Teera’s face puckered with concern as she spoke, but Pomma smiled confidently. “Raamo will know how to make everything come out all right,” she said. “I know he will.”

  At that moment Hearba returned with a tray laden with fruits and nuts and pan-bread, and taking comfort in Pomma’s words, and in the sight of the heaping dishes, Teera’s joyful mood quickly returned. Soon afterwards, as the rain intensified and the moon moths’ glow faded in their honey-baited cages, Pomma and Teera slept soundly in the soft springy comfort of their nids, and awoke the next morning in unusually high spirits.

  After the long hours of fright and uncertainty of the previous day, there was great relief in returning to the secure comfort of a daily routine, a joyous relief that Teera, at least, found almost impossible to contain. Pushing, pulling and tickling, in what almost amounted to the rough and tumble romping of Erdling children, Teera made Pomma shriek and laugh with excitement. Watching the wildly romping children, Hearba and Valdo experienced delight in their daughter’s renewed strength and vigor, as well as some parental concern—since they were well aware that it was their duty to discourage any form of play that might lead to harmful aggression. But the rough play continued to be good-natured, and the morning food-taking came and went amid pranks and jokes and fits of giggling, before the adults of the household went about their accustomed duties.

  It was near the hour of high sun, and Pomma and Teera were seated on the floor of the common room playing with their pets, Haba, and the sima, Baya, when, very suddenly, there was the sound of strange voices in the entryway. A moment later three men strode into the chamber. Pomma recognized one of them as the Ol-zhaan D’ol Regle, but the others were Kindar and strangers.

  Too startled and surprised to respond with proper courtesy, Pomma remained seated as the men approached, silently and purposefully. The Ol-zhaan gestured, and one of the men lifted Teera from the floor; and her fear was like a silent scream in Pomma’s mind as she, too, was seized and carried from the room.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ON THE NIGHT BEFORE, while Teera and Pomma had slept peacefully in their silk-lined nids, there were others in Green-sky who slept little or not at all. All over the city of Orbora, from the grand and luxurious nid-places on the lower branchways, to the smallest and simplest dwellings high up in the upper grand heights, the Kindar slept in placid reliance on the holiness and wisdom of the Ol-zhaan. And in the Temple Grove most of the Ol-zhaan slept too, secure in the tradition that set them apart behind barriers of honor and power. But in one of the most palatial dwellings of the grove, in a nid-place reached by a long covered rampway that led directly up from the central platform of the Temple grounds, the honey lamps shone long into the night. There, seated on a thronelike chair of ornately inlaid pan-wood, an elderly Ol-zhaan of stately build had remained awake and alert through most of the long hours of darkness. And when he at last arose, sighing heavily, he did not make his way to his nid-chamber, but instead only crossed the reception hall to a large padded settee. There, after carefully arranging a number of beautifully embroidered pillows, he stretched out his bulky frame in a manner that could hardly have provided great comfort to a person of such ample proportions.

  The rains waned and the soft brightness of the seven moons shone briefly through the latticed windows of the palace, and then newly formed clouds again brought rain and darkness. Lying stiffly on the hard settee, D’ol Regle had stared as unseeingly in moonlight as in darkness, while he waited for the return of his messenger, and for the dawn of a day that would bring deeds unprecedented in the history of Green-sky. And while he waited, he laid his plans and thought back over the events that had made them not only necessary but inevitable.

  Although he was no foreteller, D’ol Regle could almost have foretold, simply through his longstanding interest in history with its logical progression of causes and effects, that a disaster was in the offing. And he had certainly tried to warn everyone involved. Not only at the meetings of the Geets-kel, but also in the Council of Elders, and before the assemblies of all the Ol-zhaan of Orbora, he had spoken out against the choosing of the boy Raamo D’ok. He had even gone privately to the palace of the high priest of the Vine and tried to reason with D’ol Falla, herself. It was she who had insisted on bringing into the ranks of the Ol-zhaan, the strange child with his abnormally prolonged skills of the Spirit. But, as always, D’ol Falla had made light of him, and of his well-founded concern.

