Shrouded Planet

I

The Cyclic Day of the Great Cataclysm had arrived once again. Sixteen periods of sixteen days constituted a Nidorian year. And sixteen years made a full cycle, when each of the sixteen Clans of Nidor had been named.

And traditionally, each cycle began with the first day of the first period of the Year of Yorgen—according to the Scripture, the Day of the Great Cataclysm.

Grandfather Kinis peCharnok Yorgen, Elder Leader, Priest-Mayor of the Holy City of Gelusar, Supreme Councillor of the Elders—and therefore the highest secular authority on Nidor—stood before the high altar of the Great Temple of the Great Light, raised his golden-haired arms, crossed them at the wrists in benediction, and intoned:

"And thus, on the day of the Great Cataclysm, we both rejoice and mourn. We mourn that the Great Light felt it necessary to kill so many of His people, but we rejoice that the unrighteous were taken from Nidor and the righteous remained, to be led to Holy Gelusar by the Lawyer Bel-rogas Yorgen.

"And because of the Holy Righteousness of our Ancestors, I, a Priest of the Great Light, give you, on this solemn day, a most solemn blessing."

He had timed it perfectly. At exactly that moment, the beams of the Great Light, bursting through the thick cloud layer and collected and focused by the huge lens in the roof of the Temple, struck the central pit of the high altar and the aromatic herbs began to smoke. Within a few seconds, as the heat's intensity increased, the herbs burst into flame. When the flames died, after a short space of time, the Celebration of the Great Cataclysm was over for another sixteen years, and the two hundred and fortieth Year of Yorgen had begun.

While the great crowd of participants in the Temple—and the even greater crowd gathered in the Square of Holy Light outside the Temple—murmured their final prayers, Grandfather Kinis peCharnok, Elder of the Clan of Yorgen, strode away from the high altar, his arms folded in reverence.

He walked down the aisle, his head held high, as the people chanted their prayers, repeating them, as tradition demanded, sixteen times. As each Clan was remembered, the Elder Grandfather raised his arms and crossed his wrists in benediction, and as the final Clan, Tipell, was mentioned, he found himself at the door of the Great Temple, facing outward toward the people gathered in the Square of Holy Light.

Again he raised his arms. "May we obey the Scripture and the Law, and may we follow in the Way of our Ancestors," he said sonorously.

"In the Way of our Ancestors," the crowd repeated.

And then something happened which had never be-fore been seen on Nidor—a planet which doted on tradition, and shunned unprecedented events. The figure of the Elder Leader suddenly was wrapped in a nimbus of blue-white light, and, his hands still raised in benediction, he floated into the air and rapidly vanished into the cloud-laden sky.

The worshippers, stricken dumb with religious awe, could do nothing but stare at their disappearing Elder Leader.

Grandfather Kinis peCharnok was badly frightened. He didn't know what was happening to him. Suddenly, without warning, his limbs had become frozen, his body weightless.

Like a leaf from a peych-bean plant lifted by the morning wind, he found himself drifting upwards toward the cloud layer that glowed above him—upwards toward the Great Light.

It was too much for him; even though he was unable to move a muscle of his body, he still was not an absolute prisoner. He could still react, in the one way he had left open to him. He did so.

He fainted.

Later, words drifted through his mind.

"Kinis peCharnok, open your eyes!"

Grandfather Kinis heard the words, but at first they made no sense. All he could feel was the sheer terror of weightlessness and the awful horror of unsupported floating.

Then he realized that he was not floating. His back was solidly supported by a soft padding, not unlike the bed in the Temple to which he was used.

He took a deep breath. Still, he kept his eyes firmly closed.

Demons? Who knows?

"Kinis peCharnok," said a soft, gentle, definitely strange voice, "We are your friends. There's no reason to be afraid of us."

Kinis peCharnok gingerly opened his eyes—just the barest slit. And then he closed them again, frightened, unsure of what he had seen.

What were they? Were they men? No. Not, at least, good, honest, Nidorian men. Their faces were bare— pink and shiny—except for the curious tufts of hair on their chins and the tops of their heads.

"Kinis peCharnok, we are your friends," the voice repeated.

The old priest opened his eyes in time to see who was speaking.

"Who—who are you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"My name is McKay," the weird being said, speaking with barely a trace of accent. "I am an Earthman.''

