Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [21]
“Don’t be afraid. My name is Paldul.”
Erid looked around. He saw the youth with the green pockmarks in his forehead sitting among some of the other transformed. The others were talking, but Paldul didn’t seem to be listening to them. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back slightly.
“Yes,” Erid thought. “I know your name. I heard someone say it the day you arrived here.”
“And yours?” asked the telepath.
“Erid. Erid Sovar.”
“Pleased to meet you, Erid.” There was an undercurrent of something like humor. “I’ll bet you’ve never spoken with your mind before.”
“That’s true,” Erid replied.
“Neither did I,” said Paldul, “before my transformation. Now, I do it quite a bit. Every chance I get, in fact.”
“How many others have you spoken with?” Erid inquired. “Here in the fortress, I mean?”
“Almost everyone,” Paldul told him. “Except for Mollic, of course.”
“Mollic?” Erid had never heard the name before.
“He’s insane,” the telepath thought matter-of-factly. “And dangerous, too. He can set things aflame just by looking at them, so they don’t dare let him out into the yard.”
Erid wondered what it was like to visit the mind of a crazy person.
“Not pleasant,” Paldul thought, surprising him. “At least, in Mollic’s case, it’s not. I’ve never visited the mind of any other mental patient, so I can’t say that’s true as a rule.”
Erid frowned. “It must be nice to have a power like yours. You don’t have to worry about it getting out of control. And you can exercise it without the guards trying to stun you.”
There was another undercurrent of humor. “That’s true. But it wasn’t nice at all when the power first came to me. I kept hearing the thoughts of everyone around me, all the time and all at once. It took me a couple of days to learn to shut them out—to focus on hearing only what I wanted to hear.”
“Two days,” thought Erid.
He had had his power a lot longer than that, and he still hadn’t learned to control it. But then, he didn’t have the luxury of using his talent in public. He was forced to practice it in his cell at night, projecting tiny rays of energy over and over again until he was too tired to keep his eyes open.
“I envy you,” he thought at Paldul.
The youth smiled. “The one I envy is Rahatan. He’s the only one with the courage to stand up to our guards. In fact …”
“What?” thought Erid.
“You’ll see,” Paldul told him, with just a hint of amusement.
Erid asked him for an explanation again, but there was no answer in his head. Paldul had gone away. With that realization came a great emptiness—a loneliness Erid had never felt before.
But then, he had never shared his thoughts with another Xhaldian.
Suddenly, he was jolted by a loud sound—a voice from directly above him. “Day’s over,” the prime guard bellowed. He was a tall, rangy man with a long, lined face. “Time for last meal.”
Erid studied the wall on the opposite side of the yard. Sure enough, the shadow had climbed almost to the top of it. In half an hour or so, the sun would go down.
He started in the direction of the mess hall, telling himself it wasn’t so bad they had to leave the yard. As much as he had eaten at second meal, his hunger was already beginning to gnaw at him.
“This is ridiculous!” someone cried out in a strident voice.
As the cry echoed from wall to wall, all eyes turned to its source. Erid was no exception.
What he saw was Rahatan. The transformed’s gaze was fixed on the prime guard, his hands held out in a plea for reason.
“It’s still light out,” said Rahatan.
Erid was reminded of the thought Paldul had sent him moments earlier. The one I envy is Rahatan. He’s the only one with the courage to stand up to our guards.
“That may be true,” the prime guard allowed, “but it doesn’t change anything. Rules are rules.”
“There’s no reason to rush us,” Rahatan insisted. He took in some of the other transformed with a glance. “Am I right?”
His challenge was met by a rumble of assent. After all, none of the prisoners ever liked to leave the yard.
Denara looked up at the prime guard as well. “Would another few minutes