He closed his hand fiercely on the crystal ball as though he would crush it. It seemed to remind him of something, and he let his eyes rove anew.
“What became of Granny Jassy, I wonder?” he said under his breath.
“Of-? I didn’t hear-”
Yanderman grimaced. “What does it matter?” he shrugged. “Should I lead-instead of an army-a stupid old woman with a headful of visions? We’d have been better off without her charms and her crazy tales of a time when this barrenland was a rich region full of people powerful as magicians …”
Conrad could hardly believe his ears. Unable to stop himself, he caught at Yanderman’s arm. “Visions?” he demanded. “What sort of visions? You mean there are other people who can-
He broke off. Yanderman was staring at him wide-eyed.
After an eternal moment in which there was no sound but the gnawing noise of flames on dry wood as tent-poles blazed up close to them, the older man spoke in a strangely gentle voice.
“Boy-Conrad, isn’t that your name? — yes, Conrad: there are other people who see these things. Didn’t you know?”
Conrad licked his lips and shook his head dumbly.
“Have you never seen one of these?” Yanderman opened his fingers to expose the crystal ball.
Again a headshake.
“Well then!” A note of triumph came into Yanderman’s tone now. “It’s about time you tried its effect, I’d say. And if all goes well, Conrad, and if you’re as desperate as you’ve told me-and as I feel right now-we’ll try this lunatic venture and turn it from a joke into an epic tale that men will chant around the hearth-fire for a thousand generations! Conrad, will you take your revenge on Lagwich for laughing at you even if it means the risk of death?”
Looking into Yanderman’s blazing eyes, Conrad-terrified, but somehow exalted-could make no other response than a simple, whispered, “Yes!”
XIV
“Nestamay! Pay attention, girl!” Grandfather barked, leaving the tip of his pointer-stick on the plan where it was. The plan was unbelievably old-a pattern of faded dark lines on a yellowish, crackling substance which, to stop it breaking into pieces, had been carefully pasted on a well-cured piece of leather from a dead thing.As well as the lines, which were more or less self-explanatory-showing the general features of the Station below the dome-there were all kinds of curious symbols marked; it was these whose significance Grandfather was trying to explain.
“I–I’m sorry, Grandfather,” Nestamay said, pushing back her long hair with a limp hand.
“Sorry!” Grandfather took the pointer-stick in both hands now and looked for a moment as though he would break it. The tone of his voice frightened baby Dan, and he gave a howl.
Grandfather glared at him. The howl stopped magically.
“That’s better,” Grandfather muttered, and turned his attention back to Nestamay, resuming his former fierce tone. “Sorry, you said! A lot of use it is being sorry for not listening-nobody can help it but yourself! Do you think I like giving you these extra lessons after a hard day’s work? Do you think I do it just to annoy you and keep you away from Jasper? I do have a purpose, you know! Our family’s kept more of the old lore and cleared more fresh ground under the dome than any of the families here-you know that as well as I do because I’ve told you till I’m sick of repeating it. What’s going to become of us if we let things slide? Who’s fit to look after the fate of the community who doesn’t possess every ounce and scrap and tittle of information that’s available?”
Abruptly Nestamay put her head forward on her knees and burst into tears.
For a long moment Grandfather was dumbfounded. He looked at the pointer-stick in his hands as though expecting it to turn into a venomous thing; he looked at the plan displayed for Nestamay, but there was no counsel there, either. He looked at the blank irregular wall of the hovel, and when he could not reasonably delay a comment any longer, he set the pointer-stick aside and cleared his throat with a harrumphing noise.
“Come here, child,” he said, putting out his hand. A sort of rusty kindness coloured his voice, creaking like a hinge not used for a generation. “There’s something been preying on your mind lately-I know it. I thought you’d get over it by yourself, but if you can’t, you’d better tell me all about it.”
Nestamay snuffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She said, “It’s-it’s just …” Then she took a deep breath and tried again. “It’s just what you said about my not wanting to listen to you because I’d rather be with Jasper. Grandfather, it’s not trueBecause”-now the words came in an unstoppable rush-“I hateJasper! He’s a fool, he’s dangerous, he’s selfish, and I wish a thingwould get him!”
Appalled at her own ferocity, she stopped short. Her eyes were very wide as she stared at Grandfather, wondering what his reaction would be.
It began with a sigh. It continued with the rolling up of the plan of the Station, its return to the shiny metal case with a locking lid in which it was kept for safety, and its replacement on the wall by a chart she had seen scores of times-a chart dealing with another of the myriad subjects of which Grandfather kept track better than anyone else in the community. Her eyes sorted out the family names, linked by vertical lines for descent and wavy lines for generation-kinship and dotted lines for future associations.
Desperately, before Grandfather could launch into the patient exposition of her genetic situation and a repetition of the factors which made Jasper the best possible choice as the father of her children, she clutched at his rising arm.
“You don’t understand, Grandfather! Weren’t you listening?”
Grandfather blinked. Astonishingly, he gave a warm chuckle. “Beginning to talk my language, hey? All right, what’s the point I missed by not listening? Out with it!”
“I said Jasper was dangerous,” Nestamay emphasised. She had refrained from telling this story for days on end, thinking it might be selfish or spiteful to do so. Now, though, it was clear that Grandfather had to be informed.
“In what way?” Grandfather was suddenly tense.
“The-uh-the other night when the thinghatched and we chased it out of Channel Nine, I was late reaching the office for my watch.”
“I thought you were rather a long time getting there. I also thought the experience had frightened you badly enough for you not to do it again. What has this to do with Jasper?”
“The reason I was late,” Nestamay said very carefully, “was that Jasper tried to make me skip my watch and go with him to some hiding-place he has around the other side of the Station.”
Grandfather gave a thoughtful nod. He said, “You didn’t let him persuade you. And it wasn’t the alarm which saved you, either. Am I right?”
“Y-yes.” Nestamay tried to reduce the hammering of her heart by drawing in another very deep breath and letting it out as slowly as she could. It made her throat seem to shudder by itself.
“In which case it’s bad-he shouldn’t do it, and must be punished. But it hardly sounds dangerous, unless he came extremely close to persuading you.”
“Not me,” Nestamay said, and closed her eyes. Here it was at last: the thing she had learned afterwards, the thing which had really brought on the tears. “Not me. Danianel. She-she wasn’t so obstinate.”
Grandfather’s eyes switched to the kinship chart. There was a steel-blue blaze in them. He said, “Danianel?” And put his index and middle fingers, parted like a draftsman’s compass, on the two names on the chart.
“Yes.” Nestamay put her hands up to cover her eyes. She was thinking of the months-years, almost-through which she had compelled herself to endure Jasper’s attentions, knowing she would sooner or later have to suffer them permanently, and thinking like an idiot that the unpleasant truth which was so clear to her after Grandfather’s instruction must be equally clear, equally significant to Jasper.