Orson Scott Card - Homecoming 1 - The Memory of Earth

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Orson Scott Card: Homecoming volume 1 - The Memory of Earth
v1.0 [12-nov-01] 4i Publications. OCR’d 600DPI, Finereader 5, layout, quick
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I owe many debts in the creation of this work, some more obvious than others.
My wife, Kristine, as always was my reader of first resort; with this book,
however, she was joined in this labor by our oldest son, Geoffrey, who proved
himself to be a reader of great insight and an editor with a good eye for
detail. The world has too few good editors. I'm proud to have found another
one.
I must also thank the many friends working with me on other projects, who
waited patiently until this book was finished, so that I could return to other
labors too long delayed. And thanks, again and always, to my agent, Barbara
Bova, who proves that it is possible to do good business with a good friend
CONTENTS
MAPS
NOTES ON PARENTAGE
NICKNAMES
TO PRONUNCIATION OF NAMES
PROLOGUE
1. FATHER'S HOUSE
2. MOTHER'S HOUSE
3. FIRE
4. MASKS
5. WHEELS
6. ENEMIES
7. PRAYER
8. WARNING
9. LIES AND DISGUISES
10. TENTS
11. BROTHERS
12. FORTUNE
13. FLIGHT
14. JESSIE'S CHAIR
15. MURDER
16. THE INDEX OF THE OVERSOUL
MAPS (see attached gif files: Streets, Districts, Environs)
NOTES ON PARENTAGE (see attached gif file Parentage)
NICKNAMES
Most names have diminutive or familiar forms. For instance, Gaballufix's near
kin, close friends, current mate, and former mates could call him Gabya. Other
nicknames are listed here. (Again, because these names are so unfamiliar,
names of female characters are set off in italics.):
Dhelembuvex-Dhel
Dol-Dolya,
Drotik-Dorya
Eiadh-Edhya
Elemak-Elya
Hosni-Hosya
Hushidh-Shuya
Issib-Issya
Kokor-Koya
Luet-Lutya
Mebbekew-Meb
Nafai-Nyef
Obring-Briya
Rasa-(no diminutive)
Rashgallivak-Rash
Roptat-Rop
Sevet-Sevya
Shedemei-Shedya.
Truzhnisha-Truzhya,
Vas-Vasya
Volemak-Volya
Wetchik-(no diminutive;
's family title) Zdorab-Zodya
GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION OF NAMES
For the purpose of reading this story silently to yourself, it hardly matters
whether the reader pronounces the names of the characters correctly. But for
those who might be interested, here is some information concerning the
pronunciation of names.
The rules of vowel formation in the language of Basilica require that in most
nouns, including names, at least one vowel be pronounced with a leading y
sound. With names, it can be almost any vowel, and it can legitimately be
changed at the speaker's preference. Thus the name Gaballufix could be
pronounced Gyah-BAH-loo-fix or Gah-BAH-lyoo-fix; it happens that Gaballufix
himself preferred to pronounce it Gah-BYAH-loo-fix, and of course most people
followed that usage.
Dhelembuvex [thel-EM-byoo-vex]
Dol [DYOHL]
Drotik [DROHT-yik]
Eiadh [AY-yahth]
Elemak [EL-yeh-mahk]
Hosni [HYOZ-nee]
HushM [HYOO-sheeth]
Issib [IS-yib]
Kokor [RYOH-kor]
Luet [LYOO-etJ
Mebbekew [MEB-bek-kyoo]
Nafai [NYAH-fie]
Obring [OB-rying]
Rasa. [RAHZ-yah]
Rashgallivak [rahsh-GYAH-lih-vahk]
Roptat [ROPE-tyaht]
Sevet [SEV-yet]
Shedemei [SHYED-di-may]
Truzhnisha [troozh-NYEE-shah]
Vas [VYAHS]
Volemak [VOHL-yeh-mak]
Wetchik [WET-chyick]
Zdorab [ZDOR-yab]
PROLOGUE
The master computer of the planet Harmony was afraid. Not in a way that any
human would recognize-no clammy palms, no dry mouth, no sick dread in the pit
of the stomach. It was only a machine without moving parts, drawing power from
the sun and data from its satellites, its memory, and the minds of half a
billion human beings. Yet it could feel a kind of fear, a sense that things
were slipping out of its control, that it no longer had the power to Influence
the world as it had before.
