In spite of what he now knew, Choron smiled. He could not prevent it. The weight of the difficult days behind him had dissolved. He had felt only a painful lethargy since he had seen Nara last; now, he paced restlessly through the transport center. She was on the way to him, and it would soon be the end of the old world, Orefall. There would be no more miners, no more tortured existence. The Planet would open up to him. Against everything that Choron had expected, his father, presently seated at the edge of a public bench near Choron, had brought the end. Choron and his father spent the time reliving the conversation that had occurred earlier that evening. Unlike Choron, however, his father was wondering where it had all gone wrong. Choron savored the words in his memory.
“Son, I can only guess why you wanted your inheritance at such a reduced amount and so early in your life. I soon heard those awful rumors coming from the Church. I will be honest: I don't care if you have a secret. I don't even care if you killed Miro.
“But one thing I'll never allow to occur so long as I live is heresy. I know you were under that girl's spell. You've had your eye on Nara since you knew the difference between boys and girls. So has she.
“The word `witch' is old, and almost forgotten. Nara is a witch. She already found herself under the eye of the Church years ago. I had hoped that your little adventures with Miro, playing like a prospector, would separate you from her long enough that you would change your mind. Yet who was the first person you saw when you came back from a brush with death? Me? no. Your mother? No. It was that damn girl. I knew something was wrong then. It didn't take much thinking to realize that only your misguided mother could have set up a meeting between you two. Well, after a lot of yelling, I got the full story from her.
“Oh, yes. I know it all. And I know that this little witch is responsible for your survival. She used that forbidden power of hers to spy on you and she happened to get lucky. She wants to have some proof that she's really a good person after all. I don't believe it, and neither does the High Priestess. Well, I figure we need to make and example of someone. The Great Rock is coming to destroy us because of those like her, and even because of the common man, who has lost some of that old faith. If sacrificing Nara doesn't appease Him, it will at least put the sinners back in line.
“Now, you may think you love this witch. I just want to warn you that you can't stop any of this. You're my son, but all this fame I've given you can be taken away as quickly as it was given. I won't have a member of my family supporting a heretic. Keep that in mind from this moment onward. Now, I must go to the Church to being the trial.”
Choron had only laughed and said, “Let me come with you. I want to see this with my own eyes.”
And so they had driven the short distance to the administrative office of the Church. Choron remembered it from his days training under the priests. He had always wanted to spend time in the beautiful temple; however, the Temple was mostly a superficial place meant to hold services and little else. The office held the seat of power.
After his father had completed the accusatory paperwork and statements in a frenzy, he had convinced the administration to send a few clergywomen to Nara's home for her immediate arrest. Under a thin layer of self-satisfaction, his father had shown discomfort, especially while looking at Choron. A quick glance at the various polished surfaces surrounding the confession desk gad revealed to Choron his own mysteriously elated reflection. Father's unease had broken to the surface when the clergy had called, reporting Nara's escape in the capsule system.
Thus, only an hour after the whole thing had started, Choron and his father had come to the transport station. Nara could conceivably ride in the capsules for hours in an attempt to avoid the Church, but her sole path of escape led through the station. At last, the time had come for the two waiting men to trigger their traps—his father, on Nara; Choron, on his father. “I will do the speaking, father.”
The older man had obviously lost some of his fire. “As long as you speak the way I want you to, I have no objection.”
Presently, a capsule sped into the station. It decelerated and locked its hatch onto the gateway to the plaza where they awaited her. Nara's pale face peeked around the edge of the open door; in seeing Choron, she knew what his presence meant: he was working with the Church.
“Nara,” said Choron. “Please, let's talk.”
It pained him to hear her broken voice. “Choron! How could you? Even if you wiped away the years we known each other—and, I hoped, loved each other—how could you forget that I saved your life?”
“My father has made it clear that I have no say in the matter.” Silence from her. “You need a friend now. Would you rather come with me, or with those women at your house?”
She walked to him, defeated. The way she slumped her shoulders and hung her head betrayed the cost of her surrender. He met her half-way, letting her slump into his arms. His father stirred in protest.
“Ignore my father,” Choron whispered, his lips brushing her warm ear. “Just pay attention to me. I had hoped to be in a more romantic place when I held you like this... but never mind that.” She stayed as she was; Choron could only hope she was listening. “This is our chance. I want you to do what you do best: tell the truth, hold on to your strength. Believe it or not, we are so close to Him that I can feel it. Trust me; I can't hurt a person I love.”
