He waved off between two of the buildings, and I saw a group of perhaps half a dozen people sitting a short distance off from the settlement, clearly deep in meditation. "You people certainly take this meditation seriously, don't you?"
He didn't take offense, not even privately. "There wouldn't be much point in doing it half-heartedly, would there?" he countered.
I couldn't argue with that.
The meeting house was full of busy people and delectable aromas that made my stomach growl. Our guide led us past the large, C-shaped tables to a small room in the back, where a young woman was diligently working with an old computer. She looked up as the youth tapped on the open door. "Yes, Thomaz?"
"Visitors from Shekinah," he told her, indicating us.
"Ah," she said, rising gracefully to her feet. "Welcome to Myrrh Fellowship. I'm Shepherd Joyita Zagorin; what can I do for you?"
I shouldn't have been surprised—even in those few seconds Shepherd Zagorin's twin auras of inner peace and leadership had been clearly evident, had I gotten past my expectations enough to notice. But I hadn't, and with my embarrassment at missing the signs came an even more embarrassing tongue-tangling. "I—uh—my name is Gilead Raca Benedar," I managed. "This is Calandra Mara Paquin. I—we—have a message for you from Shepherd Adams."
"Who failed to mention my gender?" she asked dryly.
"Who failed to mention your age," I corrected, spurred by an urge to explain myself. "In my—admittedly—limited experience, a congregation's elders have seldom been as young as you are. Particularly in a frontier community like Myrrh."
She nodded, and to my relief I could see she wasn't offended. "In the Halo of God, positions are based on faith and gifts, not seniority or status," she told me. Her eyes flicked to Calandra, back to me. "From which I take it neither of you is even a prospective Seeker?"
I caught the sense of the word: the proper name for what we'd been calling Halloas. "No, we're not," I confirmed, digging out the envelope Adams had given us. "Perhaps this will explain."
She opened the note and read it... and, watching her face, it was clear to me that the situation wasn't being explained nearly to her satisfaction. A sense of uneasiness began to color her basic calmness, and she took the time to read the note a second time. "I hadn't caught the significance of your middle names," she said at last, looking up again and giving us each a brief but probing look. "I've never met any Watchers before."
"We haven't met many Seekers, either, if it comes to that," I shrugged.
She tapped the paper with her fingernail. "Shepherd Adams would like me to extend Myrrh Fellowship's full hospitality to you—which, of course, we're more than willing to do." She hesitated, searching for a delicate way to ask the indelicate...
"We can't tell you any more than Shepherd Adams already has," Calandra spoke up. "For your own protection as well as ours."
Zagorin's lips compressed momentarily. Shepherd Adams, I gathered, was generally very open with his people, and I suspected it was this unusual secrecy as much as anything else that was disturbing her. "If it helps," I added, "we ought to be out from underfoot in two or three days and that'll be the end of it."
She cocked an eyebrow at me. Seeker Shepherd or no, I could see that there was still a strong latent layer of skepticism built into her view of the universe. But at least she was too polite to call me on it aloud. "Well, until then, Myrrh Fellowship and I are at your complete disposal," she said instead. "Shepherd Adams mentions lodging and power for your car; can I assume the first is the priority at the moment?"
"Definitely," I nodded. "I don't even want to see that car for the next few hours."
That got a smile from her. "Yes, I've done the Shekinah route myself on occasion. Well, then. Dinner will be in about half an hour; while we're waiting, why don't I get your lodging arrangements settled?"
I glanced at Calandra, read agreement. "Sounds good," I told Zagorin.
"All right," she said, coming out from behind the desk. "Let's go see what we can turn up."
—
The dinner was well attended, with about a hundred twenty people gathered around the tables, twenty percent or so of them children. Shepherd Zagorin had us seated next to her, an arrangement which enabled her to answer or deflect any awkward questions about what we were doing in Myrrh. The fact that she did so at least twice during the meal showed that, in spite of her own private reservations about us, she was nevertheless willing to trust Adams on this one.
The food itself was a little startling at first. So far I hadn't really had an opportunity to sample genuine Solitaran-style cooking, of which I assumed this was a variant, and it was far tangier than I had guessed from its aromas. But it was good enough, once my palate had gotten over its initial shock.
And as I ate, I took the time to study the Seekers.
The children were the easiest, of course. Full of energy and mischief-tinged high spirits, with few social barriers yet in place, they were like children everywhere else throughout the Patri and colonies. It brought back to mind Shepherd Adams's offhanded comment about beginning their meditation training early, and I felt a twinge of concern. Our own Watcher elders had struggled long and hard with the problem of how to instill observational discipline without overloading or even breaking their children's natural spirits, and I could only hope Shepherd Adams and his people were treading as lightly.
Especially given the obvious effectiveness of their training on their adult members.
It was vaguely astonishing. Granted, only a handful of those close enough for me to read showed anything even approaching the degree of inner peace that I'd seen in Adams and Zagorin—the majority, in fact, still showed strong traces of the same tension and low-level despair that we'd sensed down on Solitaire. But even in those the tension was clearly on its way out... and for perhaps the first time in eleven years I found myself actually beginning to relax.
Eleven years away from the Watchers of Cana settlement—eight of those years immersed in the greed-saturated atmosphere of Lord Kelsey-Ramos's circle of associates—had almost erased the memories of what a simple, loving community felt like. Here there was no competition for riches or power; no arguments that couldn't be swiftly worked out between the parties involved; no greed or grasping for things that ultimately didn't matter. All that mattered to them was each other and God.
It was like the warm touch of the sun on chilled skin; and I was eagerly soaking it in when Calandra stirred next to me... and as I turned my attention to her the whole comfortable sensation vanished like a soap bubble.
"You all right?" I murmured, keeping my eyes on those across the table from us. "What's the matter?"
Her tension was a subtle thing, well under her control. But it was no less real for all that. "It's this place," she whispered tautly. "These people. Don't you feel it?"
I frowned, stretching out again. Nothing. "No."
She glanced me an odd look. "The sameness," she murmured, shivering. "The placidity—don't you understand?"
I shook my head. "All I feel here is peace and contentment."
Her tongue flicked across her lips. "It reminds me of Bridgeway."
A cold chill ran up my back. Bridgeway... and Aaron Balaam darMaupine. No. No, it couldn't be. "Are you saying—?"
To Calandra's left, I sensed Zagorin preparing to speak to her. "Later," Calandra hissed, and turned her attention in that direction.
I took a deep breath. It couldn't be, I told myself. Calandra was simply misreading the peace here as something overly malleable; the strong leadership as something sinister. Surely Adams had nothing of darMaupine's insane ambitions in him.