  Actually, of course, it had all begun with D’ol Falla. And not just with her strange demand that the D’ok child should be a Chosen. It had begun perhaps, long before, when D’ol Falla, herself, had been chosen to join the Ol-zhaan.

  Of course he had not known her then, since he was a few years younger than she, and was not yet an Ol-zhaan, but he had heard many stories of her early days in the Temple. Already, while she still lived among them, her fellow Ol-zhaan had made a legend of the tiny woman who, as high priest of the Vine, had for so long exerted so much influence throughout Green-sky. Stories were told of the early days of her novitiate when, so small and delicate that she appeared to be but a child, she astounded her fellow Ol-zhaan with her brilliance and her many skills and talents.

  But to some it had always been apparent that, along with her undeniable accomplishments, she had also used her charm and beauty to gain quick and easy admittance into every stronghold of honor and power. In the old records of the Geets-kel it was recorded that D’ol Falla had been asked to join that most select group before she had reached the age of twenty years. D’ol Regle, himself, had been asked to join at an unusually early age since the rule had been to limit membership to those who had proven themselves true Ol-zhaan over a period of many years. But, still, he had been past thirty when he was initiated into the secrets of the Geets-kel.

  There had been, of course, a reason why D’ol Falla had been accepted at such an early age. Even in those days, now so many years past, the Council of Elders had begun to fear that the waning of the Spirit-skills among the Ol-zhaan would threaten the Spirit-evoked qualities of the Wissenvine. Not that there had been, at that time, any noticeable withering or deterioration of the Root. But since all the supernatural qualities of the Vine—the strange intangible beauty of the Blossom, the soothing comfort of the Berry, and the invincible strength of the Root—had been called forth by the Spirit-force of the great D’ol Wissen, there was concern that a lack of the Spirit-skill of grunspreking might, in time, allow those qualities to disappear. Even then, most of the recent novitiates had demonstrated no ability at all in grunspreking, or in any other of the Spirit-skills. Thus, when the brilliant new novice, D’ol Falla, was able to show that she still retained some degree of Spirit-power, the Council was eager to have her become not only one of the Vine-priests but the First among them.

  If there had not been pressure to make D’ol Falla the high priest, she might not have become a Geets-kel at such an early age. There were priests of the Vine who were not Geets-kel, but they, of course, never accompanied those special processions that carried the drugged body of a banished Kindar to the opening in the Root. But since tradition demanded that the high priest accompany every procession to the forest floor, it had been essential, since the time of D’ol Wissen and the spreading of the Root, that the high priest of the Vine be also a member of the secret organization of the Geets-kel. So it was that when the Council—which in those days was not so completely controlled by members of the Geets-kel—elected the youthful D’ol Falla to the position of high priest of the Vine, it was also necessary that she be quickly initiated into the society whose duty it was to carry the burden of secret knowledge concerning the true nature of the Pash-shan.

  The honor and power of the high priest of the Vine was a matter of ancient and holy tradition dating back to the first high priest, D’ol Wissen himself, the greatest and most powerful Ol-zhaan who had ever lived. There were, of course, some who might argue that D’ol Nesh-om, the early teacher and Spirit-leader, was of as great importance. And it was true that D’ol Nesh-om, as the guide and teacher of the first generations of Kindar, had been a great force and influence in the early days of the planet. But as all Geets-kel knew, it had been D’ol Wissen who had prevailed in the great controversy concerning the protection of the innocence of the Kindar. And it was D’ol Wissen who, after the death of D’ol Nesh-om, evoked the protection of the holy Root and thereby made possible the continued peaceful security of all Green-sky under the protection of the Ol-zhaan.