What it felt was, in short, the fear of death. Not its own death, for the
master computer had no ego and cared not at all whether It continued to exist
or not. Instead it had a mission, programmed into it millions of years before,
to be the guardian of humanity on this world, If the computer became so feeble
that it could no longer fulfill Its mission, then It knew without doubt-every
projection it was capable of making confirmed it-that within a few thousand
years humanity would once again be faced with the one enemy that could destroy
it: humanity Itself, armed with such weapons that a whole planet could be
killed.
Now is the time, the master computer decided. I must act now, while I still
have some influence in the world, or o world will die again.
Yet the master computer had no idea how to act. One of the symptoms of its
decline was the very confusion that kept it from being able to make a
decision. It couldn't trust it's own conclusions, even If it could reach one.
it needed guidance. It needed to be clarified, reprogrammed, or perhaps even
replaced with a machine more sophisticated, better able to deal with the new
challenges evolving among the human race.
The trouble was, there was only one source it could trust to give valid
advice, and that source was so for away that the Oversoul would have to go
there to get it. Once the Oversoul had been capable of movement but that was
forty million years ago, and even inside a stasis field there had been decay.
The Oversoul could not undertake its quest alone. It needed human help.
For two weeks the master computer searched its vast database, evaluating the
potential usefulness of every human being currently alive. Most were too
stupid or unreceptive; of those who could still receive direct communications
from the master computer, only a few were in a position where they could do
what was needed.
Thus it was that the master computer turned its attention to a handful of
human beings in the ancient city Basilica. In the dark of night as one of the
master computer's most reliable satellites passed overhead, ft began its work,
sending a steady stream of information and instructions in a tightbeam
transmission to those who might be useful in the effort to save a world named
Harmony.
ONE
FATHER'S HOUSE
woke before dawn on his mat in his father's house. He wasn't allowed to sleep
in his mother's house anymore, being fourteen years old. No self-respecting
woman of Basilica would put her daughter in Rasa's household if a fourteen-
year-old boy were in residence- especially since Nafai had started a growth
spurt at the age of twelve that showed no signs of stopping even though he was
already near two meters in height.
Only yesterday he had overheard his mother talking with her friend
Dhelembuvex. "People are beginning to speculate on when you're going to find
an auntie for him," said Dhel.
"He's still just a boy," said Mother.
Dhel hooted with laughter. "Rasa, my dear, are you so afraid of growing old
that you can't admit your little baby is a man?"
"It's not fear of age," said Mother. "There's time enough for aunties and
mates and all that business when he starts thinking about it himself."
"Oh, he's thinking about it already," said Dhel. "He's just not talking to you
about it."
It was true enough; it had made Nafai blush when he heard her say it, and it
made him blush again when he remembered it. How did Dhel know, just to look at
him for a moment that day, that his thoughts were so often on "that business"?
But no, Dhel didn't know it because of anything she had seen in Nafai. She
knew it because she knew men. I'm just going through an age, thought Nafai.
All boys start thinking these thoughts at about this age. Anyone can point at
a male who's near two meters in height but still beardless and say, "That boy
is thinking about sex right now," and most of the time they'll be.
But I'm not like all the others, thought Nafai. I hear Mebbekew and his
friends talking, and it makes me sick. I don’t like thinking of women that
crudely, sizing them up like mares to see what they're likely to be useful
for. A pack animal or can I ride her? Is she a walker or can we gallop? Do I
keep her in the stable or bring her out to show my friends?
That wasn’t the way Nafai thought about women at all. Maybe because he was
still in school, still talking to women every day about intellectual subjects.
I'm not in love with Eiadh because she's the most beautiful young woman in
Basilica and therefore quite probably in the entire world. I'm in love with
her because we can talk together, because of the way she thinks, the sound of
her voice, the way she cocks her head to listen to an idea she doesn't agree
with, the way she rests her hand on mine when she's trying to persuade me.
Nafai suddenly realized that the sky was starting to grow light outside his
window, and here he was lying in bed dreaming of Eiadh, when if he had any
brains at all he'd get up and get into the city and see her in person.
