The Stuff of Stars (The Seekers Book 2) Read online

  His chair whirred and he retreated to the corner of the room. “I have no good choice. I’m no mentor but a desperate old fool whose past faces extinction in a mere thirty days.”

  Thirty days. The phrase set my heart racing. “What happens in thirty days?”

  The chair crept closer, its lack of energy perhaps reflecting its master’s turmoil.

  He stopped an arm’s length away. “Thirty days from now, we commemorate the third anniversary of what the greenies call the day of reckoning. Some among them plan a reckoning of their own that will end all hope for the dreamers.”

  I recalled Caleb’s outcry in the Hall of Winds, and the earth mother’s harsh response. “The earth mother would never allow such a thing.”

  The mentor cast me the look of a weary teacher about to explain an obvious truth to a slow student. “Did you know my good friend, Annabel, was once a brilliant scientist? She turned against us when we began to delve into the dream, believing we’d gone too far. She knows perfectly well the damage wanton violence would cause, but she harbors among her followers those who would do the dreamers harm.”

  “How do you know this,” Nathaniel said.

  “I have ways of listening, but the leader of these zealots is devious. He conceals the details of his plot from my listening devices and speaks only in code, but I know this man, and his bitterness knows no bounds. He speaks of a reckoning, but I know what he means. Each day my sensors pick up the battering of hammers on stone, growing closer by the hour, yet I’m powerless to stop them. What good are my children scholars against these hardened laborers? What good are these machines I control, when I’m confined to this accursed chair?

  “These zealots believe the dreamers wander, lost in shadows, and it’s their duty to set them free. For them, the upcoming anniversary offers the ideal time to act, to end what they perceive to be an unholy state. Their misguided attempt to grant the dreamers peace would be like the vicars destroying your keep, only worse. We’d lose everything, not just all the knowledge of the dreamers but their lives as well.”

  I sensed a stirring behind me, a tremor in Nathaniel’s hands. No need to ask why. We’d been friends since before we knew how to speak. Like the dreamers, we shared our thoughts, but without machines.

  We were so different, Nathaniel and I. He was rash; I was cautious. Where he’d rush in, I’d deliberate for days before taking the first step. Yet somehow we always arrived at the same place. I’d never have left Little Pond without him; he’d never have discovered the keep without me. I’d never have sailed away from the shore; he’d never have found his way across the sea.

  Now we stood at another crossroads, and I knew what choice he’d make. As he stepped toward the mentor, I grasped his elbow and tried to drag him back from the precipice.

  He turned and took me in his arms, fixing me with his eyes. “We risked the arch vicar imprisoning us for life. We dared to face the stoning. Why? For the chance to be more than we are. Now the fruits of that dream lie within our grasp. How can we risk anything less?”

  I wanted to damn the dream, just as I’d wanted to run from the vicars. Even after the slow drag of years, I remembered how that morning’s fear had made my mouth dry. Yet I’d marched into Little Pond as the sun rose and the arch vicar urged our neighbors to cast their stones. At Nathaniel’s side, I’d found the strength to go on.

  Now before us loomed our greatest challenge, our most dangerous step into the unknown. How could we turn back when we’d already come so far?

  A vision filled my mind—the first day of spring in Little Pond with the locust trees in bloom, sending their blossoms down like tiny sailboats to float on the water. If I was too fearful to take this step, I might never see home again.

  My eyes welled, but I blinked back the tears and nodded.

  Nathaniel turned to the mentor. “Teach us, and we’ll go.”

  The mentor winced as if in pain. “Didn’t you hear what I told you? You might lose your lives or worse. You might become lost forever in the dream.”

  “We heard you,” Nathaniel said, “but we left our family, our friends and everything we hold dear to cross the sea. Why? To go beyond recordings on screens. To seek out the keepmasters’ kin and bring back their knowledge to our people.” He waved at the moving images on the wall. “And here they wait, so near.”

  The mentor squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating until beads of sweat formed on his brow. The images on the walls flickered and winked out like the lights of the city. With only their faint afterglow, the room turned dim.

  He opened his eyes. “When you wrote how you’d risked your lives for a cause, I selfishly hoped you’d do the same for us, but now that you stand before me, how can I accept? How can I dishonor myself and the dreamers, to abandon the values they believed in? Take back your offer before I give in to its temptation. Take back your offer and live.”

  Nathaniel glanced at me, pleading for my approval.

  Slowly, I began to nod, but then I thought of the silent boy, Zachariah, with the voice of an angel, and of the others with their flimsy baskets, scrabbling to find food in the brush.

  “We’re willing to risk our lives,” I said. “But what if we fail? If the fanatics destroy the dreamers as you fear, all of you will need the skills we can teach. Give us the chance to do as the keepmasters did, to pass on our knowledge to the greenies—ways to live without the machines.”

  The mentor crumpled his brow, and his blue eyes shifted from side to side. “To go to my enemies while they plot to destroy all I hold dear—?”

  Nathaniel stiffened his jaw in that way he had when he’d made a decision. “No access to the greenies, no dreamers. You can send us back to our gilded prison while you wait for the end.”

