– We didn’t do too badly on the last trip, Decker said. The topaz made it worth our while. And you were the one who nosed it out. You showed me where to find it. There was nothing showing in the gravel. Not a single glint. Just water-worn pebbles. But you showed me where to reach in and find it. Damned if I can figure how you do it.
– Luck, said Whisperer. No more than luck. Sometimes your luck, sometimes mine. Time before, it was you who found the ruby.
– A small one, Decker said.
– But of the finest water.
– Yes, I know. It’s a beauty. Small as it is, it is still perfect. Have you decided yet if you want to do something with it?
– I am tempted, yes. I’ll have to think some more upon it. It would be so small. So small for you, I mean. You’d have to use a glass to see the beauty of the shaping.
– Small for me. Yes, of course, you’re right. Small for me. How about yourself?’
– To me, Decker, size is relative. Almost meaningless.
– We’ll hang on to the ruby, said Decker. I have more than enough to hand over to the captain.
He no longer could see Whisperer. The small glitter of diamond dust was gone. Perhaps, he thought, it was not because of anything Whisperer had done. Rather, it was due to a subtle shift of light values in the cabin. He knew Whisperer still was in the cabin, for he sensed him. And what was it that he sensed? What was Whisperer, what kind of thing was he? He was here in the cabin, of course, but where else might he be? How large was he? How small? A tiny mote dancing in the firelight or an essence that spanned the universe?
An incorporeal being, not always invisible, but incorporeal, a drifting next-to-nothingness, perhaps, that was linked to this planet, or perhaps only to a sector of the planet. Thinking of that, Decker was certain, however, that the linkage was at Whisperer’s discretion. For some reason, he wanted to be here. More than likely there was nothing to prevent him from going wherever he might wish – to exist in the upper atmosphere, or beyond the atmosphere, in space; to domicile inside a glowing star; to sink into the granite of a planet’s crust. All space, and all conditions of space, must be the natural range of Whisperer. Or could it be, Decker asked himself, that the Whisperer he knew was only one small facet of a more encompassing Whisperer? Could the total Whisperer be a huge, sprawling presence that existed in all of space, and possibly in all of time as well, a true creature of the universe?
More than likely, he told himself, he would never know, or knowing, would not understand. Which probably was at least one of the reasons he had never asked. Why ask for information that was beyond his understanding, unresolved information that would plague him all his days, that would rouse him, sweating, from his sleep in the dead of night, that would never let him be, that would set him apart, an alien creature, from the universe?
Whisperer spoke to him again.
– There is tragedy in the forest, he said. Three members of Vatican are dead.
– In the woods? You must be mistaken, Whisperer. Vatican people don’t venture into the woods. They stay close to home.
– These ones were hunting the Old One of the Woods.
– No one in their right mind would hunt the Old One. In the woods, it is well to pray most earnestly the Old One does not come hunting you.
– One of these was new to Vatican. He was full of arrogance. He had a powerful weapon that he thought was a match for anything. It was not a match for anything.
– And they found an Old One.
– No. The Old One found them. He knew they were hunting him.
– And now they’re dead. All three are dead?
– Yes. Dead mostly horribly.
– When did this happen?
– Short hours ago. Vatican does not know as yet.
– Perhaps we should notify Vatican.
– Why? asked Whisperer. There is nothing can be done. In time, when they are gone overlong, others will set out to seek them and will bring them home.
– But the Old One will be there and waiting.
– Perhaps, said Whisperer, but he will not harm the seekers. They’ll not be hunting him.
– He kills only those who hunt him?
– Yes. Did not you know that? You’ve tramped the woods for years.
– I’ve been lucky. I’ve never seen an Old One. I have never had to face one.
– Old Ones have seen you, said Whisperer. Many, many times. They do not bother you because you do not bother them.
– To bother them, said Decker, is the last thing I would do.
– You carry a weapon. What you call a rifle.
– That’s right. I very seldom use it. Occasionally to get some meat to put into the pot.
– And not often even so.
– No, not often, Decker said.
He picked up a poker and engineered the fire, settling logs into more compact space for better burning. The chimney mumbled at him. The wind moaned underneath the eaves. The fireplace flames sent shadows chasing up and down the room.
– Vatican, said Whisperer, is very much excited.
– Because of the Old One?
– No, not because of the Old One. That is not known as yet. Something, it seems, has been found by a Listener.
– The Listeners are finding something all the time.
– But this finding is a special finding.
– Special in what way?
– I know not as yet. Everyone is excited. Some jubilant, some skeptical, some shocked. If true, I gather, something of very great import. The index of faith is running very high. An increase in devotion.
– They have their little triumphs, said Decker, and their small defeats. The place is in continual uproar.
– The triumph in this instance, said Whisperer, cannot be classified as small. There is great hope; many tellings of the beads.
Six
They stood on the landing field, staring in some dismay at the small grouping of nondescript buildings that made up the colony of End of Nothing. On a low ridge behind the town rose a sprawling structure, or a group of structures – from this distance it was impossible to tell – all gleaming white, stately despite the lack of height, with a comfortable, down-to-earth appearance despite the stateliness. And, behind the structure, a backdrop to everything, reared up mountains purple in the distance, with the hint of white-capped peaks seeming to float in the air above them.
Tennyson pointed at the structure on the ridge.
‘Vatican, I take it.’
‘I would think it might be,’ said Jill.
‘I’ve seen photographs of the Old Earth Vatican. That looks nothing like it.’
‘You’re taking the name too literally,’ Jill told him. ‘It’s nothing but a name. I doubt it has any real connection with the Vatican.’
‘But a pope?’
‘Well, maybe some connection. An imagined connection. But I doubt there’s anything official, nothing that the Old Earth Vatican would officially recognize.’
‘And you propose to storm those heights?’
‘Jason, you’re being dramatic now. A bit consciously dramatic. I’m not storming anything. There is a story here and I intend to get it. By going through channels. By marching up there in all politeness and saying who I am and what I want to do. And while I’m getting this story, what do you propose to do?’
‘Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve not even thought about it. I’ve been running and I guess here the running stops. I can’t go back to Gutshot, not for a while at least.’
‘You sound as if you intend to keep on running.’
‘Well, not right away. This is as good a place as any to stop and rest awhile and have a look around.’
The long line of pilgrims who had disembarked from Wayfarer were snaking down the field, apparently going through a visitor checkpoint.
Tennyson nodded at them. ‘Do we have to go through the same procedure, do you know?’
Jill shook her head. ‘I think not. No papers are required, not for humans anyhow. End of Nothing officially is listed as a human planet and there are certain courtesies extended to humankind. It’s a small place, too, and apt to be informal. A few days from now you may find yourself having lunch with the police chief, or the sheriff or the marshal, whatever the man is called, who will ask you some polite questions and will look you over well. I’m not sure about here, but that’s the way it usually works in small human colonies.’