Pamela Sargent - Watchstar

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Watchstar
Pamela Sargent
An [e - reads ] Book
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning or any information storage
retrieval system, without explicit permission in writing from the Author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 1980 by Pamela Sargent
First e-reads publication 1999
www.e-reads.com
ISBN 0-7592-1508-2
Author Biography
Pamela Sargent received her B.A. and M.A. in philosophy from the State University of New York at
Binghampton. She is the author of more than twenty stories which have appeared in Fantasy & Science
Fiction, Universe, New Worlds, Eros in Orbit, Wandering Stars, Two Views of Wonder, Fellowship of
Stars, and other magazines and anthologies. She is also the editor of numerous anthologies, including
Women of Wonder, Bio-Futures, More Women of Wonder, and the New Women of Wonder. She lives
in upstate New York.
Other works by Pamela Sargent also available in e-reads editions
Venus of Dreams
Cloned Lives
To Pat LoBrutto
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Watchstar
1
The comet was a bright slash against the black sky, an omen scratched by God on the dark dome. Daiya
AnraBrun looked up at the intruder, craning her neck, wondering what it meant. No one in the village
seemed to know; even the Merging Selves were not sure. The comet dominated the sky, brighter than
the tiny twinkling fires of heaven, almost as bright as Luna’s Shield. Daiya thought of her approaching
ordeal. The comet had appeared just as she had begun to prepare for it.
Another fire, closer to her, flickered in the darkness near the foothills of the mountains. She walked
toward it, lowering her eyes. The night air had grown cool. She concentrated on that, forgetting the
comet, adjusting her perceptions until she felt warm again.
Mausi LinaPili sat next to the fire, stretching her slender arms toward it. Her blonde hair glistened as the
flames danced. Daiya approached and sat down, folding her short stocky legs.
Mausi smiled and made the fire flare. The wood crackled. She moved her blonde head, pointing toward
the distant village with her chin. Daiya heard the murmur of her friend’s thoughts.
— My mother is in labor now —
— Is she all right? — Daiya asked. She felt the answer almost as she thought the question.
— Yes, it will be over by morning, my father is with her now —
Daiya had expected the answer. Having children was easy, which was why, she supposed, they had so
many. A more disturbing thought nudged her.
She quickly closed her mind to Mausi, not wanting to disturb her friend. The village needed many
children to make up for the few who were born defective, and the many who did not survive the ordeal.
Daiya’s own parents, Anra LeitoMorgen and Brun RillaCerwen, were expecting their fourth. She was
sure that they would have at least one more after that, though perhaps they would not if Daiya lived
through her ordeal.
Daiya remembered the birth of her sister, Silla, almost seven cycles ago. Daiya had been seven at the
time; her brother Rin had been nine. They had sat with their mother, helping her block the pain with a
web of pleasant thoughts, though Anra could have done that by herself. But she had wanted them with
her. They had rubbed Anra’s shoulders while she squatted, her naked body beaded with sweat. They
had watched as Brun placed the newborn child on Anra’s chest after bathing the infant in warm water.
Anra and Brun had searched the baby’s mind; she had been whole and healthy. Daiya and Rin had
smiled at each other, congratulating themselves, before Brun finally sent them to bed.
Rin was dead, part of the Merged One, Daiya supposed, his soul with God. He had died two cycles ago
during his ordeal. He had been stronger than she was, afraid of nothing, his mind clear and brave as he
left the village with the others for the desert. She could still see him tossing his head arrogantly, his black
hair swaying around his shoulders; she had been sure he would come back. How could she live through
something Rin had not survived?
A small creature was near her. She felt its presence and turned. Mausi had already noticed the rabbit.
The animal watched them, its ears up, its eyes gleaming in the reflected firelight. Mausi held it with her
mind, soothing it. The rabbit drooped drowsily. — Thank you, little brother — the girl thought
ceremonially. — We are grateful —
Mausi skinned the rabbit quickly while Daiya prepared the spit, placing two forked sticks on opposite
sides of the fire, then stripping the bark off a piece of green wood. While the rabbit cooked, Mausi
cleaned her knife, then tucked it in her belt with the piece of rabbit fur.