  D’ol Regle sighed, rearranging his cramped limbs with difficulty. It was ironic, he thought, that he, who had dedicated his life to the memory of the great Vine-priest, might never achieve his secret ambition to follow in the footsteps of his idol. He had never doubted that he had good reason for his high ambition. Had he not been the most avid promoter of celebrations and Free Days honoring the memory of the holy D’ol Wissen? And would it not be only just for him, D’ol Regle, the acknowledged authority on ancient history, to dwell in the ancient palace of the Vine-priest, with its access to the chamber of the Forgotten where lay all the ancient records and documents. And had he not felt, always, that it was somehow his true destiny to lead the holy processions. It seemed unfair, indeed, that he had been kept from that high honor by the existence of one individual. An individual of delicate and fragile stature, who seemed, however, to be endowed with amazingly tenacious good health and vigor.

  But now it seemed that D’ol Falla’s strange influence over her fellow Ol-zhaan had, at last, brought them, and all Green-sky, to the edge of disaster. She had had her way in the matter of the choosing of Raamo D’ok, in spite of the fact that she knew well the danger involved in bringing into their midst a novice who, through his abnormal skill in pensing, could easily discover secrets for which he was as yet unprepared. The results could be complete disaster; and might certainly be so, were it not for the good offices of the zealous and dutiful novice, D’ol Salaat.

  Only a few hours before, soon after the first fall of rain, D’ol Salaat had come to him, breathless and in haste, and had told him an incredible story. A story of treachery and intrigue that involved not only D’ol Raamo, but two other youthful Ol-zhaan.

  D’ol Salaat, it seemed, had grown suspicious of the strange behavior of two of his fellow novices, and had begun to follow them, secretly and from a safe distance. Thus engaged, he had, only the day before, followed them all the way to the forest floor. He had been well aware, of course, of the risks involved; but feeling, as he did, that his own future was of less importance than the need to expose such evil behavior, he had persevered. And once on the forest floor he had, from a distance, observed what must have been a meeting between three Ol-zhaan and the Pash-shan.

  D’ol Salaat had identified the three Ol-zhaan whom he had followed as the two first-year novices, D’ol Raamo and D’ol Genaa, along with another youthful Ol-zhaan, D’ol Neric, who had completed his novitiate less than two years before. With them had been a small female child, whom they had left at the nid-place of Raamo’s family before they returned to the Temple Grove. D’ol Salaat had been able to observe the child at fairly close range, and he felt certain she was not the younger sister of D’ol Raamo, although she was apparently of about the same age. Who she was, and why the three rebels had taken her with them to the forest floor, was a mystery to D’ol Salaat, as it certainly was to D’ol Regle himself.

  It had been immediately apparent that action would have to be taken. At the very least, such shocking disregard of the taboo against all things below would have to be corrected. But there was, of course, a much greater issue involved. It seemed certain that the three renegades, as well as their mysterious girl child, were now in possession of dangerous knowledge—knowledge concerning the true nature of the Pash-shan, forbidden to all except the members of the Geets-kel.

  After confirming by skillful questioning that D’ol Salaat had not himself seen the Pash-shan and harbored no dangerous suspicions, D’ol Regle had entrusted him with a new assignment. He had been sent back to the novice hall with instructions to keep watch and to again follow D’ol Raamo and D’ol Genaa when they next left their chambers.

  So, as the long night wore on, D’ol Regle waited for the return of his lookout, and pondered the significance of what he had learned as well as what must be done about it. And in his pondering there was one fact to which he returned again and again, one bit of information which, although it was not yet conclusive, intrigued him more and more as the night wore on.

  According to the novice D’ol Salaat, D’ol Regle had not been the only person to whom he had gone with his shocking story. He had taken his report first to the highest authority, as was right and natural. He had gone immediately to the palace of the Vine-priest and spoken to the ancient D’ol Falla, telling her in full detail everything that he had later told D’ol Regle.

  “And what was her response?” D’ol Regle had questioned the novice.

  “She told me to go home to my nid and get some rest, and that she would consider what was to be done.”

  “Did she tell you to come to me with your story?”

