She closed the door behind her.
Elemak could hardly control himself. He longed to leap after her, hit her again and again, beat the unbearable condescension out of her. But that would be a show of weakness; to maintain control of these others, he had to make it clear that he was unaffected by such nonsense. So he smiled wanly at them. "You see how they want to make us stupid by making us angry," said Elemak.
"Don't tell me you're not angry," said Meb.
"Of course I am," said Elemak. "But I refuse to let my anger make me stupid. And she also gave us some valuable information. Apparently Nafai's going to be coming back with some kind of magic cloak or something. Maybe it's nothing more than an illusion, like those masks that Gaballufix dredged up to have his soldiers wear back in Basilica, so they all looked alike. Or maybe there's some real power in it. But far from making us back down, that will simply force us to act all the more quickly and cleanly—and permanently."
"Meaning?" asked Vas.
"Meaning that we will not permit anyone to leave here and go join Nafai, wherever he is. We will make him come to us. And when he does, unless he immediately backs down and accepts our decisions, we'll eliminate his ability to make further problems."
"Meaning?" insisted Vas.
"Meaning kill him, you dolt," said Obring. "How stupid do you have to be?"
"I knew he meant that," said Vas quietly. "I just wanted to hear him say it with his own mouth, so that he can't claim later that he never meant any such thing."
"Oh, I see," said Elemak. "You're worried about responsibility." Elemak couldn't help but compare Vas with Nafai—for all his other faults, Nyef had never shrunk from his responsibility for the death of Gaballufix. "Well, the responsibility is mine. Mine alone, if you insist on it. But that also means that after we've won, the authority is mine."
"I'm with you," said Meb. "To the hilt. Does that mean that when it's done, I share authority with you?"
"Yes, it does," said Elemak. If you even know what authority is, you poor simpering baboon. "It's as simple as that. But if you haven't got the heart to put in the knife along with us, that doesn't mean you're our enemy. Only keep silence about our plan, join with us in preventing others from joining Nafai, and stay out of the way when we kill him—if it comes to that."
"I'll agree to that," said Obring.
Vas also nodded.
"Then it's done."
Nafai awoke on the floor of the room. Above him hung the block of water. He didn't feel any different.
That is, until he started trying to think of things. Like when he tried to feel, from the inside, whether anything was different about his own body. All of a sudden a great gush of information flowed into his mind. He was conscious for a moment of all his bodily functions, and had a detailed status report on all of them. The output of his glands; his heartrate; the amount of fecal matter built up in his rectum; the current deficiency of fuel for his body's cells, and how his fat cells were being accessed to make up the shortfall. Also, the rate of healing of all his bruises and scrapes had been accelerated, and he felt much better.
Is this what the Oversoul has always known about me?
At once the answer came, and now it truly was a clear voice—even clearer than when the Oversoul spoke through the Index. (I never knew this much about you before. The cloak has connected with every nerve in your body, and reports on your condition continuously. It also samples your blood in various places and interprets and acts to enhance your condition many times a second.)
Cloak?
At once an image flashed into his mind. He could see himself from the outside, as the Oversoul no doubt saw him through its sensors. He could see his body as he rolled out from under the block and rose to his feet. His skin sparkled with light. He realized that most of the light in the room came from him. He saw himself run his hands over his own skin, trying to feel the cloak. But he felt nothing at all that was different from his normal skin.
He wondered if he would always shine like this—if his house would always light up like this whenever he was inside.
The thought had no sooner come to him than the Oversoul's voice responded. (The cloak responds to your will. If you wish it to go dark, it will. If you wish it to build up a powerful electrical charge, it will—and you can point your finger and send an arc of energy in whatever direction you choose. Nothing can harm you while you wear this, and you can be deeply dangerous to others—yet if you have no wish to harm someone, the cloak will be passive. Your children can sleep in the dark, and you can hold your wife as you always have. Indeed, the more physical contact you have with others, the more your cloak will extend to include them, and even respond, in a small way, to your will.)
So Luet will also wear this cloak?
(Through you, yes. It will protect her; it will give her better access to my memory. But why do you ask me these things? Instead of thinking of questions, why not simply cast your mind back and try to remember, as if you had always known about the cloak. The memories will come to your mind easily and clearly, then. You'll know all there is to know.)
Nafai tried it, and suddenly he had no more questions about the cloak. He understood what it meant to be shipmaster. He even understood exactly what the Oversoul needed him to do to prepare a starship for departure.
"We don't have enough lifetimes among us, including our children, to do all of this," said Nafai.
(I told you that I'd give you the tools to work with. Some aspects of the robots are unsalvageable now, but other parts can be used. The machines themselves are perfectly workable—it's only my program to control them that is defective. Parts of it can be reactivated, and then you and the others can set the robots to doing the meaningless tasks under your direction. You'll see.)
And now Nafai "remembered" exactly what the Oversoul had determined was possible. It would take some serious work for several hours to get the robots working, but he could do it—he remembered how. "I'll get started at once," he said. "Is there anything to eat here?"
No sooner had he asked than he remembered that of course there was no food here. It made him impatient to think of having to leave this place and go hunt for food. "Can't you bring the others here? Have them bring food, and… I don't see why we should have to take a day's journey every time someone comes here. We can rebuild our village here—there's plenty of water in the hills to the south, and plenty of lumber. We can spend a week doing that and save ourselves many days of travel each year until the ships are done."
(I'll pass the word. Or you can tell them yourself.) "Tell them myself?" And then he remembered: Since the Oversoul's memory was now "his" memory, he could speak to the others through the Index. So he did.
"You're not going," said Elemak.
Zdorab and Volemak stood before him in bafflement. "What do you mean?" said Volemak. "Nafai needs food, and we need to mark out the new village. I assumed you'd want to come along."
"And I say you're not going. Nobody's going. We're not moving the village, and nobody is moving from here to go join Nafai. His attempt at seizing power here has failed. Give it up, Father. When Nyef gets hungry enough, he'll come home."
"I'm your father, Elya, not your child. You can decide not to go yourself, but you have no authority to stop me."
Elemak tapped his finger on the table.
"Unless you're threatening to use violence against your father," said Volemak.