"Earthman? A man of the soil?"

The strange one chuckled softly. "I guess that's about as close as we can come."

Kinis peCharnok was an old man; he had served his people as Elder Leader for more than two cycles. He was learned, for in nearly forty years—two cycles and a half—he had learned nearly all that was necessary for an Elder of the Council to learn. And yet, the self styled "Earthman" simply did not speak sense; he was as foolish and undecipherable in his speech as the two-year-old child of a deestkeeper.

"As close as you can come?" Kinis repeated un-comprehendingly.

"There's no better way of saying it with the words you know," explained the thing that had called itself McKay. "In our own language, it's—" And he spoke two short syllables.

"Four language? You have your own? There is but one language! But—" Suddenly the priest grew angry. "Why have you taken me away from my people and my Temple?" he asked with dignity.

"You were chosen," said McKay.

"Chosen? For what?" He sat up on the pallet and looked wildly around. "Where have you taken me? Where am I?" He paused, then in a soft voice uttered the question that had been concerning him since he had awakened. "Am I dead?"

Another of the Earthmen smiled. "Not dead, Aged and Most Ancient Grandfather."

"No,'' said McKay. "We have brought you here so that we could speak in privacy and without disturbance."

"But I came up! I floated up! I must be nea»* the Great Light Himself!"

"Not greatly nearer," the Earthman said without smiling. "You're in a ship, floating in the cloud layer. The Great Light is far above that."

Incredulously Kinis said, "You have seen the Great Light—face to face?"

"We have seen Him. But the more closely one approaches Him, the more unbearable is His light for human eyes."

Kinis peCharnok sat quietly, head bowed, thinking. They had told him he was in a ship. That was simple enough to grasp: ships sailed the rivers, brought produce from Gelusar southward to Tammulcor, travelled between the mainland and the Bronze Islands—yes, he knew what a ship was. But a ship in the clouds—and such a ship!

The walls were of metal—yes, of metal, shining, silvery, so bright the priest could see the reflection of his own weary, silver-downed face in them. Gleaming colored lights dotted the ceiling; arching spans of metal bridged the air. It was a strange-looking ship, indeed.

And its crew had seen the Great Light.

Kinis peCharnok felt absolute certainty that they spoke the truth. The things these people did were magical—a ship that flew the sky!—and the Great Light was the source of all magic. The magic of the growing peych-bean, the magic of the nightly rains that ground down the mountain-tops, the magic of a woman bearing children—all these were the magic of the Great Light.

And these beings had seen Him!

Kinis peCharnok began to tremble, realizing he had been chosen for something strange and wonderful.

He said, "What do you want with me?"

"Your help in doing the Will of the Great Light," said McKay. "We have been sent by Him to bring your people closer to Him. In order to bring your people to the Light, it has been decided that a school shall be built near Holy Gelusar.''

The priest frowned. "There already is a school in Gelusar. Does a city need two schools?"

"Not in Gelusar," McKay said. "Our school must be outside the city proper— close enough to the Great Temple, but far from city congestion. It must be surrounded by peaceful groves where the students can relax. Besides, this will be a special school. Aside from teaching the Law and the study of Scripture, we intend to give courses in natural sciences, engineering, and agriculture."

"But why do you need me?"

"Many problems face us. The land must be procured. The school buildings must be built. Before that, our presence must be announced. The people must be prepared for our coming, and for the school. And that will be your job, Ancient Grandfather." McKay looked squarely at him. "You will do this for us—and for the Great Light."

II

In the High Council room within the Great Temple at Gelusar, the Elder Vyless, Councillor of the Clan Vyless and second only to Elder Leader Kinis peCharnok in point of venerable age, placed the tips of the fingers of his right hand against those of his left.

He looked unseeingly at the tent they formed when he held them on his chest. "But, Most Aged One,'' he said without looking up, "If what you say is true—"

"If?" The tone of the Elder Leader's voice was sharp. "You have heard others testify that they saw me lifted into the air. You have heard me tell what these Earthmen wish to do for us. Do you imply that I lie?"

The Elder Vyless lifted a hand. "Oh, no, Ancient One. I would never imply any such thing. But—and I offer no offense here—is it possible that you are mistaken, perhaps?"

Elder Grandfather Kinis peCharnok narrowed his eyes. He saw Vyless' motivation, and he did not like it.

