Jean and Jeff Sutton - The Boy Who Had The Power

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The Boy Who Had The Power -- Jean and Jeff Sutton -- (1971)
(Version 2002.09.29 -- Done)
For Erin and Michael Patrick Mahanay
1
SPRAWLED COMFORTABLY in the lush green panda grass, Jedro idly watched
the big yellow sun Klore slide downward toward the rim of the Ullan Hills. Its
warmth felt good. Far behind it, small and bright in the yellow-blue sky,
raced the small orange sun Bergon. Once Klore fell below the horizon, Bergon
would splash the darkening hills with its dusky orange light.
Jedro lazily reached out to scratch the ear of a browsing gran, his
thoughts languid. He seldom wondered that most of his days and nights, for as
long as he could remember, had been spent tending the sleek woolly animals
that grazed the rolling hills. He could scarcely conceive that life, at least
his own, could be much different.
Neither did he know that his memory cells were blocked.
Yet occasionally in the quiet of night, when Klore and Bergon were down
and the sky was agleam with stars, strange things nibbled at his mind --
unidentifiable things which crouched just beyond the borders of his awareness
so that he never quite managed to give them shape or substance. But he could
remember his life quite clearly, all the way back to that morning, some four
years earlier, when he had awakened in the attic room of Oscar Krant's ranch
house. That far he could remember, but no further. Beyond that morning was a
nothingness.
He had awakened, not knowing who or where he was -- a small boy staring
blankly at a dirty ceiling, the scarred and grimy walls that hemmed him in,
the tattered curtains that hung limply over the single narrow window. A stale,
musky odor touched his nostrils. Lying there, he wondered without wondering,
his mind grappling with an awesome vacuum. It was like gazing into a curious
emptiness that extended back and back and back.
Who am I? The question came unbidden, bringing a moment of stark terror.
His body shook convulsively. He gazed for a long moment at the pale light
filtering through the window before rising stealthily to pull aside the dingy
curtain. Trees, bushes, low rolling hills limned against a strange yellow-
orange horizon -- he knew what he was seeing, knew the names of most of the
objects that met his eyes, but with no comprehension of the source of his
knowledge. Neither could he remember ever having seen such a strange
landscape. That bizarre yellow-orange light on the horizon...He trembled and
moved his gaze.
His eyes settled on a dilapidated barn fronting a series of large fenced
fields that had been designed to hold what? He didn't know, for the fields
were empty. Trampled mud around a nearby water hole suggested that the fenced
areas had held animals of some kind.
He let his gaze wander. A rutted dirt road winding off into the
distance, an old wagon with a broken wheel, a small vegetable garden overgrown
with weeds -- his recognition came totally without conscious memory. It was as
if his strange surroundings had been conjured up in some nightmarish dream.
Who am I? The question came again, this time more forcefully. Swirling
out from some hidden place in his mind, it brought with it an anxiety that
caused him to tremble anew. Trying to remember was like looking into a black
and bottomless well; the effort was almost a pain. Closing his eyes, he fought
to think.
J-E-D-R-O...Letter by letter the name formed in his mind. Flaring there
in the darkness of his thoughts, it gave him an odd sense of identity. The
name (for he instinctively knew that it was a name) had seeped out from that
region of blankness from which he himself had seemed to come. I am Jedro! He
gripped the window ledge filled with the knowledge while the name surged
through his consciousness like a pleasant stream. He was Jedro!
A door slammed somewhere below, followed by the loud clomp of boots
coming closer. Frightened, he sprang back into bed and watched the door. It
opened and a heavy-set man with coarse, mean features stepped into the room.
His grimy trousers, faded shirt, and muddy boots were oddly at one with his
dark, scowling face.
"Awake, eh?" he snarled. "It's about time." Staring down at the boy, he
rubbed his nose on his sleeve.
Terrified, Jedro asked, "Where am I?"
"Where are you? Ha, you are dumb."
"Please," he whispered.
"My name is Mr. Krant, and you're here to work on my ranch."
"Please, Mr. Krant, how did I get here?"
Krant's eyes narrowed. "The fewer questions you ask, the better off
you'll be," he warned.
"But..."
"Get up," he roared. "Get dressed and go downstairs. I can't have you
loafing around all day."
"Yes, sir," Jedro answered hurriedly. Frightened and bewildered, he
hastened to comply. Krant left the room, clomping back down the stairs.
