The Memory of Earth (16 page)

Nafai thought back to conversations he had overheard at mealtimes. About the tolchocks, men who were knocking down women in the street for no reason.
“His
men are the tolchocks?”

“He denies it. In fact, he claims that he’s sending his soldiers out into the streets of Basilica in order to protect women from the tolchocks.”

“Soldiers?”

“Officially they’re the militia of the Palwashantu clan. But they all answer to Gaballufix, and the clan council hasn’t been able to meet to discuss the way the militia are being used. You’re Palwashantu, aren’t you?”

“I’m too young for the militia yet.”

“They’re not really militia anymore,” she said. “They’re hired. Men from outside the walls, the hopeless kind of men, and very few of them really Palwashantu. Gaballufix is paying them. And he paid the tolchocks, too.”

“How do you
know
this?”

“I was pushed. I’ve seen the soldiers. I know how they fit together.”

More of the witchery. But how could he doubt it? Hadn’t he felt the influence of the Oversoul whenever he thought about forbidden words? It made him sweat just to think of what he’d been through during the past week. So why
couldn’t
Hushidh just look at a soldier and a tolchock and know things about them? Why couldn’t camels fly? Anything was possible now.

Except that the Oversoul’s influence was weakening. Hadn’t he and Issib overcome its power, in order to think about forbidden things?

“And you know that I’m not one of them.”

“But your brothers are.”

“Tolchocks?”

“They’re with Gaballufix. Not
Issib
, of course. But Elemak and Mebbekew.”

“How do you know
them
? They never come here—they’re not Mother’s sons.”

“Elemak has come here several times this week,” said Hushidh. “Didn’t you know?”

“Why would he come here?” But Nafai knew at once. Without being able to think the thought himself, he knew exactly why Elemak would come to Rasa’s household. Mother’s reputation in the city was of the highest; her nieces were courted by many, and Elemak was of an age—well into the age, in fact—for a serious mating, intended to produce an heir.

Nafai looked around the courtyard, where many girls and a few boys were eating their supper. All the students from outside were gone, and the younger children ate earlier. So most of the girls here were eligible for mating, including her nieces, if Rasa released them. Which of them would Elemak be courting?

“Eiadh,” he whispered.

“One can assume,” said Hushidh. “I know it isn’t me.”

Nafai looked at her in surprise. Of course it wasn’t her. Then he was embarrassed; what if she realized how ridiculous it had seemed to him, that his brother might desire
her
.

But Hushidh continued as if she didn’t even notice his silent insult. Certainly she was oblivious to how the idea of Elya courting Eiadh might hurt Nafai. “When your brother came, I knew at once that he was very close to Gaballufix. I’m sure that it’s causing Aunt Rasa a great deal of sorrow, because she knows that Eiadh will say yes to him. Your brother has a great deal of prestige.”

“Even with Father’s visions causing such a scandal?”

“He’s with Gaballufix,” said Hushidh. “Within the Party of Men—those who favor Gaballufix—the worse your father looks, the better they like Elemak. Because if something happened to your father, then Elemak would be a very rich and powerful man.”

Her words reawakened Nafai’s worst fears about his brother. But it was a monstrous, unbearable thought. “Gaballufix wants Elya to influence Father, that’s all.”

Hushidh nodded. But was she nodding in agreement, or just silencing him so she could get on with what she had to say? “The other strong party is Roptat’s people. They’re being called the Party of Women now, though they are also led by a man. They want to ally with the Gorayni. And also they want to remove the vote from all men except those currently mated with a citizen, and require all non-mated men to leave the city every night by sundown, and not return until dawn. That’s
their
solution to the tolchock problem—and to Gaballufix, as well. They have a wide following—among mated men and women.”

“Is that the group that Father’s with?”

“Everyone in the Party of Men thinks so, but Roptat’s people know better.”

“So what’s the third group?”

“They call themselves the City Party, but what they truly are is the Party of the Oversoul. They refuse to ally with any warring nation. They want to return to the old ways, for the protection of the Lake. To make this a city above politics and conflict. To give away the great wealth of the city and live simply, so no other nation will desire to possess us.”

