Part 8 (1/2)
Hate-Haiti-but his mind was drifting perilously far afield at an inopportune time) was said to ride his horse backward to his victim's shack, suck out the victim's soul through a crack in the door, and bottle that gaseous soul. Later, when the victim died, the bocor opened the grave, brought out the bottle, and gave the dead man a single sniff of his own soul. Only one sniff: not enough to infuse the entire soul, just part of it. That animated the corpse; it rose up as a zombie, forced to obey the will of the witch doctor. Could the same be done with a human aura, and did this relate to the phenomena on Planet Tarot?
Idle speculations; he would do well to curb them and concentrate on objective fact-finding. Then he could form an informed opinion. Right now he had enough to occupy him, merely surviving this hazardous climb!
They emerged at last onto a narrow terrace. The Swami led the way along this, for it was wide enough only for them to proceed single-file. The view was alarming; they were several hundred meters above the level of the village, with the top thirty an almost sheer drop. The stockade looked like a wall of toothpicks. Woe be he who lacked good balance!
The terrace opened out into a garden area. Unfamiliar shrubs and vines spread out robustly. There were no Bubbles here, however; evidently the elevation, exposure and wind were too much for them. ”We have been farming this plot for twenty days this spring, since the upper snow melted,” the Swami said with communal pride.
”Twenty days? These plants look like sixty days!”
”Yes. I warned you that growth was at an incredible rate, so you are free not to credit it. Soon we begin the first harvest of the season. Then no more wood soup until fall.”
”We could use some of this soil back on Earth!”
”Undoubtedly. We could use more supplies from Earth, and not only when the mother planet wishes to bribe us to permit religious intrusion. Perhaps we can exchange some soil for such supplies.”
Brother Paul was not certain how much of this was humor and how much was sarcasm, so he did not reply. The cost of mattermission made the s.h.i.+pment of tons of soil prohibitive. What was really needed was the formula-the chemical a.n.a.lysis of the soil, and some seeds from these vigorous plants. And that would be very difficult, for the importation of alien plants to Earth was forbidden.
Export was without restriction, but imports had to pa.s.s rigorous quarantine; there was a certain logic to this, for those who comprehended bureaucracy. Even if he, Brother Paul, were chemist enough to work out the formula, he would probably not be able to make the authorities on Earth pay attention anyway. But he would take samples and try...
”This is an active volcanic region,” Brother Paul observed, cutting off his own thoughts. It was a discipline he had to exert often. ”What happens if there is an eruption before the harvest?”
”That depends on the vehemence of the eruption. Most are small, and the wind carries the ash away from this site. Later in the season, when the prevailing winds s.h.i.+ft, it will become more precarious.”
Brother Paul looked down the steep slope again toward the village. The scene was like that of a skillfully executed painting, with the adjacent lake brightly reflecting the morning sun. Beautiful! But he would hate to be stranded here on the volcano when it blew its top! Evidently there could be both ash and lava.
That reminded him of one of his notions that had been aborted by the difficulty of the climb. ”Gas,” he said. ”Does the volcano issue gas? That might account for-”
”There are gas and liquid and solids and enormous energy, in accordance with the laws of Tarot,” the Swami said. ”But none of these are of a hallucinogenic nature. Our problem is not so readily dismissed as originating in the mouth of the mountain.” He stood beside Brother Paul and pointed to the north. ”There, five kilometers distant, is the depression we call 'Northole.' There is the seat of Animation for this region.”
”Maybe a subterranean vent from the volcano?” Brother Paul persisted. ”Strange effects can occur. The Oracle at Delphi-that's a place back on Earth-would sit over the vent of-”
”Well I know it. Yet it seems strange that there is no Animation here at the volcano Southmount itself. No, I feel that the secret is more subtle and formidable.”
”Yet you object to my attempt to explore the secret?”
The Swami showed the way down the mountain. This was a less precipitous path to the west, so that they were able to tread carefully upright, occasionally skidding on the black ash lying in riverlike courses at irregular intervals. ”Do you comprehend prana?”
Brother Paul chuckled. ”No. I have tried hatha yoga and zen meditation and read the Vedas, but never achieved any proper awareness of either prana or jiva. I can repeat only the vulgar descriptions: prana is the individual life principle, and jiva is the personal soul.”
