Instead, his message had been given to these nearly five hundred souls, humans every one of them. And the four sons of Pabulog.
But it was enough, wasn't it? They had proven their courage, these five hundred. They had proven their loyalty and strength. They had borne all things, and they would yet be able to bear many things. That was a good thing that they had created together-this community was a good thing. And when it came to a battle with their most evil enemy, Pabulog, a man even richer in hatred than he was in money and power, Pabulog had won the part with swords and whips, but Akmaro-no, Akmaro's community-no, the Keeper's people-had won the battle of hearts and minds, and won the friendship of Pabulog's sons.
They were good boys, once they learned, once they were taught. They would have the courage to remain good men, despite their father. If I have lost one son-I don't know how-then at least I have gained these four ur-sons, who should have been the inheritance of another man if he hadn't lost them by trying to use them for evil ends.
Perhaps this is the pricel pay for winning the Pabulogi: I take away Pabulog's boys, and in return I must give up my own.
A voice of anguish inside him cried out: No, it isn't worth the price, I would trade all the Pabulogi, all the boys in the world, for one more day in which Akmadis looks in my face with the pride and love that he once had for me!
But he didn't mean that. It wasn't a plea, he didn't want the Keeper to think he was ungrateful. Yes, Keeper, I want my son back. But not at the price of anyone else's goodness. Better to lose my son than for you to lose this people.
If only he could believe that he meant that with his whole heart.
"Akmaro."
Akmaro turned and saw Didul standing there. "I didn't hear you come up."
"I ran, but in the breeze perhaps you didn't hear my footfalls."
"What can I do for you?"
Didul looked upset. "It was a dream I had last night."
"What was the dream?" asked Akmaro.
"It was... perhaps nothing. That's why I said nothing until now. But ... I couldn't get it off my mind. It kept coming back and back and back and so I came to tell you."
"Tell me."
"I saw Father arrive. With five hundred Elemaki warriors, some middle people, most of them earth people. He meant to ... he meant to come upon you at dawn, to take you in your sleep, slaughter you all. Now that the fields are ready to harvest. He had a season of labor from you, and then he was going to slaughter your people before your eyes, and then your wife in front of your children, and then your children in front of you, and you last of all."
"And you waited to tell me this until now?"
"Because even though I saw that this was his plan, even though I saw the scene as he imagined it, when he arrived here he found the place empty. All the potatoes still in the ground, and all of you gone. Not a trace. The guards were asleep, and he couldn't waken them, so he killed them in their sleep and then raced off trying to find you in the forest but you were gone."
Akmaro thought about this for a moment. "And where were you?"
"Me? What do you mean?"
"In your dream. Where were you and your brothers?"
"I don't know. I didn't see us."
"Then... don't you think that makes it obvious where you were?"
Didul looked away. "I'm not ashamed to face Father after what we've done here. This was the right way to use the authority he gave us."
"Why didn't he find you here in your dream?"
"Does a son betray his father?" asked Didul.
"If a father commands a son to commit a crime so terrible that the son can't do it and live with himself, then is it betrayal for the son to disobey the father?"
"You always do that," said Didul. "Make all the questions harder."
"I make them truer," said Akmaro.
"Is it a true dream?" asked Didul.
"I think so," said Akmaro.
"How will you get away? The guards are still loyal to Father. They obey us, but they won't let you escape."
"You saw it in the dream. The Keeper did it once before. When the Nafari escaped from the Elemaki, back at the beginning of our time on Earth, the Keeper caused a deep sleep to come upon all the enemies of the Nafari. They slept until the Nafari were safely away."
"You can't be sure that will happen, not from my dream."
"Why not?" asked Akmaro. "We can learn from the dream that your father is coming, but we can't learn from it how the Keeper means to save us?"
Didul laughed nervously. "What if it isn't a true dream?"
"Then the guards will catch us as we leave," said Akmaro. "How will that be worse than waiting for your father to arrive?"
Didul grimaced. "I'm not Binaro. I'm not you. I'm not Chebeya. People don't risk their lives because of a dream of mine."
"Don't worry. They'll be risking their lives because they believe in the Keeper."
Didul shook his head. "It's too much. Too much to decide just on the basis of my dream."
Akmaro laughed. "If your dream came out of nowhere, Didul, then no one would care what you dreamed." He touched Didul's shoulder. "Go tell your brothers that I tell them to think about the fact that in your dream, your father doesn't find you here. It's your choice. But I tell you this. If the Keeper thinks you are the enemy of my people, then in the dark hours of morning you'll be asleep when we leave. So if you awaken as we're leaving, the Keeper is inviting you to come. The Keeper is telling you that you are trusted and you belong with us."
"Or else I have a full bladder and have to get up early to relieve myself."
Akmaro laughed again, then turned away from him. The boy would tell his brothers. They would decide. It was between them and the Keeper.
Almost at once, Akmaro saw his son Akma standing in the field, sweaty from harvesting the potatoes. The boy was looking at him. Looking at Didul as he walked away. What did it look like in Akma's eyes? My touching Didul's shoulder. My laughter. What did that look like? And when I tell the people tonight of Didul's dream, tell them to prepare because the voice of the Keeper has come to us, telling us that tomorrow we will be delivered out of bondage-when I tell them that, the others will rejoice because the Keeper has not forsaken us. But my son will rage in his heart because the dream came to Didul, and not to him.
The afternoon passed; the sun, long since hidden behind the mountains, now at last withdrew its light from the sky. Akmaro gathered the people and told them to prepare, for in the hours before dawn they would depart. He told them of the dream. He told them who dreamed it. And no one raised a doubt or a question. No one said, "Is it a trap? Is it a trick?" Because they all knew the Pabulogi, knew how they had changed.
In the early morning, Akmaro and Chebeya awoke their children. Then Akmaro went out to make sure all the others were awake and preparing to go. They would send no one to spy on the guards. They knew they were either asleep-or not. There was no reason to check, nothing they could do if they had interpreted the dream wrongly.