Seed to Harvest: Wild Seed, Mind of My Mind, Clay's Ark, and Patternmaster (Patternist) (63 page)

“You could take strength from me,” he said. “It might ease your—”

“No!” I rested my head against his chest. “No, no, no. You think I haven’t thought of that?”

“But you wouldn’t have to take much. You could—”

“I said no, Karl. It’s like you said last night. I’m going to have to fight him. I’ll take from you then, and from the others. But not until then. I’m not the vampire he is. I give in return for my taking.” I pulled away from him, looked at him. “God, I’ve got ethics all of a sudden.”

“You’ve had them for some time, now, whether you were willing to admit to them or not.”

I smiled. “I remember Doro wondering before my transition whether I would ever develop a conscience.”

Karl made a sound of disgust. “I just wish Doro had developed one. Are you going out?”

“Yes. To see August.”

He didn’t say anything to that, and I wondered whether he realized this might be my last visit to our son. I finished dressing and left.

I saw August and spent some time strengthening Evelyn’s programming seeing to it that she would go on being a good mother to him even if Karl and I weren’t around. And I planted some instructions that she wouldn’t need or remember until August showed signs of approaching transition. I didn’t want her panicking then, and taking him to a doctor or a hospital. Maybe I needn’t have worried. Maybe Doro would see that he was taken care of. And maybe not.

I went home and managed to get through a fairly ordinary day. I passed a man and a woman to become heads of houses. They had been Patternists for over a year, and I read just about everything they had done during that year. Karl and I checked all prospective heads of houses. Back when we hadn’t checked them, we’d gotten some bad ones. Some who had been too warped by their latent years to turn human again. We still got that kind, but they didn’t become heads of houses anymore. If we couldn’t straighten them out, or heal them—if healing was what they needed—we killed them. We had no prison, needed none. A rogue Patternist was too dangerous to be left alive.

That was probably the way Doro felt about me. It went with what he had told Karl. “I can’t afford her unless she can obey me.” We were too much alike, Doro and I. What ever gave him the idea that someone bred to be so similar to him would consent—could consent—to being controlled by him all her life?

I passed my two new heads of houses, but I told them not to do anything toward beginning their houses for a week. They didn’t like that much, but they were so happy to be passed that they didn’t argue. They were bright and capable. If, by some miracle, the Pattern still existed in a week, they would be a credit to it in their new positions.

I went with Jesse to see the houses he was opening up in Santa Elena. He asked me to go. I didn’t have to see them. I only checked on the family now and then. And when I did, I could never find much to complain about. They cared about what we were building. They always did a good job.

In the car Jesse said, “Listen, you know we’re all with you, don’t you?”

I looked at him, not really surprised. Karl had told him. No one else could have.

“I just wish we could take him on for you,” said Jesse.

“Thanks, Jess.”

He glanced at me, then shook his head. “You don’t look any more nervous over facing him than you did over facing me a couple of years ago.”

I shrugged. “I don’t think I can afford to broadcast my feelings.”

“With all of us behind you, I think you can beat him.”

“I intend to.”

Big talk. I wondered why I bothered.

There were a few other routine duties. I welcomed them, because they kept my mind off how bad I felt. That night, I didn’t feel like eating. I went to my room while everyone else was at dinner. Let them eat. It might be their last meal.

Karl came up about two hours later and found me looking out my window at nothing, waiting for him.

“I’ve got to talk to you,” he said—just before I could say it to him.

“Okay.” I sat down in the chair by the window. He sprawled on my bed.

“We had a meeting today—just the family. I told them what kind of trouble you were in, told them that you were going to fight. And I told them they could run if they wanted to.”

“They won’t run.”

“I know that. I just wanted them to put it into words. I wanted them to hear themselves say it and know that they were committed.”

“Everybody’s committed. Every Patternist in the section. And all those who don’t know it are about to find out.”

He sat up straight. “What are you going to do?”

“First I’m going to clear the section.”

“Clear it? Send everybody away?”

“Yes. Including the family, if they’ll go. They won’t be deserting me. I can use them just as effectively if they’re a couple of states away.”

