The square was, in fact, already crowded when they reached the Great Temple. They circled the Square and stabled their deests in the private stalls behind the huge building.
"If we go in the back way we can avoid the crowds,'' Yorgen peBor said. "There's a side hall that runs along the auditorium."
She followed him through the rear entrance. An acolyte stationed there to prevent unauthorized persons from entering nodded politely to Yorgen peBor and allowed them to pass. The hall was long and poorly lighted by the occasional candles that burned in sconces in the wall. Yorgen said nothing, not even holding her hand as they moved down the corridor.
Sindi wondered, for a moment, when her father would make the betrothal public. Actually, it was official now; only the ceremony was lacking.
The corridor came to an abrupt end, bringing up short against a massive door of bronzewood. Yorgen peBor twisted the lock and pushed it open. A low murmur of sound came through the opening, and Sindi could see the Temple auditorium beyond.
It was already beginning to fill with people. In the vast hush of the huge room, lit only by the gas mantles around the walls and the glowing spot at the altar, the golden glint of light against the bodies of the worshippers gave the temple an almost supernatural appearance. The people, to Sindi, seemed unreal—marionettes moving against a staged background.
It was the first time Sindi had ever been in the Great Temple on a feast day. Always before, she had gone to the Kivar Temple on the southern side of Gelusar. It was a small, almost cozy temple which made her feel as though the Great Light were actually there to protect her.
This was completely different. The huge lens in the roof of the gigantic auditorium was much bigger than any other glass lens on Nidor, and the light that came through it to strike the altar was brighter than any other spot in any temple.
What was it that the Earthman, Smith, had called the Great Light? A blue-white star. What did that mean? To Sindi, nothing. But it sounded mysterious and reverent, although without any concrete significance. And the light that streamed through the lens to be focused on the hard marble of the altar was neither blue nor white—it was a soft, golden yellow that seemed warm and friendly and powerful.
Yorgen was saying: "We'll have to move down toward the front, Sindi geKiv. Our pew is in the third row.''
She followed him down the aisle with head bowed, as was proper in the Presence of the Great Light. When they reached the row of upholstered benches that was reserved for the use of the Yorgen Yorgens, Sindi slid in and kneeled before the glowing spot of light that rested just off the center of the altar. When it reached the exact center the ceremonies would begin.
"Uh—Sindi geKiv—I'd—ah—I'd like to have you meet a friend of mine." Yorgen peBor's voice, a conversational whisper, somehow sounded strained and hoarse.
Sindi turned her head to look. The girl was sitting on the other side of Yorgen and was smiling at her in an odd sort of way.
"Sindi geKiv Brajjyd, I should like to have you meet Lia gePrannt—Yorgen," he added almost reluctantly. "Lia gePrannt, this is Sindi geKiv."
Lia's smile broadened a moment, then relaxed. "I'm glad to meet you."
"As am I," Sindi returned. The girl was evidently one of Yorgen's relatives who—
Then she realized who. What was it Rahn had said?
He's known to keep company with a girl named Lia gePrannt Yorgen.
And then, quite suddenly, Sindi understood a great many things. She knew why the girl had given her such an odd smile; she knew the reason for Yorgen peBor's hesitation; she knew the reason why Yorgen peBor was so polite and formal toward her.
She found herself liking Yorgen peBor Yorgen.
She not only liked him, she knew him. She knew how his mind worked, and why he acted the way he did.
In that flash of illumination, Sindi geKiv Brajjyd learned a great many things. About others, about herself.
She looked at the glow of the Great Light upon the altar-top and smiled to herself.
Thank you, Great Light. You have illumined my mind.
Perhaps Yorgen was a blockhead; perhaps he was shallow. But in spite of the fact that she didn't love him, she at least knew him, and that would make their life together bearable. Perhaps, Sindi thought, the old ones were wisest after all. The old ways retained some merit. Kiv had not picked a worthless husband for her.
The glowing spot of light on the altar had reached the mirrored depression in the center.
It began to get brighter and brighter.
And then the great bronze gong that hung beside the altar was struck by an acolyte behind it. It shuddered out its ringing bass note, and the services for the Feast of the Sixteen Clans began.
IV
When they rode back to the Bel-rogas School, Yorgen peBor left Sindi at the gate. He thanked her for her company, assured her that he would like to see her again, soon, and rode back toward the city.
Sindi guided her deest toward the stables and dismounted at the door. She led the animal inside and took off the saddle. The stall next to hers, she noticed, was empty; Rahn had evidently gone into the city, then. Most of the students had attended the services at the School's small chapel, rather than ride into Gelusar.
She took a heavy, rough towel from its peg on the wall and began to wipe the perspiration off the back and angular sides of the deest. She was just through with one side when her roommate Mera came running into the stable barn.
"Sindi! One of the girls told me you'd just come in. Here! It's a letter from Rahn. He left it with me. He told me to give it to you as soon as you came back."
Mera held out the folded, slightly grimy sheet of paper. Sindi dropped the towel, snatched the letter from her roommate's hand, and tore it open.
"My dearest darling Sindi,
I knew this would happen—I suppose we both knew it. But I didn't think it would be so soon. You'll have to marry Yorgen, of course; you can never marry me. But I'm afraid to stay to watch it. I couldn't bear to see you betrothed to that deestbrained playboy.
I love you, Sindi, and I'll always love you. Try to think well of me. I wish you the best happiness.
Rahn pD.B."
She stared at the letter, reading it a second time, then a third. She looked up at Mera.
"What is it?" Mera asked. "Bad News?"
"No—no," Sindi said, struggling to keep a calm appearance for her roommate's benefit. "Just a little note—about some lab work."
"Oh," Mera said in relief. "The way you looked when you read that had me worried.''
"Don't be silly. And thanks for bringing the note down here," she said, as Mera started to leave.
Sindi folded the letter, tucking it in a pocket, and picked up the towel. The deest was heavily beaded with perspiration; for a few moments she let the work of wiping the animal off drive all other thoughts from her mind.
She went about her work methodically, finished caring for the animal, and headed back to her lab room. It was, she knew, the only place where she could really be alone, now.
Once she was inside, among the familiar, almost beloved pieces of apparatus, experiments-in-progress, dirty textbooks and heaps of soiled lab clothing, she bolted the door and sat down in a chair. Rahn's chair.
She read the letter once again.
I'm afraid I can't stay to watch it, it said. That explained why Rahn's deest had been missing from the stable. Rahn had run off somewhere.