“Yes,” Teera said, “but when your brother spoke to us about being silent, he spoke most strongly about the importance of not mentioning that there are really no Pash-shan, only Erdlings, and also to say nothing about the Geets-kel. Tell me again, Pomma—what are the Geets-kel?”

  Pomma shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure. I heard D’ol Neric speak of them when I was hiding in the doorway. He spoke of hearing them talking at a secret meeting. He said they were talking about—” Pomma stopped, contorting her face in an effort to remember. “He spoke so fast and I could not hear everything, but he said they mentioned Raamo—and a secret. He said the Geets-kel know a secret that no one else knows. The secret was about the Pash-shan, and it was very dangerous. I think that D’ol Neric and Raamo think that the Geets-kel are dangerous.”

  “But who are the Geets-kel?” Teera insisted.

  “They are—” Pomma stopped again, reluctant to say what was on her mind since she had, for so long, been defending the Ol-zhaan to Teera, telling her that it was foolish to fear them.

  “Ol-zhaan,” said Teera nodding, and this time neither one of them noticed that Pomma had not spoken the word aloud.

  But there were other times when they could not help but notice—other changes, unexpected and unexplainable. They happened suddenly, fleetingly, in the midst of games or conversation; and afterwards there was wonder, and some uncertainty, as to whether anything had really happened or if it had all been only a part of their playing. But more and more often in their games of Five-Pense there were times when they spoke—briefly—in exact words and phrases without voice or sound, and in other games, also, things had begun to happen.

  Teera’s interest in the lives of all Kindar children had inspired many games based on the practices of the Gardens. Taking the part of the instructor, Pomma had spent many hours teaching Teera the songs and stones and games and rituals used in the teaching at the Gardens. She had begun to teach Teera how to write with stylus on grundleaves, and with thread and needle on pages of silk, as well as many of the ritual exercises intended to prolong the skills of the Spirit, which were the birthright of every Kindar child. Together they had performed exercises that were meant to develop such inborn skills as pensing, grunspreking and kiniporting. And Pomma also explained how those who had lost their Spirit-powers were taught other skills, called illusions, which made it possible to conceal their loss, at least for a while.

  When the changes began to happen, slight and fleeting and unpredictable at first, they were a source of excitement and mystery and sometimes almost of fear. The fear came not so much from the events themselves as from the way that they occurred, unexpectedly and for the most part uncontrollably. But the fear could not outweigh the strange fascination that grew stronger and stronger as the manifestations of growing Spirit-power became more frequent and less easy to ignore.

  And there were other changes, too. With the improvement in her health and strength, Pomma was beginning to take a new and more active interest in many things. For many months, long before she had been confined to her nid-chamber by her illness, she had been sinking slowly and peacefully into a world of dreams, soothing, silent dreams, ever more deep and shadowed. Everything—shapes and colors, songs and voices, even thoughts and feelings—had become vague and distant and uncertain. And now, suddenly, everything seemed very near and bright and urgent. Each morning Pomma awoke with a kind of hungry eagerness, an impatient curiosity that made her scramble from her nid the moment her eyes opened, and which, at times, caused her to stand for long moments on her balcony gazing out into the green distances of the forest, and other distances of less tangible dimensions.

  The days passed slowly and, at last, it was the morning of the day that Raamo and the two other young Ol-zhaan had promised that they would return to the D’ok nid-place. From the moment she arose from her nid, Teera was unusually quiet, and during the morning food-taking she ate but little. It was obvious to Pomma that she was tense and nervous, troubled by the thought that she would again be questioned by D’ol Genaa. Pomma wanted to comfort her—reminding her that Raamo had promised to be present when Genaa questioned her—but there was little space for words at the D’ok table that morning. Valdo D’ok was in good spirits, looking forward to a special celebration to be held before the hour of high sun, in the guildhall of the orchard harvesters. He had been asked, as the father of a Chosen and therefore a personage of high honor, to give the blessing of the Berry before the ceremonial partaking. To insure that the blessing would be of appropriate length and phrasing, it seemed wise to offer several versions to his family for their advice and approval.