No sooner thought of than done. He sat up, knelt beside his mat, slapped his
bare thighs and chest and offered the pain to the Oversoul, then rolled up his
bed and put it in his box in the corner. I don’t really need a bed, thought
Nafai. If I were a real man I could sleep on the floor and not mind it. That's
how I'll become as hard and lean as Father. As Elemak. I won't use the bed
tonight.
He walked out into the courtyard to the water tank. He dipped his hands into
the small sink, moistened the soap, and rubbed it all over. The air was cool
and the water was cooler, but he pretended not to notice until he was lathered
up. He knew that this chill was nothing compared to what would happen in a
moment. He stood under the shower and reached up for the cord-and then
hesitated, bracing himself for the misery to come.
"Oh, just pull it," said Issib.
Nafai looked over toward Issib's room. He was floating in the air just in
front of the doorway. "Easy for you to say," Nafai answered him.
Issib, being a cripple, couldn't use the shower; his floats weren't supposed
to get wet. So one of the servants took his floats off and bathed him every
night. "You're such a baby about cold water," said Issib.
"Remind me to put ice down your neck at supper."
"As long as you woke me up with all your shivering and chattering out here-"
"I didn't make a sound," said Nafai.
"I decided to go with you into the city today."
"Fine, fine. Fine as wine," said Nafai.
"Are you planning to let the soap dry? It gives your skin a charming sort of
whiteness, but after a few hours it might begin to itch."
Nafai pulled the cord.
Immediately ice-cold water cascaded out of the tank over his head. He gasped-
it always hit with a shock-and then bent and turned and twisted and splashed
water into every nook and crevice of his body to rinse the soap off. He had
only thirty seconds to get clean before the shower stopped, and if he didn’t
finish in that time he either had to live with the unrinsed soap for the rest
of the day-and it did itch, like a thousand fleabites-or wait a couple of
minutes, freezing his butt off, for the little shower tank to refill from the
big water tank. Neither consequence was any fun, so he had long since learned
the routine so well that he was always dean before the water stopped.
"I love watching that little dance you do," said Issib.
"Dance?"
"Bend to the left, rinse the armpit, bend the other way, rinse the left
armpit, bend over and spread your cheeks to rinse your butt, bend over
backward-"
"All right, I get it," said Nafai.
"I'm serious, I think it's a wonderful little routine. You ought to show it to
the manager of the Open Theatre. Or even the Orchestra. You could be a star."
"A fourteen-year-old dancing naked under a stream of water," said Nafai. "I
think they'd show that in a different kind of theatre."
"But still in Dolltown! You'd still be a hit in Dolltown!"
By now Nafai had toweled himself dry-except his hair, which was still freezing
cold He wanted to run for his room the way he used to do when he was little,
jabbering nonsense words-"ooga-booga looga-booga" had been a favorite-while he
pulled on his clothes and rubbed himself to get warm. But he was a man now,
and it was only autumn, not winter yet, so he forced himself to walk casually
toward his room. Which is why he was still in die courtyard, stark naked and
cold as ice, when Elemak strode through the gate.
"A hundred and twenty-eight days," he bellowed.
"Elemak!" cried Issib. "You're back!"
"No thanks to the hill robbers," said Elemak. He walked straight to the
shower, pulling off his clothes as he went. "They hit us only two days ago,
way too close to Basilica. I think we killed one this time."
"Don't you know whether you did or not?" asked Nafai.
"I used the pulse, of course."
Of course? thought Nafai. To use a hunting weapon against a person?
"I saw him drop, but I wasn’t about to go back and check, so maybe he just
tripped and fell down at the exact moment that I fired."
Elemak pulled the shower cord before he soaped. The moment the water hit him
he yowled, and then did his own little splash dance, shaking his head and
flipping water all over the courtyard while jabbering "ooga-booga looga-booga"
just like a little kid.
It was all right for Elemak to act that way. He was twenty-four now, he had
just got his caravan safely back from purchasing exotic plants in the jungle
city of Tish-chetno, the first time anyone from Basilica had gone there in
years, and he might actually have killed a robber on the way. No one could
think of Elemak as anything but a man. Nafai knew the rules: When a man acts
like a child, he's boyish, and everyone's delighted; when a boy acts the same
way, he's childish, and everyone tells him to be a man.
