The Elder Yorgen shrugged. "So they said—and so it must be."
"The Council has already approved this matter, and I won't question it," Vyless muttered. "But what else would you have me do?"
"Pay the usual Temple price for the land. I'll give you a note for a withdrawal from the cobalt reserves for it. There shouldn't be any problems."
"Is that all?"
"Yes. Will you do this for me, Elder Vyless?"
Vyless was a beaten man. His now was the responsibility of locating the school. "It shall be as you say, Elder Leader."
"Good. The Peace of your Ancestors be with you always."
"And may the Great Light illumine your mind as He does the world, Elder Leader," came the automatic ritual response.
They departed together, Vyless heading for the main stairway. Kinis peCharnok turned off into his own small, austere office, where the Elder Gormek was waiting for him.
Elder Grandfather Dran peBor Gormek was a short, broad-chested man who hailed originally from the Bronze Islands, the small island group which lay west of the continent of Nidor, not far off the mainland. Dran peBor was cultured of speech, although occasionally, in moments of great stress and excitement, his voice was liable to betray him by slipping into the Bronze Island dialect he had spoken as a child.
"I ask your blessing, Elder Leader,'' he said, rising as Kinis peCharnok entered.
The Elder Leader offered a brief word and gesture. Then Dran peBor said, "I have come to ask you about the money you've assessed to the Clan Gormek, Ancient One. It seems a little stiff to me."
Kinis peCharnok smiled. "The assessment is for the school, Elder Gormek."
"Exactly," the Elder Gormek said. "My Clan might be—ah—somewhat reluctant to contribute good weights for the building of yet another school."
Kinis peCharnok had foreseen the situation, and he was prepared for it. The Clan Gormek was unique in that its members were located in just one geographical area—they were nearly all Bronze Islanders, miners and sailors. Separated as they were from the Council-dominated life of the mainland, they were not as devoted in their religious duties as they might be.
"My Clan is poor—" the Elder Gormek continued, but Kinis peCharnok interrupted quickly.
"Not that poor, Elder Gormek. Let's not delude ourselves. They give little to the Temple, it's true, but it isn't poverty that causes it. It's lack of discipline, pure and simple."
The Elder Gormek inclined his head. "I admit the defect, Ancient One. Sailors especially pay only perfunctory homage to the Rites of the Great Light. Many of them don't see the inside of a temple more than once a year—and some—well, some less frequently."
"And as for the poverty your sailors plead—" the Elder Leader began.
"Sailors make good wages, too. But it's difficult to get them to part with it, Elder Grandfather. And I'm thinking specifically of the mining population of the
Islands. The digging of copper and zinc and tin from the ground is not as lucrative as it might be. Even the most religious of them can't afford to give much.'' The Elder Gormek paused, then added: "And even the most religious will be somewhat reluctant to give extra for a school which they will never see."
The Elder Leader shook his head. "There's no reason why they shouldn't. The Earthmen specifically told me that anyone on Nidor who passes the school's entrance examinations can enter. Anyone."
"Sailors, even? Miners?"
"If they take the exam. The Earthmen want students in excellent physical condition, and they tell me they plan to give the candidates a special test to discover their mental potentialities. If they are capable of learning , they will be taught whatever is necessary. Surely,'' Kinis peCharnok concluded slyly, "the Clan Gormek has many such people."
"It does," returned the Elder Gormek with a touch of pride.
"Very well, then. Explain it to them and they will pay. I'm using the cobalt reserves for ready cash, but you're aware of what would happen if this money weren't replaced. Our economic system would be unbalanced—and this must not happen. To replace the cash, we have to depend on the Temple Tax. And it is your job to see that the Clan Gormek pays their Temple Tax."
Dran peBor shrugged. "They'll pay, Elder Leader. I don't doubt that. But I feel the amount is a bit heavy, perhaps."
"Apportion it out. Get more from the sailors if the miners have so little. But get it."
"I will see to it, Ancient One," said the Elder Gormek, sighing almost imperceptibly.
"Excellent. May the Peace of your Ancestors be with you always."
"And may the Great Light illumine your mind as He does the world," responded the Elder Gormek. He nodded, turned, and left Kinis peCharnok's office.
The Elder Leader remained behind his desk, thinking. The obstacles were falling; the school would soon be built. It was good to think that in his time, during his stay in the Council's highest seat, this had happened. The Earthmen had come, to lead Nidor to the Great Light.
The necessary cash would be raised soon enough, Kinis peCharnok thought. True, it seemed to be increasingly difficult to get enough money to run the temples properly, these days. Each person gave the right amount, as they always had, but there weren't as many people on Nidor as there had been many cycles ago. For some reason, the birth rate seemed to be dropping off.
The Elder Leader shrugged. The Great Light guided them always. The Great Light had brought the Earthmen. His plan must be followed, and the Way of the Ancestors be observed.
III
Elder Vyless did his job well, if without enthusiasm. The necessary land was selected and purchased from the funds appropriated by the Council. The plans that the Earthmen had given to the Elder Leader were handed over to the stonemasons and the builders.
It was on the day of the Feast of the Sixteen Clans that the ground was formally dedicated. The people had been warned to expect great things on that day, and they came from miles to see the anticipated miracles.
Miracles. They had not been heard of since the legendary days right after the Cataclysm. There had been miracles then, as everyone knew, and as the Scriptures attested.
And now, it seemed, the Great Light once again was taking a visible means of showing His love for His people.
On the day of the dedication the land was crowded with men and women of all clans and all classes, come in from everywhere in the province of Dimay, some even from Sugon to the north, Thyvash and Pelvash to the south, and a few from the westerly province of Lebron.
The farmers rode great, heavily-muscled deests, animals with broad shoulders fitted for pulling plows rather than riding. The priests and the laughing, joking merchants rode in on slim racing deests, their bony legs flashing as they brought their three-toed hooves down on the turf and lifted them again, prancing smartly, with their arched necks held proudly high.
One area of the field had been closed off with stout ropes of braided peych-fiber; within this area, no one was permitted to go. Yellow-robed acolytes stood by to ward off the curious.
The day wore on; the crowd gathered. Kinis peCharnok Yorgen had seen to it that Nidorians of all kinds, from every stratum of life, would be present. The miners of the Bronze Islands had sent a delegation; farmers busy with their crops of peych had come up the Tammul and eastward down the Vash.
At Midmeal, the Elder Leader stepped forward to conduct the Midmeal Services. They were held on a small portable altar that had been brought over from Gelusar's secondary temple, the Kivar, and an acolyte held a miniature burning glass, to remind the people of the use of such a lens long ago by the Great Lawyer, Bel-rogas Yorgen, who had led the people after the Cataclysm so many thousands of years before.