That's the way it had been that morning, when first he had awakened in
the attic room -- back at the edge of his memory, beyond which there was
nothing. Dressing, he'd hurried downstairs. Krant's wife, Lena, had served him
a bowl of cold mush. Thin and sloppy, with stringy gray hair that she seemed
to be continually brushing back from her narrow face, she didn't speak until
he began to eat.
Then she said to her husband, "He looks puny."
"I'll build him up," growled the rancher.
"Hmmmph!" She eyed Jedro disparagingly. Shifting uncomfortably, he
looked down into his bowl.
"Hurry up and slop it down," snarled Krant. "I can't wait all day."
Hastily gulping the mush, he trailed the rancher from the house. The big
yellow sun, balanced on the morning horizon, held an alien look that startled
him. Halting to gaze at it, he felt a slow hammering somewhere deep inside him
-- the hammering of a thought trying to break through into his consciousness.
That sun wasn't, wasn't.
"Hurry up," barked Krant. Jedro tore his eyes from the gleaming yellow
ball and hurried after him.
The rancher outlined Jedro's duties while giving him a quick tour of the
yard and barn. From early spring until late fall he would pasture Krant's
flock of gran in the Ullan Hills, moving the animals along the rolling slopes
to keep them from cropping the grass to the roots. Sleeping and eating in the
open, he would return to the ranch house only occasionally to get food; the
rest of the time he would be alone. He savored that.
Before the onset of winter the fattened gran would be herded into the
fenced yards to await the chain of relkdrawn wagons that would take them to
market in a distant town. Relks, Jedro learned, were large, flat-headed
quadrupeds that served both for transportation and as beasts of burden. Krant
owned two of the creatures, thin, nervous animals that were kept locked in
small stalls in one corner of the gloomy barn. They reared, snorting with
terror, whenever Krant entered. Their large, dark eyes rolling wildly, their
brown and white bodies would tremble. Sight of them evoked a deep stirring in
some hidden part of Jedro's mind, although he was quite certain he had never
seen such animals before. He could sympathize with them and understand their
fear.
"Not worth their feed," explained Krant. "Only use 'em a few times a
year to go to town or ride out to pasture. The rest of the time they're dead
weight."
"What are their names?"
"Names? They haven't any. They're just animals."
"They look hungry," he ventured timidly.
"No work, no food," snapped Krant. "That's the policy around here and
don't ever forget it."
He gulped, feeling a surge of pity for the animals. He could see no
reason why they couldn't be pastured in the nearby panda grass, especially
when the relks were only ridden a few times a year. He wanted to suggest it
but didn't dare.
The rancher pointed out the various tools and pieces of equipment,
explaining how each was to be used. "I'd better not catch you breaking
anything," he warned. It struck Jedro that almost everything he'd seen already
was broken, but he didn't say so.
As he followed the rancher outside, he glanced at the sky, then jerked
straighter. Two Suns! The big alien yellow sun and another -- a small orange
sun just lifting above the horizon. Fright stabbed at his mind.
"What are you gawking at?" growled Krant.
"Two suns," he exclaimed.
"What did you expect?" asked the rancher sarcastically. Caught with a
deep sweeping incredulity that told him that such a thing could not be, Jedro
scarcely heard him.
"An orange sun," he whispered.
"You'd better give me your attention," grated Krant, "because I'm not
going to tell you anything twice. You'd better remember that."
"Yes, sir." Jedro wrenched his gaze from the sky, his mind in tumult.
Again he had the impression of living a hideous nightmare. He could recognize
things that he was certain he'd never seen before, even read the words on the
supply containers he'd seen in the barn and know what they meant, although he
couldn't remember ever having seen a written word before. Yet he knew his
name, the individual letters that composed it. How was that? But a sky with
two suns! Although he couldn't recall ever having seen another sky, he knew
that two suns couldn't be; and yet they were.
Krant continued outlining his duties. During winter he would repair the
barn, fences, water troughs, and perform innumerable other tasks. There was
the garden to be tended, fruits and nuts to be picked, wood to be chopped.
After dark he would help Mrs. Krant in the house. Jedro couldn't imagine there
were enough hours in a day.
When his first day's chores were finished, long after the big yellow sun
and its smaller orange companion had set. Mrs. Krant provided him with a bowl
of watery soup, some greens from the garden, and a chunk of stale bread. He
gulped the food greedily, then asked for more.
