Then, with a sudden roar, like a crack of thunder, the four-thousand-year-old lens, which had brought the beams of the Great Light into the Temple for hundreds of generations of Nidorians to worship, shattered into fragments and collapsed into the inferno of flame below.
Chapter XX
Leader Kris peKym Yorgen stopped at the gaping door of the Temple and looked in, as he had every morning for the week since the Temple's destruction. Norvis, at his side, waited patiently.
The interior of the auditorium was a blackened ruin. The costly drapes, the intricately carved pews, the fine paneling were nothing but ash which lay soggily on the floor, wet by the nightly rains that poured through the opening in the roof that once had held the lens. Now the hole gaped openly like a raw wound.
Somehow, Kris felt that he had lost a part of himself when the Temple burned. The Bel-rogas School had been nothing, actually.
A century ago, it had not even existed.
But the Temple had stood for four thousand years, rock-solid and seemingly eternal. And now it was a gutted shell.
Only the interior of the auditorium had burned; the thick stone walls of the building itself had only been blackened from holding the flames until they burned themselves out. The offices and the meeting rooms were untouched.
"You keep looking at that, Kris," Norvis said softly. "Are you thinking of cleaning it up, or rebuilding it, or—?"
Kris shook his head decisively. "No. Not yet. Not until the Council has been re-formed and we have returned to the Way or our Ancestors. Only then will we be in a position to rebuild the Temple. It was desecrated by the Earthmen, and the Great Light has cleansed it with fire. Not until we are worthy will we rededicate the Temple."
He turned and walked to the side door of the Temple which led into the offices and business rooms. The bronze doors that led into the auditorium had been discolored by the heat, but they had held back the fire. Only one of them was badly warped.
The guard at the stairway nodded as they approached. "Hoy, Ancient Leader. Hoy, Aged Secretary."
Kris nodded curtly and ascended the stair to his office. Norvis followed him up.
Grandfather Marn peFulda Brajjyd was already waiting for him. The priest was seated in the outer office, his fingers rubbing the small lens that hung on a silver chain around his neck. "Bless you, Leader Kris," he said, smiling.
"And you, Grandfather. What brings you here so early?"
"I've appointed a new Priest Mayor of Vashcor," Marn peFulda said. "An excellent young man. And as the oldest living priest of the Clan Brajjyd, I've come to take my place on the Council."
"Fine!" Kris said. "Let's go inside my office and figure this thing out."
"Your Announcement of Purification was a great stroke, my son," the Grandfather said as he followed Kris into the inner office. "It saved the life of a good many priests. Perhaps even I might not be alive today if you hadn't told the people that all those who were still under the influence of the Earthmen were dead."
They entered the office. Norvis said, "I'll go to my own room, Kris. I have a great deal of work to do."
Kris nodded. "Go ahead. There's plenty to be done." After Norvis was gone, Kris waved the priest to the chair facing his desk. "Sit down, Grandfather. We've got a little figuring to do. Nidor is still in an uproar. I've put the whole world under Peace Law—my men are acting as Peacemen, with the regular Peacemen under them. But that's not the Way of our Ancestors; we must return to the Way."
The priest nodded without speaking.
"There are nine of the original Council left alive after the fire," Kris said. "With you, that makes ten. We're six short."
Marn peFulda nodded. "And with the records destroyed, we have no way of actually knowing who the oldest priests of each Clan are. It may involve a little guesswork before we've filled the Council again, and"—he paused and smiled slyly—"I don't know how we'll ever decide who the Elder Leader will be."
"It doesn't matter," Kris said decisively. "We'll fill the Council somehow. And—you are hereby appointed Leader of the Council yourself, until the emergency's over. You'll take rank over all present and future members. They'll obey your orders."
"Excellent," the priest agreed. "It's a drastic measure, I'll admit— but these are times that require drastic measures."
"Right. There are a few other things to take care of, too. The old Council found me guilty of sacrilege, treason, and blasphemy. Ah—that decision must be set aside, since the Great Light has shown that I was right."
"Naturally," said the priest smoothly.
"There's only one other thing. Technically speaking, I hold no position in the Government at all. I think it might be wise to see to it that I have some sort of official standing."
The old man's eyes narrowed in thought. "There's no office I know of that ... wait a minute!" He stood up, walked to the bookcase in the back of the office, and took down the Scripture and the Law.
He flipped the sacred volume open, riffled through the pages, and selected the passage he wanted. "Here it is," he said. "Seventh Section. 'And it happened that in the days of Dmorno the Holy, the Great Light sent a blight over the land, for the people were unrighteous. The clouds that shielded the world from His angry radiance were dissipated and became thin, and the crops were withered and great storms raged. Being without food, the people suffered greatly.
" 'Now, at that time there lived a man of great wealth in Gelusar who had stored away vast quantities of peych-beans for his own subsistence, and the Council declared that he had much more than he needed, and that food from his warehouses should be dispensed to the poor and the needy. This he refused to do.
" 'Thereupon, the Council appointed an Executive Officer, a pious and strong man named Lordeth, who was given command of Peacemen and who went forth to the rich merchant and took from him his warehouses and distributed the food to the people.' "
The priest closed the book. "There you are. In emergencies it is perfectly proper to appoint an Executive Officer." Then a frown passed over his face. "I hope I can get the Council to agree."
"They'll agree," Kris said cheerfully. "If they don't, they'll wish they had. We must return to the Way of our Ancestors!"
The priest smiled. "You'll be the first man to hold that office in three thousand years, Kris peKym. You have a great responsibility, my son."
In a nearby office, Norvis fingered a writing pen in his hand as he spoke to little Dran peDran Gormek.
"Now, do you follow me, Dran peDran? Not a word of this to anyone."
Dran fidgeted. "Not even to the captain?"
Norvis pursed his lips. "Kris does not want it known that he even suspects there still are Earthmen on Nidor. It would weaken his position, you sec. If I'd selected anyone but you for the job, I'd have told them that Leader Kris doesn't even know about it. But I can trust you. Never even mention to him that you know anything about this— understand? That's the way he wants it."
Dran nodded. "I doesn't quite understand, but if the captain says so—he says so."
"Very well, then. Now look at the map." Norvis walked over to a map of Nidor hanging on the wall. "Here's Gelusar. Due East are the Mountains of the Morning. Here"—he made a tiny cross with his pen—"is the Earthmen's base. You'll go by deest to the foothills of the Mountains of the Morning, and then climb on foot the rest of the way. Now, mind you: all you're to do is look over the base. You're not to expose yourself in any way. Keep out of sight and you'll be safe."
"I'll do, sir."