”That is a beginning,” the Swami said. ”You are better versed than I antic.i.p.ated, and this is fortunate. In the Hindu, Vedic, and Tantric texts there is a symbol of a sleeping serpent coiled around the base of the human spine.
This is Kundalini, the coiled latent energy of prana, known by many names.
Christians call it the 'Holy Spirit,' the Greeks termed it 'ether,' martial artists described it as 'ki'.”
Now Brother Paul was in more familiar territory. ”Ah, yes. In my training in judo, I sought the power of ki, but could never evoke it. No doubt my motive was suspect; I was thinking in terms of physical force, not spiritual force.”
”This is the root of failure in the great majority of aspirants.” The Swami paused on the mountainside. ”Do you care to break that rock?” he inquired, indicating an outcropping of crystal.
Brother Paul tapped it with his fingers, feeling its hardness. ”With a sledgehammer?”
”No. Like this. With ki.” And the Swami lifted his right arm and brought his hand down in a hard blow upon the rock.
And the rock fractured.
Brother Paul stared. ”Ki!” he breathed. ”You have it!”
”I do not make this demonstration to impress you with my skill,” the Swami said, ”but rather as evidence that my concern is serious. You have looked at me obliquely, and this is your right, but you must appreciate the sincerity of my warning.”
Brother Paul looked at the cracked crystal again. Some flaw in the stone? He had not observed such a flaw before, and even if there had been one, it should have taken a harder blow than the human arm was capable of delivering to faze it. The power of ki was the most reasonable explanation. The man who possessed that power had to be taken seriously. It was not merely that he was potentially deadly; the Swami had to have undergone rigorous training and discipline, and to have achieved fundamental insights about the nature of man and the universe.
”I take you seriously,” Brother Paul said. The Swami resumed his downward trek as if nothing special had happened. ”So few apply proper respect to their quest for the aura-”
”Aura!” Brother Paul exclaimed, surprised again.
The Swami glanced sidelong at him. ”That word evokes a specific response?”
Brother Paul considered telling the Swami of his vision of the creature from Sphere Antares, who had informed Brother Paul of the existence of his own, supposedly potent aura. It required only a moment's reflection to squelch that notion. He knew too little of this man and this society to discuss something as personal as this, since it reflected on his own emotional competence. What sensible person would believe in the ghost in the machine, or in private, personal alien contact during the period of instantaneous matter transmission?
”I have read of Kirlian photography.”
”No. Photographs are not the essence. Aura permeates the gross tissues of the body, and is the source of all vital activity including movement, perception, thought, and feeling. The awakening of this force is the greatest enterprise and the most wonderful achievement man contemplates. By this means it will be possible to bridge the gulf between science and religion, between technology and truth. But there is danger, too. Grave danger.”
They were now down on the plain, walking northward through the amaranth. No wonder the ”wheat” had looked funny! Brother Paul was distracted by the thought of the young woman he had encountered here the day before, and his other adventure. ”Speaking of danger-is it safe to come here without weapons?
Yesterday I encountered a wild animal near here.”
”Yes, the news is all over the village! The Breaker will not attack you again, since you mastered it. Otherwise I surely would not have brought you this way.”
He paused. ”Though how a lone man could have defeated as horrendous a creature as that one, that none of us dares to face without a trident-”
”I was lucky,” Brother Paul said. This was not false modesty; he had been lucky.
”Had I been aware of the threat, I would not have ventured into the amaranth field.”
The Swami faced him. ”What exactly did you do to overcome the Breaker?”
”I used a judo throw, or tried to,” Brother Paul explained. ”Ippon seoi nage and an armlock.”
”Ippon seoi nage should not be effective against such a creature; the dynamics are wrong.” The Swami looked at him with a glint of curiosity in his eye. ”I wonder-” He hesitated. ”Would you show me exactly what you did?”
”Oh, I would not care to throw you on this ground,” Brother Paul demurred.
”I meant the armlock-gently.” There was no question that the Swami was familiar with martial arts.
Brother Paul shrugged. ”As you will.” They got down on the ground and he applied the armlock, without pressure. ”Nothing special about it,” Brother Paul said.
”On the Breaker, it was really a leglock. I had not expected it to work, owing to the peculiar anatomy of the-”
”Bear down,” the Swami said. ”Do not be concerned; my arm is strong.”