The rabbit sizzled, turning golden. Smelling it, Daiya realized how hungry she was. She had not eaten for
two days, trying to toughen herself before it was time to go into the desert. She concentrated on the fire,
pressing its heat around the rabbit so that it would cook more quickly.
— Lucky for us — Mausi was thinking. — If it hadn’t come so close to us, I would have gone looking
for food, I was starting to get weak, even catching the rabbit was hard —
Daiya found herself wondering how long they would have to go without food during their passage.
— I don’t know — Mausi replied. — We probably won’t have time to worry about it — The blonde
girl peered up at the sky. — What do you think it means? —
Daiya looked up at the comet, shrugging.
— It must be a sign — Mausi went on. — I wish I knew whether it was good or bad. I keep thinking of
the stories the Merging Ones sometimes tell, the ones about other beings who live in the sky, do you
think it might be a sign from them? —
— Just an old legend — Daiya responded. — Only the stars live there, and we cannot grasp their
thoughts. If there are others, they’ve never shown themselves, or touched us with their minds. I do not
think people can live in the sky — She gazed up at the darkness, at the tiny fires twinkling as they sought
to join their minds to one another, trapped in loneliness. A few stars roamed the sky, changing position
from time to time; those did not twinkle. They were the wanderers, and once in a great while their minds
would bring them together for a time. One day, at the end of the world, when the Merged One sought to
join all life, all the stars would move, drawing closer together, to burn in one great final fire. So the
Merging Selves of the village taught.
She did not know what the comet meant. Older people had seen comets before, but even they were not
sure about what they signified. Some called comets the fingers of God; others said they were solitary
minds cast out of heaven.
The rabbit was done. Daiya cut it up with her knife. — Peloren’s worried about our ordeal — Mausi
thought. — What a turmoil her mind is in, I don’t like to be near her —
Daiya watched her friend, knowing Mausi was just as frightened, though she would not admit it. She
suddenly felt protective toward the other girl. Mausi smiled, sensing Daiya’s feelings, and shook her
head, as if telling her not to worry.
They ate quickly, gnawing the meat off the bones. Mausi wiped her hands on her tunic, then lay down,
curling her trousered legs, resting her head on her hands. — Good night, Daiya —
There was a mental barrier around Mausi’s mind now, blocking any thoughts from reaching Daiya and
protecting her from being disturbed by her dreams. Daiya withdrew into herself, surprised once again at
how easy it was to do so. She withdrew a lot lately. Maybe there was something wrong with her. She did
not even like to share many thoughts with her parents any more.
She wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on the rough fabric covering her knees. Suddenly
she wished she were younger again, as young as her sister Silla, or else that she were old and past her
ordeal. She wondered if she was really ready for the passage. Anra and Brun said she was; she was
becoming a woman, and fourteen was the usual age, though some people were ready at twelve and
others, the boys usually, when they were fifteen or even sixteen.
Anra had looked at her one day and thought: — You’re ready, Daiya — That had been the day Daiya,
in a fit of rage at Silla, had made the pot fly up to the rafters, forgetting all the training she had in
controlling herself. She had picked up Silla, too, holding her suspended in the air upside down while the
younger girl screamed, then spinning her around while Silla, trying to defend herself, made a chair zip
across the floor, almost hitting Daiya. She had put Silla down gently after that, and had run from the hut in
tears, certain she was going mad.
She had learned to control her monthly bleeding very quickly and would soon have control over
ovulation, as the older women did, so they could choose when to become pregnant. She was even
getting used to her breasts, those fleshy protuberances that often ached and seemed to get in her way;
she frequently wished for a skinny, flat frame like Mausi’s. But her feelings were like a flooding river out
of control, threatening to overrun its banks. She would feel them welling up inside her, ready to rush
forth. She would open her mouth and babble in words instead of thoughts, her training deserting her
when she needed it most. At other times, she would build her mental wall and retreat behind it, shocking
herself with her desire to be alone.
