“Where could Bernesohn Famber have gone, Saluez?”
It was a foolish question. He knew as well as I. “You heard his own voice,” I replied. “He spoke of the southern canyon, of the omphalos. You yourself said he must have walked. That is where he walked.”
Leelson frowned as he seated himself. “All right, let’s take it point by point. Last night you told us certain gods were abandoned on your former world.”
I nodded. Unwisely, I had said it.
“And these gods were abandoned for”—he gestured toward the window—”the beautiful people.”
“We chose the Kachis instead,” I said. “Our songfathers chose them.”
“Why?” asked Lutha.
“It is not something we speak of,” I told them. “I have already said more than is proper. We chose them, that is all. We abandoned certain of our gods, and chose these instead, and came here to this world.”
“Through the omphalos?”
“Through the omphalos.”
They looked at one another in that way they have, like grown-ups amused by the fanciful tales of children.
“She believes it,” said Trompe, staring at me.
Why would I not believe it? It was true.
“If you’ll allow a non-Fastigat a comment,” said Lutha in a dry voice. “As a linguist, I’ve become aware that there are many kinds of truth—factual truths, scientific truths, spiritual truths, psychological truths. It is no doubt spiritually true that the people of Dinadh emerged from the omphalos. That being so, it doesn’t matter whether it’s factually true or not.” She smiled at me, saying I might believe as I liked, she would not question it.
“Why do you say that?” Trompe demanded.
She turned to him, gesturing. “I say it because we can only deal with so many variables at a time! Bernesohn didn’t mention emergence stories, he spoke of a place! A geographical location. We need not concern ourselves with what’s true or false about the place, at least not until we get there.”
I bowed my head. Exactly. What was true or false did not concern them. Only their duty concerned them, as only my duty now concerned me. My duty and my child to come. The future, to which life itself owes a duty. “To fit into the pattern,” say the songfathers. “Each life owes a duty to fit in.”
Even men who know many lies occasionally tell the truth.
“We must go there, then,” said Leelson. “To the place.”
“It is forbidden,” I told them. “No outlanders are allowed at the omphalos. Only Dinadhi without stain may attend Tahs-uppi, and the ceremony will be very soon.”
They simply stared at me, knowing what I was feeling. How strange to have people know as these men knew. They knew what I had said was not all I meant.
“But you’re going to take us there,” said Leelson at last, prompting me.
“I will guide you,” I whispered. “If you want to go.”
“But I have a map,” he said, holding it up for me to see. “Do I need a guide?”
“You don’t have a way to travel,” Lutha said. “That’s what she means.”
“You would not last an hour after dark,” I said quietly. “There are ways and ways. You need someone who knows the ways.”
Not that I knew the ways. I’d never been out after dark, but I’d spoken with herders who had. Leelson moved to the desk, Trompe to the bench, Lutha to her child, all thinking, all deciding, as though this wandering motion helped them think. Perhaps it did.
“They’d know we were gone,” said Lutha, pulling Leely into her lap. “They’d come after us.”
“How would they know?” I asked. “I am your servitor. I take care of your needs. If I do not report that you are gone, who is to know?”
“They would see we aren’t here, see we aren’t moving around.”
“They don’t look at you anyhow,” I said. “That’s what I am assigned to do. I look at you so the others don’t have to. We do not look at outlanders, we of Dinadh!”
“They would know you aren’t here,” said Trompe.
Lutha said softly, “They don’t look at her, either.”
Behind my veil, my mouth twisted. It was true. If Chahdzi or songfather did not see me for a number of days, they would think I was staying out of sight. The sisters below would know they had not seen me there, in our place, but they would not search for me. They knew I served these outlanders. They would wait until my duty was done and I came to them.