robes trimmed in scarlet. After they had gathered around the chauka, an old man in a scarlet robe came slowly into the room, leaning on a staff. This had to be High Elder Brill. The staff was curved slightly in a way that reminded Paul of the spire above the temple. A young boy walked beside Brill. The boy was tall and bone-skinny, a birdlike face with long nose, pointed chin, narrow mouth. The eyes made quick, darting movements as he followed a half step behind Brill. Paul felt tension grip him. A young boy—that meant a
semarch ceremony. A new recruit would be initi-ated into the Sons of God. Brill's steps took him directly to the gray dish of the chauka. Using the staff as support, he lowered himself to his knees in front of it. His robe flared out around him. The boy waited, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.
Stiff fabric rustled as the deacons withdrew something from the folds of their garments. Paul realized they were slender tubes like those on the shelves behind him. The deacons lifted the tubes to their mouths, and a single tone filled the room. It started low and shifted upward to a higher pitch. Then the eerie sounds merged as some of the men played low tones while others played high tones. The intertwined highs and lows were strangely familiar, even though Paul was sure he had never heard anything like it before.
The music ended abruptly, and High Elder Brill
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William Greenleaf
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immediately began speaking. His words rang out in choppy, high-pitched syllables that made no sense to Paul. Then he switched to Basic:
'Oh Great One, who comforts us,
King of all holy places,
Lord Tern the Almighty,
Come, we ask you, hear our prayers.'
The elders repeated the chant in slow, somber tones. Then Brill spoke again:
'Hear this our song to thee,
Monarch of monarchs in whose name
Our enemies are slain.
We praise thee!'
This went on for a few more minutes, and it didn't take long for Paul to realize that the main thrust of the chants was the Holy Order's hope that if they were faithful to Lord Tern, he would strike their enemies dead. Lord Tern and the Holy Order did not hold peace and love in high regard. High Elder Brill reached to his throat, fumbled for a moment with a clasp and removed something that had been hanging around his neck. Paul's eye caught a dull, round gleam. A coin? Brill fondled it almost lovingly, then held it in front of a rod that protruded slightly from the side of the chauka. He leaned back, still on his knees, and lifted his hands to hold them out toward the dish of the chauka—
another motion that was somehow familiar to Paul. Brill began to chant again, and the elders behind him joined in:
'Holy One, Holy One, Holy One—'
Paul turned to look at Dorland, but a hint of motion above the chauka made him snap his head back. The air above the chauka began to take on a soft glow. Paul stared at it, and his blood went cold. He involuntarily moved back and bumped into Dorland. Something on the shelf beside him went clunk! and he froze. In the chamber. High Elder Brill and the other elders continued to chant. Paul released pent-up breath and again peered out through the crack between the wooden doors. The rhythm of the chant soaked into him. His muscles felt soft and sluggish. The glow hovered like a mist above the chauka.
High Elder Brill moved his hands above the dish in a weaving pattern as if he were a magician conjuring up something out of thin air. Then—
Paul blinked. The glow above the chauka separated into two distinct forms, then four. Ribbonlike streamers of color swirled together as if obeying the command of Brill's moving hands. Paul wished suddenly that he were anyplace but here. The swirling shapes darkened into a shadow, formless and full of motion. Paul fought down the urgent desire to push the door open and dash out of this room to the freedom of the night outside. He felt Borland's hand on his shoulder, a reassuring squeeze. The shadow spun and flickered. Paul stared at it. He began to feel disoriented, cut off from reality . . .