The fire flickered. Sparks danced on the stones around it. She sniffed at the smoky smell of the charred
embers. She picked up one of the large pieces of wood next to Mausi, floated it over the sleeping girl’s
body, then lowered it carefully into the flames.
Alone. She shuddered at the thought. People were once alone; so went the legends. Sometimes a child
would say or think the word to shock his parents, or call a playmate a solitary, a sure way to get
someone mad. But she was never really alone, not even out here with Mausi sleeping and the village far
away. She could close her mind and no one would intrude, but the Net was always there, the web of the
village’s minds, a dimly felt presence just below her consciousness. It bound them all together; as she
grew older, it would become stronger, until she became a Merging Self like the older people whose
children were grown. She might even in time become strong enough to have a tenuous mental bond with
another village, as some of the Merging Selves did. That was what she was supposed to want. She
wondered if she did.
She lay down and closed her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep. It was easier to sleep out here, away
from the almost nightly disturbances of Silla, who hadn’t quite learned how to keep her dreams from
waking up everyone in the hut. She twisted a bit on the ground, trying to get comfortable. She worried
too much, that was her problem. She had to stop it. She had to concern herself only with getting strong
enough for her ordeal. She would have to be able to rest under worse conditions than these.
She built her mental wall quickly, leaving only a small space to alert her to any danger. She calmed her
body. She did not really need the fire to keep her warm, but it comforted her and kept animals away.
She slowed her breathing, and at last fell asleep.
Daiya, still stretched out on the ground, felt her friend stir. She and Mausi were covered by the shadow
of the nearby hill. The sky was just beginning to grow light, the sun still hidden behind the mountains. The
other girl got to her feet quickly and began to scatter the embers with her mind, making sure the fire was
out. Mounds of dirt floated over the blackened crumbling sticks, then fell, until the area was safely
covered.
Mausi gazed solemnly at Daiya with sad blue eyes. Daiya caught her thoughts immediately. Mausi’s
mother was calling her, she had to return to the village right away, the child had been born. Mausi’s
thoughts stopped abruptly. Daiya could read no more. But she had already caught a glimpse of shame,
swallowed quickly by black despair.
She put an arm around Mausi’s shoulders. — You can stay — Mausi murmured. — You don’t have to
come with me — Daiya, sensing that her friend wanted company, shook her head.
They set out for the village. Mausi moved swiftly, her long legs covering the distance in great strides.
Daiya hurried after her, trying to keep up. She reached out tentatively, trying to touch Mausi’s mind and
comfort her, but the girl was hidden behind her wall.
Suddenly Mausi rose in the air, lifting herself, apparently wanting to cover the distance as quickly as she
could. Daiya soared, following her. She struggled to hold herself aloft. Flying was always difficult, and
she had little strength left after the deprivations of the past days. They flew over the grassy plains, startling
a flock of red-winged birds, narrowly missing two tall trees. Daiya dipped closer to the ground, almost
exhausted. Mausi, her energy flagging, hurtled on, a hand shielding her eyes, her body fueled by worry
and sorrow.
At last they passed over a few sheep and Mausi alighted, her energy gone. They were near the village.
Daiya landed and followed her friend, feeling drained. Her legs wobbled as she walked. Mausi stopped;
the two girls leaned silently against each other, trying to recover. Ahead, Daiya saw the fields, and their
ripening crops.
The village had been built on one side of a wide river. Sturdy huts made of mud bricks with thatched
roofs had been laid out in concentric circles around an open space where everyone could gather. Most of
the huts were shaded by trees. The village’s fields were outside the town, irrigated by ditches running
from the river. Small herds of cattle and sheep clustered together on the plains beyond.
As they approached the village, Daiya saw a small group making its way through one of the wheat fields,
stopping just outside it. Their heads were bent. She recognized the blonde head of Mausi’s mother Lina,
the auburn hair of her father Pili, and her two redheaded brothers. Mausi began to walk toward the
group. Daiya hurried after her, then realized Mausi did not want her to follow.