“They won’t go.”

I shrugged. “I hope they don’t wind up regretting that.”

“I assume you’re going after Doro in the morning.”

“After everybody has had time to get out, yes. I want them to spread out, scatter as widely as possible, just in case.”

“I know. I just hope Doro gives them time to go. If he notices that people are leaving—if he thinks of someone and that tracking sense of his tells him that that person is headed for Oregon, he’s going to start checking around. He’ll think you’re sending out searchers again. Then, when he realizes everybody’s going he’ll get the idea pretty quickly.”

“We could see that he’s distracted for the night.”

He looked at me. I didn’t say anything. Obviously this was no night to distract Doro with a Patternist. Karl gazed down at his hands for a moment, then looked up. “All right; it’s done. Vivian will distract him. And she’ll think it’s her own idea.”

We waited, our perception focused on Doro’s room. Vivian knocked at his door, then went in. Her mind gave us Doro’s words, and we knew we were safe. He was glad to see her. They hadn’t been together for a long time.

“Now,” said Karl.

“Now,” I agreed. I went to the bed and lay down. It was best for me to be completely relaxed when I used the Pattern this way. I closed my eyes and brought it into focus. Now I was aware of the contented hum of my people. They were ending their day, resting or preparing to rest, and unconsciously giving each other calm.

I jerked the Pattern sharply, shattering their calm. It didn’t hurt them, or me, but it startled them to attention. I felt Karl jump beside me, and he had been expecting it.

I could feel their attention on me as though I had walked onto the stage of a crowded auditorium. It was as easy to reach all 1,538 of them as it had been to reach just the family two years before. And there was no need for me to identify myself. Nobody else could have reached them through the Pattern as I did.

The Pattern is in danger,
I sent bluntly.
It may be destroyed.

I could feel their alarm at that. In the two short years of its existence the Pattern had given these people a new way of life. A way of life that they valued.

The Pattern may be destroyed,
I repeated.
If it is, and if you’re together when it happens, you will be in danger.
I gave them a short history lesson. A lesson they had already been exposed to once in orientation classes or through learning blocks. That, before the Pattern, active telepaths had not been able to survive together in groups. That they could not tolerate each other, could not accept the mental blending that occurred automatically without the control of the Pattern.

It might not be true any longer,
I told them.
But it has been true for thousands of years. For safety’s sake, we have to assume that it’s still true. So you are all to get up tonight, now, and leave the section. Separate. Scatter.

Their dismay was almost a physical force—that many people frightened, agreeing with each other and disagreeing with me. I put force of my own into my next thought, amplified it to a mental shout.

Be still!

A
lot of them winced as though I had hit them.

I’m sending you away to save your lives, and you will go.

Some of them were upset enough to try to shut me out. But of course they couldn’t. Not as long as I spoke through the Pattern.

You are all powerful people,
I sent.
You will have no trouble making your ways alone. And if the Pattern survives, you know that I’ll call you all back. I want you here as much as you want to be here. We’re one people. But now, for your own sake, you must go. Leave tonight so that I can be sure you’re safe.

I let them feel the emotion I felt. Now was the time. I wanted them to see how important their safety was to me. I wanted them to know that I meant every word I gave them. But the words that I didn’t give them were the ones they were concerned with. Most of the questions they threw at me were drowned in the confusion of their mental voices. I could have sorted them out and made sense of them, but I didn’t bother. The one that I didn’t have to sort out, though, was the one that was on everyone’s mind.
What is the danger?
I couldn’t miss reading it, but I could ignore it. My people knew Doro from classes and blocks. Most of them had had no personal contact with him at all. They were capable of shrugging off what they had learned—all their theoretical knowledge—and going after him for me. And getting themselves slaughtered. What they didn’t know, in this case, could save them from committing suicide. I addressed them again.

You who are heads of houses
—
you know your responsibilities to your families. See that all the members of your families get out, and get out tonight. Help them get out. Take care of them.