Elemak was soaping up now. Nafai-freezing still, even with his arms folded
across his chest-was about to go into his room and snag his clothes, when
Elemak started talking again.
"You've grown since I left, Nyef."
"I've been doing that lately."
"Looks good on you. Muscling up pretty well. You take after the old man in all
the right ways. Got your mother's face, though."
Nafai liked the tone of approval in Elemak's voice, but it was also vaguely
demeaning to stand there naked as a jaybird while his brother sized him up.
Issib, of course, only made it worse. "Got Father's most important feature,
fortunately," he said.
"Well, we ail got that," said Elemak. "All of the old man's babies have been
boys-or at least all his babies that we know about." He laughed.
Nafai hated it when Elemak talked about Father that way. Everyone knew that
Father was a chaste man who only had sex with his lawful mate. And for the
past fifteen years that mate had been Rasa, Nafai's and Issib's mother, the
contract renewed every year. He was so faithful that women had given up coming
to visit and hint around about availability when his contract lapsed. Of
course, Mother was just as faithful and there were still plenty of men plying
her with gifts and innuendoes-but that's how some men were, they found
faithfulness even more enticing than wantonness, as if Rasa were staying so
faithful to Wetchik only to goad them on in their pursuit of her. Also, mating
with Rasa meant sharing what some thought was the finest house and what all
agreed was the finest view in Basilica. I'd never mate with a woman just for
her house, thought Nafai.
"Are you crazy or what?" asked Elemak.
"What?" asked Nafai.
"It's cold as a witch's tit out here and you're standing there sopping wet and
buck naked."
"Yeah," said Nafai. But he didn't run for his room- that would be admitting
that the cold was bothering him. So he grinned at Elemak first. "Welcome
home," he said.
"Don't be such a show-off, Nyef," said Elemak. "I know you're dying of the
cold-your dangling parts are shriveling up."
Nafai sauntered to his room and pulled on his pants and shirt It really
bothered him that Elemak always seemed to know what was going on in Nafai's
head. Elemak could never imagine that maybe Nafai was so hardened and manly
that the cold simply didn't bother him. No, Elemak always assumed that if
Nafai did something manly it was nothing but an act. Of course, it was an act,
so Elemak was right, but that only made it more annoying. How do men become
manly, if not by putting it on as an act until it becomes habit and then,
finally, their character? Besides, it wasn't completely an act. For a minute
there, seeing Elemak home again, hearing him talk about maybe killing a man on
his trip, Nafai had forgotten that he was cold, had forgotten everything.
There was a shadow in the doorway. It was Issib. "You shouldn't let him get to
you like that, Nafai."
"What do you mean?"
"Make you so angry. When he teases you."
Nafai was genuinely puzzled. "What do you mean, angry? I wasn't angry."
"When he made that joke about how cold you were," said Issib. "I thought you
were going to go over and knock his head off."
"But I wasn't mad."
"Then you're a genuine mental case, my boy," said Issib. "I thought you were
mad. He thought you were mad. The Oversoul thought you were mad."
"The Oversoul knows that I wasn't angry at all."
"Then learn to control your face, Nyef, because apparently it's showing
emotions that you don’t even feel. As soon as you turned your back he jammed
his finger at you, that's how mad he thought you were."
Issib floated away. Nafai pulled on his sandals and criss-crossed the laces up
around his pantlegs. The style among young men around Basilica was to wear
long laces up the thighs and tie them together just under the crotch, but
Nafai cut the laces short and wore them knee-high, like a serious workingman.
Having a thick leather knot between their legs caused young men to swagger,
rolling side to side when they walked, trying to keep their thighs from
nibbing together and chafing from the knot. Nafai didn't swagger and loathed
the whole idea of a fashion that made clothing less comfortable.
Of course, rejecting fashion meant that he didn't fit in as easily with boys
his age, but Nafai hardly minded that. It was women whose company he enjoyed
most, and the women whose good opinion he valued were the ones who were not
swayed by trivial fashions. Eiadh, for one, had often joined him in ridiculing
the high-laced sandals. "Imagine wearing those riding a horse," she had said
once.
"Enough to make a bull into a steer," Nafai had quipped in reply, and Eiadh
had laughed and then repeated his joke several times later in the day. If a
woman like that existed in the world, why should a man bother with silly
fashions?
