The Memory of Earth Read online

  "You're the bastard," said the girl Then she walked away. The others had finished their devotions-or perhaps had stopped them in order to listen to what Luet was saying to him. Which meant that the story would be spread all over the house by dinnertime and all over Basilica before supper and no doubt Issib would tease him about it all the way home and then Elemak and Mebbekew would never let him forget it and he wished that the women of Basilica would keep crazy people like Luet under lock and key instead of taking their stupid nonsense seriously all the time.

  THREE - FIRE

  When he got inside he headed for the fountain room, where his class would be meeting all through the autumn. From the kitchen he could smell the preparations for dinner, and with a pang he remembered that, what with his argument with Elemak, he had completely forgotten to eat. Until this moment he hadn't felt even the tiniest bit hungry; but now that he realized it, he was completely famished. In fact, he felt just a little lightheaded. He should sit down. The fountain room was only a few steps away; surely they would understand why he was late if he arrived not feeling well. No one could be angry at him. No one could think he was a lazy slackwit if he was sick. They didn't have to know that he was sick with hunger.

  He shuffled miserably into the room, playing his faintness to the hilt, leaning against a wall for a moment as he passed. He could feel their eyes on him, but he didn't look; he had a vague idea that genuinely sick people didn't easily meet other people's gaze. He half-expected the teacher of the day to speak up. What's wrong, Nafai? Aren't you well?

  Instead there was silence until he had slid down the wall, folding himself into a sitting position on the wooden floor.

  "We'll send out for a burial party, Nafai, in case you suddenly die."

  Oh, no! It wasn't a teacher at all, one of the easily fooled young women who were so very impressed that Nafai was Rasa's own son. It was Mother here today. He looked up and met her gaze. She was smiling wickedly at him, not fooled a bit by his sick act.

  "I was waiting for you. Issib is already on my portico, He didn't mention that you were dying, but I'm sure it was an oversight."

  There was nothing left but to take it with good humor. Nafai sighed and got to his feet. "You know, Mother, that your unwillingness to suspend your disbelief will set back my acting career by several years."

  "That's all right, Nafai, dear. Your acting career would set back Basilican theatre by centuries,"

  The other students laughed. Nafai grinned-but he also scanned the group to see who was enjoying it most. There was Eiadh, sitting near the fountain, where a few tiny drops of water had caught in her hair and were now reflecting light like jewels. She wasn't laughing at him. Instead she smiled beautifully, and winked. He grinned back-like a foolish clown, he was sure-and nearly tripped on the step leading up to the doorway to the back corridor. There was more laughter, of course, and so Nafai turned and took a deep bow. Then he walked away with dignity, deliberately running into the doorframe to earn another laugh before he finally made it out of the room.

  "What's this about?" he asked Mother, hurrying to catch up with her.

  "Family business," she said.

  Then they passed through the doorway leading to Mother's private portico. They would stay, as always, in the screened-off area near the door; beyond the screen, out near the balustrade, the portico offered a beautiful view of the Rift Valley, so it was completely forbidden for men to go there. Such proscriptions in private houses were often ignored-Nafai knew several boys who talked about the Rift Valley, asserting that it was nothing special, just a steep craggy slope covered with trees and vines with a bunch of mist or clouds or fog blocking any view of the middle where, presumably, the sacred lake was located. But in Mother's house, decent respect was always shown, and Nafai was sure that even Father had never passed beyond the screen.

  Once he was through with blinking, coming out into bright sunlight, Nafai was able to see who else was on the portico. Issib, of course; but to Nafai's surprise, Father himself was there, home from his journey. Why had he come to Rasa's house in the city, instead of going home first?

  Father stood to greet him with an embrace.

  "Elemak's at home, Father."

  "So Issya informed me."

  Father seemed very serious, very distant. He had something on his mind. It couldn't be anything good.

  "Now that Nafai is finally here," said Mother, "we can perhaps make some sense out of all this."

