Read Online Helliconia: Helliconia Spring, Helliconia Summer, Helliconia Winter by Brian Aldiss - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brian Aldiss
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from her mouth. Then he would wake, to lie in his narrow cot staring up, far up, far beyond the confines of his flower-shaped room, to the roof of Vakk. Sometimes, when the atmosphere was fairly clear, he could see distant detail, with bats hanging up there, and stalactites, and the rock gleaming with liquid that had ceased to be liquid; and he wished he could fly away from the traps he found himself in. But there was nowhere else to go.
Once, in midnight desperation, he crawled through to Kyale’s home for comfort. Kyale was annoyed at being woken, and told him to go away, but Tusca spoke to him gently, as if he were her son. She patted his arm and clutched his hand.
After a while, she wept softly, and told him that indeed she had a son, a good kind lad of about Yuli’s age, Usilk by name. But Usilk had been taken from her by the police for a crime she knew he had never committed. Every night, she lay awake and thought of him, concealed in one of those terrifying places in the Holies,guarded by phagors, and wondered if she would ever see him again.
‘The militia and the priests are so unjust here,’ Yuli whispered to her. ‘My people have little to live on in the wilds, but all are equal, one with another, in the face of the cold.’
After a pause, Tusca said, ‘There are people in Pannoval, women as well as men, who do not learn the scriptures and think to overthrow those who rule. Yet without our rulers, we should be destroyed by Akha.’
Yuli peered at the outline of her face through the dark. ‘And do you think that Usilk was taken … because he wanted to overthrow the rulers?’
In a low voice she replied, holding tightly to his hand, ‘You must not ask such questions or you’ll meet trouble. Usilk was always rebellious – yes, perhaps he got among the wrong people …’
‘Stop your chatter,’ Kyale called. ‘Get back to your bed, woman – and you to yours, Yuli.’
These things Yuli nursed in himself all the while he went through his sessions with Sataal. Outwardly, he was obedient to the priest.
‘You are not a fool, even if you are a savage – and that we can change,’ said Sataal. ‘Soon you shall progress to the next step. For Akha is the god of earth and underground, and you shall understand something of how the earth lives, and we in its veins. These veins are called land-octaves, and no man can be happy or healthy unless he lives along his own land-octaves. Slowly, you can acquire revelation, Yuli. Maybe, if you are good enough, you could yourself become a priest, and serve Akha in a greater way.’
Yuli kept his mouth shut. It was beyond his ability to tell the priest that he needed no particular attentions from Akha: his whole new way of life in Pannoval was a revelation.
The days followed one another peacefully. Yuli became impressed with the never varying patience of Sataal, and began disliking his instruction periods less. Even away from the priest, he thought about his teaching. All was fresh and curiously exciting. Sataal had told him that certain priests, who undertook to fast, were able to communicate with the dead, or even with personagesin history; Yuli had never heard of such things, but hesitated to call them nonsense.
He took to roving alone through the suburbs of the city, until its thick shadows took on for him colours of familiarity. He listened to people, who often talked of religion, or to the sayers who spoke at street corners, who often laced their stories with religion.
Religion was the romance of the darkness, as terror had been of the Barriers, where tribal drums warded off devils. Slowly, Yuli began to perceive in religious talk not a vacuum but a core of truth: the way in which people lived and died had to be explained. Only savages needed no explanation. The perception was like finding an animal’s trail in the snow.
Once he was in a malodorous part of Prayn, where human scumble was poured into long trenches on which the noctiferous crops grew. Here,
Once, in midnight desperation, he crawled through to Kyale’s home for comfort. Kyale was annoyed at being woken, and told him to go away, but Tusca spoke to him gently, as if he were her son. She patted his arm and clutched his hand.
After a while, she wept softly, and told him that indeed she had a son, a good kind lad of about Yuli’s age, Usilk by name. But Usilk had been taken from her by the police for a crime she knew he had never committed. Every night, she lay awake and thought of him, concealed in one of those terrifying places in the Holies,guarded by phagors, and wondered if she would ever see him again.
‘The militia and the priests are so unjust here,’ Yuli whispered to her. ‘My people have little to live on in the wilds, but all are equal, one with another, in the face of the cold.’
After a pause, Tusca said, ‘There are people in Pannoval, women as well as men, who do not learn the scriptures and think to overthrow those who rule. Yet without our rulers, we should be destroyed by Akha.’
Yuli peered at the outline of her face through the dark. ‘And do you think that Usilk was taken … because he wanted to overthrow the rulers?’
In a low voice she replied, holding tightly to his hand, ‘You must not ask such questions or you’ll meet trouble. Usilk was always rebellious – yes, perhaps he got among the wrong people …’
‘Stop your chatter,’ Kyale called. ‘Get back to your bed, woman – and you to yours, Yuli.’
These things Yuli nursed in himself all the while he went through his sessions with Sataal. Outwardly, he was obedient to the priest.
‘You are not a fool, even if you are a savage – and that we can change,’ said Sataal. ‘Soon you shall progress to the next step. For Akha is the god of earth and underground, and you shall understand something of how the earth lives, and we in its veins. These veins are called land-octaves, and no man can be happy or healthy unless he lives along his own land-octaves. Slowly, you can acquire revelation, Yuli. Maybe, if you are good enough, you could yourself become a priest, and serve Akha in a greater way.’
Yuli kept his mouth shut. It was beyond his ability to tell the priest that he needed no particular attentions from Akha: his whole new way of life in Pannoval was a revelation.
The days followed one another peacefully. Yuli became impressed with the never varying patience of Sataal, and began disliking his instruction periods less. Even away from the priest, he thought about his teaching. All was fresh and curiously exciting. Sataal had told him that certain priests, who undertook to fast, were able to communicate with the dead, or even with personagesin history; Yuli had never heard of such things, but hesitated to call them nonsense.
He took to roving alone through the suburbs of the city, until its thick shadows took on for him colours of familiarity. He listened to people, who often talked of religion, or to the sayers who spoke at street corners, who often laced their stories with religion.
Religion was the romance of the darkness, as terror had been of the Barriers, where tribal drums warded off devils. Slowly, Yuli began to perceive in religious talk not a vacuum but a core of truth: the way in which people lived and died had to be explained. Only savages needed no explanation. The perception was like finding an animal’s trail in the snow.
Once he was in a malodorous part of Prayn, where human scumble was poured into long trenches on which the noctiferous crops grew. Here,
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