She stood still, watching Mausi’s parents dig the grave. The hole grew bigger in the earth as dirt settled
near their feet. She knew what had happened, she had seen it before. Mausi’s parents had given birth to
a solitary, a child whose mind would never be able to lift the earth as they were doing now, who would
never be able to read the thoughts of others, or be part of the Net. There was no place for such children.
When a parent looked into the mind of a child born with this deformity, there was nothing to do but to
put it out of its misery quickly.
Daiya found herself trembling. An unthinkable notion seized her; why was there no place for these
children? Why couldn’t they be raised and sent to a place of their own? Why were they condemned to
death, and eternal separateness? But she knew the answers; she had heard them often enough. If they
lived, they would become the victims of those with normal minds. They would be outside society,
separated from the Net. They would threaten the world with their separateness and eventually they would
have to be killed anyway. It had happened in the past. Individuals had warred with themselves and with
the world, separated mentally from one another, separated from the world by machines, apart from God
and nature. She hugged herself with her arms, trying to suppress her feelings for the solitary ones,
reminding herself that they were only like the animals, not beings with souls. It was good that so few of
them were born.
She went toward the village. It was a large community of almost two thousand people, big enough for a
strong Net. She walked through the fields alongside a ditch, passing cornstalks and then cabbages. She
came to a dirt path and wound her way among the huts, past chicken coops, courtyards, vegetable
gardens, and wallows where pigs rooted noisily, toward her own home.
|Go to Contents |
2
Silla was playing in front of Daiya’s home. Two cloth dolls, the puppets of Silla’s mind, danced in front of
the child. One doll extended a leg and whirled on one foot while the other collapsed, its limbs contorted.
Silla frowned, brushing back a lock of black hair, then looked up at Daiya. She got up and ran toward
her, reaching out with her chubby arms while the second doll crumpled behind her.
Thoughts burbled from the small girl’s mind, reaching Daiya in bits and pieces. She saw little children
playing an elaborate game with pieces of rock, the face of her grandfather Cerwen, a corn cake, her
parents walking toward the fields. — Speak — Daiya thought firmly. — I can’t understand you —
Silla opened her mouth. Daiya heard her words and read her thoughts. “Cerwen’s here,” Silla said. “He’s
inside.” She turned to race away and Daiya caught her. “Let go, I have to see Jooni, she made up a new
game.”
“Listen to me,” Daiya said, holding the child by the arm. “You have to stop babbling, you’re getting too
old for that. You have to concentrate, you act as if you’ve had no training at all, I can hardly understand
you sometimes.”
“Letgo .” Silla pulled her arm loose.
“If you don’t learn,” Daiya said, her voice rising, “you’ll die, like Rin.”
Silla squealed. She tried to kick Daiya. Daiya, grasping the thought, dodged her sister’s foot. She wanted
to slap the girl. She compressed some air, sending it toward the child, then stopped it, leaving her sister
untouched. Silla hurried away, running toward the public space in the center of the village. It was only a
few huts away; Daiya could feel the gathering of minds there. The public space was already filled with
Merging Selves in communion, teachers of mindcrafts, and raucous children.
Daiya swallowed, then took a breath. She had to control the urge to strike out; she had spent years
restraining herself. Anra had warned her that lack of control could kill her during her ordeal. She sighed
and went inside.
Her mat, and Silla’s, were rolled up against the wall near the tiny room where their parents slept at night.
Sometimes, when her mother and father were making love, Daiya would catch pleasant wisps of thought
drifting out from behind their mental barriers; the wisps would entwine and melt together over her and
Silla.
Her parents and her grandfather were sitting at the square wood table in the center of the room. Anra
LeitoMorgen was tall and slender; her black hair was pulled back from her pale, fine-featured face. Her
hands were folded over the belly that bulged underneath her brown tunic. Her long trousered legs,
parallel to the table, were propped up on another wood chair.