  Only now, as he seated himself in the best shade that wasn't already taken, did Nafai realize that there were two girls with them. At first glance, in the dazzling sunlight, he had assumed they were his sisters, Rasa's daughters Sevet and Kokor-in that context, an assembly of Rasa and her children, Father's presence was surprising, since he was father only to Issib and Nafai, not to the girls. But instead of Sevet and Kokor, it was two girls from the school-Hushidh, another of mother's nieces, the same age as Eiadh; and that witchling girl from the front porch, Luet. He looked at her in consternation- how had she got here so quickly? Not that he'd been hurrying. Mother must have sent for her even before she knew that Nafai had arrived.

  What were Luet and Hushidh doing in a conference about family business?

  "My dear mate Wetchik has something to tell us. We're hoping that you can-well, at least that Luet or Hushidh might-"

  "Why don't I simply begin?" said Father.

  Mother smiled and raised her hands in a graceful, elegant shrug.

  "I saw something disturbing this morning," Father began. "Just before morning, actually. I was on my way home on the Desert Road-I was out on the desert, yesterday, to ponder and consult with myself and the Oversoul-when suddenly there came upon me a strong desire-a need, really-to leave the trail, even though that's a foolish thing to do in that dark time between moonset and sunrise. I didn't go far. I only had to move around a large rock, and it became quite clear to me why I had been led to that spot. For there in front of me I saw Basilica. But not the Basilica I would have expected, dotted with the lights of celebration in Dolltown or the inner market. What I saw was Basilica ablaze."

  "On fire ?" asked Issib.

  "A vision, of course. I didn't know that at first, mind you-I lunged forward; I was intending to rush to the city-to rush here and see if you were all right, my dear-"

  "As I would certainly expect you to do," said Mother.

  "When the city disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. Only the fire remained, rising up to form a pillar on the rock in front of me. It stood there for the longest time, a column of flame. And it was hot-as hot as if it had been real. I felt it singeing me, though of course there's not a mark on my clothing. And then the pillar of flame rose up into the sky, slowly at first, then faster and faster until it became a star moving across the sky, and then disappeared entirely."

  "You were tired, Father," said Issib.

  "I've been tired many times," said Father, "but I have never seen pillars of flame before. Or burning cities."

  Mother spoke up again. "Your father came to me, Issya, because he hoped that I might help him understand the meaning of this. If it came from the Oversold, or if it was just a mad sort of waking dream."

  "I vote for the dream," said Issib.

  "Even madness can come from the Oversoul," said Hushidh.

  Everyone looked at her. She was a rather plainish girl, always quiet in class. Now that Nafai saw her and Luet side by side, he realized that they resembled each other closely. Were they sisters? More to the point, what was Hushidh doing here, and by what right did she speak out about family matters?

  "It can come from the Oversoul," said Father. "But did it? And if it did, what does it mean?"

  Nafai could see that Father was directing those questions, not at Rasa or even at Hushidh, but at Luet! He couldn't possibly believe what the women said about her, could he? Did a single vision turn a rational man of business into a superstitious pilgrim trying to find meanings in everything he saw?

  "I can't tell
you what your dream means," said Luet.

  "Oh," said Father. "Not that I actually thought-"

  "I f the Oversoul sent the dream, and if she meant you to understand it, then she also sent the interpretation."

  "There was no interpretation."

  "Wasn't there?" asked Luet. "This is the first time you've had a dream like this, isn't it?"

  "Definitely. This isn't a habit of mine, to sec visions as I'm walking along the road at night."

  "So you aren't used to recognizing the meanings that come along with a vision."

  "I suppose not."

  "Yet you were receiving messages."

  "Was I?"

  "Before you saw the flame, you knew that you were supposed to turn away from the road."

  "Yes, well, that."

  "What do you think the voice of the Oversoul sounds like? Do you think she speaks Basyat or puts up signposts?"

