She drew a deep breath. “If I am to help, I would have to believe . . .”
He shook her gently, saying, “No, no, dear lady. No one ever has to believe! The universeis, it does not require belief. Do you think it will stop existing if you do not believe? Do you think far galaxies will harbor resentment against you if you do not believe? Do you resent the ant who does not look up and admire you? Never! Your disbelief can kill a world, but not the spirit of life within that world, and to that spirit, the sincere questioner is of more good than a thousand meticulous believers.” He laughed.
She scowled at him, only for a moment. “Veswees, how quickly could you return to Haven?”
“Very quickly,” he said in a dry voice. “More quickly than the Lord Paramount or the Prince might imagine!”
“You’ve been ordering equipment from off-world, haven’t you? On the Lord Paramount’s account.”
“Now how did you know that!”
“Inference. You have some quick way to go, do you? An airship? Or some kind of powered boat?”
“I do, yes. I can get there very soon.”
“Then go, my friend, for I am about to tell you something that will be useful to our world. Though I am confused about most things, there is one thing I am sure of. The evil that besets Haven must be ended, and perhaps what I tell you will help to end it, when the time is right
“And how will I know when that is?”
“Oh, you will know, Veswees. Believe me, you will know.” And she drew him close and murmured into his ear for a long time, while he nodded and nodded, murmuring, “Yes. I can do that. Yes, that can be done.”
When she had finished, he stared at her, mouth open. “You’re sure this is right?”
She laughed softly. “Sure? Oh, Veswees, who of us has time to be sure a thing is right? I am sure it is necessary. Will that do?”
He leaned forward, kissed her on the forehead, then lifted the trapdoor and went humming down the stair. She did not follow him, for he had given her the idea that she could act on her own, without having to believe anything. He had told her she could decide what needed to be done, and that warranted thinking out.
She had not really believed Aufors when he had told her she was an intelligent person, though his flattery had pleased her. She knew she was clever, yes, at scholarly things. Able to remember and compare. Able to feed back what had been taught. But intelligent? Or wise? Oh, if only she could believe that she was wise! If she could believe she had spent her life mastering something of value when so much of what she had learned was valueless, even evil! But, if she knew, if she claimed to know, she would have to make herself do all those things she had learned not to do. She would have to speak out, claim much, and spout like a geyser! She would have to assert! Demand! Rally!
“Genevieve?” Melanie’s voice from below.
“I’m up here,” she admitted, just loudly enough to be heard.
“I know. Veswees said. Will you come down now, or will you be busy thinking?”
The idea was startling! Busy. Thinking. Was it acceptable to be busy, thinking?
“Yes,” she called, with only the slightest quaver. “I am busy thinking, Melanie. I will be thinking for some time.”
“Later will be fine. There will be a lengthy welcoming ceremony, and the chieftains need to have something to eat and a bit of rest first. Take as much time as you need.”
Genevieve did not ask “first” before what. No doubt Melanie thought that she already knew. She leaned in the embrasure once more, staring at the dawn and thinking of the lichen.
* * *
Mankind had always sought cures and reliefs in the local herbage, looking for omens in the shape of a leaf or the color of a pod. A leaf that was shaped and colored like a lung became lungwort, not because it actually cured sick lungs but because it should. A bandage-shaped leaf must be woundwort, a bladder-shaped pod, bladderwort. So the original observer of P’naki—the one who had first seen the lichen’s rapid growth in response to blood—must have believed that anything burgeoning like that had to be a treatment for wasting diseases. Such as aging. So, he tried it, perhaps on himself, and the patient lived, and lived, and lived.