He pushed his wet black hair away from his forehead and droplets of water slowly swam away in the air, twinkling like minnows. “I told you I don’t think about that kind of thing—but if the Clan has always been here why should it suddenly come to an end.”
“Has it always been here?”
“Where else is there? Be logical, Myrah.” Lennar smiled at her and gave a gentle, tentative thrust with his pelvis. She responded automatically, comforted by his practicality and strength, then her attention was distracted by a low murmur from the assembly as Solman appeared at the entrance to the house of the Council. He was by far the oldest member of the Clan—thought by some to have reached the age of fifty—and the remaining wisps of his hair had turned fish-belly white. Arthritis, which was so common among elders, had restricted the mobility of his limbs to the extent that he rarely was able to enter the water, but he could still fly accurately in air, with a kind of rigid majesty which was somehow in keeping with his position of authority. Circular blue scars patterned his body, proclaiming a veteran of many battles against the Horra.
Myrah watched him with interest, and a perverse flicker of pleasure. She had long been of the opinion that the Clan’s leader should concern himself with broader issues than the daily work schedules and the other endless petty details of Home life which appeared to occupy all of Solman’s thoughts. Unable to pursue his own activities, he used his power to control the lives of his people in dozens of different and irksome ways. He had, for example, instituted the procedure under which no woman was allowed to pass beyond the defensive mesh without the tally from her House Mother. Myrah regarded the system as both a denial of her individual liberty and an insult to her intelligence. Now, however, Solman was faced with a situation which was a genuine test of leadership, and she was eager to see how he would cope with it. Solman raised his hands to bring silence to the assembly.
“This should be interesting,” Myrah whispered.
“Let him speak before you judge,” Lennar said.
“He’s only going to….” She broke off as Lennar tightened his grip on her belt and twisted it warningly.
“My children,” Solman began in a hoarse voice which scarcely reached the outer circles of his audience, “by this time you will all be aware that we, as a people, are faced with a problem which is unprecedented in our history. The steady downward transfer of water which began twelve days ago has now….”
He paused to allow an audible ripple of surprise to die away. “I know that the existence of the current became obvious only three days ago when its speed began to build up, but it was detected some time earlier. The Council decided against making any announcement or taking any precipitate action until we were certain that the current was not merely a freakish—but nonetheless natural—phenomenon which would eventually correct itself.
“Today, as you know, it became necessary to strengthen all the anchorages of the Home to prevent movement of the houses and nets … and it is my duty now to inform you that, in the opinion of the Council, we are facing a major crisis. The speed of the current increases slightly each day as it establishes itself. We do not know how long this process will continue, but even if we could reinforce the Home to withstand it, there is the inescapable fact that it will eventually rob us of our air supplies.
“The Council have debated the problem for many hours, and we have chosen a course of action. I will not pretend to you that we are sure our choice is the correct one, or that it will necessarily end the threat to the Home. All I can tell you is that it is the only positive plan we can conceive, and that—to implement it—some of you will be called upon to display the ultimate degree of courage.”
There was an immediate uproar which prevented Solman from continuing, and a visible wave of agitation swept through the hemispherical duster of men and women he was facing. Myrah had listened to his words with a growing sense of astonishment. This was not the fussy, trivialising Solman she had previously encountered in the day-to-day life of the Home. His face was grave and yet calm, and the formality of his speech—with liberal use of terms whose meaning she had to guess from context—had created in her mind a new impression of him, a semblance of one of the mysterious and dignified king-figures of her childhood. It came to her that all along she might have been too superficial and facile with her estimates of Solman’s character and worth. The realisation brought with it a feeling of shame mingled with pleasure over the discovery that the Clan’s leaders were more capable than she had supposed.
Is it possible, she wondered, newly hopeful, that they know what to do?
Solman raised his hands again, commanding silence. “We are almost certain,” he said, “that the new current is not one of the natural mechanisms by which the world adjusts to temperature changes, and that its motive force must lie close to the centre of the world.”
There was a second commotion among his audience, and this time Myrah detected an undertow of fear, a sinking of the communal spirit. Her skin prickled coldly as she began to have premonitions about what was coming next.
“We have a number of choices,” Solman continued. “We could cut the Home free, before it is destroyed, and perhaps go with it wherever the current takes us. We could abandon the. Home, and take one or two houses to another, safer location where we can begin rebuilding. Or we could decide to fight the current and keep on strengthening our ties and anchorages.
“But if we can act at all in this matter, it can only be on the basis of definite knowledge. If we can act at all, it cannot be done at a distance. The Council is therefore asking for six volunteers who are prepared to follow the new current as far into the darkness as it will take them.”
Paradoxically, Myrah’s first reaction was one of relief. Ka was waiting at the heart of the world, and it suddenly came to her that, no matter how unsatisfactory her life might be, she was immeasurably better off than any of the six who would journey down to meet him. It was good, marvellously good, to know that—while they were sinking, heroically but so foolishly, into death’s domain—she would sleep in the security of the Home. She looked around her, luxuriating in the warm sense of being one of the crowd, curious to see which of the others would be sufficiently vainglorious, sufficiently suicidal, to go forward.
Her whole body stiffened with shock as, before she could move to prevent him, Lennar cast off from beside her. He flew downwards in silence, through the sad blue light, and was caught and steadied by Solman’s right hand. Myrah saw Solman whisper something to Lennar before embracing him.
Insufficient reward, she thought. That’s not enough.
There was a flicker of movement to her left as another member of the Clan went forward, a woman named Treece who had always been something of an enigma to Myrah. In the distance she saw a man beginning to move, but her attention was distracted by an event closer at hand. Myrah shook her head in disbelief as she identified the pale, slim form of young Geean, the immature girl who had been overwhelmed by the sight of one unremarkable death only a short time earlier. Geean’s flight took her straight to Lennar, and Myrah began to wonder if there was some kind of emotional fixation involved. If there was she might have contributed to it by bringing Geean and Lennar together during the morning’s swim.
“This is madness,” she said aloud, launching herself free of the guide rope. During the first few moments of her flight she was almost able to believe she was moving to intercept Geean, but then—as Solman’s arms spread to receive her—she understood that only by surrendering her life had she any hope of giving it real meaning.