uplift4.brightnessreef-第73部分

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　　From　other　conversations　with　the　Danik　sky…humans；　the　sages　had　already　pieced　together　hints　that　some　great　crisis　was　setting　the　Five　Galaxies　in　an　uproar。　It　might　even　explain　why　the　gene　raiders　were　here　right　now；　taking　advantage　of　the　turmoil　to　do　a　little　burglary。
　　What　could　a　feeble　clan　of　Earthlings　have　done　to　cause　such　motion？　Lark　wondered。
　　With　some　effort；　he　pushed　the　thought　aside　as　much　too　vast　to　be　grappled　with　right　now。
　　〃When　did　the　Rothen　reveal　the　truth　to　you。。。　Danikites？〃
　　〃Longer　back　than　you　might　think；　Lark。　Even　before　your　ancestors　headed　off　in　their　creaky　junkyard　star…ship；　taking　their　foolish　wild　gamble　in　ing　to　this　world。　Soon　after　humanity　entered　interstellar　space；　a　few　men　and　women　were　chosen　by　the　Rothen　to　receive　the　word。　Those　who　had　already　been　keeping　faith；　holding　steadfast　vigil。　Some　stayed　on　Earth　to　help　guide　the　race　in　secret；　while　others　went　off　to　dwell　in　joy　among　the　Rothen；　aiding　them　in　their　work。〃
　　〃And　what　work　is　that？〃
　　She　had　a　look　Lark　sometimes　saw　on　the　faces　of　those　returning　from　pilgrimages　to　the　Egg；　on　those　blessed　occasions　when　the　sacred　stone　sang　its　serene　harmonies。　An　expression　of　having　experienced　splendor。
　　〃Why；　rescuing　the　lost；　of　course。　And　nurturing　what　might…yet…be。〃
　　Lark　worried　she　might　drift　into　plete　mysticism。　〃Will　we　get　to　meet　some　Rothen？〃
　　Her　eyes　had　defocused　while　pondering　vistas　of　time　and　space。　Now　they　turned　and　glittered　sharply。
　　〃Some　of　you　may；　if　you　are　lucky。
　　〃In　fact；　a　few　of　you　may　get　luckier　than　you　ever　dreamed。〃
　　Her　implication　set　his　head　awhirl。　Could　she　mean　what　he　thought　she　meant？
　　That　evening；　by　candlelight；　he　went　over　his　calculations　one　more　time。
　　From　our　best　measurements；　the　starship　had　a　volume　of　about　half　a　million　cubic　meters。　If　you　stacked　every　human　on　Jijo　like　frozen　cordwood；　we　just　might　fit…providing　you　left　no　room　for　anything　else。
　　The　first　time　he　had　worked　out　the　numbers；　his　intent　was　simply　to　dispel　rumors　among　some　younger　urs　and　qheuens　that　the　human　settlers　would　soon　abandon　Jijo。　It　was　physically　impossible；　he　showed；　for　the　youngest　sept　to　forsake　the　mons　for　a　ticket　back　to　the　stars。　At　least　with　this　ship　alone。
　　But　she　said　〃some　of　you。〃
　　Even　after　loading　aboard　hundreds　of　wuankworms；　longsnouts；　or　glavers；　there'd　still　be　room　for　a　few　lost　cousins。　Those　who　had　proved　useful。
　　Lark　knew　a　bribe　when　he　heard　one。
　　Much　as　he　condemned　the　ancestors'　choice　to　e　here；　Lark　loved　this　world。　He　would　feel　a　pang　if　he　ever　left；　and　for　all　his　days　thereafter。
　　Yet　if　things　were　different；　I'd　go　in　a　shot。　Who　wouldn't？
　　The　zealots　are　right。　No　human　can　be　pletely　trusted　these　days。　Not　when　any　of　us　might　be　suborned。　Bought　with　an　offer　to　be　made　into　a　god。
　　In　fact；　he　had　no　idea　what　the　zealots　planned。　Only　that　they　felt　free　to　act　without　advice　or　approval　from　the　dithering　sages。　There　were　humans　in　the　cabal；　of　course。　What　could　be　acplished　without　Earthling　skill　and　lore？　But　men　and　women　were　excluded　from　the　inner　circle。
　　So　what　have　I　learned？
　　He　looked　down　at　a　blank　sheet。　Surely　the　sages　and　zealots　had　other　feelers　out。　Even　Harullen　must　be　hedging　his　bets。　Still；　Lark　knew　his　words　carried　weight。
　　If　Ling　is　telling　the　truth；　and　the　zealots　believe　it；　they　might　call　off　whatever　action　they　planned。　What　do　they　care　if　a　few　glavers　or　rock…stallers　are　taken　off…planet；　so　long　as　the　intruders　leave　us　in　peace；　as　we　were　before？
　　But　what　if　Ling　was　lying？　Might　the　zealots　lose　their　best　chance　to　strike；　for　nothing？
　　On　the　other　hand；　suppose　no　one　believed　Ling；　but　she　really　was　telling　the　truth？　The　zealots　might　attack；　and　fail；　only　to　goad　the　very　response　they　feared！