Brun RillaCerwen had his elbows on the table. His chin rested on his stubby hands. He was a stocky,
big-boned, brown-skinned man not quite as tall as Anra. Daiya looked like him, and so did Silla; only Rin
had resembled their mother. Cerwen IviaRey was next to his son Brun; he smiled as Daiya approached
the table. An earthen pitcher and a small cup floated toward her; the pitcher poured water into the cup,
then settled on the table.
— You’re not in the fields — Daiya thought, catching the answer almost immediately.
— Cerwen asked me not to go — Anra replied. — Lina and Pili were burying a solitary, he thought it
might be bad for me to witness … I see you already know about that —
— I was with Mausi, we came back here together —
Anra frowned. — Poor Mausi, and right before her ordeal, too, her parents will be very concerned —
She pulled her feet off the chair in front of her and rose. Her belly did not seem to belong to her slim
body.
Brun got up also. — We’ll go to the fields now — he thought. — Will you be with us tonight, Daiya, or
are you going out to train some more —
Daiya realized her father was hoping she would not stay. She caught a glimpse of his doubts before
Brun’s mind closed. He doesn’t think I’m ready, Daiya thought behind her wall.
— Let the girl stay if she wants — Cerwen thought. The old man’s words rippled in her mind, clear and
strong, sweeping away the wisps of Brun’s doubts. Daiya smiled gratefully. Brun patted her cheek as he
and Anra left for the fields.
She sat down. Cerwen sailed a loaf of bread toward her and she tore off a bit, stuffing it into her mouth.
Her grandfather, one of the Merging Ones, was a big dark-skinned man with thick graying black hair. His
brown eyes narrowed. — You need more training, Daiya — The words were hard and solid, pressing
against her like round smooth stones.
— I know — Her own thoughts seemed weak and insubstantial. — I almost lost my temper with Silla
again —
— I didn’t mean that — the old man replied. — You must harden your body more. Anra and Brun are
right. Rest here tonight and go out again tomorrow, take only a knife and some water. Travel alone. Train
your body and your mind —
Daiya was irritated. She already knew that.
— I see, you think I’m telling you nothing — Cerwen continued. — But it’s extremely important that you
understand it. There were those whose minds could have withstood the ordeal but whose bodies were
too weak, and those who survived it, then died in the desert while returning. You young people too often
think you can compensate mentally for any bodily weakness, and often you can, but not indefinitely. Why
do you think we insist on doing some physical labor when we could use our powers almost as easily? It is
because, without strong bodies, our minds would also weaken in time. Mind and body are not things
apart, they are intertwined, at least until the Merged One calls us, gathering the mind to Itself as the body
fails —
Daiya frowned as she tore off another hunk of bread. The crust crunched against her teeth as she
chewed.
— Again you think you know all this, Daiya — The thoughts were sharp, pricking her, stabbing her with
sharp pointed edges. — But if you knew it, I wouldn’t have to tell it to you again —
She glared at him. — Why don’t you tell us what we’ll face? — she asked. — You could prepare us for
it —
— But we already have. It is your character that will be tested, your ability to become a Merging One.
Let me point out one thing. You can master every trick, you can be the strongest young person here, and
still not survive if your character is defective. You had better remember that, child. Who will live and who
will die was decided a long time ago. It is the kind of person you have become that will matter —
Cerwen drew his heavy brows together. — I worry about you. You sometimes hold too many thoughts
behind your wall, keeping them to yourself. You have even doubted the Merged One —
Daiya tensed. The bread in her mouth tasted stale. She threw up her wall quickly, blocking her
grandfather’s probing. She had doubted the Merged One, and tried to rid herself of the blasphemous
notion. It had started as idle musing; why did the Merged One never reveal Itself to them? Why, if the
body and mind were intertwined and not separate, did the mind not die with the body? Why, if
separateness was an evil, did God remain separate from men and women instead of making them part of
a universal Net right from the start? Why did the Merged One allow solitaries to be born, condemning
them to death and eternal separation from all existence?
