“And you won’t tell us how, or why?”
“I could, but it would be better not to. No, I’m not even sure I could. And I know it’s not a good idea. Putting things into words is sometimes a bad idea. Other people take the words and twist them, and the real thing becomes something else, something it wasn’t intended to be.”
Queen Wilhulmia, who had heard words being twisted during most of her life, understood exactly what they were saying and did not press them. She sent them back to Commander Karth with instructions to keep them safe, watch them closely, and hold everything status quo.
• On Authority, acrimony gave way to violence. The Voorstod prophet assaulted one of the Phansuri sect leaders, and was prevented from killing him only with great difficulty. The Phansuri had merely questioned the ethical basis of the Voorstod idea of God when the prophet had begun frothing at the mouth and demanding that the Phansuri be executed for insults to the Faith.
Rasiel Plum, reminding Notadamdirabong Cringh that he, Rasiel, was only a cat’s-paw in this matter, suggested that the discussions be halted. “They’ll begin coming to meetings armed,” he warned Cringh. “They’ll start killing one another, mark my words.”
Cringh had already come to the same opinion. When the questions were withdrawn from discussion, however, he found to his dismay that it was too late. The entire Advisory had been drawn into the matter, had, as it were, taken sides. Messages had gone to religious bodies on Thyker, on Ahabar, on Phansure. Messages had gone to the Confreres of Theoretical Theology at six universities. A professor emeritus was to speak on the subject at an upcoming interplanetary conference on Faith as a Species-Specific Phenomenon. The matter of “Four Questions Relating to the Departed,” as the whole controversy had been labeled, had already spread far beyond the Advisory and become a subject of dispute by groups throughout the System, including by the Circle of Scrutators at the Temple of the Overmind. It had thus come to Howdabeen Churry’s attention, and Howdabeen Churry decided the time had come for action.
The prophet who had assaulted the Phansuri was sent home in disgrace, encountered the blockade, and was interred in one of the camps at the rear of the Ahabarian lines, though not before he had passed on certain messages for the prophets inside Voorstod, which he had lately received from certain persons on the moon Enforcement. Overmajor Altabon Faros and Submajor Halibar Ornil had been busy. They had put together the final phoneme, and ultimate success was now within the Awateh’s grasp.
When Commander Karth received a message from the camp director telling the Commander they had a prophet interned, Jep suggested that the prophet not be allowed to return to Voorstod.
“The people inside Voorstod don’t really know what’s happening,” he said. “It’s sneaking up on them. The prophet from Authority might notice the difference or have some new information which could interfere.”
Jep was right in assuming so. He was wrong in assuming that the information had not yet been passed along. The good news from Enforcement had already been received by the Awateh.
• In Voorstod, the underground networks of fragile fiber spun and spun, widening with every passing hour. At a farm above Sarby, a God was Dawn Discovered and raised, and the Gharm began plastering the temple there. In Selmouth there were manifestations, and it was rumored that the Gods of the Gharm, the Tchenka, had visibly returned.
Sam took a job on a farm east of Sarby in order to get the wherewithal to travel south, out of Voorstod, back to the blockade lines. With every person or Gharm who passed, he sent a message as to his whereabouts. Maire, he knew, would be looking for him.
Queen Wilhulmia fretted and tried to be patient, not unaware that there were spies in Ahabar asking questions, for there were usually spies in Ahabar asking questions.
On the moon Enforcement, Altabon Faros cached the recorded phonemes which would make mobilization of the great army possible, prayed to whatever force of mercy there might be in the cosmos, wept yet again for Silene, and went to confer with his colleague.And on Hobbs Land, shallow under the soil, the network of the Gods—which had long since reached the escarpment and made the laborious, slow climb upward through the pillared stone of the ramparts—reached the fertile soil at the top and sped through its moist depths toward the memorial park of the settlers, the memorial park laid out within the arms of great, radiating, thought-to-be-dormant mounds.
SIX
• At home on Thyker, Shan Damzel dreamed of Porsa and screamed.
Volsa came into his room and shook him awake.
“Why are you doing this again?” she asked. “I thought the doctors taught you how not to do this.”
“They taught me self-hypnosis,” Shan gargled, struggling to come awake. “I’ve been … I’ve been too worried about this other thing. It’s hard to concentrate.” He settled himself, almost upright upon his bed, feeling shamed. “I’m supposed to do the exercise each night, before I sleep, particularly when I’m not physically tired, but I keep thinking about this other thing instead.”
“This other thing? Being, I suppose, Hobbs Land?”
“Hobbs Land. Yes.”
“And the matter of the Four Questions, the Hobbs Land Gods.”
He frowned, sulkily. “You’ve heard about that, have you?”
“Hasn’t everyone? What are you afraid of, Shan?”
“I’m afraid … I’m afraid of being swallowed. Being … being inside something suffocating that won’t let go.”
“And you think the Hobbs Land people are inside something that won’t let go?”
He nodded, angrily. No matter what anyone said, he did think so.
“They’re good, remarkably contented people.”
“I don’t care. That’s not the point.”
“What is the point, Shan?”
“If what swallowed them gets off Hobbs Land, it could swallow me too. It could have swallowed me, while I was there!”
She sat beside him for a time. After a while, he fell asleep.