"More?" she demanded. She towered over him, hands on her bony hips, her
narrow face wrathful. "You'll get exactly what I give you and no more," she
snapped.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered meekly.
Still feeling the pangs of hunger, he went outside. It felt good to
escape, even if for but a few moments. The sky was alive with stars and a cool
breeze touched his face. The cry of a nightbird came faintly from a distance.
Again he had the sense of the unfamiliar familiar. Whispers from a deep corner
of his mind told him that the strangeness around him was not strange at all,
but was merely things he had known in different shape, color, and context. But
two suns! He shuddered with the sense of something terribly wrong.
The consciousness of his hunger made him think of the relks. Glancing
cautiously at the house, he sneaked toward the barn. Reaching the door, he
hesitated, remembering how the animals had reared and snorted at Mr. Krant's
approach. If they kicked up a fuss with him, Mr. Krant would hear for sure.
Yet they had to be fed. The knowledge fortified his courage.
Boldly opening the door, he crept inside and paused in the darkness. To
his relief, he heard only a low whinny, followed by a stark silence. He had
the strange feeling that the animals had been waiting for him. Procuring an
armload of fodder from a bin he'd noticed earlier, he dropped half in each
stall.
The relks' eyes, aglow in the blackness, fastened on him. The animal
nearest him moved forward to brush its moist nose across his cheek. Gazing at
the creatures, he felt an odd sense of companionship with them.
"Eat, boy," he whispered. He patted the animal, appalled at its
thinness. It seemed scarcely more than skin and bones. As the relk dropped its
head and began munching, Jedro patted the animal in the adjacent stall and
went outside.
The next night he fed them again, and on the following night. On the
fourth or fifth night, as he stole toward the barn, he heard a loud snorting
in the stalls. Hoofs thudded against the wooden walls. Frightened, he halted.
Abruptly the barn door burst open and Krant rushed out.
"Caught you," he shouted angrily. He struck Jedro alongside the jaw,
sending him sprawling.
"I didn't do anything," Jedro shrieked, scrambling to his feet.
"Don't lie to me," roared Krant. "You've been feeding those worthless
relks." He lashed out again, a smashing blow to the ribs that sent Jedro
reeling back into the dirt. This time he was smart enough not to get up.
Krant sprang forward, glaring down at him. "That's just a small sample
of what you'll get if I catch you at it again," he shouted. His face contorted
with anger, he kicked Jedro savagely and strode back into the house.
Jedro pulled himself to his knees, staring at the rancher's retreating
figure. "I hate you," he said through gritted teeth. Holding his side, he
pushed himself painfully to his feet and gazed toward the barn. The relks had
tried to warn him! He felt grateful for that.
Each night thereafter he was more careful. Long after the Krants were
asleep, he would tiptoe from the silent house to feed the animals. Certain
that Krant was checking the fodder in the bin, he brought them fresh panda
grass from the nearby field. His reward each night was the nuzzling the
animals gave him.
It was the only love he had known that whole first winter.
But all that was long ago. Since then he'd learned many things. Here and
there, beyond the Ullan Hills, were villages and towns. Ramsig, a neighboring
gran herder, had told him of them. "Big towns," explained Ramsig. "Some have
four or five thousand people."
"That many?" Jedro was amazed.
Ramsig nodded. "One town around the curve of the planet -- they call it
New Portland -- has close to ten thousand people. It's the biggest town on
Doorn." His dark eyes gazed thoughtfully across the rolling hills of panda
grass. "That's hard to imagine."
"Ten thousand people," exclaimed Jedro. His eyes grew wide with wonder.
"Have you ever seen a town?"
"Little Paris," answered Ramsig. "That was close to six years ago. I got
to stay there for five whole days."
"What was it like?" he asked eagerly.
"Little Paris?" Ramsig rubbed his jaw reflectively. "What I remember
most were the trucks."
"Trucks?" The word held a familiar ring.
"They're like the flatbed wagons that haul the gran to market, only
they're drawn by what they call engines instead of relks," he explained. "They
go chu-chu-chu-chu, a real odd sound. They can go faster than a man can run.
Even faster than a relk," he added.
"I remember." Jedro searched his mind. "I heard Mr. Krant say that
people back on the home planet had millions of them."
"Earth? I've heard that. They say that place is just one big city."
