Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [152]
In particular, he was fascinated with Sir Thomas More, whose convictions had meant more to him than life itself. When asked to take an unconscionable oath, More had refused the direct command of his king—a shocking concept for any Ildiran!—and allowed himself to be executed for truth and honor, never wavering, despite many chances to recant. To Pery’h, it seemed the sort of story that should have been included in the Saga of Seven Suns…
Now, oozing confidence, Rusa’h led the ever-growing crowd as Hyrillkans appeared from settlements around the nialia fields. Messages were sent to cities and villages across the continent with Rusa’h‘s order for all people to go into the fields. He promised them a gift, a day of joyful pleasure and rest.
The rows of plantmoths waved gently under their own motion. Silvery-white male flying forms flitted from bush to bush, sampling the receptive female flowers atop thick stems that beckoned with lavender and blue petals and exuded tempting pheromone-filled perfumes. The people laughed as they plunged alongside the Designate into the thick rows. Startled male plantmoths flew around as if a windstorm had kicked up.
Now that he was among the nialias, Rusa’h walked forward as if in a trance, stretching out his hands to brush the hairy leaves with his fingertips. He raised his voice. “I have gazed directly upon the Lightsource. I have seen and learned things no other Ildiran can comprehend. Trust me, and I will guide you. This shiing is yours! It is a gift to my people. Take it fresh and strong, open the doors in your mind so that we can all come together as vital parts of the tapestry. Then you will all see the Lightsource for yourselves!”
Moving first, Thor’h eagerly tore off one of the ripe buds swollen with milky bloodsap and squeezed it in his hand, dribbling the juice into his mouth before passing it to his uncle. Rusa’h also took several drops, but it seemed merely a token gesture.
Concerned, Pery’h hurried up to him. “Is it wise for our people to consume so much shiing, Uncle? Especially in such a strong form. It muddies the thism, separates us from the rest of the Ildiran people. And so many of us at once? We should all try to be stronger together, not allow ourselves to drift apart.”
Rusa’h narrowed his eyes as if he were looking at a stranger. “I will guide all Ildirans.”
“The Mage-Imperator guides all Ildirans.”
Rusa’h frowned. “I offer a new way. I have already discussed the matter with my lens kithmen, and they all agree.”
“Wait!” Pery’h raised his voice, loath to contradict the Designate but knowing that he must do what was right. “This is not wise, and I forbid it.”
But the people standing by the plantmoth vines were ready to follow Rusa’h‘s orders, as always. Thor’h chuckled sarcastically at his naïve sibling. “You forbid a connection with the Lightsource, Pery’h? I am the Prime Designate, and I command that everyone obey the legitimate Designate.”
“Well spoken!” Rusa’h gestured, and the people, receiving confirmation, began to yank bulbs from the nialias.
“This is foolhardy,” Pery’h growled. “Why would you choose to do this?”
Thor’h tore a freshly fused male-female unit from the end of one vine and held it out to Pery’h. The end bled sticky liquid shiing. “Here, little brother. Since you do not understand, you must learn. This is the first step. We must loosen the bonds of thism.”
“I don’t want to be disengaged from the thism.”
“There is more than one safety net,” Rusa’h said, “but you cannot discover it until you begin to fall.”
Pery’h angrily pushed the dripping bloodsap away. One of Rusa’h‘s lens kithmen took the bulb from Thor’h’s hand and consumed the bloodsap, then passed it to his partner,