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Pliocene Exile - The Adversary Part 94

Pliocene Exile - The Adversary - BestLightNovel.com

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"The King thought the plan a most excellent one," Minanonn protested. "He told me he would be heartened, knowing that you and the children and the Peaceful Folk would be preserved against the fall of Night. If anyone can save this poor ManyColoured Land, he can. Nevertheless, he seeks to repay what he considers to be his debt to us three, in grat.i.tude for saving his life at the Rio Genii and his sanity at Quicksilver Cave."

"I'm not going with you on Kyllikki," Elizabeth said.

"But you must!" Dionket exclaimed. "We'll need your help to raise the newly operant young ones to their full potential."

She had shut herself away from them. "Lord Healer, I don't have the courage to begin all over again in your Fortunate Isles.

I've had enough of exile. I'll teach you and Creyn as much of the preceptorial material as I can-the educational shortcuts, the special mind-expanding techniques that you can't infer or deduce yourselves. The children won't grow up Milieu-adept, but they'll do well enough. And with Marc's adaptation of Brendan's program, you'll be able to modify the brain of each newly born baby so that the torcs will never be needed again."



"But we need you !" Dionket exclaimed.

"You don't," she retorted. "Why won't you understand? Is it because you refuse to? Must I show you my self naked before you'll accept what I tell you and let me be?"

Minanonn said, "Elizabeth, we love you and want you with us!"

"So does Aiken," she said. "I've decided to stand by him, to give him whatever help I can in the war."

"He hasn't asked this of you," Dionket said. "This doomseeking choice of yours is born of despair, not love for your friend."

"And what if it is?" she shot back. "It's my life, isn't it? I've tried to do my best for all of you-G.o.d knows I have. But I can't bear any more! I want to help Aiken precisely because he hasn't begged me to. He knows I'm not some maternal abstraction, some all-wise personification of your G.o.ddess sent to light and guard and rule and guide. I'm just his friend. And I'm going to sit beside him at the games and forget about Nightfall for a few days, and not think about anybody but myself!"

"Elizabeth, reconsider," Minanonn begged her. "You could be such a great help to us. It would be satisfying work-"

"Oh, yes?" she said quietly; and before they realized what was happening her barriers had fallen to show the coc.o.o.n of fire. "I've tried that, friends. Done my very best-just as I promised you when I left Redactor House in Muriah after the Flood. A little of what I accomplished lifted me, but the fire was always just out of sight, waiting for the pendulum to swing to the failure side again. You wanted me to be Brede, but I was only a misfit-just as out of place here in the Many-Coloured Land as Marc Remillard was in the Galactic Milieu." And like me he could have done so much good his dream his power his immortality all wasted why wasn't he Jack why was I separated from Lawrence why am I too weak alone why is he too determined to be strong alone why if G.o.d lives does he let the misfit minds suffer so misunderstand themselves so refuse touch refuse love why was I afraid even knowing he was sorry reaching gratified by Brendan why couldn't I have touched him even at the last told him the answer his real work (Creyn knew!) helped him find it in spite of fearing now it's too late he's lost I'm lost let it pa.s.s let it all pa.s.s let me go friends if you care let me go let me fly away ...

"Don't!" they both cried. But she had run off down the garden path into the night and her mental admonition not to follow seemed to hang in the air, written in anguish.

"So Creyn was right after all," said Minanonn. "How very singular."

Dionket sighed. "I've had a hard day, and tomorrow will be even worse when I have to phase in you and the rest of the coercers. Don't worry about Elizabeth. She won't do anything rash tonight. I'm going to bed. Take my advice and do the same."

The two of them went back into the chalet. Somewhere a flute was playing.

CHAPTER.

NINE It was almost dawn. The First Day of the Grand Tourney was about to begin.

"I can't do it!" she protested to the Genetics Master. "I'm not worthy of such an honour."

But he said, "Don't be an idiot, girl. You're my guest-and my triumph-and you'll ride at my side and you'll love it."

And she did. And here they were, pa.s.sing through the western gate of Nionel under the ritual overcast of the pearly sunrise, all in a great procession heading for the Rainbow Bridge.

Sugoll, as host of the games, led the way riding a white chaliko and wearing milk-coloured armour chased with silver. Behind him came Katlinel in her auroral gown; and riding on her right hand were Sharn and Ayfa in jewel-lavished obsidian mail, and on her left Aiken-Lugonn the s.h.i.+ning One with Elizabeth, who wore Brede's black-and-scarlet robes and glittering mask. After the royalty, flanked by marching Howlers wearing their most attractive illusory bodies and carrying chains of flowers, rode the members of the High Table and the Gnomish Council in alternating double files. They were followed by the Howler Great Ones (and she and Greg-Donnet in the midst of them!) and the high n.o.bility of the dimorphic race ranged four-andfour abreast, knights and noncombatants in colourful array. The rest of the Howler commons marched solemnly in the rear, carrying green branches and flower sheaves bound onto ribbontopped poles. There were no skull-topped effigy standards in evidence, no martial battle-pennons, no unsheathed arms.