  Luet sounded vaguely scornful-an outrageous tone of voice for her to adopt with a man of Wetchik's status in the city. Yet he seemed to take no offense, accepting her rebuke as if she had a right to chastise him.

  "The Oversoul puts the knowledge pure into our minds, unmixed with any human language," she said. "We are always given more than we can possibly comprehend, and we can comprehend far more than we're able to put into words."

  Luet had a voice of such simple power. Not like the chanting sound that the witches and prophets of the inner market used when they were trying to attract business. She spoke as if she knew, as if there was no possibility of doubt.

  "Let me ask you, then, sir. When you saw the city on fire, how did you know it was Basilica?"

  "I've seen it a thousand times, from just that angle, coming in from the desert."

  "But did you see the shape of the city and recognize it from that, or did you know first that it was Basilica on fire, and then your mind called forth the picture of the city that was already in your memory?"

  "I don't know-how can I know that?"

  "Think back. Was the knowledge there before the vision, or was the vision first?"

  Instead of telling the girl to go away, Father dosed his eyes and tried to remember.

  "When you put it that way, I think-I knew it before I actually looked in that direction. I don't think I actually saw it until I was lunging toward it. I saw the flame , but not the burning city inside it. And now that you ask, I also knew that Rasa and my children were in terrible danger. I knew that first of all, as I was founding the rock-that was part of the sense of urgency. I knew that if I left the trail and came to that exact spot, I'd be able to save them from the danger. It was only then that it came to mind what the danger was, and then last of all that I saw the flame and the city inside it."

  "This is a true vision," said Luet.

  Just from that? She knew just from the order of things? She probably would have said the same thing no matter what Father remembered. And maybe Father was only remembering it that way because Luet had suggested it that way. This was making Nafai furious, for Father to be nodding in acceptance when this twelve-year-old girl condescendingly treated him like an apprentice in a profession in which she was a widely respected master.

  "But it wasn't true," said Father. "When I got here, there was no danger."

  "No, I didn't think so," said Luet. "Back when you first felt that your mate and your children were in danger, what did you expect to do about it?"

  "I was going to save them, of course."

  "Specifically how ?"

  Again he closed his eyes. "Not to pull them from a burning building. That never occurred to me until later, as I was walking the rest of the way into the city. At the moment I wanted to shout out that the city was burning, that we had to-"

  "What?"

  "I was going to say, we had to get out of the city. But that wasn't what I wanted to say at first. When it started, I felt like I had to come to the city and tell everybody that there was a fire coming."

  "And they had to get out?"

  "I guess," said Father. "Of course, what else?"

  Luet said nothing, but her gaze never left his face.

  "No," Father said. "No, that wasn't it." Father sounded surprised. "I wasn't going to warn them to get out."

  Luet leaned forward, looking somehow more intense, not so-analytical. "Sir, just a moment ago, when you were saying that you had wanted to warn them to get out of the city-"

  "But that wasn't what I was going to do."

  "But when you thought for a moment that-when you assumed that you were going to tell them to get out of the city-what did that feel like? When you told us that, why did you know that it was wrong?"

  "I don't know. It just felt... wrong?

  "This is very important," said Luet. "How does feeling wrong feel ?"

  Again he closed his eyes. "I'm not used to thinking about how I think. And now I'm trying to remember how it felt when I thought I remembered something that I didn't actually remember-"

  "Don't talk," said Luet.

  He fell silent.

  Nafai wanted to yell at somebody. What were they doing, listening to this ugly stupid little girl, letting her tell Father-the Wetchik himself, in case nobody remembered-to keep his mouth shut!

  But everybody else was so intense that Nafai kept his own mouth shut. Issib would be so proud of him for actually refraining from saying something that he had thought of.

  "What I felt," said Father, "was nothing." He nodded slowly. "Right after you asked the question and I answered it-. Of course, what else-then you sat there looking at me and I had nothing in my head at all."