  The mentor went silent, staring at his hands lying still on his knees, as if tracing the thick veins winding down to his fingers.

  I pictured a billion bolts of lightning flashing behind those eyes.

  “Very well,” he said at last. “Help the greenies if you must, but for four days of the thirty, no more. “The rest of the time, you’ll study with me until your minds blur. Then, before the end of the thirty days, only after your final visit to the greenies, I’ll grant you access to the mountain. At that time, if you’re still willing to go, we’ll find out how great your courage may be.”

  Chapter 16 – Mind Games

  Nathaniel and I spent long days cloistered with the mentor. He had us memorize maps of the mountain fortress so we could find our way even in the dark. Using holos, he taught us to manipulate the dials and switches that controlled the link between our consciousness and the machines—with special attention to the red numbers that counted down the time, and the two emergency buttons that terminated the dream. Most of all, he made us practice a series of mind games.

  “When I was younger,” he said, “I delved into the dream for mere seconds. We call it the dream, but it’s different from when we sleep. With night dreams, our thoughts flow freely, untethered by our conscious minds. Pictures flash before our eyes, images from the physical world, fragments of memories from years gone by or perhaps from that very day. This dream is different.

  “Imagine you remained awake without your senses. Imagine you’re blind and deaf, with no taste, no touch or smell. Moreover, imagine you forgot the reason for eyes and ears. Imagine you are pure mind.”

  While the mentor droned on, we lay on mats on the floor with eyes closed, trying to do as he asked, but the exercise seemed useless. I kept imagining Nathaniel lying beside me, recalling the touch of his hand on my cheek. Sometimes, his breathing settled into a regular rhythm, and I’d open one eye a slit to find he’d fallen asleep.

  The mentor would roll his wheeled chair close and prod Nathaniel awake with the point of his toe.

  Late one night after too many hours of mind games, Nathaniel sat up and glared at him. “Why do we need to practice so much?”

  Lines formed between the mentor’s brows, where his smile met a grow
ing impatience. “Going into the dream is like nothing you’ve experienced before, with no up or down, no here or there, no sense of time. Like a swimmer underwater, you may get disoriented and panic. Practice, practice... until your response comes as natural as breathing.”

  We practiced for ever longer periods. In between, the mentor told stories of the dreamers—of their families, habits, and quirks—so we might identify them by their memories alone.

  “Why can’t you just show us pictures?” Nathaniel said. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”

  “Faces don’t exist in the realm of the mind. The dreamers have no faces, and you’ll have no eyes.”

  I struggled with the concept of a pure mind but accepted the challenge. If we could communicate with the dreamers, they might solve all our problems, from finding a way home to finding a way forward that would avoid the mistakes of the past. Despite my doubts, I studied hard, doggedly preparing for the dream, though it seemed less real than our quest for the keep.

  By the end of the fifth day, I’d had enough. “You promised us time with the greenies. We’ve kept our word, working hard with little sleep. Only twenty-five days remain. Time to keep your part of the bargain.”

  The mentor shook his head. “My promise assumed you’d progress faster, but you still have far to go. Every minute wasted increases the risk of failure.”

  Nathaniel rose off the mat to his full height. “There’ll be no chance of failure if we refuse to enter the mountain.”

  The mentor stared at the dancing holos and grimaced. “Very well, but not until you complete one more exercise. See if you can stay awake for two full hours. Only then will I let you go.”

  “Two hours?” I said. “It’s almost midnight.”

  “I promised you four days with the greenies. I never promised you time to sleep.”

  My shoulders slumped and behind me, Nathaniel groaned.

  ***

  I awoke too soon from a restless sleep marred by nightmares of teaching cells and vicars questioning my faith. Despite my exhaustion, I forced myself to rise, intent on leaving as much time as possible to spend with the greenies.

  At the start of the trek, my mind filled with worries. What if the zealots breached the mountain fortress and destroyed the machines? We’d lose the dreamers forever. Unless we could prove they still lived; then ending the dream would be akin to murder. The earth mother would never allow it, not when they had so much to offer those on both sides of the ocean.

  What if we entered the dream and found silence, or worse? What if the dreamers had sunk into such despair they’d welcome an end to their ethereal existence, exactly as Caleb claimed?

  What if on a visit to the greenies, we stumbled upon the fanatics’ plans? Should we betray them, even as we helped them? And if the mentor learned their plans, how would he stop them with nothing but his army of children scholars?

  We stood at a crossroads. What if both paths led to a tragic end?

  My concerns abated as we hiked down the mountain. After so many days locked away, I drank in the scent of the sea and the perfume of the pines. I reveled in the morning dew, still clinging to the bushes at the edge of the trail, and thrilled at the streaks of sunlight causing rainbows to dance on their leaves. For the moment, like the earth mother, I cared nothing for what made the wind blow, only how good it felt on my cheeks.

  At the village, the greenies greeted us with less enthusiasm than before. The children, who had once approached us with warmth, now scattered to the safety of their huts. The silent boy shuffled nearer but not too close, made a sign with his hands like the braids of the earth mother, and dashed off to fetch her. The older ones took off running like heralds spreading bad news, leaving Nathaniel and I to wait alone.