Ramsig frowned. "Imagine a planet being all city? But it's true. I saw
pictures of it in a library."
"What's that?"
"A building in Little Paris where they keep books and tapes that talk.
They've even got a machine that makes pictures move, just like in real life.
Some of the pictures showed people flitting around in the sky in what they
call aircars."
"Aircars." Something pinged in Jedro's memory, then faded before he
could grasp it.
"You should see the buildings," said Ramsig. He gestured toward a
distant hill that humped against the sky. "Some were even higher than that."
"In Little Paris?" Jedro was awed.
"On Earth," corrected Ramsig.
"That must be a long way off," he suggested tentatively.
Ramsig smiled wisely. "Thousands and thousands of miles," he said. "It
goes around another sun."
"Another sun!" The words burned in Jedro's mind.
As Ramsig turned to leave, Jedro called after him, "Better find a good
shelter tonight. It's going to rain."
"Rain?" Ramsig glanced at the cloudless sky. "Not a chance."
"It's going to rain real hard," insisted Jedro. The gran herder,
striding down the slope, gave no sign he heard him.
That night, wrapped in his blanket under the shelter of an otog tree
while the rain slanted down, Jedro pondered all the wonderful things Ramsig
had told him. Most wonderful of all was the planet Earth that was all city.
People flitting like birds in aircars and buildings that touched the sky!
While contemplating the story with awe, he was aware that the scene the gran
herder had painted had roused small echoes in his mind. What was it that lay
hidden there? He struggled to bring it to the fore, and failed, yet retained
the awe.
Surely the universe was a strange place.
The following week, when their flocks came close together again, Ramsig
waved him over. "How did you know it was going to rain?" he called, as Jedro
drew near.
"I just knew."
"But how?" demanded Ramsig. "The sky was clear."
"I just felt it." Jedro didn't believe it strange; he always knew when
it was going to rain. It wasn't a feeling exactly, and yet it was. Because the
knowledge came so naturally, he had never questioned it.
"That's quite a trick," admitted Ramsig. It was his turn to be puzzled.
That summer Jedro kept his flock as close to Ramsig as possible, talking
with him at every opportunity. The tall, silent, taciturn youth, who liked to
stand facing into the yellow-blue sky, told him many marvelous things.
Ramsig said that the large yellow sun Klore and the small orange sun
Bergon went around each other, just as Doorn -- the planet on which they lived
-- circled Klore. Fascinated, Jedro drew their paths in the dust, trying to
imagine how it must be.
More magical yet was a third sun named Glost, which appeared as little
more than a red spot in the sky. One night, after both Klore and Bergon had
set and the stars gleamed magically in the blue-black firmament, Ramsig
pointed it out to him.
"It goes around the other two suns, but it's so far away that you can
hardly see it," he explained.
"How far?" Jedro stared at the reddish spark in the darkness.
"At least a million miles."
"A million miles," he echoed wonderingly. Although he had no idea of the
distance, he sensed it must be very far indeed. Little Paris, the nearest
town, lay sixty miles away and took two days to reach by relk. But a million
miles!
"It's called Alpha Centauri," explained Ramsig.
"I thought you said it was called Glost?"
"That's the small red star. I'm talking about Klore and Bergon."
"If they're called Klore and Bergon, why do you call them Alpha
Centauri?" asked Jedro. He found that quite puzzling.
Ramsig shrugged. "Just one of those things, I guess."
"How did you learn all that?" he asked admiringly.
"Remember I told you about Mr. Harper's radio? In winter, sometimes, he
lets me listen to it." Ramsig smiled enigmatically. "You'd be surprised how
much you can learn from it."
"I wish Mr. Krant had a radio."
"Krant doesn't know much. He's plenty dumb."
"Plenty mean," Jedro replied.
"How come you ever went to work for him?"
"I don't know."
"You don't?" Ramsig eyed him speculatively.
"I can't remember how I got there."
"It was only a few years ago."
"Four," said Jedro. Prodding at his memory, he sensed again that curious
blankness, that wall beyond which he couldn't go. He looked quizzically at the
other youth, then blurted, "You won't laugh if I ask you something?"
"I won't laugh," Ramsig promised gravely.
"How old am I?"
"You don't know?"
"Please," he begged.
Ramsig studied him as if seeing him for the first time. "You're starting
to grow," he said finally. "You must be around fourteen or fifteen. You're
going to be big."