  "Stupid," she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. To Nafai's relief, he was finally noticing how disrespectfully Luet was speaking to him.

  "You felt stupid," she said. "And so you knew that what you'd just said was wrong."

  He nodded. "Yes, I guess that's it."

  "What's all this about?" said Issib. "Analyzing your analysis of analyses of a completely subjective hallucination?"

  Good work, Issya, said Nafai silently. You took the words right out of my mouth.

  "I mean, you can play these games all morning, but you're just laying meanings on top of a meaningless experience. Dreams are nothing more than random firings of memories, which your brain then interprets so as to invent causal connections, which makes stories out of nothing"

  Father looked at Issib for a long moment, then shook his head. "You're right, of course," he said. "Even though I was wide awake and I've never had a hallucination before, it was nothing more than a random firing of synapses in my brain."

  Nafai knew, as Issib and Mother certainly knew, that Father was being ironic, that he was telling Issib that his vision of the fire on the rock was more than a meaningless night dream. But Luet didn't know Father, so she thought he was backing away from mysticism and retreating into reality.

  "You're wrong," she said. "It was a true vision, because it came to you the right way. The understanding came before the vision-that's why I was asking those questions. The meaning is there and then your brain supplies the pictures that let you understand it. That's the way the Oversoul talks to us."

  "Talks to crazy people, you mean," Nafai said.

  He regretted it immediately, but by then it was too late.

  ‘‘Crazy people like met" said Father.

  "And I assure you that Luet is at least as sane as you are," Mother added.

  Issib couldn't pass up the chance to cast a verbal dart. "As sane as Nyef? Then she's in deep trouble."

  Father shut down Issib's teasing immediately. "You were saying the same thing yourself only a minute ago."

  "I wasn't calling people crazy," said Issib.

  "No, you didn't have Nafai's-what shall we call it?- pointed eloquence?

  Nafai knew he could save himself now by shutting up and letting Issib deflect the heat. But he was committed to skepticism, and self-control wasn't his strong suit. "This girl," said Nafai. "Don't you see how she was leading you on, Father
? She asks you a question, but she doesn't tell you beforehand what the answer will mean-so no matter what you answer, she can say, That's it, it's a true vision, definitely the Oversoul talking."

  Father didn't have an immediate answer. Nafai glanced at Luet, feeling triumphant, wanting to see her squirm. But she wasn't squirming. She was looking at him very calmly. The intensity had drained out of her and now she was simply-calm. It bothered him, the steadiness of her gaze. "What are you looking at?" he demanded.

  "A fool," she answered.

  Nafai jumped to his feet. "I don't have to listen to you calling me a-"

  "Sit down!" roared Father.

  Nafai sat, seething.

  "She just listened to you calling her a fraud," said Father. "I appreciate how both of my sons are doing exactly what I wanted you here to do-providing a skeptical audience for my story. You analyzed the process very cleverly and your version of things accounts for everything you know about it, just as neatly as Luet's version does."

  Nafai was ready to help him draw the correct conclusion. "Then the rule of simplicity requires you to-"

  "The rule of your father requires you to hold your tongue, Nafai. What you're both forgetting is that there's a fundamental difference between you and me."

  Father leaned toward Nafai.

  "I saw the fire."

  He leaned back again.

  "Luet didn't tell me what to think or feel at the time. And her questions helped me remember-helped me remember-the way it really happened. Instead of the way I was already changing it to fit my preconceptions. She knew that it would be strange-in exactly the ways that it was strange. Of course, I can't convince you."

  "No," said Nafai. "You can only convince yourself."

  "In the end, Nafai, oneself is the only person anyone can convince."

  The battle was lost if Father was already making up aphorisms. Nafai sat back to wait for it all to end. He took consolation from the fact that it had been, after all, merely a dream. It's not as if it was going to change his life or anything.