David Farland - Beyond the Gate

Ceravanne looked into Maggie’s dark eyes. The young woman had been losing weight due to the rigors of their journey, and for the first time Ceravanne really noticed how this was wearing at her. “I have never wanted to talk to you about these things until now,” Ceravanne said. “I didn’t want to betray how much I knew of the Inhuman, nor did I want to betray my plans on how to deal with it once we reach Moree. You see, there was always the possibility that one of you could be turned. But now Orick and I are the only ones who have not received the Inhuman’s Word, and Maggie, you and Gallen will need to continue my battle without me, should I die.”

Ceravanne looked deep into Maggie’s eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “Maggie, you are wrong if you think we Tharrin can withstand the Inhuman’s Word. The sad truth is that the Inhuman’s Word, as a weapon, has proven to be more effective against my people than any others. It was designed to persuade us to join the dronon’s cause. It is almost by accident that the Word has also worked so well against the Tekkar and other races.”

“Oh, Ceravanne,” Maggie said, and she crossed the hull of the ship, took Ceravanne in her arms, and for one sweet moment, Ceravanne wept and let Maggie embrace her.

“We are our bodies,” Ceravanne whispered close to Maggie’s ear. “You see, the Tharrin were made to serve mankind, and men, by their very nature, are predispositioned to serve us in return. The dronon knew that if they could control us, we Tharrin might hold the key to controlling mankind. None of us can escape what we are. And in some cases, we cannot escape what we feel, what we must do.”

Ceravanne wiped her eyes, leaned back, and looked at Maggie. “The Inhuman argues for greater compassion, and to the Tharrin its arguments seem persuasive, for the Tharrin have always sought to rule with compassion above all else. And so the dronon use our most basic needs to undermine us. But the Inhuman’s Word does more to us than that-it seeks to manipulate its victims subconsciously. It convinces them that only by surrendering their individual freedom can they hope to serve mankind with total compassion-”

Gallen and Maggie both said at once, “By best serving the state, we best serve mankind.” They looked into each other’s eyes, recognizing that the idea they’d spoken had not been their own, but had been planted in them by the Inhuman.

“Exactly,” Ceravanne said. “But of course when the state becomes supreme, it inevitably becomes corrupt, catering to some indefinable mass rather than to the individual. By trying to serve everyone, ultimately it serves no one well. You’ve seen how ruthless the Tekkar are, yet even they believe that their ruthlessness toward others is in fact a compassionate service to the state.

“The dronon do not care about this flaw in their system, for they are hopelessly enthralled by their Golden Queen, and they have no ideals beyond serving her. But we Tharrin agonize over the problem. We are trained to consistently review our actions so that we leave humans as much individual ability to make choices as they desire-”

“But you can never leave us totally free,” Maggie said. “You always have the desire to manipulate us. I’ve seen it in the way that you treat Gallen.”

“I was wrong to try to control him,” Ceravanne said. “If I had not felt that my own world was at stake, I would not have done it. I … was so afraid, that I was not thinking well. What I did was contemptible. Please forgive me.”

Maggie watched her, and though her expression showed only compassion, there was a hardness in her eyes. She might forgive Ceravanne, but she no longer trusted her completely; and she would not forget what Ceravanne had done.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Maggie said. “How do I know you are not trying to manipulate me now?”

Ceravanne studied Maggie and considered how she might best address this question. She could have said something to placate the woman, but she did not want to frost the hard facts with sweet-tasting half-truths. “I am trying to manipulate you, of course,” Ceravanne said. “I have shown you my world’s need, and I have asked you to enlist with me and risk your lives in my cause. But I have not tried to deceive you about the dangers involved. I ask you to come willingly.

“But of course,” Ceravanne continued, “on the larger scale we must also consider your biological needs, your inborn desire to serve your fellow man. That is what motivates you now. And in fact, Maggie, I suspect that whether I am a Tharrin or not makes little difference at the moment. If I were a Derrit leading you on this quest, you would still follow me, despite my odor and ungainly appearance.

“But as to the larger question as to whether you are free, of course we cannot lead men who are totally free, because none of us is free of the basic human desires that define what we are. So, ultimately, none of us are free, and all must share responsibility for our group acts.

“Perhaps only if you were a Tharrin could you understand completely how dependent we are upon one another-and how much responsibility a leader has for the group: if I call a man into battle, and we win, I must always wonder if I’ve done the right thing, if my enemies deserved death. But if we lose the fight, and the man I’ve called into battle dies, then I have to wonder if I’m responsible.” Ceravanne took Maggie’s hand and squeezed it. Maggie sat down beside her on the soft, green bench. “I can ask myself, Did the man die because our enemies were too strong? Did the man die because he was too weak or too unprepared? Or did the man die because I failed to resolve the conflict peacefully long before that?

“It may be that in any given defeat, I am totally at fault. It may be that the man died because of all my failures. And so when we resort to battle, we Tharrin always count ourselves as having lost the conflict, for we are ill prepared to tolerate such guilt.

“For this reason, we prefer never to resolve conflicts through violence. Often we accept the responsibilities of leadership only so long as they do not lead into battle.

“This resolve is so strong that when my people here on Tremonthin saw what the Inhuman could do, most of my brothers and sisters removed the records of their genome and their memories from the City of Life, then destroyed themselves outright in order to avoid capture. We had to avoid becoming pawns in the dronon’s game.”

Orick had been sitting quietly on the floor, resting, but he perked his head up, raised his nose questioningly in the air. “But you said earlier that the dronon had killed your people?”

“I’ve never said ‘killed.’ They destroyed my people,” Ceravanne corrected. “Those that they did convert became … monsters, creatures that we Tharrin find reprehensible. And so they were no longer Tharrin. And by forcing upon us this conflict, others of my people were forced to seek oblivion. I did not lie when I said they destroyed us.”

“How many Tharrin are under the Inhuman’s domination?” Gallen said.

“The Resistance killed the others. As for the Harvester-I am still not even certain that she is Tharrin,” Ceravanne said, “though I have greatly suspected that my sister is there … But if they do have my clone, it is just one.”

Gallen’s focus turned inward for a moment, and he rocked in his seat. The flier was equipped with benches with thick green cushions that were very comfortable, and he leaned back casually and said, “When we first met, you suspected that you wanted me to kill your dark sister?”

Ceravanne nodded. She knew that to their eyes, she still looked very much like a child of fourteen. She’d thought that by keeping a younger body, it might afford her some protection, provide something of a disguise. Adults in power tended to discount youth. And yet she had also felt the need to try to attract Gallen sexually. “I knew when we met that you might have to fight off the influence of the Inhuman, and that you might be forced to kill my dark twin. I wanted your commitment for those things only.”