  So while Pomma listened to her father’s richly ornamented phrases, she tried to send a message of comfort to the troubled Teera. And when they returned, at last, to their chamber, Pomma said, “Raamo said he would be with you—that he wouldn’t leave you alone with D’ol Genaa.”

  “Yes,” Teera said. “I remember. And I thank you for your comfort.” Her hands twisted tightly in her lap, and she looked around restlessly.

  “Would you like to play a game?” Pomma asked. “It is more than an hour yet until the time Raamo said they would be here.”

  “I think I would like to embroider,” Teera said. “It is still so difficult for me that when I try, it swallows all my thinking and keeps my mind from other things.”

  So the embroidery frames were brought out, and Teera and Pomma absorbed themselves in the intricate and beautiful stitchery that was used by the Kindar not only to express their love of beauty and color, but also to record the written word. They were briefly interrupted by Valdo as he entered to hurriedly sing the parting, and a short time later by Hearba and her helper, Ciela, as they left on their way to the public pantries.

  It was some time later that the silence of the nid-place was suddenly broken by the sound of footsteps. Pomma lifted her head from her work and stared at Teera. Teera’s wide brown eyes were full of fright. The steps that were approaching were firm and swift and quite unlike the quick soft tread of Hearba’s feet, or the more measured footfall of Valdo. Then the door hangings of Pomma’s chamber were pushed aside, and D’ol Genaa entered—alone.

  There was a long painful silence. A silence that throbbed with fear and tension. It was Pomma who spoke first. “Where—where is Raamo—D’ol Raamo and D’ol Neric?”

  “They will be here shortly,” D’ol Genaa said. “I had fewer duties this morning so I was able to leave the Temple a little early.” As she spoke D’ol Genaa smiled, a perfect gleaming smile that illuminated her dark beauty with a light that dazzled, but left behind it no warmth or comfort.

  “I would like to speak to Teera alone for a few moments,” D’ol Genaa said. “Would you wait for us in the common room, Pomma?”

  Pomma felt Teera’s hand on her arm, and she did not need to turn to see the silent plea that she knew would be in Teera’s eyes. “If you please, D’ol Genaa,” she faltered, “I would rather—I think Teera would rather—Teera could answer much better if I stayed with her.”

  The dark eyes turned swiftly, and Pomma felt herself flinch before them. And when the Ol-zhaan took her gently but firmly by the arm, she allowed herself to be led from the chamber.

  In the empty common room, Pomma stood for a moment, bewildered—unsure just how or why she had let herself be taken away from Teera. Then she ran to the entry way and looked out. Frantically she looked up and down the wide branchpath, desperately hoping for the arrival of Raamo and D’ol Neric. But although there were several people on the path, they were all dressed in the brightly colored shubas of the Kindar, and even in the far distance, Pomma could catch no glimpse of the shimmering white worn by the Ol-zhaan. A group of chattering children passed slowly, off on some free-day expedition, perhaps into the open forest to search for trencher beaks, but there was still no sign of Raamo and D’ol Neric. At last she whirled and ran headlong across the common room and halfway down the hallway, before she came to a sudden stop.

  Only a few feet from the door to her chamber, she stood, poised on tiptoe, swaying forward as she urged herself to go on through the doorway, and then backward as she pictured the dark command in the eyes of D’ol Genaa. At last, she only crept forward until she was standing just outside the doorway, still concealed from view by the heavy tapestries that draped the entrance.

  A voice was speaking, too softly for Pomma to make out the words, but it gasped and trembled and at times became choked with sobs. Then another voice spoke, soft but urgent. A pause—and a gasp, sharp and shocking—and a babble of wild frantic exclamations.

  Tormented by indecision, Pomma put her hands over her ears to shut out the sound and spoke sternly to herself. “Go in,” she said. “Go in to Teera. She needs you.” But her Kindar training, ingrained, almost inborn, of respect and obedience to the Ol-zhaan was too great, and Pomma was still standing in the hallway when, a few minutes later, D’ol Genaa emerged from the nid-chamber leading Teera by the hand.

  Teera’s face was wet with tears, but she smiled brightly, and it seemed to Pomma that she was receiving from Teera a wildly confusing jumble of thoughts and emotions. Uncertainly Pomma trotted after D’ol Genaa and Teera as they made their way across the common room.

