Aven bellowed and charged his son, throwing him aside as he entered the smoky library. As he passed, Hoom brought down the axhandle on his father's head, sending him sprawling. At that moment, Wix shouted, "Let's get the hell out of here!" and began slugging his way to the stair.
The others tried to follow. One of them was unconscious on the floor. Dilna, who had been swept to a far corner by the rush on the stairs, tried to rouse him, but he didn't budge, and she got up to run for the stairs. As she did, the library erupted in a sudden roar, and for a horrible moment flames lashed out the door and threatened to start the whole landing on fire. Then they subsided a little, but flames danced now on the banisters, and as Dilna forced her way toward the stairs, she saw an inert body in the library, covered with flames, the feet already charring. She screamed, caught hold of Hoom, who was fighting his way down the stairs, and shouted in his ear, "Your father! Your father!"
The look on her face told him the story, and he, too, screamed, rushing back up the stairs. "Father!" he shouted, a throat–ripping cry. "Father!" But the flames forced him back. Several of the men on the stairs saw what was happening — there were three men unconscious on the landing. They struggled back up against the heat, pulled them out and down the stairs. But Hoom still stood there, tears streaming down his face, seemingly oblivious to the heat, screaming, "Father! Father!" When they finally dragged him down his face was black with smoke, and the front of his clothing was charred. Dilna, who was being held at the bottom of the stairs, saw his smoking clothing and blackened face, and fainted.
They gathered in Firstfield on Jason's Day, but this time there was no chatter or pleased expectation. Those who had borne torches that night were each surrounded by men, and their hands were bound, except Hoom, who was still so badly injured that a makeshift bed was provided for him. The other refugees from Stipock's Bay kept to themselves. They were unguarded, but they had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Jason was coming; and suddenly even those who had scoffed at him were afraid of his coming.
The sun was hidden from them by the shaft of the starship, the space opened in the side and the line descended. Dilna remembered four years ago, when she was only barely thirteen, coming with her mother to see Jason come. He had brought the hundred eleventh Ice Person with him. Stipock. And bitterly Dilna wished he had never come.
Jason's feet touched the ground, and he stood and walked to Noyock, who waited for him. Jason held out his arms to embrace the Warden, but Noyock only covered his face with his hands and wept.
Jason stopped directly in front of Noyock, his blue eyes staring at him. They stood like that, it seemed, for hours, though when Jason broke the pose and enfolded Noyock in his arms, the sun was still not out from behind the tower. The people watched, and the realization spread as a murmur among them. "Jason is crying too," they whispered.
"He knows," came the answer, "he already knows, without even a word spoken."
Jason whispered something in Noyock's ear,
and then stepped away. Noyock turned to look after him, no longer sobbing, though his cheeks were smeared with tears. Jason strode toward the waiting crowd. "Where is Aven?" he called out.
There was no answer, only a rustle of whispers in the crowd.
"Who has hidden Aven from me!"
And then some answers came. "Hoom killed him!" someone said. "He died in a fire," said another. But the answer that caught on, that many called out, was the one that fixed the blame on Hoom.
Jason walked to where Hoom lay, swathed in bandages on the makeshift bed.
"Did you kill Aven, Hoom?" Jason asked, loudly.
Hoom closed his eyes and answered, clearly. "Yes."
Jason knelt beside him, and many, unable to see, stood or crowded toward the front, to see what Jason would do. But Jason only touched the bandages on Hoom's forehead, and looked deeply into him, as if he could see into his mind. Dilna got up from her guards, and came to Jason. "It isn't true," she said. "Hoom didn't mean to kill his father. He was only trying to burn the History."
Jason stood, and looked around at the crowd. "Burn the History. And why did Hoom want to burn the History?"
Again silence. But now Wix leaped to his feet, and cried out in fury, "They burned our ships, that's why! They're all quick enough to tell you Hoom killed his father, but they're not so fast to tell you they burned our boats! Kept us from our City on the other side of the river! All our fields are rotten, our harvest is wasted, all because they burned our boats!"
Jason nodded, and Wix fell silent, sat down. "Burned the boats," Jason said. "And why did they burn the boats?"
The answers came quickly then. "They wanted to split the City! They wouldn't obey the Warden! They said they'd make their own laws! They didn't obey the majority!"
Jason raised his hands, and silence fell again. He raised his voice and said, "They wouldn't follow the majority. They wouldn't obey the Warden. And for this you kept them from tending their fields and their flocks. For this you kept Hoom from getting a crop from his trees."
A gasp came from many in the crowd, for no one could have told Jason about Hoom's trees. He already knew everything.
"And why wouldn't they let the Warden rule them?"
The answers were shouted back at him, but again and again the shouts included one name. Stipock.
"Stipock!" Jason shouted. "Stipock!"
And Stipock walked out of the crowd, made his way to the front, and stood to face Jason squarely. "Stipock," Jason said. "It all seems to come back to you."
"I never meant," Stipock said. "I never set out to have it end as it did."
"What did you mean, then?"
"I just wanted to give them democracy."
Jason smiled grimly. "Well, you didn't. You gave them anarchy."
Stipock's face was sculptured deeply with regret. "Do you think I don't know?"
Jason stepped away from him, faced the crowd, and cried out, "Who should be punished for this!"
There was no answer.
"That's what I think, too." Jason looked at them angrily. "We couldn't fairly punish anyone, without punishing everyone, could we. Because you're all guilty of Aven's murder! Every one of you!"
"I'm not," a woman shouted, leaping to her feet. "I didn't have a part in any of the fighting!"
"You didn't?" Jason asked sharply. "Did you try to stop them?"
And the woman sat down again, her face dark.
"Go to your homes, all of you. Be about your business. And give tools to the people whose homes are across the river. Let them build boats and go home! I'll speak to you all in due time. Go home!"
And the crowd dispersed miserably, in dismal groups that silently walked home, cloaked in shame. Jason knew. Jason had seen. And Jason was not pleased.
Jason had even wept.
The snow was light on the fields and on the trees when word spread through Heaven City : "Jason is finished." And in fact he had talked to everyone, visited in every home. And now he went to the edge of the river, and splashed out to the large boat that waited for him. Wix reached out his hand, and helped him into the boat, where ten of the people from Stipock's Bay sat, holding oars.
"I wish," Wix said as the oarsmen pulled them away from shore, "I wish you could have seen the boats with sail on them. But the wind is from the north now."
"I've seen them with sail," Jason said. Wix wondered when, and how. And Jason answered his unsaid words: "I've seen them in your eyes, Wix."