JORR (Jim Able: Offworld Book 7) by Ed Charlton (ebook reader ink .txt) 📗

who speak thus. But...it was not to be. Instead, we heard of other ways of thinking and other philosophies, of the medicine of the Jorrs, and of how they study the mind and the way they think of the brain. Some, we found, believe in the spirit, but many see only chemicals and cells, genes and conditioning.”

“They are ignorant, Fal. Ignorant savages.”

“Are they? Then why do our doctors talk the same way?” She swung round and leaned forward across her desk. “Do you know what they say about the Raeff? Do you?”

Ajeer looked away and said, “I have heard rumors. They say he is sick.”

“Sick with a malady of the brain—the brain, notice, not even the mind! They say he needs medicines and should not lead.”

Fal shook her head and let her tongue roll out of the side of her mouth.

“How can they say that?” said Ajeer. “He has led Muthlec to glory! He inspires us all. How is that possible if he is sick?”

“It is not so simple, is it? When we—the holders of tradition, the keepers of the secret knowledge, the Luminants of the Raeff—have failed to discern what the spirit says.” Fal slumped down into her chair. “We do not know. In that uncertainty, we have to accept...the possibility...they might be correct.”

Ajeer frowned and whimpered quietly.

Fal continued, “If we cannot say that the spirit is truly talking through the Raeff, who can? If we do not know, who does? These are hard questions, I know. You see perhaps why this is not talked of. You see the problems it would cause.”

Ajeer shook her head. “There must be a better answer. If the Raeff is sick, then everything he does is suspect. That cannot be. It cannot!”

“Child, we believe in the spirit. It may be that the spirit sometimes chooses a broken vessel.”

“Yes, I know...Yes...Perhaps that is all it is.”

“But your task then becomes so much more difficult, does it not?”

“I...I have to be able...You are asking me to discern the difference?” Ajeer’s eyes sparkled as she looked across at her mentor.

“You must decide for us which is spirit and which is sickness. It is not a task I would wish on anyone; that it falls on one as young as you breaks my heart.”

“Is this how Calna dealt with the Raeff?”

“Calna’s faith was rooted firmly in our tradition. She had no time for these new ‘heresies.’”

“She never mentioned the spirit-words to me at all. What did she say here?”

“Nothing. She recorded them when she could. She delivered them to her superiors. After her initial discovery, she did not question or seek answers as you do. If an answer came back, she would have been relieved, I’m sure. But none came. Do not wait for one! It is you who has the chance to advance our knowledge. If you can learn about the theories of the doctors, and perhaps...but I say too much.”

Fal looked away but resolved to continue. “I will say it! Find out about the medicines. Learn all you can from the doctors. Learn to know the difference between the spirit and whatever else is happening to the Raeff. I think this is your task. I hope we will all be better for the knowledge you can bring.”

“We have no guiding words for me to follow!”

“Write it...so that others may refer to your words for guidance.”

Ajeer rocked her head from side to side. “How can I consider such a thing? How I can I presume to lay down holy words?”

“Child, you are our brightest and our best. Calna never told you that, nor did I, in case you grew big-headed. You are grown now. Your head is the size it is and there is nothing more we can do about it. Go and light the way for your Raeff. If anyone can truly tell where and when the spirit moves in him, it is you.”

Fal stood, and Ajeer moved around the desk and embraced her. They sobbed as they parted.

Fal watched her move away down the corridor, purpose firming each new stride.

Chapter Seven

Tella waited until night fell over Brurass. The local airports were busy until nearly midnight. Once they had shut down, the flier, in stealth mode, made a steady descent toward the surface. Tella had identified a lake in one of the outlying parks deep enough and dark enough to hide the flier. It was essential to keep the flier as cool as possible during the descent. The locals would soon know that something was amiss from a flaring trail in the sky but likewise from boiled fish.

Tella made a final check of the hull temperature and settled the craft under the water. After a short visit through the decontamination shower, it launched itself from the airlock with one straining lungful of air.

As soon as Tella reached cover, it stuffed its robe and the flier’s remote control into a small hollow at the base of a tree and disappeared into the night.

The sights, sounds, and smells of the sleeping city were all around. Tella walked through the streets and absorbed the city’s life, glorying in the gentle immersion of the senses.

For Tella, the strict demarcation of the senses that other races talked of was a mystery. Once engulfed in the patterns, shadows, breezes, and smells, all feelings merged. The Neraffan skin, sensitive to the slightest variation of color, became an extended nose, an ear turned inside out, an electrical conductor. A life in the dull confines of clothing and the routine world of utilitarian spacecraft faded from memory as it walked. Although an alien one, this was the real world—a world to be drunk from, deeply, passionately.

Building after building smelled sweet. The odors of garbage and drains, small animals, and the natural and manufactured musks of the Jorrs were always laced with the same sweet undertone. Tella felt it as a purple scent: warm, velvet, with a formality that grew more and more attractive.

The night cooled, and eventually, the Neraffan paused to enjoy the warmth