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Authors: Pamela Sargent
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unpracticed in such observances as he was. The men rose, knelt once more, then went into a prostration, pressing their foreheads and noses to their prayer rugs. "God is most great!"
The call to prayer issued forth from a speaker in the roof of the mosque five times a day. Except for the dawn prayer, which he performed quickly outside his tent before lining up for the morning meal, and the night prayer, which he raced through before going to sleep, Malik came to the mosque for the others. It was a way to pass the time, which was probably why most of the Muslim emigrants came here to pray even on days other than Friday; he had seen few signs of true devotion. Perhaps that was just as well. On Venus, these people would have to be tolerant of others who held various beliefs, people they might otherwise have rarely encountered; diverse groups from many different Nomarchies had to live together there.
The men near him were speaking now. "Peace be upon thee, O Prophet," Malik murmured with them, "and the mercy of God and His blessings! Peace be upon us all, and all righteous servants of God. I witness that there is no God but God, I witness that Muhammad is His servant and messenger. God is great!"
When they were finished, they rose, rolled up their rugs, and filed out from the mosque. The camp also held a church, a ramshackle building used at different times by both Old Catholics and Marian Catholics. Sharing a church would hardly have been possible for those two groups anywhere else. Old Catholics regarded the Marians, who had elevated Mary to a status equal to Jesus, as trapped in theological error; in the camp, however, their status as fellow emigrants clearly overrode such differences. Malik supposed many of the Catholics were as casual in their practices as he was in his.
Those who followed other beliefs usually gathered in small groups for prayers and other rites in the dining halls between meals. As Malik walked toward his tent, he saw that Nikolai Burian was sitting outside, waiting for him. Nikolai, along with many of the Russians, did not bother with religious observances, since he came from a community that held to older atheistic beliefs.
The young man had attached himself to Malik. He usually showed up at Malik's side when it was time to line up for food or to use the showers; he was often squatting outside Malik's tent, alone or with other young men, when Malik came out to pray at dawn. They had already dispensed with such formal terms of address as "Nikolai Andreievich" and "Linker Malik"; Malik's old title was inappropriate now anyway. Lately, Nikolai had insisted that Malik address him by the nickname of "Kolya."
Nikolai and the men living in his yurt apparently controlled this end of the camp. They roamed along the paths, asked questions, offered advice, and settled a few disputes best kept from the attention of Guardians.
Nikolai had given Malik advice on which people to avoid, the times when toilets were usually free, and the few amusements the camp offered. Occasionally, he listened while Malik told him a little about his former life. Rumors that Malik was once a Linker had spread through the camp, and at last he guessed why Nikolai sought his company. People were still suspicious of Malik, but he had once held a place among the powerful. Nikolai was undoubtedly curious but also might want to see if some advantage could be gained from getting closer to the scholar.
The young man smirked a little as Malik sat down. "I hope your prayers were a comfort," he said. "The Mukhtars probably just use all that talk of God to impress the likes of us, keep us in line, make us think God tells them what to do."
"That's an oversimplification," Malik replied. "They all have a respect for the ulemas and the law. There are many devout ones among the Mukhtars, even though they realize, in their position, that some tolerance of others is required." It was useless to explain too many subtleties to Nikolai. What the man
The call to prayer issued forth from a speaker in the roof of the mosque five times a day. Except for the dawn prayer, which he performed quickly outside his tent before lining up for the morning meal, and the night prayer, which he raced through before going to sleep, Malik came to the mosque for the others. It was a way to pass the time, which was probably why most of the Muslim emigrants came here to pray even on days other than Friday; he had seen few signs of true devotion. Perhaps that was just as well. On Venus, these people would have to be tolerant of others who held various beliefs, people they might otherwise have rarely encountered; diverse groups from many different Nomarchies had to live together there.
The men near him were speaking now. "Peace be upon thee, O Prophet," Malik murmured with them, "and the mercy of God and His blessings! Peace be upon us all, and all righteous servants of God. I witness that there is no God but God, I witness that Muhammad is His servant and messenger. God is great!"
When they were finished, they rose, rolled up their rugs, and filed out from the mosque. The camp also held a church, a ramshackle building used at different times by both Old Catholics and Marian Catholics. Sharing a church would hardly have been possible for those two groups anywhere else. Old Catholics regarded the Marians, who had elevated Mary to a status equal to Jesus, as trapped in theological error; in the camp, however, their status as fellow emigrants clearly overrode such differences. Malik supposed many of the Catholics were as casual in their practices as he was in his.
Those who followed other beliefs usually gathered in small groups for prayers and other rites in the dining halls between meals. As Malik walked toward his tent, he saw that Nikolai Burian was sitting outside, waiting for him. Nikolai, along with many of the Russians, did not bother with religious observances, since he came from a community that held to older atheistic beliefs.
The young man had attached himself to Malik. He usually showed up at Malik's side when it was time to line up for food or to use the showers; he was often squatting outside Malik's tent, alone or with other young men, when Malik came out to pray at dawn. They had already dispensed with such formal terms of address as "Nikolai Andreievich" and "Linker Malik"; Malik's old title was inappropriate now anyway. Lately, Nikolai had insisted that Malik address him by the nickname of "Kolya."
Nikolai and the men living in his yurt apparently controlled this end of the camp. They roamed along the paths, asked questions, offered advice, and settled a few disputes best kept from the attention of Guardians.
Nikolai had given Malik advice on which people to avoid, the times when toilets were usually free, and the few amusements the camp offered. Occasionally, he listened while Malik told him a little about his former life. Rumors that Malik was once a Linker had spread through the camp, and at last he guessed why Nikolai sought his company. People were still suspicious of Malik, but he had once held a place among the powerful. Nikolai was undoubtedly curious but also might want to see if some advantage could be gained from getting closer to the scholar.
The young man smirked a little as Malik sat down. "I hope your prayers were a comfort," he said. "The Mukhtars probably just use all that talk of God to impress the likes of us, keep us in line, make us think God tells them what to do."
"That's an oversimplification," Malik replied. "They all have a respect for the ulemas and the law. There are many devout ones among the Mukhtars, even though they realize, in their position, that some tolerance of others is required." It was useless to explain too many subtleties to Nikolai. What the man
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