"Thank you," Jedro answered humbly. Fourteen or fifteen! He felt a
fierce pride. But then, caught with the knowledge that he could only remember
back four years, he wondered at the ten or so years that lay beyond the
curtain. From where had he come? Did he have parents? If so, what had happened
to bring him to Mr. Krant's? The questions made him desolate. What was wrong
with his mind that he couldn't remember? Perhaps he wasn't smart enough to
remember. That could be it, he thought, yet somehow knew that it wasn't.
"You don't have to work for Krant," suggested Ramsig. "A good gran
herder can get a job most anywhere."
"Is that true?" The idea startled him.
"Sure, you might even get a job in one of the towns."
"You think I could?" he asked eagerly. The thought of escaping from Mr.
Krant was overwhelming.
"Lots of people do."
"What kind of work could I get?"
"Maybe building houses or working in a store." The taciturn boy
shrugged. "Lots of people work in towns. You should see how crowded Little
Paris is."
Jedro eyed him speculatively. "If it's that easy, why don't you get a
job in town?"
"I like it out here," replied Ramsig. He gazed upward at the yellow-blue
sky. "It's quiet and peaceful, a place where a man can think. Town is all
right to visit, but it's no place to live. You can't hear anything but the
chu-chu-chu of trucks, and at night they light the main street so you can't
enjoy the darkness."
"Light the whole street?" Jedro exclaimed disbelievingly.
"With lamps set on the tops of poles," explained Ramsig. "Do you know
what electricity is? That's what they use. Every night all the lamps go on at
the same time. They turn them on in the store windows, too, and they got them
on the fronts of trucks. You ought to see the trucks at night, rolling down
the street, their lights blazing like big eyes. It's plenty scary."
As Ramsig talked, Jedro again was conscious of a faint stirring of
memory. Every now and then the gran herder's words struck strange chords in
his mind, like the time he told about the big starport that lay around the
curve of the planet, outside the main city of New Portland. Occasionally
nebulous images would flit through his mind. Perhaps, long ago, he had been to
one of the towns. Was that possible? Blazing eyes rolling through the night...
"I'd like to see that," he exclaimed.
"It's quite a sight," agreed Ramsig, "but after a while you want to get
back here where you can see the stars at night. You miss the quiet."
Lights that chased away the night! Long after Ramsig had departed, Jedro
savored the wonder of it. And towns filled with people! He tried to visualize
such a scene. If there were lots of people, then some would be like himself --
not big and coarse, like Mr. Krant, but young and slender. Boys and girls.
He dwelt on the vision. He had never seen a girl, nor any boy other than
Ramsig, and Ramsig was so old he was almost a man. Would the girls, aside from
being young and slender, look anything like Mrs. Krant? Picturing her mean,
pinched face, he fervently hoped not. But, of course, they wouldn't, he told
himself. Ramsig didn't look a bit like Mr. Krant so why should other girls
look like Mrs. Krant? Neither did the men who drove the gran trucks look like
Mr. Krant, although they wore the same kind of dirty clothes. Perhaps people,
unlike the grans, were all different. That would be much better.
When he looked at his reflection in the stream, he saw a lean-jawed
face, broad at the cheekbones, eyes that were as dark as the otog nuts that he
gathered in the woods. Framed in its long tousled hair, that tanned face did
not at all resemble Mr. Krant's. He was glad for that.
In more sober moments, when alone, he pondered the enigma of his being,
yet always pushed against the mental murkiness that blotted out his early
years. At times he had fragmentary memories that escaped before he could grasp
them. Like leaves in an autumn storm, they swirled too swiftly to be caught.
Who am I? Where did I come from? The twin questions were the companions
of his solitude. Everything had a beginning and an end; he knew that. Only he
had never had a beginning -- not in the sense that the flowers and the birds
and the gran did. He had just awakened, opened his eyes, and he was there.
In Mr. Krant's attic bedroom.
2
JEDRO WAS LOLLING on a hillside, idly watching the gran when first he
saw the gaunt man. That was his first impression -- a tall man, incredibly
lean, with long white hair that whipped in the wind. Appearing suddenly along
a path that led down from the hills, he strode swiftly toward him, his head
tilted upward as if sniffing the breeze.
A stranger! Jedro rose, his heart hammering. It was the first time he'd
ever seen anyone other than Ramsig and Mr. Krant in the hills. As the stranger
drew closer, he instinctively took a backward step.