“Nobody will agree to that.”

“You’re wrong,” she said. “Many
do
agree. Your father
and Aunt Rasa have won over almost all the women of the Lake Districts.”

“But that’s hardly anybody. Only a handful of people live in the Rift Valley.”

“They have a third of the council votes.”

Nafai thought about that. “I think that’s very dangerous for them,” he said.

“Why do you think so?”

“Because they don’t have anything but tradition to back them up. The more Gaballufix pushes against tradition, the more he frightens people with tolchocks and soldiers, the more people will demand that
something
be done. All that Father and Mother are doing is making it impossible for anyone to get a majority on the council. They’re blocking Roptat from stopping Gaballufix.”

Hushidh smiled. “You’re really very good at this.”

“Politics is what I study most.”

“You’ve seen the danger. But what you haven’t told me is how we’ll get out of it.”

“We?”

“Basilica.”

“No,” said Nafai. “You said that you knew what party I was in.”

“You’re with the Oversoul, of course,” she said.

“You don’t know that.
I
don’t even know that. I’m not sure I like the way the Oversoul manipulates us.”

Hushidh shook her head. “You may not make the decision in your mind for many days yet, but the decision in your heart is already made. You reject Gaballufix. And you are drawn to the Oversoul.”

“You’re wrong,” said Nafai. “I mean, yes, I’m drawn to the Oversoul, Issib came to that decision long ago and his reasons are good. Despite all its secret manipulation of people’s minds, it’s even more dangerous to reject the Oversoul. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to turn the
future of Basilica over to the tiny minority of crazy religious fanatics who live in the Rift Valley and have visions all the time.”

“We’re the ones who are close to the Oversoul.”

“The whole
world
has the Oversoul inside their brains,” said Nafai. “You can’t get closer than that.”

“We’re the ones who
choose
the Oversoul,” she insisted. “And the whole world
doesn’t
have her inside their brains, or they would never have started carrying war to faraway nations.”

For a moment Nafai wondered if she, too, had somehow discovered how the Oversoul had blocked the discovery of war wagons until recently. Then he realized that of course
she
was thinking of the seventh codicil: “You have no dispute with your neighbor’s neighbor’s neighbor; when she quarrels, stay home and close your window.” This had long been interpreted to be a prohibition of entangling alliances or quarrels with countries so far away that the outcome made no difference to you. Nafai and Issib knew the purpose and origin of such a law, and the way that the Oversoul had enforced it within people’s minds. To Hushidh, though, it was the law itself that had fended off wars of imperial aggression for all these millennia. Never mind that many nations had
tried
to create empires, and only the lack of efficient means of travel and communication had hindered them.

“I’m not with you,” said Nafai. “You can’t turn back the clock.”

“If you can’t,” she said, “then we’re as good as destroyed already.”

“Maybe so,” said Nafai. “If Roptat wins, then when the Potoku fleet arrives, they come up the mountain and destroy us before the Wetheads can get here. And if Gaballufix wins, then when the Wetheads finally come
they destroy the Potoku first and then
they
come up the mountains and destroy us in retaliation.”

“So,” said Hushidh. “You see that you
are
with us.”

“No,” said Nafai. “Because if the City Party keeps up this stalemate, either Gaballufix or Roptat will get impatient and people will start to die. Then we won’t
need
outsiders to destroy us. We’ll do it ourselves. How long do you think women will continue to rule in this city, if it comes to civil war between two powerful men?”

Hushidh looked off into space. “Do you think so?” she said.

“I may not be a
raveler”
said Nafai, “but I’ve read history.”

“So many centuries we’ve kept this a city of women, a place of peace.”

“You never should have given men the vote.”

“They’ve had the vote for a million years.”

Nafai nodded. “I know. What’s happening now—it’s the Oversoul.”

He could see now that Hushidh was looking off into nothingness because her eyes were so full of tears. “She’s dying, isn’t she?”

It hadn’t occurred to him that someone could take this so personally. As if the Oversoul were a dear relative. But to someone like Hushidh, perhaps it was so. Besides, she was the daughter of a wilder, a so-called holy woman. Even though everyone knew that wilders’ children were usually the result of rape or casual coupling in the streets of the city, they were still called “children of the Oversoul.” Maybe Hushidh really thought of the Oversoul as her father. But no—the women called the Oversoul
she.
And Hushidh
knew
that her mother was a wilder.