  “Where are you going, D’ol Genaa?” she pleaded. “Where are you taking Teera?”

  At the doorway D’ol Genaa finally stopped and, turning to Pomma she said, “You must stay here, and when the others come tell them that we have gone on ahead. Tell them that Teera and I have gone on ahead to the forest floor.”

  The heavy tapestries of the outer doorway fell behind them, and they disappeared from view before Pomma had time to wonder about a very strange thing that she was almost certain she had seen. Not only Teera’s eyes, but the dark eyes of D’ol Genaa, had been wet with tears.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DARKNESS WAS SPREADING AND the first fine fall of the night rains had begun before Teera returned to the D’ok nid-place. She had been gone for only a day, but for Pomma it had been the longest and most miserable day of her whole life. Her fear for Teera, mixed with her shame that she had done so little to help her, had grown more intense as each minute crept by.

  It had been, perhaps, no more than half an hour after Teera and D’ol Genaa had gone that Raamo and D’ol Neric arrived. They appeared suddenly, obviously breathless and troubled, and they seemed even more worried when Pomma told them what had happened and how D’ol Genaa, too, had been crying when she and Teera left. The two Ol-zhaan left hastily, and Pomma was alone with her fears and worries.

  Not long afterwards Hearba returned with Ciela, and Pomma had to hide her fears and pretend only disappointment that the Ol-zhaan guests had come early and had taken Teera away with them—to be questioned at the Temple. And if Hearba saw her daughter’s wet lashes and sensed her despair, she undoubtedly thought only that Pomma grieved over her separation from her friend. Pomma wished fervently that she could tell her mother all that had happened. It would have been comforting to share her fears and to receive Hearba’s sympathy and reassurance. But it was impossible. There was so much that Hearba did not know and could not be told—about Teera, and the Pash-shan, and the terrible mystery of D’ol Genaa.

  As the hours passed, Pomma walked anxiously to and fro in her nid-chamber, hurrying out onto the balcony from time to time to watch and listen. Several times she thought of asking her mother for a handful of Berries, but although the thought was sweet and tempting, she did not act upon it. It seemed wrong, somehow, that she should comfort herself with cloudy dreams while Teera was, perhaps, in great danger.

  At last, as the soft green forest light slanted into twilight, Raamo returned, and with him came D’ol Genaa, D’ol Neric—and Teera—and quite suddenly everything was changed beyond imagining.

  The moment they entered the common room, Teera and the three young Ol-zhaan, the change was apparent. Even the air around them seemed to be charged with high emotion; and all of them, and most particularly D’ol Genaa, seemed transformed. D’ol Genaa’s dark eyes were drowned and dim, and her mouth was blurred by wavering smiles, and yet her beauty had never been so astonishing. She looked, Pomma thought, like someone lost in a joyful dream. And as for Teera—Pomma could pense her happiness with no effort at all.

  The hour was late, and there was little time. Songs of greeting and parting were intermingled as the three Ol-zhaan hurriedly departed, leaving Teera behind them. Although Hearba and Valdo had been told that Teera had been taken to the Temple for questioning, Pomma could tell that they, too, were aware of something extraordinary, and were plainly very curious. When Pomma tried to hurry Teera away to their nid-chamber in order to question her, Hearba followed them. She busied herself about the room, lowering the night hangings across the latticed windows and fluffing the comforters on the nids. At last, turning to Teera she asked, “Did you enjoy your visit to the Temple, Teera?”

  “I—I was told not to speak of—of the things I did today,” Teera faltered.

  Hearba laughed and lifted her hands, palms downward, in the Kindar gesture that asked for pardon. “Of course,” she said. “And wise counsel, too, I am sure. The Ol-zhaan will know when it is time for you to speak freely. In the meantime, I beg pardon for having questioned you. But I will ask one more question. Have you eaten lately, or would you like a few morsels?”

  Teera smiled delightedly. “I am very hungry, Hearba. I thank you greatly for your question.”

  So Hearba hurried away to the pantry, and at last Pomma was free to speak. “What happened? What happened?” she cried. “I was so frightened. I was so sorry I had not helped you more.”