The Elder Vyless had been waiting years for the death of Elder Leader Kinis peCharnok Yorgen, so he could succeed to the Leadership. Of late, he had become increasingly irritable as his own health had shown signs of waning, while the Elder Leader seemed more youthful than ever. It became increasingly clear that if matters went on as they had, the Elder Vyless would not live to see the death of his superior. And this knowledge, Kinis peCharnok thought, made the Elder Vyless more and more bitter.

Kinis peCharnok knew Vyless' position, and could appreciate his feelings. But he could only put up with so much of the Elder's sly needling before he became somewhat sharp with him.

He swivelled to face the Elder Vyless. "And how, just how might I be mistaken?'' he asked. "Did I dream it all, then? And did everyone else dream it?"

Instantly the Elder Vyless bent his hand in a ritual gesture of apology. "I didn't mean that, Elder Leader. I believe you saw what you say you saw."

"Well, then?"

"Have you ever considered the possibility that these beings might be lying to you?"

Kinis peCharnok's eyes widened. "Agents of the Great Light lying, you say? That comes dangerously close to blasphemy—youth!"

Youth! The Elder Vyless flushed at the insult, but he dared not argue with his superior. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Ancient and Venerable One, if a group 6f demons from the Outer Darkness were to come here, would they not tell us that they came from the Great Light?"

Kinis peCharnok rose and glared down the brightly-polished table at the gaunt, hard features of the Elder Vyless. Choosing his words with some restraint, the Elder Leader said, "You 're evidently not thinking well this day, Elder Vyless. Consider: how, may I ask, could a demon of the Darkness lift up a praying priest in the middle of the day—indeed, right after Midmeal Services? I'm afraid your doctrinal theology is weak, Elder. Your argument lacks backbone. Demons can tempt the righteous in the daytime, but they certainly cannot manifest themselves."

The Elder Yorgen paused, watching Vyless stiffen. In the space of minutes, his Elder Leader had called him both youthful and unlearned, before several other members of the Council. But, as Kinis peCharnok waited, his authority asserted itself: Vyless' anger faded, as he realized that it was wrong to question the judgment of the Elder Leader.

There was a sharp rap at the door, breaking the tension. At the Elder Leader's command, the door opened and a yellow-clad acolyte stepped in.

"Well?" Kinis peCharnok asked impatiently.

"Ancient Leader, the Aged Elder Grandfather Dran peBor Gormek would see you."

"I'm speaking with the Elder Vyless now. Tell the Elder Gormek to wait for me in my office; I'll be with him as soon as I'm free."

He turned back to the Elder Vyless. Speaking quietly he said, "I would appreciate your aid in the matter of the land. Come here."

He led the way to the window.

Below them spread the Holy City of Gelusar, the City of the Great Light Himself. It clustered around a bend in the broad Tammul River, which could be seen shining in the distance, spanned by bridges.

"The school must not be in the city,'' Kinis peCharnok said. "The Earthmen said it must be near the city, but separated from it. You will buy, therefore, a proper tract of land from the estates across the river. It must be good land, suitable for growing trees and hedges, for the Earthmen specifically said that they wished the school to be located in a pleasant park." "Why?" Vyless asked.

The Elder Yorgen shrugged. "So they said—and so it must be."

"The Council has already approved this matter, and I won't question it," Vyless muttered. "But what else would you have me do?"

"Pay the usual Temple price for the land. I'll give you a note for a withdrawal from the cobalt reserves for it. There shouldn't be any problems."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. Will you do this for me, Elder Vyless?"

Vyless was a beaten man. His now was the responsibility of locating the school. "It shall be as you say, Elder Leader."

"Good. The Peace of your Ancestors be with you always."

"And may the Great Light illumine your mind as He does the world, Elder Leader," came the automatic ritual response.

They departed together, Vyless heading for the main stairway. Kinis peCharnok turned off into his own small, austere office, where the Elder Gormek was waiting for him.

Elder Grandfather Dran peBor Gormek was a short, broad-chested man who hailed originally from the Bronze Islands, the small island group which lay west of the continent of Nidor, not far off the mainland. Dran peBor was cultured of speech, although occasionally, in moments of great stress and excitement, his voice was liable to betray him by slipping into the Bronze Island dialect he had spoken as a child.

