prophecy to the test.'

She waited while the Elders absorbed her intent, and then she continued, 'We must also discover how Janegg Iviorvan could have pa.s.sed into this Hall bearing such a horrible weapon. We must discover how a fully cleansed Elder could have fallen into such a murderous program that he would attempt to a.s.sa.s.sinate our guest.'

'Yes, an inquest!' someone shouted. 'Let's call an inquest!'

'There must be an inquest.'

From the many rows of Elders in the Hall came many voices, 'An inquest! Let there be an inquest!'

Harrah Ivi en li Ede bowed her head in honour of the Elders' desire for justice.

Then she held up her hand to motion for silence. 'While these matters are being settled, we will ask the pilot to be a guest in our house. The warrior-poet as well. The keepers will escort them after the Koivuniemin is adjourned. And now we must pray for Janegg Iviorvan's soul. Although he ran the worst of programs, in the end he was cleansed of negativity, and so we must pray that he finds his way on toward Ede the G.o.d.'

After that Harrah led the Elders in a rather long and convoluted prayer concerning the indestructibility of information and its ultimate concentration in Ede the G.o.d at the end of time. Then she bowed her head in silence. With a sigh and a groan as if she might have injured her frail old body in her attempt to s.h.i.+eld her grandson from Janegg's attack, she slowly rose from her reading desk. This was a signal that the Elders of the Koivuniemin should rise, too. Danlo stood straight and tall, very relieved to be free of his chair. He looked over at Bertram Jaspari almost bent over the other table of honour. With his dead-grey eyes, Bertram was staring at him, firing at him silent missiles of hate. Danlo did not know if Harrah's inquest could reveal the truth of what had occurred in the Hall of the Koivuniemin that day, but he sensed that if Bertram had his way, he would bring to Danlo (and many others) nothing but darkness and death.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

In The Prophet's Palace