The One Tree

enacting transformations for reasons which eluded her. The whole of the clachan appeared to be one luxurious entertainment.

But who was meant to be entertained by it? Daphin moved as if she were bemused by her own thoughts, unaware of what transpired around her. And each performance appeared hermetic and self-complete. In no discernible way did they co-operate with or observe each other. Was this entire display performed for no other reason than the simple joy of wonder and play?

Her inability to answer such questions disturbed Linden. Like the language of the bells, the Elohim surpassed her. She had been learning to rely on. the Land-born penetration of her senses; but here that ability did not suffice. When she looked at a fountain of feathers or a glode of ophite, she only knew that it was one of the Elohim because she had already witnessed similar incarnations. She could not see a sentient being in the gavotte of butterflies or the budding of liquid saplings, just as she had not seen Chant and Daphin in the earth near her feet. And she could not pierce Daphin's blank beauty to whatever lay within. The spirit of what she saw and heard was beyond her reach. All she could descry clearly was power-an essential puissance that seemed to transcend every structure or law of existence. Whatever the Elohim were, they were too much for her.

Then she began to wonder if that were the purpose of her examination-to learn how much of the truth she could discern, how much she was worthy of the role the Elohim had seen in her. If so, the test was one she had already failed.

But she refused to be daunted. Covenant would not have surrendered his resolve. She could see him limned in danger and old refusal, prepared to battle doom itself in order to wrest out survival for the Land he loved. Very well. She would do no less.

Girding herself in severity, she turned her mind to her examination.

Daphin had said, I will ask you nothing. You will ask me. That made more sense to her now. She might reveal much in her questions. But she accepted the risk and looked for ways to gain information while exposing as little as possible.

She took a moment to formulate her words clearly against the incessant background of the bells, then asked in her flat professional voice, “Where are we going?”

“Going?” replied Daphin lightly. “We are not 'going' at all. We merely walk.” When Linden stared at her, she continued, “This is Elemesnedene itself. Here there is no other 'where' to which we might go.”

Deliberately, Linden exaggerated her surface incomprehension. 'There has to be. We're moving. My friends are some-where else. How will we get back to them? How will we find that Elohimfest Chant mentioned?'

“Ah, Sun-Sage,” Daphin chuckled. Her laugh sounded like a moonrise in this place which had neither moon nor sun. “In Elemesnedene all ways are one. We will meet with your companions when that meeting has ripened. And there will be no need to seek the place of the Elohimfest. It will be held at the centre, and in Elemesnedene all places are the centre. We walk from the centre to the centre, and where we now walk is also the centre.”

Is that what happened to those Giants who decided to stay here? Linden barely stopped herself from speaking aloud. Did they just start walking and never find each other again until they died?

But she kept the thought to herself. It revealed too much of her apprehension and distrust. Instead, she chose an entirely different reaction. In a level tone, as if she were simply reporting symptoms, she said, “Well, I've been walking all day, and I'm tired. I need some rest.”

This was not true. Though she had not eaten or rested since the quest had left Starfare's Gem, she felt as fresh as if she had just arisen from a good sleep and a satisfying meal. Somehow, the atmosphere of the clachan met all her physical needs. She made her assertion simply to see how Daphin would respond.

The Elohim appeared to perceive the lie; yet she delicately refrained from challenging it. “There is no weariness in Elemesnedene,''' she said, ”and walking is pleasant. Yet it is also pleasant to sit or to recline. Here is a soothing place.' She indicated the slope of a low grassy hill nearby. On the hillcrest stood a large willow leaved entirely in butterfly-wings; and at the foot of the slope lay a still vlei with colours floating across its surface like a lacustrine portrait of the clachan itself. Daphin moved onto the hillside and sat down, disposing her cymar gracefully about her.

Linden followed. When she had found a comfortable position upon the lush grass, she framed her next question.

Pointing toward the vlei, she asked, “Is that a man or a woman?” Her words sounded crude beside Daphin's beauty; but she made no attempt to soften them. She did not like exposing her impercipience; but she guessed that her past actions had already made the Elohim aware of this limitation.

“Morninglight?” replied Daphin, gazing at the colour-swept water. “You would name him a man.”

“What's he doing?”

Daphin returned her apple-green eyes to Linden. “Sun-Sage, what question is this? Are we not in Elemesnedene ? In the sense of your word, there is no 'doing' here. This is not an act with a purpose such as you name purpose. Morninglight performs self-contemplation. He enacts the truth of his being as he beholds it, and thus he explores that truth, beholding and enacting new truth. We are the Elohim. For certain visions we look elsewhere. The 'doing' of which you speak is more easily read on the surface of the Earth than in its heart. But all truths are within us, and for these truths we seek into ourselves.”

“Then,” Linden asked, reacting to a curious detachment in Daphin's tone, “you don't watch him? You don't pay attention to each other? This”-she indicated Morninglight's water-show-“isn't intended to communicate something?”

The question seemed to give Daphin a gentle surprise. “What is the need? I also am the heart of the Earth, as he is. Wherefore should I desire his truth, when I may freely seek my own?”

This answer appeared consistent to Linden; and yet its self-sufficiency baffled her. How could any being be so complete? Daphin sat there in her loveliness and her inward repose, as if she had never asked herself a question for which she did not already know the answer. Her personal radiance shone like hints of sunlight, and when she spoke her voice was full of moonbeams. Linden did not trust her. But now she comprehended the wonder and excitement, the awe bordering on adoration, which Honninscrave had learned to feel toward these people.

Still she could not shake off her tremorous inner disquiet. The bells would not leave her alone. They came so close to meaning, but she could not decipher their message. Her nerves tightened involuntarily.

“That's not what Chant thinks. He thinks his truth is the only one there is.”

Daphin's limpid gaze did not waver. “Perhaps that is true. Where is the harm? He is but one Elohim among many. And yet,” she went on after a moment's consideration, 'he was not always so. He has found within himself a place of shadow which he must explore. All who live contain some darkness, and much lies hidden there. Surely it is perilous, as any shadow which encroaches upon the light is perilous. But in us it has not been a matter of exigency-for are we not equal to all things? Yet for Chant that shadow has become exigent. Risking much, as he does, he grows impatient with those who have not yet beheld or entered the shadows cast by their own truths. And others tread this path with him.

“Sun-Sage.” Now a new intentness shone from Daphin-the light of a clear desire. 'This you must comprehend. We are the Elohim, the heart of the Earth. We stand at the centre of all that lives and moves and is. We live in peace because there are none who can do us hurt, and if it were our choice to sit within Elemesnedene and watch the Earth age until the end of Time, there would be none to gainsay us. No other being or need may judge us, just as the hand may not judge the heart which gives it life.

'But because we are the heart, we do not shirk the burden of the truth within us. We have said that our vision foreknew the coming of Sun-Sage and ring-wielder. It is cause for concern that they are separate. There is great need that Sun-Sage and ring-wielder should be one. Nevertheless the coming itself was known. In the mountains which cradle our clachan, we see the peril of this Sunbane which requires you to your quest. And in the trees of Woodenwold we have read your arrival.