"I see," Kiv said. "Very well, Grandfather. My wife and I will go on to the city and get hold of a communicator. Then I'll come back and help with the work. My wife can go on to the School."
The priest's reaction was an immediate one. "The School? The Bel-rogas School?"
Kiv nodded.
Frowning, the priest said, "In that case I don't see how I can take up your time with bridge repair work. Your studies are much more important. Anyone can repair a bridge; only a few can assimilate the Scriptures and the Law. And,'' he added, a faint wistfulness in his voice that told Kiv much, "Even fewer are worthy of studying at Bel-rogas. Go and give my message to the City Fathers, and then continue on to the School." "Very well, Grandfather."
The priest raised one hand in benediction. "Go, with the blessings of the Great Light, and Those Who have passed on to His Realm."
Leaving the priest, Kiv and Narla turned their deests and took the southern branch of the road toward the great city of Gelusar, a long ribbon of a road curling through the gray-green farmlands.
"Nuisance," Narla said.
"What is?"
"This business of treating us as if we were likely to melt in the first rainfall. Did you see the way he looked at you when you said we were from the School? 'Your studies are of greater importance,' she mimicked. 'I can not permit you to work on the bridge.' And I'll wager that's what you wanted him to say, too. You didn't want to work on that bridge, but you had to offer for the sake of courtesy. You just want to get back to the School, and Jones."
"Narla!"
He speared her with an angry scowl. "When a Grandfather tells you something—" he began.
"I know," she said, crestfallen. "I'm sorry."
They rode on in silence for a while, Kiv brooding over Narla's lapse of taste. Kiv prided himself on his keen sense of the right; he believed that was why he had been chosen for the School, and he hoped that someday it would place him on the Council of Elders.
The road to the Bridge of Gon was a narrow, winding one, and Kiv's deest required considerable guiding at each turn. A stupid animal, Kiv reflected, as for what seemed the twentieth time in the last ten minutes he put pressure on the reins to turn the deest.
"Narla?" he said after a while. "Narla, that's the second time I've heard you question a Grandfather's instructions since we left my parents. And I don't like it—not at all."
"I'm sorry, I told you. Why can't you leave it at that?"
"But the tone of your voice when you mimicked him!" Kiv protested. "Narla, don't you know what respect means?"
"All I wanted to know is why we 're so sacred,'' she said petulantly. "As soon as he found out we were from Bel-rogas, we suddenly became too important to help repair the bridge. Why?"
''Because we've been chosen, Narla. Only a few are chosen. And the Law, Narla—that's what's important. The Grandfather told you: anyone can fix a bridge. We're special."
The Earthmen had come from the sky—from the stars, Jones said, whatever they were—from the Great Light Himself, for all Kiv knew. The Earthmen were there to teach; his job was to learn.
"I'm sorry," Narla said a third time. "I'm only a woman, I guess. I don't understand these things."
Be patient, Kiv thought wearily. Patient.
After a long spell of hard riding, they eased up on their tired deests to rest them for the final lap of the journey.
Narla had said nothing all this time. Finally she asked: "Is Jones really from the sky? I mean, is it true that the Earthmen come from the Great Light?"
She keeps asking questions like a small child who's too impatient to sit still, Kiv thought. It's been a long trip; she's tired.
"I don't know," he said, keeping his voice quiet and matter-of-fact. "I don't see how they could come from Nidor, and the Grandfathers tell us that the Earthmen do not lie. The Grandfathers have accepted the Earthmen."
''And therefore we accept them,'' Narla completed. The response was ritualistic. "Of course," said Kiv.
And then the first scattered outskirts of the City of Gelusar came into sight.
II
They rode into Holy Gelusar—the city legend said was founded by the Great Light Himself. The vast, sprawling city was the center of all Nidorian culture. For two thousand and more years, it had stood almost unchanged. The city spread out radially from its center, the Great Temple, where the mighty Council of Sixteen Elders ruled the world of Nidor according to the Scripture and the Law.
Kiv and Narla guided their deests through a crowded thoroughfare that led toward the heart of the city, looking for a public communicator. They finally found one near a shabby little side street that edged off toward the river. A few black-clad sailors lounged about, evidently just having come up the Tammul river from the southerly harbor of Tammulcor. Dismounting, Kiv eyed them uneasily; coming from a line of farmers and priests, he had a deep-rooted dislike for seamen, who tended, in the main, to be a blaspheming lot.
Kiv entered. A chubby little man behind the counter took Kiv's request.
"This is a local call, then, not long distance," muttered the clerk, half to himself. "Hmmm. That will be three pieces and four."
Kiv scooped a ring of coins from his vest, unclipped several, and handed them over. He walked to the booth and closed the door. Then, picking up the microphone, he flipped the switch.
"Communications central," said a voice from the speaker.
"This is Kiv peGanz Brajjyd. I have a message for the Uncle of Public Works."
"One moment.'' Kiv heard a series of clicks over the speaker, and then a new voice.
"Office of Public Works. What is it, please?"
"I'm bearing a message for the Uncle from Grandfather Dom peBril Sesom at the Bridge of Klid. He asked me to tell you that he needs another squad of men if he's going to get the bridge repaired for the evening traffic."
"And your name?''
Kiv identified himself, was thanked, and cut the connection.
Outside the communications office, he found Narla talking to an elderly man—a farmer, obviously, judging by his dress.
"—and I tell you, something has to be done!" the farmer was saying. "My sons and their families are fighting desperately now, but if we run short of Edris powder, there won't be a crop this year."
"It sounds bad,'' Narla said. "And you say there are other farmers having the same sort of trouble?"
"Plenty of them,'' said the farmer. "The Great Light alone knows how many million of those damned hugl are chewing up the countryside out in my sector."
"Your pardon, Aged One," Kiv broke in, using a term of respect even though the farmer was not really old enough to deserve the flattering term. "What's this about the hugl?"
The man turned. "They 're eating my crops! They 're swarming again. The swarms eat and strip everything in their path. And that goes for animals, too. They eat everything!''
"I realize that," Kiv said patiently. "But I hardly see that it's anything to worry about. This happens periodically, doesn't it?"
"Never like this. It seems to get worse all the time.''
Kiv noticed for the first time that the farmer looked tired and travel worn. The fine golden down that covered his skin was heavy with road dust. Kiv realized suddenly that he and Narla probably looked about the same.
"I've come to talk to one of the Elder Grandfathers," the man continued. "One of my own clan, with whom I schooled as a boy. We need help out there." He took a deep breath. "May you have many children to honor you."