“The Luff’Eresi await you, Ramad. They would hear you plead your mission.” Then he turned, led Ram in silence toward the back of the cave and through a high opening into a second, larger cave more brightly sun-washed still, and Ram saw far mountains beyond the portal and went forward to the brink of the drop, stared out upon a valley immense and green, so far below that it took his breath.
Below him, perhaps half a mile, the valley floor rolled in green fields and gentle hills and small copses of feathery trees. A river wound through, and across the valley in the cliffs that formed the opposite wall were caves, a city of caves one above the other in clusters, with balconies and windows, and some with steps leading one to another; though no steps led down to the valley so far below.
And then he saw the light shifting and changing in the valley as if something were there. Yes, winged figures barely visible in slanting light among the valleys and hills, shifting and indistinct as light on running water, iridescent shapes moving in and out of his vision, ephemeral as dreams, ever moving, ever flashing against the solid background of hills and cliffs. The Luff’Eresi were there, their images as elusive and compelling as music.
And suddenly near to him, filling the air before him, came the horses of Eresu, not light-washed like the gods, but solid, familiar animals crowding out of the sky to land around Ram and Pender, warm, familiar animals dropping their feathered wings across their backs as they entered the cave, pushing around Ram and Pender with great good humor, nickering, nudging them with velvet muzzles. A gray stallion knelt in the accustomed invitation to mount and took Ram on his back, stood at the brink of the cave, his wings flaring around Ram, catching wind; and they were airborne suddenly, sweeping down toward the valley so the rush of air took Ram’s breath. He turned to see Pender close behind; they swept low over the valley, and Ram could see the light-washed Luff’Eresi now, see a few clusters of white-robed men and women, too, and understood from Pender that, all through time, some few Seers had come into Eresu for sanctuary from the harsher world of Ere.
Horses of Eresu were grazing on the hills. Some leaped skyward now and again in bucking play. Ram watched a dozen colts run across a hill to launch themselves clumsily into the wind, flapping and fighting for height. Some dropped down in defeat, but two lifted onto the wind at last, kicking and bucking.
The silver stallion descended, and below, the Luff’Eresi were gathered and waiting. Ram looked with surprise, for there were females among the Luff’Eresi, women’s shapely forms rising from the softer curves of mare’s bodies. He felt the ripple of amusement stir among the Luff’Eresi at his amazement, felt Pender’s silent laughter. Had he thought the Luff’Eresi were of one sex and did not reproduce themselves?
Yes, he realized, he had thought just that, had believed the Luff’Eresi immortal in spite of his childhood reasoning that they were not. In his most private self he must have believed the Luff’Eresi immortal—or have wanted to believe this—for reproduction and birth, and thus dying, had never been a part of how he pictured them.
Their voices rang like a shout in his mind. Yes, we are mortal, Ramad of wolves! Their laughter rocked him. Mortal just as you! Not gods! Never gods!
The gray stallion landed on the grassy turf in a rush of wind and bid Ram remain on his back. Ram saw that even mounted he had to look up to the Luff’Eresi. From the ground he would have been a tiny creature indeed, staring upward to face the two dozen winged gods. No, not gods! But it would take him a while to get used to that idea. And, if they were not gods, what made them shimmer and seem to shift in space so they could not be clearly seen?
We dwell on a different plane, Ramad of Zandour. We live among the valleys and mountains of your dimension, but our dimension is different. So you do not see us clearly. You perceive us as we perceive you, as through a changing curtain of light-struck air. It is because of this, in part, that we have been thought gods. But we are not gods, we are mortal just as you.
“If you are not gods, then those of Carriol who pray to you . . .” he broke off. The beauty of the Luff’Eresi stirred a wonder in him so he wanted only to stare, to memorize every line, the lean, smooth equine bodies so much more beautifully made than horses, the clean lines of the humanlike torsos more perfect than the bodies of his own kind. Their expressions, their whole demeanor was of such joy, it was as if they found in life the very essence of joy, found pleasure and meaning that humans had not yet learned to perceive. As if they had no time for the small, trivial unpleasantnesses of humans, no time or patience for evil and its ways.
“If you are not gods,” he repeated, “then those who pray are praying to—a lie.” His words shocked him. He felt the wrongness of this and the discomfort it caused them. But he needed to know, he needed to sort it out.
We are not gods, Ramad, but there is a power beyond ours; prayers are heard not by gods as humans imagine them but by a higher level of power. There was distant thunder then, but the Luff’Eresi seemed not to heed it. Dark formless clouds—or was it smoke?—lay above the western peaks.
There are lives on many planes, Ramad of wolves, and powers in many degrees, power above power; but all depends on the freedom of each spirit to make its own choices. And Ram understood within himself quite suddenly the force that linked all life, touched each living being. Those who pray can touch it, Ramad, just as we touch it now as we speak to you. A Seer touches that power each time he reaches out. Ram saw, more clearly then than he ever would afterward, layers of life stretched out through all space and time, understood the wonder of being born again, and again, into new lives, each one reaching toward an ultimate brightness.
Born again, Ramad, provided one has not nurtured evil nor sucked upon the misery and pain of others. Such a one knows, through all eternity, crippling fear and pain. This is the choice of each. But that, Ramad, is not why you come to us. Now that you know that the children who burn in Venniver’s fire will likely be born anew to a higher plane, do you still wish to pursue your quest?
Ram stared at the tall winged being who had come forward and stood close to him, his color like light over gold, his torso bronzed, his eyes deep and seeing, compelling. He thought about children dying by fire and could feel their pain. He understood too clearly that what he desired was against all the Luff’Eresi believed. That to change the lives of humans was to destroy that which humankind had woven of the web of survival and of learning. To take away one evil from that web was to act as gods in altering human lives. He understood that this would weaken humankind, that people could be strengthened only by altering their own fate. But again he felt the pain and fear of children dying by fire, and he could not let that rest. “Yes,” he said at last. “I wish to pursue my quest. I wish to beg your help for the children, to beg you once to touch the lives of my people and change them. Will turning aside one evil destroy all of Ere? Venniver will not be destroyed, only discouraged from killing. The Seeing children, the Children of Ynell, can then survive to destroy him as they should. If those children do not survive, the power that fights against Venniver will be crippled perhaps beyond all hope.
“Without your help in turning Venniver aside from this destruction, the only other course is for Carriol to march into Burgdeeth and destroy her,” Ram said quietly. “And I do not know, with the dark so strong, with the powers against us at this moment so great, whether Carriol can destroy both Burgdeeth and Pelli. And we must, at all costs, destroy Pelli. Destroy the Hape, before it places all of Ere under its will. Burgdeeth—the Seers of Burgdeeth can survive if only a measure of fear is laid down upon Venniver. Something to prevent his senseless killing. We need you now, we need this one thing of you—in the name of freedom. In the name of kindness and love for those who are imprisoned.”