He rested his eyes a time then jerked awake at a whisper of cloth by him, saw the boy Taz kneeling and feeding more of the fiber into the bowl.
T shall wake, sir," Taz said.
He was dazed somewhat, and ungracious simply looked at Duncan, whose breathing remained eased and regular, and let his head down again against the shoulder of the dus, moved his slitted eyes over all the Kel, that made huddled heaps in the darkness shut them again.
The lamp gave feeble light for study; Melein turned in her hands the golden and fragile leaf from the casing of the pan'en, laid it on her knee and drew another forth, replacing the first in sequence. She canted it to the light and the lamp picked out the graven letters like hairline fire. She read, as for years and years before this she had read, the record of the People's travels. They were incomplete. Nigh on a hundred thousand years the record stretched; in so blindingly swift a few years they had come back, she and Niun and Duncan. There would come a time when she would write her own entry into the leaves of gold, the last of the People of the Voyage, the last statement, the seal.
And she shivered sometimes, thinking of that.
The hand which held the tablet lowered to her lap. She gazed at the flickering lamp, thinking, centered in the Now.
Where do I go? That was determined.
What do 1 do? That too, she knew.
But other questions she did not. Some of them extended to human space and regul, and dead worlds; some of them centered on Kutath itself, on the past in which mri had known another service. And they were one question.
A touch descended on her shoulder. She drew herself back, and shivered, looking into the gentle face of Kilis, the young sen'e'en who attended her, whose hands robed and disrobed her, and whose young eyes witnessed all her lif e.
"She'pan the Council of the Sen is waiting. You sent for them, she'pan.”
She smiled at that, for at times the dreaming was too strong; it was not so for her, at least not often. "I will see them," she said, and carefully gathered the leaf of gold from her lap, slipped it into the casing with the others.
The curtains stirred and the Council entered, the first and second ranks of the Sen, to settle on the mats before her. Most were very old, older than kel'ein tended to live, hollow-cheeked and wrinkled; but there was among them Tinas, who had a kel'e'en's robustness about her, and kel-scars slanting across her cheeks. Foremost among them, Sathas also bore the scars, sen'anth; grimness on him was a habit, but more than one face was frowning this night
"Has the Sen questions?"
"You appreciate our present danger," Sathas said. "It is what we warned you, she'pan.”
"Indeed.”
"It does not disturb you.”
"It disturbs me. I would wish otherwise. But that is not ours to choose. Is that your question?”
"The she'pan knows our questions. And they are all tsi'mri.”
"We have choices, sen'anth, and kel Duncan has given them to us.”
"Did you send him out?”
She looked into the guarded offense of Sathas's eyes and tautly smiled, opened her hand palm up. "He is self-guiding. I let him go" Eyes flashed, nictitating with inner passion.
"You seriously consider this offer they have made?" asked Sathas.
"It is a matter we will consider ... for the worth in it. You do not care for his presence, doubtless. But he has brought us choices; and knowledge of what hangs above our heads; he comprehends them… and serves the People. His life has value. You understand me.”
"We understand.”
"And dislike it.”
"We are your only weapon, she'pan, and you are ours. Do you turn aside?”
"From our course? No. No, trust me in this, sen'ein. I am not yet done.”
No one spoke. For a moment eyes glittered hard with speculations. Believe me; it was Intel who spoke, her old she'pan… who could persuade when reason counseled otherwise, with a voice which had wrapped silken cords about herself when she was younger; she had learned it, wielded it... consciously.
Perhaps all she'panei had had such arts; she did not know. It was the nature of she'panei that they never met, save the one by whose death one rose.
It was true that Intel had controlled her children when they would have rebelled, and persuaded elders who had power in their own selves; that half-mad force of her that chilled the spine and held the eye when the eye would gladly turn away… that followed after, so that even out of her presence the most cynical reason had no power to utterly shatter that argument Intel still held her; and she… held them.
Chapter Ten
The chief of security was back again, to trouble the labs. Aver-son blinked and focused on him, this dark man so persistent in his patrols. He glanced likewise at the collection of papers beside him on the desk, made a nervous snatch toward them as Degas gathered one up and looked at it.
"You've made progress with the regul transmissions?" Degas asked. "There's some urgency about it.”
"It's " Averson held out his hand for the paper and received it back. Degas favored him with a sardonic smile as he shuffled it back into order. "It's couched in idiom, not code. It might be clear if we understood Nurag.”
"Nurag.”
"Homeworld has bearing on language," Averson answered shortly, and experienced a little uneasiness as Degas sat down on the edge of the desk facing him. Degas put down cassettes, click, click, click, on the desk top before him.
"There's a great deal going on, Dr. Averson. Our time is escaping us. The onworld mission has decided to go… prudently or not rests elsewhere; they've moved out, to whatever they may find. And they may stir something up. There's always that chance. Now we have a request for permission for a regul shuttle to go down and sit with Flower.”
Averson gnawed at his lips.
"The admiral is stalling," Degas said.
Perhaps he was supposed to make some observation on this. He did not like the thought of regul in Flowers neighborhood; he did not reckon what to do about it
"The admiral," said Degas, "understands from your reports and your advisements, that the regul may move in with or without our permission.”
"They may," Averson allowed. "They would reckon we would not move to stop them.”
"This"; Degas reached across the desk to the spot directly in front of his hands, tapped it with his forefinger. The man was dark in manner, dark in dress, but for the weapons and the badges; he glittered with them, like kerein, Averson thought, much like them. "This, Dr. Averson; you've paralyzed us with your yes and no. You've said nothing, except that there's no action to be taken. Wait, you say; and what is your general feeling on the regul? Where are your opinions?”
"I can't, I've told you. I can't pronounce with any surety “
"Your guess, doctor.”
"But without supporting data “
"Your guess, doctor. It's more valuable than most men's studied opinion.”
"No," Averson said. "It's more dangerous.”
Give it.
"I find it possible… that there is more than one adult. One to remain here, one ... on that ship they want to send down. Logically, you see they don't function without elder direction. You think there are regul ships down there now; I agree. But no elder. I think they would like to get one down there if they could.”
Degas's breath hissed softly between his teeth.
"The hydra's head," Averson said. Degas looked at him with no evidence of comprehension. "An old story," Averson said. "Not the star-snake… the old one. Cut off the head and two more take its place. Kill a regul elder and more than one metamorphoses to take its place. Shock… some biological trigger.…”
Degas frowned the more deeply.
"One thing that bothers me," Averson said, "How do they learn?"
"A question for the science department," Degas said, rising. "Solve that one on your off time. What about the rest of the data I gave you? What about the transmissions?”
"No," Averson said. "Listen to me. It's an important question. They don't write everything down.”
Degas shrugged in impatience. Tin sure that's solved somehow.”
"No. No! Listen to me. They remember… they remember. Eidetic memory. What died with bai Sham ... is forever lost to them. They have to lose something in the transitions. Young regul metamorphosing and taking over adult function by themselves and without outside influence, without the supporting information of their docha-structures and adults “
"The easier to deal with them. There's no reason for panic.”
Averson shook his head, despairing. "Not necessarily easier. You want guesses, good colonel Degas. I shall give you guesses. That we have here regul without home ties, regul without past, regul who can't imagine what they're missing, regul more likely than any others to act as regul don't act; and that is dangerous, sir. A spur, a splinter of Nurag maybe; maybe of Kesrith, maybe that. On Kesrith, regul attacked, and these young regul learned that. They overcame mri. It became reality. The psychology of the eidetic mind ... is different. That's why you asked me up here, is it not, to tell you these things? Those ships that attacked us on the way up here weren't mri; they were regul.”