Butler, Octavia - Patternmaster

range free through the hills and valleys. Then, finally, he settled down, and focused his awareness on the Clayarks who formed a wide half-circle around his party. He swept down on them, killing.

Before, with Amber, he had killed dozens of Clayarks. Now he killed hundreds, perhaps thousands. He killed until he could find no more Clayarks over all his wide range. He even checked the system of underground tunnels. When he was finished, he was certain that there were no more Clayarks anywhere near enough to affect him or his party.

Then suddenly Rayal was with him.

You ‘ve done well, young one. Very well But be careful when you let your people go. Release only their strength. Keep your links with them.

What am I being careful of? he asked coldly. You or my people? He would never forgive the old man for refusing him help when he needed it so desperately. Rayal picked up his thought.

I don’t care whether or not you forgive me, young one. But keep in mind what you told Coransee’s people a few minutes ago. I suspect I’m even less patient than you are.

Teray took the hint. What do you want of me?

Let the woman know that you’ll be unconscious for a while once you let go of your people’s strength. Tell her not to try to help you—just to keep your people off you. She did it once. She’ll

have to do it again. It’s a good thing you hadn’t taken from her too.

He had not taken strength from Amber because she had obviously been tired. She had done her share for the day, he had thought. Now, obediently, he relayed Rayal’s thought to her. Rayal continued before she could reply.

Now let them go. All at once, the way you took them. If you try it one at a time, you might kill the last ones by giving back too much to the first one.

Teray obeyed, let the strength of the ten Patternists snap away from him like a released spring.

The breath seemed to go out of his body. There seemed to be nothing left of him. He sagged, the strength of his muscles gone. The strength of his mind kept him alive, but it did nothing more. He could still understand Rayal’s mental voice speaking inside him, but it would be a while before he could respond.

Its never easy, sent the old man. But the first time is always the worst. Ten or ten thousand, it doesn’t make any difference if they aren’t compatible with you. You pay for the power you take from them. You pay whether you take it through a few temporary links or through the Pattern itself.

Can you tell whether the others are all right? Teray could not project the thought. He had no strength for that. But he hoped Rayal would pick it up.

They’re fine. Even the one you had to knock out is still all right. They wonder what’s the matter with you.

They aren’t the only ones.

Rayal projected amusement. You’re fine. Recovering

faster than I expected. You’d better be fine. I’ve stayed alive fifteen damnable years longer than I wanted to, waiting for you.

In his surprise, Teray could not form a coherent thought.

Surprised, young one? It doesn’t matter. As long as you’re good enough to succeed me, nothing else matters.

But why would you wait for me? You had chosen Coransee.

Coransee had chosen himself.

But he said…

That’s right He said. Of course, he could have succeeded me. No doubt he would have if you hadn’t killed him.

But you didn’t want him to ?

He wasn’t good enough, young one.

He was stronger than I am.

That’s not surprising. He was stronger than I would be alone—though I never let him know it. But the strength was all he had. That healing ability that your Amber found in you was all but missing in him. She’s not the only healer who’s tried to teach him.

But why would healing ability be that important to a Patternmaster?

The healing part of it isn’t. It’s the way a healer can kill. The way Amber taught you. Without that method just now, you would

have killed at least three of the people you just took power from. Three out of ten. You would have been punching holes in Clayarks, wasting strength that wasn’t yours to waste. Imagine killing thirty per cent of the Patternists in even an average-size

House.

Teray winced away from the idea. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell him? If he understood, he might not have had to die.

I wouldn’t have sacrificed one of Jansee’s sons if he hadn’t had to die. Do you really think anyone could have talked him out of wanting the Pattern?

You could have, perhaps.

Young one, me least of all. Think! The only thing that kept him from attacking me outright to take the Pattern was the belief that it would come to him without a struggle if he waited a little longer.

Could he have taken it?

Very possibly.

Teray sighed, feeling the strength flowing back into his body. He could have opened his eyes if he had wanted to and seen Amber next to him waiting.

I will never gather the strength of the Pattern in my mind again, sent Rayal. It would kill me. When the need arises next, young one, the Pattern will be yours. That will kill me, too, but at least I’ll die alone—not take thousands of people with me.

But you can’t just give it to me. Others will contest….

I will give it to you. You’d win it anyway, if there was anyone better than you around, I wouldn’t have chosen you. And once you have it, with your health and strength, those who contest will be no mote to you than that girl Rain. Remember that and treat them gently. Your only real opponent is dead.

But another healer… a better healer…

You’ve got a better healer sitting next to you. And she’ll always be a better healer. You won’t ever surpass her in healing skill. And she won’t ever surpass you in strength. There are plenty of better healers, but no stronger healers. And no weaker healer could survive what you just survived. You have the right combination of abilities.

Teray sighed, opened his eyes, and sat up. He looked at Amber and she nodded slightly.

“I’m receiving too,” she said. “He wants me to know.”

Teray addressed Rayal. You couldn’t have kept Coransee from killing me, could you?

No. Not unless I fought him. He had already made up his mind about you—and from his point of view, he was right You were definitely a danger to him even though at first you didn’t want to be. I didn’t dare fight him. There was too much chance of his winning. So it was all up to you

And you couldn’t very well tell me without taking the chance of also telling him. Teray shook his head. You’ve been bluffing everyone for a long time, Lord.

Only for the past couple of years. Only since I’ve become so weak and sick that taking strength from any but the most compatible of my people would have killed me.

Still a long time to bluff people who might have read any slip in your thoughts.

A long, wearying time, the old man agreed. Hurry and get here. You have no idea how tired I am.

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About Octavia E. Butler

OCTAVIA E. BUTLER writes: “I am a 53-year-old writer who can remember being a 10-year-old writer and who expects someday to be an 80-year-old writer. I’m also comfortably asocial—a hermit in the middle of Seattle—a pessimist if I’m not careful, a feminist, a black, a former Baptist, an oil-and-water combination of ambition, laziness, insecurity, certainty, and drive.

I’ve had 11 novels published so far:

Patternmaster, Mind ofMy Mind, Survivor, Kindred, Wild Seed, Clay’s Ark, Dawn, Adulthood Rites, Imago, Parable oj the Sower, and Parable of the Talents, as well as a collection of my shorter work, entitled Bloodchild. I’ve also had short stories published in anthologies and magazines. One, “Speech Sounds,” won a Hugo Award as best short story of 1984. Another, “Bloodchild,” won both the 1985 Hugo and the 1984 Nebula awards as best novelette. My most recent novel, Parable of the Talents, won the 1999