Part 17 (2/2)

He knew with regret that he would be alone in this responsibility. In time his race would grow to become what he now was, and so would their Terran cousins; in the meantime, they were younglings, in need of guidance and protection even from themselves . . . and, until the Peacelord's time, from the knowledge of their lost Truehome.

It would be an awesome, satisfying task. Kranath smiled, accepting his destiny. ”I think I know now what joining you means. You want my mind to become part of you.”

”Yes, Lord Kranath.” G.o.dhome's mental voice seemed to Kranath both solemn and joyous. ”Although it is I who will become part of you.

This galaxy is the heritage of organic intelligences, not machines.”

It paused. ”Yes, they will call you a G.o.d, you and those you call to join you. But it will not be as difficult as you think--or not in the way you think. You do not have to guide their every step, for too much intervention would hamper their development. Like all younglings, they must be allowed to learn from their mistakes. You will do as I have done, watch and step in only when a mistake would destroy the race.

And you will learn that refraining from action is often more difficult than taking it.”

”Let it begin, then,” Kranath said. ”You were right, I need no prompting.”

”Very well. Open your mind fully to me, that we may both be fulfilled.”

The computer began the process that would end with the dissolution of its own personality. Kranath screamed and fell to his knees in a moment of terror as he became aware of the immensity of what he had committed himself to, and what he was in the process of becoming.

It lasted only a moment, though, before fascination took over. He had seen no more than a tiny fraction of G.o.dhome and felt only the lightest touch of its power, until now. The computer was a fifteen-n'liu cube, yet his newly stretched mind enabled him to comprehend it.

So that was a psionic computer! He had plenty of time to study it in detail--several minutes--before G.o.dhome began the last part of its work, with Kranath's cooperation. His mind was packed with information, then stretched and filled again, until G.o.dhome and the powers it had been given by those who went before were part of him. He knew that he could reach out to touch any intelligence in the galaxy.

There was a final legacy from the computer's creators, one they had left to ease the burden he had a.s.sumed at their call. Gratefully, he accepted the a.s.surances carried in their knowledge, the peace of their certainty that, having been brought to this state, he would use the power he had inherited with wisdom and restraint.

He had gained foresight as well. He was alone for now, but soon enough--in a few hundred years--he would have company, the first of the other Lords he would call to adulthood. At the moment, however, he had work to do.

(Tarlac had already heard from Hovan about some of the Supreme Lord Kranath's doing: providing the clans' altars, a pledge and gift from the Circle; ending the inter-clan fighting; inst.i.tuting the Traiti governmental system of Supreme and Speakers. The Ranger saw how it had happened, and how Kranath, when he no longer needed his physical body, had left it aided by a dagger in the hands of St'nar's Speaker, to initiate the new funeral rites.)

Chapter VII

For a moment, Tarlac felt strange back in his own body. He moved his shoulders, trying to readjust almost as if he were trying to get a new s.h.i.+rt to fit properly. What he'd just experienced hadn't been a dream, he was certain. Four thousand Homeworld years ago, it had happened.

The facts were enough to stagger him. He wasn't sure what he was to do about them, or about his Vision, though he was positive that it would be essential. The Lords only intervened when it was vital.

He wondered briefly if Hovan had been granted a Vision, and if so what it had been, then he decided it didn't matter. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he sat up and began munching on a cold salvis root.

He was only marginally aware of something white at the edge of his vision, until the something said, politely, ”Yerroo?”

”What the--!” Tarlac exclaimed, dropping his breakfast and turning.

Then he smiled, recognizing a cloudcat's distinctive soft, thick fur and graceful shape. He guessed that it was one of those who'd been captured; an animal's cage wouldn't hold an unwilling cloudcat. ”If you're hungry, I've still got some salvis from last night.”

The big cat rose and padded over to sit across the coals from him, extending the two forked tongues that were its speech, as well as its manipulative, organs. ”I have eaten well since my escape,” it said, gesturing with them, ”but I thank you. You handle yourself well in the woods, for a human.”

”You're the one who's been following me, then?”

”I am.”

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