One was the elderly priest who had defended him to the Methi, the only one of all of them in whom Kurt had hope.
He jerked free, cried out to the priest, the shout also swallowed in the roar. Kta had risen and vanished with the priests into the light.
His guards recovered Kurt, snatching him back with violence he was almost beyond feeling.
“The priest,” he kept telling them. “That priest, the white-haired one, I want to speak with him. Can I not speak with him?”
“Observe silence here,” one said harshly. “We do not know the priest you mean.”
“That priest!” Kurt cried, and jerked loose, threw a man skidding on the polished floor and ran into the rhmei, flinging himself facedown so close to the great fire bowl that the heat scorched his skin.
How long he lay there was not certain. He almost fainted, and for a long time everything was red-hazed and the air was too hot to breathe; but he had claimed sanctuary, as Mother Isoi had claimed it first in the Song of the Ind, when Phan came to kill mankind.
White-robed priests stood around him, and finally an aged and blue-veined hand reached down to him, and he looked up into the face he had hoped to find.
He wept, unashamed. “Priest,” he said, not knowing how to address the man with honor, “please help us.”
“A human,” said the priest, “ought not to claim sanctuary. It is not lawful. You are a pollution on these holy stones. Are you of our religion?”
“No, sir,” Kurt said.
The old man’s lips trembled. It might have been the effect of age, but his watery eyes were frightened.
“We must purify this place,” he said, and one of the younger priests said, “Who will go and tell this thing to the Methi?”
“Please,” Kurt pleaded, “please give us refuge here.”
“He means Kta t’Elas,” said one of the others, as if it Was a matter of great wonder to them.
“He is house-friend to Elas,” said the old man.
“Light of heaven,” breathed the younger. “Elas… with this?”
“Nethim,” said the old man, “is also involved.”
“Ai,” another murmured.
And together they gathered Kurt up and brought him with them, talking together, their steps beginning to echo now that they were away from the noise of the fire.
Ylith turned slowly, the fine chains of her headdress gently swaying and sparkling against her hair, and the light of the hearthfire of the fortress leaped flickering across her face. With a glance at the priest she settled into her chair and sat leaning back, looking down at Kurt.
“Priest,” she said at last, “you have reached some conclusion, surely, after holding them both so long a time.” “Great Methi, the College is divided in its opinion.” “Which is to say it has reached no conclusion, after three days of questioning and deliberation.” “It has reached several conclusions, however-” “Priest,” exclaimed the Methi in irritation, “yea or nay?” The old priest bowed very low. “Methi, some think that the humans are what we once called the god-kings, the children of the great earth-snake Yr and of the wrath of Phan when he was the enemy of mankind, begetting monsters to destroy the world.”
“This is an old, old theory, and the god-kings were long ago, and capable of mixing blood with man. Has there ever been a mixing of human blood and nemet?”
“None proved, great Methi. But we do not know the origin of the Tamurlin, and he is most evidently of their kind. Now you are asking us to resolve, as it were, the Tamurlin question immediately, and we do not have sufficient knowledge to do so, great Methi.”
“You have him, I sent him to you for you to examine. Does he tell you nothing?” “What he tells us is unacceptable.” “Does he lie? Surely if he lies, you can trap him.” “We have tried, great Methi, and he will not be moved from what he says. He speaks of another world and another sun. I think he believes these things.” “And do you believe them, priest?”
The old man bowed his head, clenching his aged hands. “Let the Methi be gracious; these matters are difficult or you would not have consulted the College. We wonder this: if he is not nemet, what could be his origin? Our ships have ranged far over all the seas, and never found his like. When humans will to do it, they come to us, bringing machines and forces our knowledge does not understand. If he is not from somewhere within our knowledge, then- forgive my simplicity-he must still be from somewhere. He calls it another earth. Perhaps it is a failure of language, a misunderstanding, but where in all the lands we know could have been his home?”