  A flash of orange streaked out from behind one of the huts. Bella, the tabby cat, came up and eyed us, weighing whether these strangers who had disturbed her rest deserved her attention. She stretched and let out a satisfied purr—apparently we’d passed her test. She strutted toward Nathaniel and wound her way between his legs, rubbing her fur as she went.

  “She likes you,” I said.

  Nathaniel glanced around the deserted village. “Then she’s the only one here who does.”

  Moments later, the silent boy returned with Devorah in tow. Her hands and knees were caked with dirt, and smudges stained her cheeks.

  She offered a half smile. “The earth mother will be here in a minute. She moves more slowly than those of us who are younger.”

  I returned the smile. “It looks like we interrupted your gardening.”

  She tried to brush away the dirt, but wherever she touched, the grime only spread. After a few seconds, she gave up. “Where were you? Everyone was eager for you to return and teach us, but you stayed away so long.”

  Before I could reply, Caleb burst through the tree line with several of his men, all carrying tools.

  “Don’t expect her to tell you the truth,” he said, “After so long in the technos’ clutches, these strangers can no longer be trusted. The mentor has filled their minds with blasphemous lies and sent them back with a purpose.” He jabbed a finger at us. “Leave here at once and go back to your friends.”

  Devorah blocked his way. “Calm down, Caleb. The earth mother will decide whether to welcome them or not.”

  She gestured to the far end of the village, where the earth mother hobbled along leaning on her walking stick. The crowd surrounding us parted to let her through, and the children, feeling safer now, emerged from their huts. She stopped between us and Caleb.

  Once she caught her breath, she turned to me. “Forgive Caleb for his lack of manners, but his question is a reasonable one. Why have you come back after being away so long?”

  “To keep our promise,” I said, “to teach you how to better live off the land.”

  “Then you’d be welcome, my seekers of truth, but after ten days among the technos, what truth are you seeking? Do you follow the way of the earth or have you given in to the lure of the machines?”

  “A bit of both,” I said. “As you once told us, there’s no absolute truth.”

  The earth mother closed her eyes, took a cleansing breath, and opened them again. A smile crackled across her crusty face. “Fair enough.”

  “But earth mother,” Caleb said. “You mustn’t let these—”

  “It’s in my hands now, Caleb.”

  She dismissed him with a wave, and ordered the others to return to their chores as well. Once we were alone, we gathered under the protection of the old beech tree, sitting cross-legged in a circle around a small fire, which smoldered just enough to take the bite out of the morning chill. She asked Devorah to fetch us a drink, and then remained silent until we had settled in with decorated mugs filled with sweet water.

  “This drink is becoming more precious,” she said. “One more shortage due to the failure of the machines. The streams that flow from the mountains have become polluted and so, increasingly, we must boil our water. The children complain about the taste, but at least they don’t get sick. Now on the occasion of your return, I’m happy to share this scarce resource. I teach my people hospitality, even though Caleb’s apparently forgotten the lesson. Please forgive him. He bears wounds too painful to speak of, but he means well, and since coming here, he’s done much for my people. Now, let us drink to friendship and trust.”

  Never taking her eyes off us, she raised her cup.

  Nathaniel and I responded in kind.

  “Now,” she said, “you’ve come back for one of three reasons: to spy on us for the technos, to corrupt us with their ideas, or to help. I have no secrets worth spying on, and I believe in the power of our ideas, so whatever your motivation, I’ll accept your aid. I ask only one thing—an oath in writing that you’ll refrain from preaching the worship of machines. I beg you, don’t confuse my people. Their lives are hard enough. There’s no need to stir the pot any further. Devorah, fetch me paper and pen.”

  Devorah vanished into a nearby
hut and emerged with a quill pen, a writing board, and a crumpled piece of paper like the message Zachariah had brought to invite us to their village.

  The earth mother smoothed the paper’s wrinkles on the board, and scribbled awkwardly with wide looping letters, like a small child newly schooled.

  She paused partway through to rest her hand. “You must think me clumsy. I only learned to write after the machines began to fail.”

  When she finished, she handed the paper to me. I read it aloud. “We, the undersigned, swear to use our time to teach better ways to live off the land, and to refrain from activities harmful to the people of the earth.”

  She passed the pen to us, and we both signed.

  After she folded the paper and returned it to Devorah, she relaxed. “A silly ritual left over from a more civilized time, when we had laws to enforce such a contract. A mere formality, now that I’ve gazed into your eyes and seen your good intentions.” She gave a shrug and laughed. “Besides, I have no choice. I need your help and can only pray you don’t betray my trust. Now what shall you teach us first.”

  “We’re here only for the day, and so our time is limited. Select a few of your people to go with Nathaniel. He’ll show them how to find wild wheat, cull the seeds and plant them. I’ll teach your people how to make better baskets. They already know the basics, but I’ll use stronger materials and bind them with a tighter weave.”

  The earth mother reached out to Devorah, who helped her stand. “Fetch Matthew, Aaron and Rebecca to go with Nathaniel. He claims he can teach us how to grow our own bread. You take Jacob and Ruth to learn to make better baskets. I’ll come with you to start you on your way.”