Seed of the Gods

trip, then,» he sent politely, «if you are prepared to discuss it with such a one?» «We are honored, indeed, to be greeted by one of such accumulated wisdom,» Rack said, «for I detect the presence of a double picture of the mind of a Keeper.» «It is true that I pride myself on my interest in learning,» said Weathered Mountain, «but you flatter me.» He smiled. «The new Keeper is young and has been newly filled with the knowledge formerly kept in the mind of the old one who died. I did note, however during the process of transferral, that we have the complete records of the last visit from across the sea, if you are interested.» «In time, perhaps,» Rack said, raising the Far Seer's curiosity to a feverish level. «But we did not come to gather observations of survival factors and air readings. We came to confront you with a new piece of information—at least, information that is new to our land. It is our wish to see if any information of a comparable nature is available in the lands of the east.» Beautiful Wings cast a look at him, for he had not discussed his plans with her. She, with the noninventive mind of a Power Giver, had envisioned Rack applying for a position in the area of the Far Seer for both of them. «Ah,» sent Weathered Mountain in expectancy. «Perhaps it would be best for you to enter—» Rack said, as he opened a specific area of his mind. «If you permit.» «Gladly.» Rack felt the mind tendrils of the Far Seer. The memory of the feel, the weight, the texture, and the taint of wet, soft earth, was there as the Far Seer examined Rack's stored impressions of the odd material from the valley of the hot waters. Rack waited, slightly nervous. A bit of his fear must have leaked, for the old Far Seer sent amusement. «Your law-givers still abide by that hoary old taboo?» Rack felt relief. «I am pleased to find that the wise Far Seers of the east value knowledge above tradition.» «You see them,» Weathered Mountain said, indicating his collection of hard-material nuggets. «I think there is a connection between the hard materials and the Old Ones,» Rack said. «Do you find that foolish?» The Far Seer shrugged. «One does not fully understand. I would that you had brought the new thing,» he added. «Its value, of course, prevented that.» «Yes.» Then the Far Seer closed his mind for contemplation. When he sent again he asked questions. Rack, freed of the fear of punishment, answered, telling of the methods used to unearth the object. «It is said by some that the Old Ones built with stone,» Weathered Mountain said. A wave of excitement sent Rack's mind speculating. «There is evidence?» «Suspicion. Guessing. Curious formations.» «But in your lands no object, of the curious material has been discovered?» «None. Although we do, of course, find hard-material nuggets, which we value for their beauty, if not for their usefulness. There is a certain competition for their possession.» «And do they come from the subsurface?» Rack asked. «No Healer can withstand the lure of the low areas,» Weathered Mountain said. «But are there areas such as the valley of the hot waters where digging is possible?» «So it is said.» Amusement. «When I am offered a hard-material nugget in exchange for a certain favor, such as a change of duty time or an extra ration of the Material, I do not question the Healer too closely.» «And your knowledge of the Old Ones?» «It is not one of my interest areas, but there are some who are as fascinated with the Old Ones as you. I can put you in contact with them. Is this, then, this pursuit of the old myths, your sole reason for journeying across the sea?» «Is not knowledge worthy of pursuit?» Rack asked. Weathered Mountain, vaguely disappointed, but still stimulated by the contact, said, «My area of interest is that common to all Far Seers—life and the maintenance thereof. If you knew that the object you found was the work of the Old Ones would it help those who have left their establishments in the lowlands of the interior for lack of air?» «It might have some significance,» Rack said. «I am interested in knowing if life has always been at the mercy of the whims of nature or—and this is not meant to be blasphemy—» «Blasphemy is an outdated concept,» Weathered Mountain sent, «at least to one as old as I.» «Could the Old Ones have known more than we credit them with? Did they in any way control the forces of nature?» Weathered Mountain was silent. After a long pause he spoke. «I find that I am not, after all, past the ability to be shocked. It is, indeed, a startling concept. Nature, my young Healer, is nature. How would you control her? By stilling the movements of the air? As long as the planet spins, there will be movements of the air. Moreover, the calculations of Wide River the Far Seer prove that if the air were stilled and allowed to settle, only the peaks of the highest mountains would extend above the heavy gases.» «I think in smaller pictures,» Rack said. «If the Old Ones did use the hard materials, what did they use them for? Would the answer to this question be of more than passing interest to us? Was the object I found in the valley of the hot waters made by the Old Ones? Or did it, as the Far Seers in our land think, fall from the vastness of the space outside? And even so, is it still not amazing? For if it came from one of the worlds out there, could it not have been crafted by men like us? I see no conflict in either theory, for both contain much that should interest our minds. Life exists, according to our best minds, on all worlds. Why would nature provide a world if not to support