Something touched his mind.
He recoiled, and bumped into Dorland. The
touch came again, like probing fingers. He felt a bubbling panic. It came again, deeper this time. He could almost catch a thought that was certainly not his own. Something was inside him, probing
through the depths of his brain, uncovering dark memories, gaining form and substance in his mind as the shadow danced above the chauka. A clear thought emerged ...
His father: defeated and tired, always dreaming of something better but never quite able to find it. His mother—she spent half her time sleeping and the other half taking drugs. By the time Paul had left 108 William Greenleaf
home, her brain had been squeezed dry by yellow pills called lollipops.
He thought: What have I accomplished with my life? Washed out of the Guard after two years of pushing papers and punching computer keys on a hellhole planet in upstream Omega. Two more years wandering through the planets of the stream looking for God-knows-what, with the specter of his parents haunting him . . .
Paul made an effort to concentrate on what was happening in the chamber. Brill's chants grew in intensity. The elders repeated each chant in droning voices. The shadows above the chauka moved faster and faster—
The chanting stopped with unnerving abruptness, and something began to emerge above the chauka—a more solid substance writhing from the haze. A long, tubelike torso took shape. Spindly arms emerged like the limbs of a dead tree. An elongated head formed, and the creature was nearly complete. It was horribly inhuman, its sharp-edged face more reptilian than anything else. The eyes were black, multifaceted, bulging from under a bony shelf of brow.
High Elder Brill began to chant again, softly this time. The creature gained substance until it stood as a solid horror in the dish of the chauka. Paul stared, aware of a painful constriction across his chest and of the shadows still huddled inside his mind.
Brill spoke again in the strange, wavering language. The creature answered in high-pitched squeals. It moved constantly above the chauka, gesturing with its spindly arms, its head swaying back and forth.
Paul's hands came up to press on each side of his head in an effort to contain the growing pressure. The sense of loathing was an overpowering stench inside him. He opened his eyes, gasping, and forced
CLARION 109
himself to look at the creature. Something like a vest covered the creature's upper body; a gray breechclout hung below its waist. The bulbous head came around in short, jerky movements, and the glittering eyes fastened on the cabinet. Paul had time for a panicky thought: It knows we're in here
He pressed his knuckles against the rough wood of the cabinet wall and tried to keep reality from slipping away. He was aware of Dorland's shallow breathing behind him, and of the hand that still gripped his shoulder. The creature was motionless above the chauka now, and its eyes were still turned toward the cabinet. From its mouth came the strange sounds.
It knows we're in here! It'll come—
Easy, came a soothing voice inside him.
Brill spoke to the creature, and Paul expected at any moment that the deacons would rush to the cabinet and drag out him and Dorland. But the minutes wore on and nothing like that happened. The creature still looked from time to time toward the cabinet, and each time Paul felt the pressure building inside his head. But the creature showed no inclination to leave the chauka.
Then he felt something else stirring in his mind. Shari was only six years old. She was a gentle child who would not think of hurting anyone. What did she do to deserve such a bloody death7
Rage and nausea boiled up, and the sour taste of terror. The terror was primitive, from that deep, reptile part of his brain that was untouched by higher logic centers that fought to control it. Daddy, Daddy...
Paul opened his eyes again and saw the creature's head sway toward him, the black eyes gleaming. He felt it again in his mind, and a new wave of panic crept over him. The walls of the cabinet were too close. He felt Dorland's hand on his shoulder. Steady.
110
William Greenleaf
v