  “No, it was afterwards on my way to the novice hall that it occurred to me that it might be well for me to speak to you also, D’ol Regle. I’m not sure why, except that it seemed to me that you had as much right to be informed of so serious a matter as has the Vine-priest. There are many among the Ol-zhaan who feel that the wisdom and judgment of the novice-master, D’ol Regle, is unsurpassed in all Green-sky.”

  And so the excellent and perceptive young novice, D’ol Salaat, had been dispatched back to the novice hall where he could keep watch over the two younger offenders, and D’ol Regle prepared himself for a long night of careful planning. But as he planned, his thoughts returned repeatedly to the question of D’ol Falla—and what, if anything, she would do with the information that had been given to her. Surely she would not hesitate to move against so flagrant an offense because it involved her protégé, D’ol Raamo. And if she did hesitate, if she in fact neglected to do that which was only right and necessary under the circumstances—what would be the outcome? Would not the Ol-zhaan see, at last, that it was time to choose a new Vine-priest, one who was quick in judgment and decisive action, when such action was necessary to protect the well-being of all Green-sky.

  The seventh hour came and, arising from his uncomfortable resting place, D’ol Regle prepared himself for the day’s demands. He had, he thought, considered every possibility and had formulated plans to deal with any eventuality, no matter how catastrophic. But even in his wildest imaginings he had not begun to foresee the terrible choices that would be forced upon him by the day’s events.

  The eighth hour had not yet run its course when D’ol Salaat returned, his round face pale and quivering and his eyes so glazed with emotion that they resembled the embroidered eyes of faces in a tapestry. For several minutes he seemed unable to speak, either from breathlessness due to the excessive haste with which he had come, or to the difficulty of putting into words, events so outside the realm of reason and reality. When he had, at last, gained control of his voice, he began to unfold an incredible story.

  Having left D’ol Regle, the night before, D’ol Salaat had returned to the novice hall where he had stationed himself in the common room where he could observe the doorways that led to the nid-chambers of both D’ol Raamo and D’ol Genaa. There he had waited, wakeful, but perhaps dozing occasionally until shortly before the seventh hour. At that time he had observed D’ol Genaa emerge from her nid-chamber and enter that of D’ol Raamo. After only a moment she reappeared, seemingly agitated and hurriedly left the novice hall heading in the direction of the central platform of the grove. Following at a safe distance, D’ol Salaat had observed her meeting on the platform with D’ol Neric. For some minutes the two of them remained on the platform, talking in low voices and glancing around them, as if expecting the arrival of someone else, probably their accomplice, D’ol Raamo. But no one else appeared and finally they had approached the entrance of the Vine-priest’s palace, where the tendril lattice had already been removed from the entry. In spite of the earliness of the hour, the glow of lighted lamps was visible from within. They entered the palace and, hurrying after them, D’ol Salaat had entered also. Staying just far enough behind to be sure he was not seen, he followed them as they moved forward, slowly, as if unsure of their destination. Most of the huge palace was still in darkness, but a few glowing honey lamps seemed to have been hung to illuminate a pathway that led upward through halls and up rampways. At last, having reached a very narrow hallway with a secret entrance, which had been left open, his quarry began to move very slowly and quietly, and the sound of voices could be heard coming from just ahead. They stopped then, and for a long time stood still, apparently listening to what was being said in the room beyond.

  Although he edged as close as he dared, D’ol Salaat was unable to hear the words of the speakers, but he was certain that one of the voices was that of D’ol Falla, while the other was probably that of D’ol Raamo. After many minutes the two who had been standing silently in the doorway entered the room and began to take part in the conversation of the first two speakers. At that point, D’ol Salaat dared to come closer and, approaching to just outside the doorway, which seemed to lead into a chamber hollowed out of an enormous grundtrunk, he was able to hear most of what was being said.

  He had not been able to hear everything, and some of the words used were without meaning to him, but it was apparent that the four were making plans, to do something very strange and mysterious. They spoke, D’ol Salaat said, of “releasing the Erdlings” and of the “dream of D’ol Nesh-om.”