"Don't be frightened." Those were the gaunt man's first words.
"I'm not," he denied. Although his voice quavered, he realized he wasn't
so much frightened as surprised. Closer up he saw that the gaunt man's craggy
face was seamed, the cheeks sunken, the eyes all but hidden under enormous
frost-covered brows. But it was not an unpleasant face.
The gaunt man stared back along the trail before squatting on his heels.
"You're Jedro," he said.
"How did you know?" stammered Jedro. The eyes watching him, blue and
glacial, held the suggestion of some vast infinity.
"I know." Chuckling, the gaunt man nodded sagely. All at once the craggy
face was warm and understanding. "I'm Clement."
"I'm glad to know you, Mr. Clement," Jedro managed to say. He added
desperately, "How did you know my name?"
"Know all about you," said Clement.
"Who I am?" he blurted.
"Quite well, Jedro."
"Then who am I?" he pleaded.
The gaunt man smiled. "You're Jedro."
Jedro stared at him. "That doesn't make much sense."
"Not much does," agreed Clement. "That's characteristic of the
universe."
"The what?"
"The universe." Clement gestured toward the sky. "The suns and planets
and moons -- the big box in which we live."
"We live in a box?" he exclaimed.
"A box filled with puzzles." The glacial blue eyes studied him. "Oh, it
holds its hopes and it holds its dreams, but it also holds endless enigmas.
The universe itself is the biggest enigma of all."
"What's that -- a puzzle?"
"Vast and baffling," asserted Clement. His gaze returned to the trail.
"Can't stay but a few moments," he said.
"Do you have to hurry?" Jedro felt a pang of disappointment. With the
exception of Ramsig, the gaunt man was the first person with whom he'd really
had a chance to talk since the morning of his awakening. Although the gaunt
man's words were strange, they excited him.
"Time runs swiftly," said Clement.
"Are you talking about night coming?" He glanced at the sky; the yellow
sun was still high above the horizon. Bergon, trailing it, would be up longer
yet.
"Night, eternal night," replied Clement.
"What do you mean?"
"The night that is unending."
"That sounds strange," he answered. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he
asked, "Are you from one of the towns?"
"You might say that, yes."
"Which one?" he asked eagerly.
"Los Angeles. It's a city on Earth."
"The home world?" Jedro stared incredulously at him, his eyes wide. "Is
it like they say, all one city?"
"Not really, but it's mighty crowded."
"Is the sky filled with aircars?"
"Like moths around a street lamp," asserted Clement. He described the
vast urban sprawls and the almost unending smaller cities and industrial areas
that linked them together. Men were going ever deeper underground to create
new living space. Domed cities were rising under the seas; other cities
floated on the oceanic tides. Gigantic transportation systems had diminished
time and space. Slowly the world was becoming a thing of steel and plastic and
concrete. Fascinated, Jedro hung on to every word.
"I'd love to see Earth," he exclaimed, when finally Clement fell silent.
"You will."
"I will?" He felt a great excitement. "How do you know?"
"I know," said Clement. He nodded slowly. Filled with wonder, Jedro
gazed at him. Cities under the earth, beneath the seas; aircars, and buildings
that soared wildly upward -- magical things of which he scarcely could
conceive. Earth, where life had been born, sending her children to the stars.
He trembled with excitement.
"I'm going to Earth," he cried.
"That is your destiny," declared Clement. A smile touched his lips.
"You'll find it just a way station."
"What do you mean?"
"Would you like to walk the universe?" The blue eyes peered out at him
from under the frosty brows.
"Yes," he whispered.
"Ah, to walk through the ages while suns flourish and die."
"What does that mean?"
"Destiny has chosen a prince," replied Clement gravely. He reached in
his pocket and brought Out a smooth, dark object, displaying it in his palm.
At first glance it appeared to Jedro somewhat like a polished otog nut, then
he saw that it reflected a curious inner glow.
"What is it?" he asked finally.
"A stone." Clement chuckled. "Here, take it." He extended his hand.
Jedro plucked it gingerly from his palm, conscious of its warmth. The glow
brightened, a deep yellow that held touches of purple and red; small violet
flames seemed to leap from its depths. A strange sensation came into his hand
and crept up his arm.
He asked shakily, "What kind of a stone?"
"A memory stone."
"What's that?"
"It elicits memory," explained the gaunt man.