She had not asked these questions as a child. Later, like many of the others, she had asked them of her
teachers and received answers, but the questions kept returning. All the answers seemed only to be one
answer: the Merged One had ways not easily expressed. Too much curiosity was an evil and could, she
knew, lead to isolation. Once she had asked Mausi if she still had doubts, and her friend had kept her
barrier up for days.
— Prepare yourself, Daiya — Cerwen thought. — Remember that even though you cannot sense it, the
Merged One is always with you, our entire world is part of God. Go out tomorrow and strengthen
yourself — His body blurred, then disappeared, though she still felt his presence. It was a familiar trick,
but one that only the Merging Ones could do easily. She sensed his movement across the room to the
doorway. Then he was gone.
Her doubts returned. She could tell when a Merging Self was near, even when one made himself invisible
by intercepting the vision of the viewer. She felt it. But the Merged One remained apart. She buried her
head in her arms, pressing her cheek against the table top. She could not force belief; it was there or it
was absent. She had to pray for it to a God who might not exist. She wondered if it could ever be
regained, or if she was condemned.
Daiya was ready to leave in the morning. Brun kissed her and started to give her a piece of bread and
some fruit to take with her. She shook her head; he nodded and put the food away.
— Goodbye, Brun — she thought. She turned toward her mother, who was sitting at the table with Silla
finishing breakfast. — Goodbye, Anra — She stared at her mother’s abdomen, suddenly realizing that
she might not be alive when the child was born.
Anra, reacting to Daiya’s thoughts, shook her head and smiled reassuringly, but Daiya picked up her
fear. Silla stuck out her tongue and said, “Bleaaaah.” Daiya made a face at her and then went outside.
The sky was clear, the sun bright. The odors of corn cakes, ground wheat, and baking chickens mingled
with the scents of flowers, the stink of latrines, and the smell of dirt and dust. She passed a hut where
vines crawled over the walls as the minds of the residents tried to form a pleasing pattern; the green
leaves fluttered as the vines twisted around one another, forming living ropes.
She turned toward the riverbank, deciding to follow the river out of the village. It was a roundabout
route, but she would not have to go through the fields, where people would be gathering after the
morning meal. She was trying to keep to herself again, she thought. She shook off the self-accusation;
Cerwen had told her to travel alone. She was beginning to understand why. Perhaps, he must be hoping,
if she knew or felt how truly fearful loneliness was, even when one was still bound to others by the Net,
she would be more prepared for the ordeal, more willing and determined to survive and take her place in
the community.
At the river bank on the edge of the village, a few young people had already gathered. Some were
swimming; others sat at the water’s edge sculpting the liquid into the shapes of birds and animals, holding
the sculptures with their minds. Daiya watched them, envious. They had been through their ordeals and
had survived. They lived in their own huts now and would soon be raising children. Nenla BariWil was
with the group; she was Daiya’s age but had matured earlier. Once Daiya had sat with Nenla and Cina
RiisHomm as a teacher trained them in making their words and ideas clear thoughts. They had all studied
thought projection together, had made up mindsongs while burying compost in the fallow fields. Nenla
was alive. Cina was dead.
Nenla shook back her long red hair and waved; Daiya waved back. Nenla shaped a bird out of water
and flew it toward her. It dissolved, sprinkling her with droplets. A boy and a girl lifted themselves from
shore, flying over the water, soaring and dipping. They dove under the surface and emerged; they turned
on their backs and floated indolently.
Daiya turned from the carefree scene and continued along the bank. She came to an irrigation ditch and
floated over it, extending her arms and pointing her toes. She touched down on the other side and
paused, taking a deep breath after the effort. She climbed up through reeds and shrubs and stopped by a
willow tree, sensing other presences.
Ahead of her, two boys were walking, one tall and auburn-haired, the other small and thin. She
recognized Harel KaniDekel and Oren KiaEde. She caught her breath, remembering the first time she
had let Harel see her thoughts about him.
