David Farland - Beyond the Gate

She did not admit that she wanted him because she’d known immediately that he was the clone of her beloved Belorian, and that she was in love with the image of the man she remembered, and that she hoped that Gallen might become that man still. Perhaps both he and Maggie might recall her reasons, but Ceravanne spared reminding them of this sad fact. She spared reminding them most of all because as she looked at Gallen, saw how faithful he’d remained to Maggie, he reminded her more than ever of Belorian. Indeed, he had been reborn both in body and spirit, but had given himself to another, and Ceravanne could not seek his affection in good conscience, though the pain of being so dose to him tore at her heart. And so she was resolved that she would leave them gracefully, with a lie.

“So,” Gallen said, “Maggie and I have tasted the persuasions of the Inhuman, but you, Ceravanne, still seem to know our enemy better than either of us can. What is the Harvester’s next step?”

“I’m not certain. I cannot guess what memories my done might have, and those memories could turn her on paths that I might not anticipate,” Ceravanne said. “But I fear that she may have all of my memories, along with those of the Inhuman. But even if she doesn’t, as the Bock were fond of reminding me, we are our bodies. I know what she feels. I may know how she thinks. And so I imagine myself in her place … If I were the Harvester, I would try to minimize the amount of force needed for the operation. I would seek converts, not corpses.”

“And how would you do that?” Gallen asked.

“I would seek to indoctrinate every man and woman on the planet by supplying them with the Word. If a person remains neutral after indoctrination, I would accept this. But if they actively tried to fight after their indoctrination, I would do nothing … just let the Tekkar handle it, as-to my shame-I let my people handle the Rodim ages ago. And all of the evidence leads me to believe that this is precisely the path that the Harvester is taking.”

“So you don’t believe the Harvester will go to war?” Gallen asked. “I can only guess,” Ceravanne said. “And I imagine not. Yet we in Northland can’t not prepare for that eventuality.”

The deep voice of the ship’s AI sounded-”Approaching destination”-and Ceravanne herself was forced to go to the front and describe how to reach the Vale of the Bock.

The aircar settled down then in a valley at the foot of the mountains, and Ceravanne looked out the windows. Snow was on the ground on the mountain peaks, silver in the moonlight. And in the Vale of the Bock, a single teardrop-shaped pool also glowed silver, its water unrippled. It gave off only a thin mist, which was odd, for at this time of year the hot springs here often fogged the cold air. Which suggested that it was an unusually warm evening, almost summer weather.

All around the pool, the Bock stood with arms raised, looking for all the world like twisted stumps. On a gentle hill above the vale, a temple made of white stone glowed yellow in the night because of the fires burning at the twin beacons beside each temple door. The gentle Riallna devotees who tended the Bock were already locked in for the night. Yet Ceravanne was concerned that the air transport landing so near the temple would frighten the Riallna, so she decided to let them know that it was she who had come.

She ran out into the evening air, using Gallen’s glow globe for light, and hurried up to the temple, knocked at the door. In a moment, to Ceravanne’s surprise, a Riallna devotee actually opened her door just a crack and peeked out, terrified. The devotee was a plump woman of middle age for her species, a woman named Alna, and Ceravanne had known her for a hundred years.

“Do not be afraid,” Ceravanne whispered. “I’ve been to Moree, and we captured an aircar. I’ve come back tonight to speak to the Bock. We will sleep in our car, and leave in the morning.”

The dear Alna gazed out at her in surprise, unconcerned about the possibility that Ceravanne might be Inhuman. “You’ll do no such thing. You’ll have a good dinner and some music by the fire, and sleep with us tonight,” and then she opened the door wide and gave Ceravanne a hug.

“Oh, thank you,” Ceravanne said.

“But first,” Alna said, reconsidering, “I think that you and your friends should bathe, while we fix your dinner.” The tone of her voice clearly let Ceravanne know that a bath was not optional, it was required. Ceravanne went back into the main cabin of the transport and found Gallen and Maggie searching through the food stores.

Ceravanne said, “I’ve been informed by the priestess of the temple that if we would like a nice dinner and a warm bed tonight, we need only to take a bath and wash out our clothes. The night is warm, and the pools here are heated by hot springs, which is why the Bock winter in this valley. Would anyone care to join me?”

It had been so long since they’d had a chance to bathe in anything but an icy river, that Ceravanne was not surprised when the others eagerly came out and enjoyed the luxury together, swimming naked in the moonlight. Orick the bear began slapping water at Ceravanne, and she splashed him back, and soon they were chasing one another around the pool and having a great time.

Afterward, they returned to the transport to get their packs, and in the darkness, Gallen said, “Ceravanne, when we first met, you asked me not to question you about your plans. You asked me to simply trust you, and till now I have. But we’ll be going into Moree tomorrow. I came with the idea of destroying the Inhuman, dismantling the artificial intelligence that drives it. But you obviously hope to reclaim the Harvester. Is that your plan?”

“If I can reason with her,” Ceravanne said, ‘‘yes, I think I can reclaim her. But there is much more that I hope to do.”

Ceravanne went to her pack. It was a small pack made of brown leather, and she’d carried it a long way without anyone becoming suspicious of its contents. It held but one change of dirty clothes and a comb, and in all these past weeks, she had never given the others a clue as to what else might be inside it.

She pulled out a small but heavy parcel wrapped in fine leather and laid it out on the floor, then began to unfold it. The thin golden chains that formed it tinkled as she worked, and the memory crystals woven into it glittered like diamonds. When it was all laid out on the floor, the huge mantle looked like the treasure of some ancient king. “This is what the Inhuman looks like,” Ceravanne said. “This is an exact replica. Over the past two years, we gleaned information from all of the technicians who worked on it. In the City of Life, our technicians are not well versed in making such things, and so it was a great task. But we were able to learn whose lives are stored within the Inhuman, and so we went to our archives and retrieved those lives, whole and unedited, and placed them in this mantle. We could not get them all, for the dronon were careless, and so some of those people’s memories were lost forever. And in those cases, we replaced the lost crystals with new ones, showing the lives of those who were successful in obtaining rebirth.

“And our technicians created a program that will nullify the subliminal teachings that the Inhuman tries to plant in its victims.”

“You mean you are going to fight the Inhuman’s indoctrination?” Maggie asked, for like Gallen, she had assumed that the destruction of the Inhuman was their ultimate goal.

“We will do what we can,” Ceravanne said. “If we can only destroy the Inhuman, burn it forever, then much will have been accomplished. But I fear that if that were to happen, our world would continue in civil war. You’ve seen the weapons that the dronon left: if it comes to war, this world will yet be destroyed. But even that is better than letting the Inhuman’s influence spread to the stars.