"I don't understand."
"You will. Be careful never to lose it," he cautioned.
"I can have it?" Jedro gazed at the stone, thinking it the most
beautiful he'd ever seen. The yellowish tinge he'd first noticed, somewhat the
color of the light that came from the yellow sun Klore, now had turned
completely to purples and deep reds from which leaped the small violet flames.
"Always keep it with you," warned Clement. "It's quite valuable."
"I will," he promised eagerly. His eyes came up, looking into the seamed
face. For an instant he fancied he saw a great sorrow there, but the look
passed, replaced by a deep tranquility. "Why are you giving it to me?" he
asked wonderingly.
"Because it was meant for you."
"For me?"
"Call it a present," advised Clement.
"What shall I do with it?"
"Keep it...and wait." A gentle smile, filled with longing, touched the
gaunt man's face. "You have the power."
"The power?"
"It lies latent within you."
"I don't know what you mean." Jedro examined the stone, his mind
troubled. The other's words were strange. He would go to Earth; more, he would
walk the universe. And that about destiny choosing a prince! What did it all
mean? He looked back at the craggy face.
"You will have your answers in time," explained Clement. He rose, tall
and gaunt against the yellow-blue sky, looking back along the trail. Sorrow
tinged his face. Gazing back at Jedro, he said, "I have to leave now."
"So soon?"
"I have an appointment."
"You have?" Jedro was startled. No one except the Krants and the gran
herder Ramsig lived within a day's travel of where he kept his lonely vigil.
His face betrayed his puzzlement.
"With death," said Clement softly.
"D-death?"
"Over yonder" -- Clement threw out a lanky arm -- "where the trail
crosses the top of the next knoll."
"I don't know what you mean," he cried fearfully. He switched his eyes
to the distant hilltop; it lay quiet and peaceful in the afternoon light.
People just didn't die like that.
"Death comes to everyone." Clement's blue eyes fixed him piercingly
before he added, "Or almost everyone."
"You can't just die," he protested.
"All life is movement toward death," explained Clement. "For my entire
life I've been traveling toward a certain instant of time, toward a certain
spot in the universe. Now that time is almost here and the spot is yonder." He
gestured toward the knoll.
"But why?" Jedro licked his lips dryly, trying to stem his fright.
"You can't escape death," asserted Clement. "At least I can't." Again a
gentle smile softened his craggy face.
"But...how?"
"Death comes in many forms. In my case it will come in the form of a
tattooed man astride a relk."
"Tattooed?"
"You'll know what that means when you see him, Jedro." Clement chuckled.
"You'll shudder."
Jedro thought the gaunt man must be joking until he looked into his
eyes. Deep wells of sorrow, they held a glow strangely reminiscent of that he
so often saw in the eyes of the relks, and in the eyes of the gran before they
were driven to market. He had a strong feeling that the gaunt man's sorrow was
not for himself. What was Clement thinking in this...last moment? The question
brought a shock that he realized was occasioned by his acceptance of the
other's fate.
"Stay hidden in the tall grass," warned Clement.
"You can't die," he cried vehemently. "Not here, not now. There's no
reason to die."
"Destiny needs no reason." Clement tilted his face upward, gazing at the
yellow-blue sky. The wind, riffling his long white hair, blew fine strands
across his face to form a silver web against the dark skin. "It's a good day
to die," he said.
"How do you know you have to die?" whispered Jedro.
"I can see it."
"See death?"
"It fills my whole horizon, Jedro. Death is a great wind that blows
through the universe; it is the hunter of life. It has feel, taste, sound, a
smell, but most of all it's a vision." Clement gazed down at him. "No man can
mistake its presence."
"I can't see or smell anything," he protested.
"It's an individual matter, Jedro. Death is a host who speaks only to
his guests." A wistful look pervaded the seamed face. "Take good care of the
stone."
"I will, I will," he promised.
"And lie in the tall grass, remain out of sight."
摘要：

TheBoyWhoHadThePower--JeanandJeffSutton--(1971)(Version2002.09.29--Done)ForErinandMichaelPatrickMahanay1SPRAWLEDCOMFORTABLYinthelushgreenpandagrass,JedroidlywatchedthebigyellowsunKloreslidedownwardtowardtherimoftheUllanHills.Itswarmthfeltgood.Farbehindit,smallandbrightintheyellow-bluesky,racedthesma...

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