She hurried after them, wending her way through a patch of yellow wildflowers called goldstems. As she
approached the boys, they walked more slowly, waiting for her to catch up. She came up to Harel and
he smiled, showing his even white teeth. He draped one muscular arm over her shoulders, she put an arm
around his waist, and they walked together, letting their thoughts mingle. She felt the rough woven fabric
of his pale blue shirt against her palm, and smiled. Oren put up his barrier and slowed to walk behind
them.
At last Harel withdrew his mind a bit. His wavy auburn hair swayed around his face as they walked. — I
wanted to stay with you tonight — he thought. — But my grandmother told me I should go out by myself
this time —
— My grandfather told me the same thing — she replied.
Oren caught up with them again, dropping his wall; he had been thinking of Mausi. He had pulled his
brown hair back on his neck, making his thin face seem even more pointed. — Everyone was told
that — the smaller boy thought. — I keep wondering why, we’ll be together when we go to the desert,
and no one likes being apart —
Apprehension settled over all of them, darkening the sunny sky, fading the green of the trees and plants
around them. Then Harel’s mind cut through the mist, giving them a glimpse of the future: the ordeal was
past, all of them stood in the center of the village, alive and healthy. The vision rippled; Daiya was
standing with Harel in front of a hut.
She peered up at him, startled. The images faded. Oren was grinning at them.
Daiya had already known how Harel felt; they had discussed it before without committing themselves.
But showing her his wishes in front of Oren made it more public. Harel stopped and turned to face her.
— Oren already knows what I think — he thought. — I told him I was going to ask you as soon as I
could, I don’t want to wait until after the ordeal’s over. Will you live with me then, Daiya —
She smiled and clutched his hand. — You know I will, Harel, you didn’t have to ask after all the times
we’ve shared our thoughts —
— I wanted to anyway, and Oren’s my best friend, I couldn’t keep it from him. I kept thinking, if we
promise to partner now, maybe the pledge will give us strength during the ordeal —
She assented silently. They stood together, leaning against each other while Oren shifted his weight from
one foot to the other, bobbing up and down. Then they drew away from each other. Harel wanted to
know which way she would travel.
Daiya waved an arm, pointing southeast. She would follow the foothills in that direction as far as she
could and camp near the mountains that night. — You’re going northwest, aren’t you —
Harel nodded. When they were both younger, they had gone northwest to see the wild horses. They had
crept up on two horses near the edge of the herd, holding the minds of the animals while trying to slip on
their backs. Daiya had been thrown. Harel had managed to stay on for a time, clinging to the horse’s
mane, his hair flying as it galloped, until his control slipped and he landed on the ground with a loud grunt.
Harel shook his head at the image. — Not this time — he thought. His mind rippled, amused as he
remembered his sore rump. He was to travel with Oren part of the way; then the two would split up.
He held up a hand and they parted. She watched as the boys wandered off together. Her mind brushed
Harel’s briefly, then withdrew. Harel was confident now, his anxiety gone. She would be with him when
the ordeal was over, so he had to survive.
She turned and began to move toward the grassy plains that led to the foothills. She thought of Harel.
With him, she could almost forget her doubts, the feelings that threatened to make her separate. She had
shared those doubts with him, asking him the same questions that had made her friend Mausi throw up
her wall. Harel had not retreated. His mind, clear and steady, had taken her doubts and made them a fine
mist like a fog, dispersing them with warmth and light.
When she saw things through his eyes, the questions seemed meaningless abstractions, ideas of no
importance. She saw the village, existing as it would until the end of the world, pieces of God’s mind
replacing those that had rejoined the Merged One. Harel had no doubts and rarely put up his barrier. He
lived in the world, accepting it, sure of its rightness, looking forward to the day when he would be a
Merging One. He seemed older than fourteen, almost a man. Her doubts could not affect him; they were
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WatchstarPamelaSargentAn[e-reads]BookNopartofthispublicationmaybereproducedortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans,electronic,ormechanical,includingphotocopy,recording,scanningoranyinformationstorageretrievalsystem,withoutexplicitpermissioninwritingfromtheAuthor.Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,...

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