There. I broke contact. Now the strongest people in the section, the most responsible people, had been charged with seeing that my commands were obeyed. I had faith in my heads of houses.

I opened my eyes—and knew at once that something was wrong. I turned my head and saw Karl standing beside the bed, his back to me, his body tense. Beyond him, at the door, stood Doro. It was Doro’s expression that made me instantly re-establish contact with my Patternists. I jerked the Pattern again to get their attention. I felt their confusion, their fear. Then their surprise as they felt me with them again. I gave them my thoughts very clearly, but quickly.

Everybody, stop what you’re doing. Be still.

They could see what I saw. My eyes were open now, and my mind was open to them. They could see Doro watching me past Karl. They could know that Doro was the danger. It was too late for them to make suicidal mistakes.

You won’t have time to leave. You’ll have to help me fight. Obey me, and we can kill him.

That thought cut through their confusion, as I had hoped it would. Here was a way to destroy what threatened them. Here was Doro, whom they had been warned against, but whom most of them did not really fear.

Sit down, or lie down. Wait. Do nothing. I’m going to need you.

Doro started toward Karl. I sat up, scrambled over close to Karl, and laid a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at me.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s as okay as it’s ever going to be. Get out of here.”

He relaxed a little, but, instead of going, he sat down on the end of the bed. I didn’t have time to argue with him. I began absorbing strength from my people. Not Karl. He would have collapsed and given me away. But the others. I had to collect from as many of them as I could before Doro attacked. Because I had no doubt that he was going to attack.

Doro stood still, gazing at the girl, wondering why he waited. “You have time to try again to get rid of Karl if you like,” he said.

“Karl’s made his decision.” There was no fear in her voice. That pleased Doro somehow.

“Apparently you’ve made yours, too.”

“There was no decision for me to make. I have to do what I was born to do.”

Doro shrugged.

“What did you do with Vivian?”

“Nothing at all after I thought about it,” he said. “Faithful little pet that she is now, Vivian hasn’t looked at me for well over a year. Karl’s women get like that when he stops trying to preserve their individuality—when he takes them over completely.” He smiled. “Karl’s mute women, I mean. So, when Vivian, who no longer had initiative enough to go looking for lovers other than Karl, suddenly came to me, I realized that she had almost certainly been sent. Why was she sent?”

“Does it matter?”

Doro gave her a sad smile. “No. Not really.” In his shadowy way, Doro was aware of a great deal of psionic activity going on around her. He felt himself drawn to her as he had been two years before, when she took Jesse and Rachel. Now, he guessed, she would be taking a great many of her people. As many as he gave her time to take. She remained still as Doro sat down beside her. She looked at Karl, who sat on her other side.

“Move away from us,” she said quietly.

Without a word, Karl got up and went to sit in the chair by the window. The instant he reached the chair he collapsed, seemed to pass out. Mary had finally taken him. An instant later, Doro took her.

At once, Doro was housed with her in her body. But she was no quick, easy kill. She would take a few moments.

She was power, strength concentrated as Doro had never felt it before—the strength of dozens, perhaps hundreds of Patternists. For a moment Doro was intoxicated with it. It filled him, blotted out all thought. The fiery threads of her Pattern surrounded him. And before him … before him was a slightly smaller replica of himself as he had perceived himself through the fading senses of his thousands of victims over the years. Before him, where all the threads of fire met in a wild tangle of brilliance, was a small sun.

Mary.

She was like a living creature of fire. Not human. No more human than he was. He had lied to her about that once—lied to calm her—when she was a child. And her major weakness, her vulnerable, irreplaceable human body, had made the lie seem true. But that body, like his own series of bodies, was only a mask, a shell. He saw her now as she really was, and she might have been his twin.

But, no, she was not his twin. She was a smaller, much younger being. A complete version of him. A mistake that he would not make again. But, ironically, her very completeness would help to destroy her. She was a symbiont, a being living in partnership with her people. She gave them unity, they fed her, and both thrived. She was not a parasite, though he had encouraged her to think of herself as one. And though she had great power, she was not naturally, instinctively, a killer. He was.