life?» «Had I not seen the death of a Keeper just days ago I could be more in sympathy with your theory,» Weathered Mountain said. «And since you seem to be of an inquiring mind, I will tell you something that has not been revealed to any mind other than that of a Far Seer. It is the prediction of our combined minds, after a vast picture of measurements and agonizing analysis, that life on this planet will cease to exist, save for the inert plants of the poisonous sink holes, in a frighteningly short period of sun circles, a picture well within the range of the mind of a Healer. Does this shock you?» Rack felt weak. He seized Beautiful Wings' hand and felt her tremble. Such a thought, the extinction of all life, was unbearable. «As do the Far Seers in your land,» Weathered Mountain said, «we measure the growth of the Breathers in the southern seas. We read the air and the poisons therein. What we read discourages us. There is a steady decline in the quantity of good air. Survival factors are lower and lower. We measure the emanations of the sun and the movements of the air. We find little to indicate hope.» «Should this be true,» Rack said, «then there is ever more reason for inquiry.» He was tempted to tell the Far Seer that something new had come to him, the ability to blend with Beautiful Wings' flesh and to heal, but he restrained himself. «For who knows where inquiry might lead?» Weathered Mountain was tired. He longed for the comfort of his rack with the new Keeper beside him. At first he had hoped that the unusual journey across the sea had brought new information, perhaps a good survival factor reading to indicate that somehow, against all logic, the planet was starting a new cycle of replenishing itself. Instead, he had been subjected to the wild speculations of the mind of a Healer and had been given only one piece of new information of doubtful use. The knowledge of a strange, unexplained object was not in any way going to put clean air over the abandoned lowlands of the interior. The existence of the object would not, he determined, save one life. «I rest,» he sent. «You are welcome to use my air and drink of my broth. You are free to use the stored knowledge in the minds of my Keepers.» At the doorway to his chamber he paused. «In spite of the superb condition of your Power Giver the journey back to your homeland will, of course, be impossible. You must therefore choose your community. You will be welcome in mine. We can always use a strong Healer and a young Power Giver. I note your attachment and will assign your periods of free time so that you may be together. Take your pick of the unused establishments in my place and be part of us if you choose.» Rack sent gratitude, but he, too, knew disappointment. He was not sure what he was seeking, but the Far Seer of the mountains had added little to his store of knowledge beyond one doubtful picture of the Old Ones building with stone. That would bear investigation during his first free period. Meanwhile, there was other food for thought—the pessimistic prediction of death for all. It was of little consolation he would be allowed his full lifespan, as would Beautiful Wings and their offspring. What lay ahead for his grandchild, should Beautiful Wings give birth to a Healer or a Power Giver? Death? The end of life on the entire planet? That he would not accept. Soaring low, they examined the unused establishments in Weathered Mountain's area and selected a spot on the side of a craggy, bone-bare mountain where updrafts brought occasional breaths of good air. There they rested, blended minds, and installed the new colony of Breathers from the scant reserves of Weathered Mountain's place. To repay the generosity shown them, they worked, Beautiful Wings powering a vat of brewing broth, and Rack diving into the murky, heavy sea to pluck slime source. Conditions improved slightly, seemingly giving the lie to Weathered Mountain's dire prophecy of doom. Life was good. Rack came to know his fellow workers with whom he compared knowledge. He was told, to his mounting excitement, of the methods used by eastern Healers to collect the hard material. In safe spots, which were, of course, scattered and always rare, they actually used tools fashioned of the Material to turn the soil and find the telltale streaks of waste that indicated the possible presence of a nugget. He was astounded to find that the hard materials, once the surface of the earth was scratched, seemed to be relatively plentiful. Although his former pride in the ownership of three nuggets, of which was one mounted on Beautiful Wings' breast, was damaged, dashed, his ambition was stimulated, for, while visiting the establishment of another Healer, he saw a nugget of amazing size and shape. One flat, gleaming side reflected his image. It was a treasure, but its value as an object was secondary to its interest to his own particular inquiry, for, like the object from the valley of hot water, this nugget seemed to him, at least, to have obviously been crafted. More convinced than ever that the Old Ones had been more than a shiftless race of savages living on the fat of a young planet, he approached his first free period with excited anticipation. IX Beautiful Wings' belly began to stretch with the life inside it. New scales sprang up to cover the expanded area of flesh. They would molt and fall after the birth returned her belly to normal size. After working through the new beginning and into the summer, they were allowed a free period in a time of stable, warm air. Using their combined technique for soaring they went