When Nafai got to the kitchen, Elemak was just sliding a frozen rice pudding
into the oven. The pudding looked large enough to feed them all, but Nafai
knew from experience that Elemak intended die whole thing for himself. He'd
been traveling for months, eating mostly cold food, moving almost entirely at
night-Elemak would eat the entire pudding in about six swallows and then go
collapse on his bed and sleep till dawn tomorrow.
"Where's Father?" asked Elemak.
"A short trip," said Issib, who was breaking raw eggs over his toast,
preparing them for the oven. He did it quite deftly, considering that simply
grasping an egg in one hand took all his strength. He would hold die egg a few
inches over the table, then clench just the right muscle to release the float
that was holding up his arm, causing it to drop, egg and all, onto the table
surface. The egg would split exactly right-every rime-and then he'd clench
another muscle, the float would swing his arm up over the plate, and then he'd
open the egg with his other hand and it would pour out onto the toast. There
wasn't much Issib couldn't do for himself, with the floats taking care of
gravity for him. But it meant Issib could never go traveling the way Father
and Elemak and, sometimes, Mebbekew did. Once he was away from the magnetics
of the city, Issib had to ride in his chair, a clumsy machine that he could
only ride from place to place. It wouldn't help him do anything. Away from the
city, confined to his chair, Issib was really crippled.
"Where's Mebbekew?" asked Elemak. The pudding was done-overdone, actually, but
that's the way Elemak always ate breakfast, cooked until it was so soft you
didn't need teeth to eat it. Nafai figured it was because he could swallow it
faster that way.
"Spent the night in the city," said Issib.
Elemak laughed. "That's what he'll say when he gets back. But I think Meb is
all plow and no planting."
There was only one way for a man of Mebbekew's age to spend a night inside the
walls of Basilica, and that was if some woman had him in her home. Elemak
might tease that Mebbekew claimed to have more women than he got, but Nafai
had seen the way Meb acted with some women, at least. Mebbekew didn't have to
pretend to spend a night in the city; he probably accepted fewer invitations
than he got.
Elemak took a huge bite of pudding. Then he cried out, opened his mouth, and
poured in wine straight from the table jug. "Hot," he said, when he could talk
again.
"Isn't it always?" asked Nafai.
He had meant it as a joke, a little jest between brothers. But for some reason
Elemak took it completely wrong, as if Nafai had been calling him stupid for
taking the bite. "listen, little boy," said Elemak, "when you've been out on
the road eating cold food and sleeping in dust and mud for two-and-a-half
months, maybe you forget just how hot a pudding can be."
"Sorry," said Nafai. "I didn't meant anything bad."
"Just be careful who you make fun of," said Elemak. "You're only my half-
brother, after all,"
"That's all right," said Issib cheerfully. "He has the same effect on full
brothers, too." Issib was obviously trying to smooth things over and keep a
quarrel from developing.
Elemak seemed willing enough to go along. "I imagine it's harder on you," he
said. "Good thing you're a cripple or Nafai here probably wouldn't have lived
to be eighteen."
If the remark about being a cripple stung Issib, he didn't show it. It
infuriated Nafai, however. Here Issib was trying to keep the peace, and Elemak
casually insulted him for it. So, while Nafai hadn't had the slightest
intention of picking a fight before, he was ready for one now. Elemak's having
counted his age in planting years instead of temple years was a good enough
pretext. "I'm fourteen," said Nafai. "Not eighteen."
"Temple years, planting years," said Elemak. "If you were a horse you'd be
eighteen."
Nafai walked over and stood about a pace from Elemak's chair. "But I'm not a
horse," said Nafai.
"You're not a man yet, either," said Elemak. "And I'm too tired to want to
beat you senseless right now. So fix your breakfast and let me eat mine." He
turned to Issib. "Did Father take Rashgallivak with him?"
Nafai was surprised at the question. How could Father take the estate manager
with him, when Elemak was also gone? Truzhnisha would keep the household
running, of course; but without Rashgallivak, who would manage the
greenhouses, the stables, the gossips, the booths?
Certainly not Mebbekew-he had no interest in the day-to-day duties of Father's
business. And the men would hardly take orders from Issib-they regarded him
with tenderness or pity, not respect.
