The Leaves of October

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a novel of the Scattered Worlds

Don Sakers

THE LEAVES OF OCTOBER

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events

portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblence to

real people or events is purely coincidental.

Published by

Speed-of-C Productions

PO Box 265

Linthicum, MD 21090-0265

The Leaves of October

takes place in the Scattered Worlds

Universe. In chronological sequence, it falls at 8.50, although

individual chapters have different numbers. Details appear

following the timeline. For more information, visit the

Scattered Worlds website at

www.scatteredworlds.com

ISBN 0-9716147-4-1

April 2003

Printed in the United States of America

Scanning and distributing books on the Internet without

permission is piracy, and deprives authors of income.

Authorized electronic texts of this book are available at

www.scatteredworlds.com

OAST

INE

SF Writers Consortium

The CoastLine SF Writers Consortium is an organization of

professional writers and editors devoted to excellence in

sf/fantasty publishing. Publications bearing the CoastLine

logo are assured to meet professional standards.

Author’s Note:

The Leaves of October

first saw print in a 1988

mass-market paperback edition which went out of

print almost as soon as it rolled off the presses.

With virtually no promotion and no marketing, the

book still managed to make friends around the

world. The Hlutr (pro-nounced “Hloo-ter,” by the

way) were compelling aliens that seemed to stick

in readers’ minds and hearts. I am glad to be able

to bring this book back into print.

When Speed-of-C Productions asked me to add an

additional chapter to the book, I thought it would

be impossible. I thought I had already said

everything I could about the relationship between

the Hlutr and Humankind.

Upon reflection, though, I realized that I was

wrong. There was, it seemed, one last Hlut whose

story needed to be told, one last matter that needed

to be settled….

And so, after nearly a decade and a half, here is

The Leaves of October

— with an extra-special

added chapter at the end.

Enjoy!

-Don Sakers

Also by Don Sakers

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Dance for the Ivory Madonna

A Voice in Every Wind

Hunt for the Dymalon Cygnet

(forthcoming)

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Act Well Your Part

Lucky in Love

Dedication:

To Betsy Mitchell, Stan Schmidt, and late

Spring in New Orleans…where it all began.

The Leaves of October

PRELUDE

It was a swell tree house. Kev and his friend Dar had

worked on it all summer, using lumber and plastics from an

abandoned farm down the hill. The treehouse had three

levels, a rainproof roof, and a splendid ladder as well as a

pulley for lifting things up and down. The boys had done it

all without help from any grownups, and they were justly

proud.

Kev had picked the tree, and it was a dandy: nearly fifty

meters tall, with a sturdy trunk and leaves that were every

color of the rainbow. Kev and Dar had built their treehouse

ten meters up, in a crook where the main trunk divided into

two. From his perch, Kev could see the entire valley, from his

own house only a few hundred meters away to the towers of

the spaceport nearly five kilometers distant.

The day was beautiful. The sun rode high in a blue sky

arren of all clouds, and the scent of honeysuckle and

drisberry filled the air. A slight breeze from the northwest

stirred leaves and the tiny flag that Kev and Dar had posted

on the top of their structure. No planet in the Galaxy, Kev

thought happily, could be as beautiful as Amny.

Kev leaned back against the tree, took a sip of cold water

from his canteen, and smiled. Tomorrow was his seventh

irthday, by the ancient Human calendar— although in real

years he was eleven and a half. Real years never mattered,

somehow.

For his birthday, Kev's family had promised to take him

and Dar on a real space voyage, to a planet called Credix

where he could see a real zoo...not just holos on his terminal.

It would be a day without school, and just the sort of

adventure that was always happening to boys and girls in

the books Kev viewed.

Immanuel, Kev's dog, was stretched out in the sun on the

platform next to him; the dog's legs twitched a little and then

The Leaves of October

he rolled over, and Kev laughed. "You're silly, you know?"

Immanuel's tail wagged once or twice at his master's voice,

then stopped.

Kev closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his face and

listening to the swish of leaves. It sounded like surf, or like a

kind of music he had heard in his dreams.

The boy jerked suddenly alert, startling Immanuel. What

had he heard? He hadn't been asleep, but just the same he

felt he'd been dreaming. He had heard a scrap of music,

something more beautiful and more substantial than all the

songs and symphonies stored in his school's memory.

Experimentally, he closed his eyes and gingerly settled

ack against the tree. A second later he sat up, shaking his

head.

The tree…the tree was singing to him.

Hush, said a million whispering leaves. Listen, said the

rush of the wind. Dream, said the music of the tree….

The Leaves of October

PART ONE: Traveller

I am but a sapling, yet already I have become proficient in

the reading of the First Language, in the rustles and whispers

of the Second Language, and even a bit in the vast soundless

waves of the Inner Voice with its meanings from beyond the

sky.

I am also skilled in relations with the other orders of life,

although this world has circled its sun but a dozen times since

I broke soil. You may find it strange to hear a Hlut speak of

relations with other orders— these are the Hlutr, you may

say to yourselves, who stand so far above the others that they

touch the clouds, who live so long that they watch mountains

change, who talk among themselves in their two languages

(for what can you know of the Inner Voice?) all oblivious to

the world. How, you may ask, can they even be aware of

others?

And your thoughts are partly right, Little Ones— but only

partly. True, the Elders…those who are old even as the Hlutr

count time…do not pay that much attention to others. True,

they live so slowly that your lives are but a flicker, and to

them you are less than goats are to a mountain. Yet you must

not make mountains of us, Little Ones, for we are alive (even

as are you) and we know the pains and beauties of living.

We feel kin to all life.