  Teera threw her arms around Pomma. “Don’t be troubled.” She laughed. “There is no need. I could tell you why quickly, all at once, but I think I will tell you in the way it happened. Like a story.”

  Seated cross-legged, facing each other with palms joined, in the position of Five-Pense, Teera began her story, and the telling was not only by words, but also by images and shared emotions. “When D’ol Genaa began to question me,” she said, “I was terribly frightened. It seemed to me that her anger was blazing out like flames from an open furnace. I felt that she would become so angry she would kill me if I didn’t speak, but I was so frightened that I could say nothing at all. But then, when she saw that I could not speak, she began to plead with me, and to tell me why she had to know about the Pash-shan. She began to speak of her father, who had been killed by the Pash-shan, and what a great man he had been and how much she had loved him. And then she said his name was Hiro D’anhk. And I said I knew a Verban in Erda whose name was Hiro D’anhk.”

  Teera paused, waiting for Pomma to realize the great significance of what she had just said. Then she went on. “D’ol Genaa didn’t know what a Verban was, so I had to tell her all about them and how they are banished to Erda by the Ol-zhaan. But then D’ol Genaa said, ‘But how? How can grown men and women pass through the Root?’ and I told her that no one knows for sure, but most people think that the Ol-zhaan make the Root shrink away long enough for the Verban to be put through into Erda. And then she asked me all about Hiro D’anhk, and I told her what he looked like and how he was a very learned and honored man who taught in the highest classes at the Academy. And then we were both crying. And D’ol Genaa asked me if I would go with her to the forest floor to look for a way to get a message to her father. So I said I would, and I was so excited and happy to find out that it was not really Erdlings that D’ol Genaa hated, but only whoever had stolen her father, that I did not even remember that I would have to climb down the Vine again. I was afraid at first, on the Vine, but I remembered the imaging of gliding and the fear went away.

  “When we got to the forest floor, we looked and looked for a tunnel opening; and when we finally found one, we began to call for someone to come to help us. But the first ones to come were D’ol Raamo and D’ol Neric, who had come looking for us and heard us calling. While we were explaining to them about D’ol Genaa’s father being a Verban, Tocar came up the tunnel, and D’ol Genaa saw him.”

  “Tocar?” Pomma asked. “Who is Tocar?”

  “Tocar is an Erdling who knows my father and who has been to our cavern, and he knew me, and he said that my parents had been—” Teera paused briefly and the happiness was gone from her face as she continued. “He said that they had looked for me for a long time and that they had set the time for a Ceremony of Weeping. But then”—Teera’s smile returned—“Tocar went away to get D’ol Genaa’s father and to take a message to my parents to tell them I was still alive. We waited for a long time until finally Tocar came back with D’ol Genaa’s father. They talked for a long time, and everyone was very happy. They decided that no one in Erda should be told yet about me, except for my parents, or about any of the things that they were planning. So Tocar promised he would say nothing—and then we came back here.”

  Pomma shook her head as if to set to rights the muddle that Teera’s amazing story had made of her understanding. “But isn’t D’ol Genaa unjoyful at the Erdlings anymore?” she asked at last. “Even if her father isn’t dead as she thought, he is below the Root. Doesn’t she think the Erdlings stole him?”

  “No,” Teera said. “She knows the Erdlings are not to blame because her father told her so. And I told her that no Erdlings know of a place where a grown man can pass through the Root, because if they did, all of Erda would be free. It is only the Ol-zhaan that can make the Root grow and shrink away. But D’ol Raamo and D’ol Neric say it is not all the Ol-zhaan, only the Geets-kel, who put the Verban below the Root; the Geets-kel are the only ones who know how it is done.”

  “But what are they going to do about D’ol Genaa’s father? How are they going to get him back to Green-sky?”

  “I don’t know, but I think they have a plan about how to do it, and how to get me back to my parents. They talked for a long time through the opening of the tunnel with Hiro D’anhk; but they sent me away to the other side of the clearing so I didn’t hear much of what they were saying. I heard them say they were going to try to set all the Erdlings free from below the Root, but they are afraid of the Geets-kel. They made plans about what to do about the Geets-kel; that’s what I couldn’t hear. I could only pense that the plans troubled D’ol Raamo. D’ol Raamo was very troubled about what they were planning to do.”