The Ear, the Eye and the Arm (2 page)

"I'll send the butler after him," sighed Mother.

"If he were one of my soldiers, I'd order him to do fifty push-ups," Father said. "No, a hundred."

The sprinklers in the garden switched on; the odor of wet dust drifted through the window. It made Tendai think of the storms that blew out of the Indian Ocean. He thought of the faces of his ancestors turned toward the sky. They smiled as the rain opened the earth. They sang praises to
Mwari
whose voice is thunder, and to
mhondoro,
the spirit of the land —

"Wake up," whispered Rita, kicking him under the table.

Tendai straightened just as Father looked at his end of the table.

"It
can't
be seven-thirty," came the Mellower's voice from down the hall. "I'm sure I set the alarm. Oh, dear, I'm such a bad boy." He hurried through the door and brushed a mop of blond hair from his pale forehead.

"What wonderful, patient people you are!" he cried. "I'm
so
lucky to be here. When I tell the other Praise Singers I work for the great General Amadeus Matsika, they're so jealous they could
spit!"
And before Father could react, the Mellower launched into his Praise.

Tendai had heard Praise Singing described many ways. It was an ancient custom meant to call forth the powers of the seen and unseen worlds. It was music. It was poetry. But most of all, it was medicine for the soul. Some Mellowers were public and had offices. Many worked for hospitals, but a few were attached to great houses like the Matsikas'. They stood at the breakfast table
   
and
   
recounted
   
the
   
glories
   
and strengths of each family member.

"Today this place is full of noise and happiness.

The guiding spirit of the General stands over us

Like a great tree: let all who are afraid

Take
  
shelter
  
under
  
his
  
mighty shadow!"

Tendai noticed he was starting out with traditional poetry. The Mellower compared Father to a victorious bull in a green field, to the lion that represented Father's totem.

Then he changed to modern speech and described some of Father's actual victories. He recounted how Father rescued the President when Gondwannan terrorists attacked her house, how she made him Chief of Security for the Land of Zimbabwe. He pictured the long, bitter struggle against the gangs. As the Mellower talked, the lines on Father's face relaxed. His eyes became distant and dreamy.

Tendai thought the change was amazing. As the cares and irritations dropped away, General Matsika became the father Tendai wished he really had.

Then the Mellower spoke of Mother's chemistry discoveries and her position as a professor at the University. Mother's eyes shone with pleasure. He praised Rita for winning a National Science Prize. He expressed happiness over her plumpness, which showed promise of great beauty. The peevishness in Rita's face melted away.

Kuda, said the Praise Singer, spoke as clearly as a child twice his age. Nor did he have childish fears. Kuda was brave, a little elephant whose tusks were itching for battle, like the great General himself. Kuda scowled fearsomely, as though enemies were present right in the room.

Now a struggle began as the Mellower turned to Tendai. The man always saved him for last because, Tendai suspected, he sensed the resistance. Tendai didn't like the power Praise had over him. Of course he trusted the Mellower. No one else paid him as much attention. If the truth were known, he liked the man as much as his own father, but sometimes — often, actually — he had trouble remembering exactly
what
the Mellower had said. Afterward there was a period when he felt sleepy and a little foolish. And so he fought to keep from being entranced.

Most of the time he won.

Tendai listened coldly to a description of his swimming prizes and the badges he won in the Scouts. He wavered a little when the Mellower talked about how he rescued Rita from a boating accident. Then the man reverted to the traditional style of Praise Singing:

"He goes forth to explore, as his ancestors once

Followed rivers to new lands, as they stood on hills,

Their spirits bold as lightning —"

Tendai was lost. Or perhaps it was a lingering effect of the dream he had that morning. He was surrounded by the scent of wood smoke mixed with distant honeyed flowers. He was following a trail. The pugmarks of a lion preceded him like flowers printed in the dust. It waited for him on a rise not far away and shook its glorious mane.
Follow me,
it whispered.

Tendai woke up. He couldn't tell how long he'd been hypnotized. Everyone sat around the table with contented smiles. Microchip birds sang sweetly from the garden.

"Mmm," sighed Mother, stretching her arms before her. Rita yawned and prodded Kuda.

"No push-ups for you," rumbled Father. The Mellower bowed politely and withdrew. Very slowly, the room came back to life. To Tendai, it was like walking underwater.

Father lounged in his great chair with his large feet stuck out before him. He nodded benevolently at the family.
Now
was the time to ask about the trip, but the same torpor that had overtaken Father also affected Tendai. He knew he ought to speak, but it was so comfortable to go back to the beautiful vision he had seen during Praise.

The holophone rang. "Library," ordered Father, rising from his chair. The holophone skittered in front of him as he strode down a passage. The library door closed, and Tendai's opportunity was lost.

"Where does the time go?" cried Mother as the ancestor clock in the hall announced that it was eight-thirty. She gathered up her lecture notes and, somewhat distractedly, called the children together. "Do your lessons well — remember, the martial arts instructor is coming at nine. Tell the Mellower I've programmed the pantry to provide a nutritious lunch, and this time he is to see that you actually eat it." She looked sharply at Rita. "Kuda, you may not tease the
  
automatic
  
Doberman.
  