　　At　the　opposite　extreme　of　radicalism　from　the　fiery　zealots；　some　of　the　most　radical　heretics　actually　favored　their　own　destruction；　along　with　the　rest　of　the　Six。　Some　hoon　and　urs　members　of　Harullen's　society　yearned　for　a　time　of　transcendent　ending…the　urrish　apostates　because　of　their　hot　blood；　and　the　hoon　precisely　because　their　passions　stirred　slowly；　but　once　whipped；　they　stopped　for　nothing。
　　If　our　extremists　think　Ling's　folk　haven't　the　guts　to　do　the　job；　they　may　plot　to　provoke　genocide。　This　despite　his　speech；　urging　that　the　Six　cede　their　place　on　Jijo　by　consensus　and　birth　control。
　　Then　there　was　this　scheme　to　try　blackmailing　the　forayers。　Lark　had　helped　Bloor　set　up　candid　shots；　but　were　the　sages　aware　of　how　the　scheme　might　backfire？
　　Did　they　think　they　had　nothing　to　lose？
　　Lark　rubbed　his　stubbled　chin；　feeling　wearier　than　his　years。　What　a　tangled　web　we　weave；　he　pondered。　Then　he　licked　the　tip　of　his　pen；　dipped　it　in　the　ink；　and　began　to　write。
　　
　　The　Stranger
　　This　place　makes　him　want　to　laugh。　It　makes　him　want　to　cry。　So　many　books…he　even　remembers　that　word　for　them…lay　stacked　high　all　around　him；　in　row　after　mighty　row；　vanishing　around　corners　or　up　twisty；　spiral　ramps。　Books　bound　in　the　leather　of　unknown　animals；　filling　the　air　with　strange　scents；　especially　when　he　cracks　some　volume　taken　off　a　shelf　at　random　and　inhales　the　fumes　of　paper　and　ink。
　　It　jolts　something　within　him；　dredging　up　memories　more　effectively　than　anything　since　he　regained　consciousness。
　　Suddenly；　he　recalls　a　cabinet　of　books　like　these；　in　his　room　when　he　was　very　young。。。　and　that　brings　back　the　pinch　and　crinkling　flex　of　paper　pages；　covered　with　bright　pictures。　Grown…ups　did　not　use　books　very　much；　he　remembers。　Adults　needed　the　constant　flash　and　jangle　of　their　machines。　Machines　that　talked　at　you　faster　than　a　child　was　trained　to　hear；　or　cast　flickering　beams　directly　at　the　eyeball；　filling　it　with　facts　that　faded　the　moment　you　blinked。　That　was　one　reason　he　used　to　like　the　solid　promise　of　paper…where　a　favorite　story　would　not　go　away　like　smoke；　or　vanish　when　the　info…screens　went　dark。
　　Another　image　leaps　out　from　childhood…holding　his　mother's　hand　while　strolling　in　a　public　place　filled　with　busy；　important　people。　Several　walls　were　rimmed　with　bound　volumes；　much　like　the　books　surrounding　him　right　now。　Big　books　without　pictures；　filled　with　black；　unmoving　dots。　Filled　with　words　and　nothing　else。　Hardly　anyone　used　them　anymore；　his　mother　had　explained。　But　they　were　important　nonetheless；　as　decorations　lining　many　of　the　places　most　sacred　or　important　to　human　beings。
　　They　were　reminders　of　something。。。　of　something　he　cannot　quite　recall　right　now。　But　it　must　have　been　important。　That　much　he　knows。
　　Perhaps　it　might　even　be　possible　to　find　a　way　to　save　her　and　her　people。
　　Maybe　that　was　what　his　hands　had　said　to　Prity；　just　a　little　while　ago。
　　If　so；　no　wonder　the　little　chimp　broke　out　in　wry；　doubtful　laughter。
　　Patiently；　he　waits　for　the　two　women…Sara　and　Arianafoo…to　finish　their　meetings　and　return　for　him。　Passing　the　time；　he　sketches　on　a　pad　of　rich；　almost　luminous　paper；　first　refining　some　of　his　drawings　of　the　machinery　aboard　the　steamship；　then　trying　to　capture　the　eerie　perspectives　of　the　stone　cavern　where　all　these　odd　wooden　buildings　lay　sheltered　from　the　sky…under　a　cave　whose　roof　is　propped　up　by　incredible；　massive　stone　pillars。
　　A　few　names　are　ing　easier　now；　so　he　knows　that　it　is　Prity　who　brings　him　a　cup　of　water；　then　checks　his　dressing　to　make　sure　it's　still　tight。　Her　hands　seem　to　flutter　and　dance　before　her；　then　his　do　likewise。　He　watches；　fascinated；　as　his　own　fingers　make　movements　independent　of　his　will　or　mand。　It　might　be　frightening　to　behold。。。　except　that　Prity　suddenly　grins　broadly　and　slaps　her　knee；　chuffing　hoarse；　appreciative　chimpanzee　laughter。
　　He　feels　a　wash　of　pleasure　to　know　his　joke　had　pleased　her。　Though　it　puzzles　and　slightly　miffs　him　that　his　hands　never　saw　fit　to　share　the　humor　with　him。
　　Well；　well。　The　hands　seem　to　know　what　they　are　doing；　and　he　draws　some　satis