The air was alive with a deep humming, the Firvulag commonalty in the packed grandstand across the river voicing their traditional overture to the Opening of the Sky. In previous years, on the salt flats of the Tanu-dominated Grand Combat, the sound had been bitter and mind p.r.i.c.kling. But here was no sterile expanse of seabottom but rather a green meadow, and thousands of birds sang their dawn chorus in a cheerful descant to the portentous drone. Even the Firvulag n.o.bles found themselves smiling as they crossed the Nonol and entered the Field of Gold, that scene of past glories, and noted that the Little People jammed their grandstand and overflowed onto the sidelines, whereas the other seating structure that accommodated Tanu and humanity was only three-quarters filled.

"How strangely bright everything looks!" she exclaimed to Greg-Donnet. "And so clear! It seems I can see every little flower in the festoons borne by our folk, and every gem adorning the armour of the Great Ones, and every decoration on every banner topping the two grandstands!"

"Binocular vision, my dear. Two eyes are much better than one. And, of course, you're happy."

The Royals were mounting the central dais before the twin stands, taking a position facing the eastern range of hills behind Nionel.

"I'm happy-and thankful to you, Greggy," she said. And then she peeped sidelong from beneath the ruby-studded bridal headdress. "Am I really beautiful now?"

Greg-Donnet kissed his fingertips in an extravagant gesture.

"More than that. You're splendid."

Her mind still held a shadow of uncertainty. "Oh, Greggy, if only my Tonee were here to see. How will I bear the waiting?"

"Just a few days," he soothed her. "The King told me that Tony's job will be finished soon. He'll be able to join you before the end of the Tourney ... Now watch the Kings open the sky together. This is something new, to symbolize the bogus Armistice." He gave a sad giggle. "A nice sentiment, at any rate."

The small figure in golden armour and the gigantic one in sharply faceted black lifted Spear and Sword. The photon weapons sent emerald beams slanting skyward and the clouds parted as they had for countless millennia on lost Duat and for a thousand years on Pliocene Earth. As the entire a.s.sembly exerted its creativity, the mist rolled away and a shaft of sunlight shone upon the two monarchs. Tanu and Firvulag and Howler and human voices combined in the Song.

There is a land that s.h.i.+nes through life and time, A comely land through the length of the world's age, And many-coloured blossoms fall on it, From the old trees where the birds are singing, Every colour glows there, delight is commonplace, Music abounds on the Field of Gold, On the Sweet-Scented Field of the Many-Coloured Land, On the Field of Gold to the north.

There is no weeping, no treachery, no grief, There is no sickness, no weakness, no death.

There are riches, treasures of many colours, Sweet music to hear, the best of wine to drink.

Golden chariots contend on the Plain of Sports, Many-coloured steeds run in days of lasting weather.

The host range over the Field of Sports, It is beautiful and not weak their game is.

There will come at sunrise a star of morning, Lighting up the land, riding the wave-beaten plain, Stirring the sea until it turns to blood, Raising the armies before the Singing Stone.

The Stone sings a Song to the host; The music magnifies as all sing together.

Neither death nor the ebbing of the tide Will come to those of the Many-Coloured Land.

Elizabeth said to Aiken, "The words were different."

He said, "Morna-Ia Kingmaker said they were the ones we should sing this year." He gave her an enigmatic smile.

"Look-here come the Firvulag artisans with the new trophy, the Singing Stone. Carved from a single huge aquamarine.

Rumour hath it that the thing is already programmed to the aura of Sharn and Ayfa. How do you like that for impudence?"

They were sitting in the Tanu royal enclosure watching the preliminary events. A lavish breakfast buffet had been spread and most of the High Table members and their guests were partaking heartily. The King only nibbled an unb.u.t.tered croissant. Elizabeth, whose lower face was still hidden by Brede's heavily gem-encrusted respirator, ate nothing.

She said, "The line in the Song about a 'star of morning' hit a trifle too close to the bone for my taste."

Aiken shrugged. "Marc's probably out there in the mob right this minute laughing himself sick at that cutesy-poo Firvulag folkdance routine going on around the Singing Stone. Florida was never like this."

"I don't suppose he tried to contact you?"

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Pliocene Exile - The Adversary Part 94 summary

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