Its
  
chain
  
is almost worn through — bad boy! Tendai. I expect you to be responsible for the others." Then, because the stretch limo was already humming on the antigrav pad, she patted them fondly and ran out the door.

Tendai, Rita and Kuda waved as the limo flew off toward the University. "Oh, bore," said Rita. "The martial arts instructor's already here."

Two

Naturally, because of the differences in their ages, the children didn't study the same things, but the warm-up at the beginning was for all. They moved through t'ai chi to more ordinary exercises, such as running in place and toe touching. Rita never, ever, managed to touch her toes. They ended with martial shouting, which Kuda greatly enjoyed.

"Very good," said the instructor as the little boy roared. The instructor was small and extremely tough. Rita said he was like a buffalo that had been boiled down until only the gristle was left.

After the warm-up, Kuda was allowed to play while Rita and Tendai studied strategy. Tendai was reading Sun Tzu's
Art of War,
and Rita had the writings of Julius Caesar. "Who cares how the Romans built their roads?" she grumbled. "They should all have stayed home and had orgies."

"Knowledge is a house that must be built from the ground up," said the instructor. "We know how to make the roof. The information is useless if we don't understand the foundations on which it is to be placed."

The man had absolutely no sense of humor. Still, Tendai thought the
Art of War
was more fun than weapons practice. They learned to use bows and arrows, spears and nunchucks. Once a month, Father let them fly to the police rifle range to study more modern weapons.

Tendai liked the skill involved, but his imagination was a little too active. As he sent a spear into a bag of sand in the garden, he thought, What does it feel like to drive a spear into a
person?
And he thought of it happening to him.

"Stop
dwaaling!"
shouted the instructor. "If you let your mind wander, your enemy will be right on top of you!"

Tendai felt hot with shame. This would be reported to Father. After the lessons, the children had a half-hour break. They snacked on milk and cookies on the lawn while the martial arts instructor reported on their progress.

"I'm glad this only happens once a week," said Rita.

"Me, too," agreed Tendai.

"I hate exercise!"

"You're both wimps," Kuda said as he threw a pebble at the automatic Doberman's kennel.

Most mornings Tendai and Rita were instructed via the holoscreen, with Kuda occasionally being included. They learned biology, African history, math, physics and a foreign language. Tendai did Chinese, and Rita French. They all studied Shona, the official language of Zimbabwe. Most afternoons were spent on homework, which the computer sent to the teachers. The corrections arrived after dinner.

And this was the way it had been as far back as Tendai could remember. He had never entered a noisy school yard. He had never played a team sport or shared a lunch with other children at a crowded table. Father was too worried about his enemies. Of course they visited acquaintances of Father and Mother, who sometimes had children. These meetings were awkward. Tendai found it difficult to make friends with people he might not see again for months.

"Are you going to ask him about the Scout trip?" said Rita as she fed cookie crumbs to a line of ants.

"I'm waiting for the right moment." Tendai looked up at the defenses on the garden wall: electrified wire, alarms, even machine guns. The gate was opened by a Pass Card. Now and then Father gave one to the Mellower to allow supplies to be delivered. It could only be used once.

"He's scared," Kuda said, pinging another pebble at the kennel. The Doberman charged out the opening with its metal hackles raised. It was brought up so sharply by the chain that it flipped over on its back. It scrabbled to its feet, barking hysterically. Kuda laughed.

"Someday that chain's going to break. Then you'll be sorry," said Rita.

"It won't bite. It knows my smell." The Doberman retreated to the kennel, where it growled a few moments before switching off.

Even Scout meetings were held via holoscreen, Tendai thought glumly. The merit badges were sent by mail. He had earned them all in the garden or at specially fortified places Father trusted. But Tendai needed an explorer's badge to become an Eagle Scout.

Exactly how much exploring could you do in a garden?

"I'll see what Father's up to," said Tendai, getting to his feet.

"He'll chicken out," Kuda told Rita.

Tendai walked along the hall that led to the library. It was Father's favorite workplace, fitted with holoscreens so he could stay in contact with the outside world. But it was also beautiful. Shelves reaching to the ceiling were filled with old books that gave a leathery, dusty scent to the air. Persian carpets covered the floor. Lamps with stained-glass shades cast a warm glow quite unlike the light in the rest of the house. Tendai was always surprised by this artistic streak in Father. He usually seemed interested only in machines.

Few people were allowed into the library. Perhaps, Tendai realized now, because it was one of the only places Father felt safe. It was at the very center of the house.

Now the door was open, which meant the martial arts instructor was still there. Tendai stopped. "His mind keeps wandering," the instructor said from inside. "I've been working with him for years and, honestly, I don't think he'll change. He seems to go into a trance."

"A sharp rap on the head ought to cure that," rumbled Father.

"Believe me, I've tried it. He thinks too much. Thinking has its place, but not during battle."

"What are you telling me?"

"That he isn't cut out for a military career," said the instructor. "I'm sorry. I know you don't want to hear this. Your other son has the right spirit. He's a real little lion."
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