She nodded against his chest.
“Choron!” snapped his father. “I've had enough. You will speak loudly enough for me to hear. Don't let her touch you.”
“I thought you wanted her to come peacefully, yes?”
“Yes.”
Choron took Nara's hand. “Then we'll do it this way, or you will have two prisoners to drag.”
It was a silent ride to the Church office.
Their trip on foot from the front rooms to the head priestess's chamber, on the other hand, was filled with the droning voice of an unconvinced clergywoman reading the official charges aloud to Nara. Some color returned to her complexion: a bloom of red on her cheeks. Her breathing became faster, but she still looked ahead at nothing. Her official duty complete, the Church woman admitted the three to the office of High Priestess Tisuld.
Tisuld was not yet elderly. She seemed to have edges of gray all along her form, yet only in her hair did the dull color creep into view. The usual ornate robes she wore during ceremonies were replaced by a plain one-piece suit not unlike the kind worn by miners; the suit revealed the full form of a woman who had come from the very people to whom she preached. His gaze fixed on Nara with an expression full of a curious gravity. Her blue eyes held the pleasure of one who had waited long to administer well-deserved punishment.
“Please sit down,” he said.
Only Choron threw himself into one of the bare-framed metal chairs that stood before the guests. He tugged at Nara's sleeve until she lowered herself to the one next to his.
Tisuld's eyes moved to Choron. “You seem to be pleased with something, Master Or. Perhaps you do not understand how serious your friend's offense is.”
“I beg your pardon,” Choron's father cut in. “He's been in a strange mood since I told him I knew about the witch. It could be that she has used her power over him to produce this strange effect.”
Before the High Priestess could respond, Choron spoke up. “No, Father, I am so immensely pleased because I have both of you alone in this room, with no one to interfere with the bargain I will extract from you.”
This was obviously not what any of the other three people had expected.
“Until now, only Nara and I have known the complete truth about my `accident' in the Great Rock's proximity. As you suspect, she experienced a vision. Through this power of hers, far beyond her control, she saw through my eyes the exact events of that day. I will let her tell you what she witnessed.”
Tisuld shook her head, waiting for Nara to find her words. When she spoke at last, her voice held a quality that Choron had never heard. “I was there with Choron and Miro. The old man, brimming with a glimmer of knowledge, saw fit to take the Plenty not only near the Planet, but to set the ship down on Him.” The men inhaled sharply, not only because Nara had described a radical affront to God, but also because they began to see the vision through her words. “God reached into Miro, taking His child back into His arms; the might of the Lord snuffed Miro's life away, for his most important deed was done.” Choron reveled in the agony relived. Through the thickening cloud of the vision, he noticed that his father and the High Priestess clutched at their chests in involuntary empathy. Nara continued. “Choron survived; his spirit understood that Miro's burden was passed to him. His mind, however, had yet to receive a direction to follow. Miro lies yet on the face of God, now a monument. Through him, our prayers play across the surface in waves. As Choron left, God grasped at him with His power long enough to plant His word.” She described the strange things Choron had lived on his way off the Planet. Choron felt tears running down his face: he had returned to the most immense moment in his life, back in the cockpit of the Plenty. All of them were, while Nara recounted the story.
Time passed silently long after she had finished. Choron's father looked at Nara and his son with new eyes. Overpowered as he was, they said all they needed to say: I believe. A different conviction brewed under Tisuld's brow.
Choron seized the fertile time to add his ultimatum. “With the authority given to me by God, and affirmed in the confession of Nara, I demand that the people of Orefall move to join with the Great Rock, under the auspices of the Church. Any who stay will be destroyed.”
Tisuld could no longer contain her anger. “You and your witch presume to speak for God! That is my function, and mine alone!”
“That, Mother, is a terrible mistake for two reasons,” said Choron.
“Name them.”
“The first is that I can prove it all to be true.” Choron had to raise his hand to silence the priestess. “If I really did land on Him, and He had taken my presence as an insult, do you doubt that He would have torn me apart in an instant? I hold Him foremost in my mind, and my respect for Him likely surpasses even yours: I have felt His presence under my own feet.”
“This is an outrage! I know He would have killed you if you had taken it into your heart to commit such a sacrilege. But you never did such a thing! And you murdered your master in order to eliminate the single voice of dissent against this tale.”