"No, Father left Rash in charge," Issib said. "Rash was probably sleeping out
at the coldhouse tonight. But you know Father never leaves without seeing that
every-thing's in order."
Elemak cast a quick, sidelong glance at Nafai. "Just wondered why certain
people were getting so cocky."
Then it dawned on Nafai: Elemak's question was really a back-handed
compliment-he had wondered whether Father had put Nafai in charge of things in
his absence. And plainly Elemak didn't like the idea of Nafai running any part
of the Wetchik family's rare-plant business.
"I'm not interested in taking over the weed trade," said Nafai, "if that's
what you're worried about."
"I'm not worried about anything at all," said Elemak. "Isn't it time for you
to go to Mama's school? She'll be afraid her little boy got robbed and beaten
on the road."
Nafai knew he should let Elemak's taunt go unanswered, shouldn't provoke him
anymore. The last thing he wanted was to have Elemak as an enemy. But the very
fact that he looked up to Elemak so much, wanted so much to be like him, made
it impossible for Nafai to leave the gibe unanswered. As he headed for the
courtyard door, he turned back to say, "I have much higher aims in life than
skulking around shooting at robbers and sleeping with camels and carrying
tundra plants to the tropics and tropical plants to the glaciers. I'll leave
that game to you."
Suddenly Elemak's chair flew across the room as he jumped to his feet and in
two strides had Nafai's face pressed against the doorframe. It hurt, but Nafai
hardly noticed the pain, or even the fear that Elemak might hurt him even
worse. Instead there was a strange feeling of triumph. I made Elemak lose his
temper. He doesn't get to keep pretending that he thinks I'm not worth
noticing.
That game, as you call it, pays for everything you have and everything you
are," said Elemak. "If it wasn't for the money that Father and Rash and I
bring in, do you think anybody'd pay attention to you in Basilica? Do you
think your mother has so much honor that it would actually transfer to her
sons? If you think that, then you don’t know how the world works. Your mother
might be able, to make her daughters into hot stuff, but the only thing a
woman can do for a son is make a scholar out of him." He practically spat the
word scholar. "And believe me, boy, that's all you're ever going to be. I
don’t know why the Oversoul even bothered putting a boy's parts on you, little
girl, because all you're going to have in this world when you grow up is what
a woman gets."
Again, Nafai knew that he should keep his silence and let Elemak have the last
word. But the retort no sooner came to his mind than it came out of his mouth.
"Is calling me a woman your subtle way of telling me you've got some heat for
me? I think you've been out on the road too long if I'm starting to look
irresistible."
At once Elemak let go of him. Nafai turned around, half-expecting to see
Elemak laughing, shaking his head about how their playing sometimes got out of
hand. Instead his brother was standing there red-faced, breathing heavily,
like an animal poised to lunge. "Get out of this house," said Elemak, "and
don’t come back while I'm here."
"It's not your house," Nafai pointed out.
"The next time I see you here I'll kill you."
"Come on, Elya, you know I was only joking."
Issib floated blithely between them and cast an arm clumsily across Nafai's
shoulders. "We're late getting into the city, Nyef. Mother will be worried
about us."
This time Nafai had sense enough to shut his mouth and let things go. He did
know how to hold his tongue-he just never remembered to do it soon enough. Now
Elemak was furious at him. Might be angry for days. Where will I sleep if I
can't go home? Nafai wondered. Immediately there flashed in his mind an image
of Eiadh whispering to him, "Why not stay tonight in my room? After all, we're
surely going to be mates one day. A woman trains her favorite nieces to be
mates for her sons, doesn't she? I've known that since I first knew you,
Nafai. Why should we wait any longer? After all, you're only about the
stupidest human being in all of Basilica."
Nafai came out of his reverie to realize that it was Issib speaking to him,
not Eiadh. "Why do you keep goading him like that," Issib was saying, "when
you know it's all Elemak can do to keep from killing you sometimes?"
"I think of things and sometimes I say them when I shouldn't," said Nafai.
"You think of stupid things and you're so stupid that you soy them every
time."
"Not every time."
"Oh, you mean there are even stupider things that you don’t say? What a mind
you've got! A treasure!" Issib was floating ahead of him. He always did that
going up the ridge road, forgetting that for people who had to deal with
gravity, a slower pace might be more comfortable.