Still, Hushidh was barely containing her tears.

“What do you want from me?” asked Nafai. “I don’t
know what the Oversoul is doing. Your sister—like you said,
she’s
the seer.”

“The Oversoul hasn’t spoken to her all week. Or to anyone.”

Nafai was surprised. “You mean not even at the lake?”

“I knew that you and Issib were very, very closely tied to the Oversoul all this week. She was wearing you out, the way she does with Lutya and . . . and me, sometimes. The women have been going into the water, more and more of them, and yet they come out with nothing, or with silly sleep-dreams. It’s making them afraid. But I told them, I said: Nafai and Issib,
they’re
being touched by the Oversoul. So she’s not dead. And they asked me . . . to find out from you.”

“Find out what?”

The tears finally spilled out and slid down her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she said miserably. “What to do. What the Oversoul expects of us.”

He touched her shoulder, to comfort her—Nafai didn’t know what else to do. “I don’t know,” he said. “But you’re right about one thing—the Oversoul is wearing down. Wearing
itself
out. Still, I’m surprised that it would stop giving visions. Maybe it’s distracted. Maybe it’s . . .”

“What?”

He shook his head. “Let me talk to Issib, will you?”

She nodded, ducking her head at the end to wipe away tears. “Please, yes,” she said. “I couldn’t—talk to
him
.”

Why in the world
not
? But he didn’t ask. He was too confused by all that she’d told him. All this time that he and Issib thought their research was secret, and here was Hushidh telling all the women of Basilica that the two of them were being worn out by the Oversoul! And yet, for all that they knew, the women were also hopelessly
ignorant—how could he and Issib know anything about the reason why their visions had stopped?

Nafai went straight to the library and repeated to Issib all he could remember of his conversation with Hushidh. “So what I’m thinking is this. What if the Oversoul isn’t all that powerful? What if the reason the visions have stopped is that the Oversoul can’t deal with
us
and give visions all at the same time?”

Issib laughed. “Come on, Nyef, as if we’re the center of the world or something.”

“I’m serious. How much capacity would the Oversoul have to have, really? Most people are ignorant or stupid or weak enough that even if they thought of one of these forbidden subjects, they couldn’t do anything about it, so why watch them? That means the Oversoul has to monitor relatively few people. And with them, if it checks in on them every now and then, it has plenty of time to turn them away from dangerous projects. But now, with the Oversoul weakening, you were able to desensitize yourself. That was a contest between you and the Oversoul, and you
won
, Issib. What if during all those struggles, the Oversoul was completely focused on you, giving no visions to anyone else, monitoring no one else. But you were going slowly enough that it still had time left over.”

“But the two of us, working together,” said Issib. “It had to concentrate on us, constantly. And it’s losing, too—weakening even more.”

“So I’m thinking, Issib—we’re not helping here, we’re
hurting
.”

Issib laughed again. “It can’t
be
,” he said. “This is the Oversoul we’re talking about, not a teacher with a couple of unruly students.”

“The Oversoul has failed before. Or there wouldn’t be any war wagons.”

“So what should we do?”

“Stop,” said Nafai. “For a day. Stay away from the forbidden subjects. See if people start getting visions again.”

“You seriously think that we, the two of us, have taken up so much of the Oversoul’s time that it can’t give visions to people? What about during the time we sleep and eat? There are plenty of breaks.”

“Maybe we’ve got it confused. Maybe it’s panicking about us because it doesn’t know what to do.”

“Right,” said Issib. “So let’s not just
quit.
Let’s give the Oversoul some advice, why not!”

“Why not?” said Nafai. “It was made by human beings, wasn’t it?”

“We
think
. Maybe.”

“So we tell it to stop worrying about trying to block us. That’s a pointless assignment and it should stop wasting time on it
right now,
because even if we easily think of every forbidden subject in the world, we’re not going to tell anybody else and we’re not going to try to build any ourselves. Are we?”