Let me assure you that the Hlutr

care, tiny and

ephemeral as you are. We know you and feel you and

chreish you, although you may not think so; for truly, we do

not speak with you and seldom acknowledge you. We are

aware of the flying creatures who perch upon us, of the land

eings who jump, walk and creep around us; of the grubs

and many-legged crawlers who live on us and in us and

within the ground beneath our roots. We appreciate, we feel

The Leaves of October

for, we cherish all Little Ones— down to the tiny, primal bits

of pulsing, growing, mindless life within you and their dull

feeling for the Inner Voice, their dull awareness of the great

world about them.

I have been taught to be even more conscious of you,

Littles, than are my brethren Hlutr. I have been taught by

Elders and normal Hlutr alike, living so fast that I have fit

many of your lifetimes into my scant dozen years. With each

day I grow better with the First and Second Languages, the

expressions of my people; with each day I become more

attuned to the waves of the Inner Voice…not only that I might

communicate with my brethren of far-off worlds, but also that

I might talk with you, Little Ones.

Why, you may ask, have I been created this way, why

have I been bred and trained into such a non-Hlutr type of

Hlut? You may wonder what need the Elders have of a Hlut

like me. I wonder too, my Littles. I have some idea. There are

whispers in the wind, and pulses in the Inner Voice, that bear

news across the galaxy and around the world to me. There is

news from the Ancients of Nephestal, whose culture is almost

as old as the Hlutr.

The Daamin, the Ancients, tell us that there is a new race

ready to come forth and join the Scattered Worlds of the

Galaxy. We will all have company soon, dear Little Ones,

and I believe the Elders with to be ready for these new ones.

There are strange stories about them, stories which I do not

quite understand. The Daamin tell of these new ones, these

Humans, and of their distant planet and their odd ways. We

have learned of our stunted relatives the Redwoods of Terra;

we have been told of Animals and Dolphins and some of the

Humans’ strange societal customs (some of them a little like

the many-legged crawlers and some of the grubs). In their

own way they have studied the Universal Song and learned

some of its principles. Enough, at least, to harness some of the

power of the First Cause. And they are coming, Little Ones;

already their seeds flash outward from their world at speeds

The Leaves of October

as fast as the Inner Voice can move, and soon they will be

here among us.

Little Ones, we must prepare for the Humans.

You are afraid of them, Little Ones. Their silver seed sits

in the clearing, and it frightens you. Their odd alien smell

hangs over the wood, and you are alarmed. They have come

among you with boxes-that-make-noise, and you have run

from them. And now you seek sanctuary among us.

Do not be afraid. The Hlutr will care for you. As we

have

cared for you, for your mothers and their mothers, back

eyond the memory of the Eldest of us all. Ever have the

Hlutr cared for all innocent Little Ones. Ever have we

delighted in you. Ever.

Look with me, Littles, at these new creatures. Try to hear

the Inner Voice as it sings in them. For truly they are alive,

and they are children of the stars as are we all, Hlutr and

Flyers and Grubs alike.

They move among us now, as you tremble and scurry into

your burrows and caves, frightened by their noise and their

odor and their strangeness. Only the Hlutr stand, unafraid.

Let me help you to know them, that you may not fear

them. My brethren Hlutr speak to me, asking me to explain

the Humans— let me explain to you as well. Those harsh

sounds are like unto the Second Language, although clearly

they lack the quiet soughing beauty of Hlutr speech. Listen to

me, Little Ones, and you may grasp something of what they

say. The smaller one speaks.

“It’s the trees, Karl. Listen— no wind, and yet they seem

to be making noise at one another.”

“Talking trees. Right.”

“What else? Look at the color changes in those trunks.

There’s some sort of pattern there, I’m sure of it. That’s

communication on some primitive level.”

The Leaves of October

She feels wonder, Little Ones, the same wonder that all

feeling creatures experience when they contemplate the

mystery and majesty of the Hlutr.

But the other…it sends discord in the Inner Voice. Listen:

“They’re plants. How would they even sense the color

changes?” He listens to his boxes; they seem to speak to him

in some bizarre form of the First Language. “Ship’s

instruments misread. There’re no ore concentrations here.

Lousy site for a settlement. Let’s go back.”

“No, Karl. Look— the leaves are multicolored. Maybe each

one absorbs a different shade. Or maybe the black ones are

sensory apparatus. This needs more study.”

“Two more worlds to check on, and you want to study

trees.”

“We can take a specimen back to Terra.”

“Sure, you’re going to bring back a fifty-meter tree. I can

see Captain’s face now.”

“Look at this one— it can’t be more than three meters tall.

It would fit in a corner of the starboard cargo hold.” (Surely

you have noticed, Little Ones, that the Elders have not

allowed me to grow to but a fraction of my potential.)

“Fight it out with Captain. I want lunch. Here, mark it on

the map so you can find it again.”

They wander off in the direction of their silver seed. Yes, I

can see that you did not understand more than a little of what

they said. I must confess that I understood all too little myself.

But the rustles in the wind convey meaning to me,

meaning of the Elders’ plan, and I am afraid that I

understand far too much. Fear stirs in me, just a bit. I ask if

there is no other way, and they remind me of the story of the

Redwoods. We cannot allow that to happen to the Hlutr; for

where would the other orders be without the Hlutr to protect

and guide them?

Perhaps Humans acted with ignorance, with the

Redwoods. We must see that it does not happen again. We

must understand why it was allowed to happen in the first

The Leaves of October

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TheLeavesofOctoberanoveloftheScatteredWorldsDonSakersTHELEAVESOFOCTOBERcopyright©2003,DonSakersAllrightsreservedThisisaworkoffiction.Allthecharactersandeventsportrayedinthisbookarefictitious,andanyresemblencetorealpeopleoreventsispurelycoincidental.PublishedbySpeed-of-CProductionsPOBox265Linthicum,M...

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The Leaves of October

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