Choron laughed softly. “And so I invite you to prove me wrong. Take a look at this.” He placed a thing vial of the Planet's soil—twin to the gift he had given Nara—on the High Priest's desk. “This soil is from God Himself. You will keep this sample; I will lead however many clergywomen to the Great Rock and show them the place where Miro's body remains. That will confirm his natural death. And to prove that I touched God and lived, your men will collect a sample of the earth there for comparison with the one you hold in your hand.”
“I will allow none of this madness,” insisted Tisuld. “Both of you are henceforth condemned to die tomorrow morning. Consider this conversation your trial.”
Flanik Or, who had only hours before thrown Nara into the interrogation, finally sat next to his son. “You should do as he says, Mother Tisuld.”
“Has he convinced you, too, you greedy fool?”
“It's not just that,” interrupted Choron. “He knows the second reason why you will let us live.”
“Enlighten me, O Prophet,” retorted the High Priestess mockingly.
“The miners will turn on you, and your life will end only days after mine.”
“How can you expect me to take such a thing seriously? Flanik, your son has become delusional! A celebrity, a briefly popular man, can't oppose an immortal Institution like the Church. My power—”
“I used to believe you spoke for the whole Church,” Choron's father replied. “`Now I see you only speak for yourself.” He stood. “Son, do what you must. You've made me see my folly—you don't need me here any longer. I will speak to you at home. In the meantime, your mother deserves an apology.” He left a changed man.
“Well?” asked Tisuld. “What do you have to say about your idle threat?”
“I am tired of your questions; pay close attention now, because it's the last I will say.
“In the short span of time I spent coming back to Orefall, I knew I had to act quickly upon the circumstances provided to me. Orefall will not exist for long, and even without that time limit, other critical matters have caused great tension in our settlement. The universe is forgetting our little world: we can no longer provide the metal that gave us our livelihood.
“It took only a short talk to begin the movement. I entered into a contract with Captain Sefulir and Captain Fus: I would provide them money and supplies and they would act as my agents. My communion with God satisfied them; they had been miners long enough that they could have faith in me. I was not insane—they understood that well enough—yet I was giving away my inheritance while risking my reputation and life to spread the news of God.
“Since the day I came back, the Doro-Strisma has intercepted every mining ship that left Orefall. The work my father began, turning me into a hero, ended when my men relayed the word to the miners. Have you noticed how empty the settlement is? All miners and their families are orbiting the Great Rock right now.
“They are waiting for you. If you decide to have Nara or me killed, you will smash the symbols of their last hope for survival. They will return here and you will be in the path of a bloody reformation that you can't escape. Our lives are going to change; if you co-operate, and do as I ask, you'll make the change easier for us both. Agree to my challenge. When your Church concludes that I am right, the transition will begin.”
Tisuld regarded Choron thoughtfully, as if observing the realization of a long-expected development. She turned to Nara. “My, my, my. What dreadful ideas you have sowed in that boy's head.” Twining her fingers together on her desk, she gave a low grunt of disapproval.
Nara rose slowly, smoothly, using all the grace and dignity her body suggested. She leaned across the High Priestess's desk until only a few centimeters separated their faces. “My `ideas' are God's. He will continue to love and protect me as long as I fulfill His designs. In doing this, I will live. If you do nothing, as you certainly will, no one can save you. The Great Rock will fling this insignificant speck into oblivion, and you along with it. Would He destroy you so utterly if you obeyed His will? Reflect on that while you still can.” She withdrew herself, never breaking her glare from Tisuld's. “Choron, I'll meet you outside.”
The priestess let her go without a word, detached from that moment. At length, she took a deep breath. “Well, Choron, perhaps I was mistaken. Your little whore is only a part of your own scheme.”
Choron reminded himself how little this woman's opinion mattered to him. “Nara is more important than either you or I.”
“I seem to remember you as a young boy, eager to learn what I taught. I had great things in mind for you. I had never met such an apt pupil. Something was amiss, I knew, when you took to visiting the men in bars, when you still spoke to your greedy father, when your eyes grew wide at the sight of that girl. Yes, I recall so clearly the day you met her. It was in this very office. I was at the end of the first inquisition against her, and I needed a boy to record the final discussions.
“The moment you walked in here, I saw in your eyes that you were lost. I'm sure after those proceedings ended, you took her hand and comforted her. You led her away, your own heroic, childish figure, happy that you had saved her from this holy Church, didn't you.”
On his way out of the room, Choron paused. “You never understood,” he said over his shoulder. “She was the one who saved me. It was at her urging that I quit this place and joined Miro. I thank God that I ultimately followed His teachings, and not yours.”