"I like Elemak," said Nafai miserably. "I don’t understand why he doesn't like
me."
"I'll get him to make you a list sometime," said Issib. "I'll paste it onto
the end of my own."
TWO
MOTHER'S HOUSE
It was a long but familiar road from the Wetchik house to Basilica. Until the
age of eight, Nafai had always made the round trip in the other direction,
when Mother took him and Issib to Father's house for holidays. In those days
it was magical to be in a household of men. Father, with his mane of white
hair, was almost a god-indeed, until he was five Nafai had thought that Father
was the Oversoul. Mebbekew, only six years older than Nafai, had always been a
vicious, merciless tease, but in those early years Elemak was kind and
playful. Ten years older than Nafai, Elya was already mansize in Nafai's first
memories of Wetchik's house; but instead of Father's ethereal look, he had the
dark rugged appearance of a fighter, a man who was kind only because he wanted
to be, not because he was incapable of harshness when it was needed. In those
days Nafai had pleaded to be released from Mother's household and allowed to
live with Wetchik-and Elemak. Having Mebbekew around all the time would simply
be the unavoidable price for living in the place of the gods.
Mother and Father met with him together to explain why they wouldn't release
him from his schooling. "Boys who are sent to their fathers at this age are
the ones without promise," said Father. "The ones who are too violent to get
along well in a household of study, too disrespectful to abide in a household
of women."
"And the stupid ones go to their fathers at age eight," said Mother. "Beyond
rudimentary reading and arithmetic, what use does a stupid man have for
learning?"
Even now, remembering, Nafai felt a little stab of pleasure at that-for
Mebbekew had often bragged that, unlike Nyef and Issya, and Elya in his day,
Meb had gone home to Father at the age of eight. Nafai was sure that Meb had
met every criterion for early entry into the household of men.
So they managed to persuade Nafai that it was a good thing for him to stay
with his mother. There were other reasons, too-to keep Issib company, the
prestige of his mother's household, the association with his sisters-but it
was Nafai's ambition that made him content to stay. I'm one of the boys with
real promise. I will have value to the land of Basilica, perhaps to the whole
world. Perhaps one day my writings will be sent into the sky for the Oversoul
to share them with the people of other cities and other languages. Perhaps I
will even be one of the great ones whose ideas are encoded into glass and
saved in an archive, to be read during all the rest of human history as one of
the giants of Harmony.
Still, because he had pleaded so earnestly to be allowed to live with Father,
from the age of eight until he was thirteen, he and Issib had spent almost
every weekend at the Wetchik house, becoming as familiar with it as with
Rasa's house in the city. Father had insisted that they work hard,
experiencing what a man does to earn his living, so their weekends were not
holidays. "You study for six days, working with your mind while your body
takes a holiday. Here you'll work in the stables and the greenhouses, working
with your body while your mind learns the peace that comes from honest labor."
That was the way Father talked, a sort of continuous oratory; Mother said he
took that tone because he wasn't sure how to talk naturally with children. But
Nafai had overheard enough adult conversations to know that Father talked that
way with everybody except Rasa herself. It showed that Father was never at
ease, never truly himself with anyone; but over the years Nafai had also
learned that no matter how elevated and hortatory Father's conversation might
be, he was never a fool; his words were never empty or stupid or ignorant.
This is how a man speaks, Nafai had thought when he was young, and so he
practiced an elegant style and made a point of learning classical Emeznetyi as
well as the colloquial Basyat that was the language of most art and commerce
in Basilica these days. More recently Nafai had realized that to communicate
effectively with real people he had to speak the common language-but the
rhythms, the melodies of Emeznetyi could still be felt in his writing and
heard in his speech. Even in his stupid jokes that earned Elemak's wrath.
"I've just realized something," said Nafai.
Issib didn't answer-he was far enough ahead that Nafai wasn't sure he could
摘要：

OrsonScottCard:Homecomingvolume1-TheMemoryofEarthv1.0[12-nov-01]4iPublications.OCR’d600DPI,Finereader5,layout,quickproofinW2k.Theoriginalpaperbackwaslowquality,thusalotofOCRerrors.MostcommonOCRerrorshavebeencorrected.Ifyouproofreadorchangethisdocument,pleaseretaintheexistingversioninformation.Alsoin...

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