"I began when we slipped into duad. It was a strike,
Krinata. I wasn't thinking. If I had, I'd have known better, for all I managed was to evoke Desdinda while I was too—" There was that flicker of ecstasy. "That's not a good state to approach a tricky plexus like this Loop, though I don't usually strike wild. I don't understand. Tell me again about this wall."
She described how it built, sounded, looked, felt.
"And when Desdinda threw us into the Archive?"
She described the void, panic, falling, and he was amazed at the processes of the human mind. "When I see a walled structure, you see a void, when I see void, you see a wall. You fear void and Desdinda, and equate them? But Desdinda isn't the Archive, and she's not the void."
She shuddered, awareness of the dead woman heightened. "Jindigar, what did you mean, there are no Dushau ghosts?" If ever anyone was haunted–
"Ephemerals reincarnate, but we do not. If we die before completing a life, we simply dissolve. But if we succeed before death, we exist eternally without need to reincarnate. Madness such as Desdinda suffered can only end in dissolution, as she did. That is a true void."
She'd read that theory in Arlai's library but had passed over it without interest. Now it suddenly seemed like the fallacy underlying Aliom philosophy. "But, if she's really gone, why is she still here?" Not that I really believe in ghosts.
"I don't know, but the clue must lie in your void. Perhaps if I'd ever served as Center in Oliat, I'd see it."
"Frey said you'd been qualified to be Center since he was born, and I know even Dushau consider that unusual." It was a personal question she'd never dared ask before, but she needed to get away from talk of Desdinda.
"One can be Center only once. For the many who've not chosen priesthood, it's the end of Oliat training, and they then seek other paths to Completion. For a vowed priest, dedicated to achieving Completion only via the Aliom path, it's a supreme test. Those who succeed become Observing Priests; those who fail go to dissolution/death. Success often means remaining Center for centuries, so a Priest takes an Oliat only just after Renewal, for Renewal terminates Oliat. Twice now I've avoided taking Center because events during Renewal rendered me unstable. Now I'm facing Renewal again. Perhaps that's Desdinda's hold on me, for her death could so easily be mine." He looked at her bleakly. "I feel panic when she clutches at you."
For a moment it seemed obvious that Jindigar's fear of dissolution/death would be triggered by Desdinda's attack on her. But the insight faded, leaving her puzzled but deeply touched, vowing silently to rid herself of the demon for his sake, if not her own. Even if there's no such thing as dissolution/death. Yet, to her, all death had always been dissolution. Now, amid the echoing residue of the night's experience, she couldn't think of it that way anymore.
Life–pervades.
The rising sun had crowned the waterfall with morning rainbows, and the camp fire was dead. Suddenly there was a splash in the pond, and Imp scrambled out of the water with a fish in his mouth. He swarmed up Jindigar's pant leg, presenting the wriggling creature. Jindigar rose with the dripping piol under one arm, the whule in his other hand. "He says it's time for breakfast!"
"I'm starved!" she agreed, unsurprised and unfooled by his swift change of mood.
When they arrived back at the camp, they found everyone gathered around the main camp fire inside the ring of sleds. The moment he saw them, Shorwh leapt up from where he was helping Frey gut fish and ran to Krinata. "They let me cast three votes, one for me and one for each of my brothers. And I voted to do what Jindigar wants, and we won!"
Everyone looked to Jindigar. "In that case, we'll forage, gathering supplies, so you can all learn what's good to eat and what's dangerous. Day after tomorrow—"
At that moment the sky lit with a flash that eclipsed the rising sun, and Jindigar yelled, "Down! Take cover!"
The piols screamed, and everyone dived under the cliff. Long moments later, the thunderous roar reached them. Pebbles rattled loose and showered down on them, but their cliff held while something ominous blotted out the sunshine.
When it was over, Jindigar stood and dusted himself off. "Ephemeral Truth has been destroyed—"
FIVE
Hive Massacre
Two days they foraged and learned the idiosyncrasies of the ecology while casting anxious glances at the sky. But it was time well invested, for during the next seven days of hard marching to the end of the river canyon, they barely disturbed the ecology as they passed. Once, Jindigar remarked wistfully that an Oliat might have convinced the local hives to eradicate all trace of their passage.
Jindigar and Frey quested for signs of the Squadron during rest breaks, sure that searchers expected the blowing of their ship to flush them out. As Jindigar explained, "I think they're searching the trail we would have taken logically. But we're cutting a circle, treading respectfully among the interlaced network of hives. If we move swiftly, we'll stay ahead of them until they conclude we've all died."
"But if they pick up our trail—" started Irnils.
"Once they're on the ground, the hives will probably convince them we could not have survived," answered Jindigar.
Despite the time he spent isolated with Frey within the duad, Jindigar found time to begin language lessons for the young Cassrians, encouraging Shorwh to help train their voices and leaving Krinata to referee the inevitable squabbles. She didn't mind. The children refreshed Jindigar so much, and they kept her mind off the ominous nightmares.
Nightly, now, she was having repeating dreams. Usually it started with Jindigar playing the whule near the little waterfall, then, lulled, she'd drift into becoming Desdinda, believing she was the only sane one left able to protect all Dushau by destroying Jindigar and the Archive he'd sullied. But she'd fail and fall into a ruined Archive with scenes of bombed and burned-out cities, cindered worlds, drifting hulks of dead spaceships, scenes from their flight across the galaxy reeling before her eyes as if the pristine beauty recorded in the Archive had been blasted to rubble. If she fought out of that horror, she'd fall back in a terrifying swoop until she was Center of an Oliat, with Jindigar as an Officer, and treacherously he'd turn on her, ripping away her power of decision, rendering her helpless.
Sometimes she woke, fist to her mouth, stifling a scream, then lay awake dredging the evaporating dream for any clue of how it symbolized Desdinda's hold on her.
They emerged from the valley over a series of rolling hills. Where the river turned west to cut deep canyons with foaming rapids, they filled every container with water, then angled to the southeast.
The duad identified many medicinal herbs, but all too often Jindigar would shake his head, admitting the limits of-a mere duad. Once, Terab became ill on a root-and-leaf soup she'd improvised, and Jindigar halted the column for the day, saying, "This is my fault. I should have noticed that combination would prove to be a strong laxative."
They used the day to forage. Eggs were plentiful, but Jindigar instructed, 'Take only unfertilized or abandoned eggs, or a few from large clutches."
Gibson scoffed, "Dushau may be evolved scavengers, but humans ain't. There's nothing wrong with taking what we can find. It's not like we're overpopulating this world!"
That afternoon he returned to camp limping, one hand bound up in his shirt. He was swearing luridly. "Frissin snakethings near killed me!" While they were bandaging his wounds he complained to Jindigar, "Why didn't you tell me them blue wormthings were dangerous?"