"I ask your blessing, Elder Leader,'' he said, rising as Kinis peCharnok entered.

The Elder Leader offered a brief word and gesture. Then Dran peBor said, "I have come to ask you about the money you've assessed to the Clan Gormek, Ancient One. It seems a little stiff to me."

Kinis peCharnok smiled. "The assessment is for the school, Elder Gormek."

"Exactly," the Elder Gormek said. "My Clan might be—ah—somewhat reluctant to contribute good weights for the building of yet another school."

Kinis peCharnok had foreseen the situation, and he was prepared for it. The Clan Gormek was unique in that its members were located in just one geographical area—they were nearly all Bronze Islanders, miners and sailors. Separated as they were from the Council-dominated life of the mainland, they were not as devoted in their religious duties as they might be.

"My Clan is poor—" the Elder Gormek continued, but Kinis peCharnok interrupted quickly.

"Not that poor, Elder Gormek. Let's not delude ourselves. They give little to the Temple, it's true, but it isn't poverty that causes it. It's lack of discipline, pure and simple."

The Elder Gormek inclined his head. "I admit the defect, Ancient One. Sailors especially pay only perfunctory homage to the Rites of the Great Light. Many of them don't see the inside of a temple more than once a year—and some—well, some less frequently."

"And as for the poverty your sailors plead—" the Elder Leader began.

"Sailors make good wages, too. But it's difficult to get them to part with it, Elder Grandfather. And I'm thinking specifically of the mining population of the

Islands. The digging of copper and zinc and tin from the ground is not as lucrative as it might be. Even the most religious of them can't afford to give much.'' The Elder Gormek paused, then added: "And even the most religious will be somewhat reluctant to give extra for a school which they will never see."

The Elder Leader shook his head. "There's no reason why they shouldn't. The Earthmen specifically told me that anyone on Nidor who passes the school's entrance examinations can enter. Anyone."

"Sailors, even? Miners?"

"If they take the exam. The Earthmen want students in excellent physical condition, and they tell me they plan to give the candidates a special test to discover their mental potentialities. If they are capable of learning , they will be taught whatever is necessary. Surely,'' Kinis peCharnok concluded slyly, "the Clan Gormek has many such people."

"It does," returned the Elder Gormek with a touch of pride.

"Very well, then. Explain it to them and they will pay. I'm using the cobalt reserves for ready cash, but you're aware of what would happen if this money weren't replaced. Our economic system would be unbalanced—and this must not happen. To replace the cash, we have to depend on the Temple Tax. And it is your job to see that the Clan Gormek pays their Temple Tax."

Dran peBor shrugged. "They'll pay, Elder Leader. I don't doubt that. But I feel the amount is a bit heavy, perhaps."

"Apportion it out. Get more from the sailors if the miners have so little. But get it."

"I will see to it, Ancient One," said the Elder Gormek, sighing almost imperceptibly.

"Excellent. May the Peace of your Ancestors be with you always."

"And may the Great Light illumine your mind as He does the world," responded the Elder Gormek. He nodded, turned, and left Kinis peCharnok's office.

The Elder Leader remained behind his desk, thinking. The obstacles were falling; the school would soon be built. It was good to think that in his time, during his stay in the Council's highest seat, this had happened. The Earthmen had come, to lead Nidor to the Great Light.

The necessary cash would be raised soon enough, Kinis peCharnok thought. True, it seemed to be increasingly difficult to get enough money to run the temples properly, these days. Each person gave the right amount, as they always had, but there weren't as many people on Nidor as there had been many cycles ago. For some reason, the birth rate seemed to be dropping off.

The Elder Leader shrugged. The Great Light guided them always. The Great Light had brought the Earthmen. His plan must be followed, and the Way of the Ancestors be observed.

III

Elder Vyless did his job well, if without enthusiasm. The necessary land was selected and purchased from the funds appropriated by the Council. The plans that the Earthmen had given to the Elder Leader were handed over to the stonemasons and the builders.

It was on the day of the Feast of the Sixteen Clans that the ground was formally dedicated. The people had been warned to expect great things on that day, and they came from miles to see the anticipated miracles.

Miracles. They had not been heard of since the legendary days right after the Cataclysm. There had been miracles then, as everyone knew, and as the Scriptures attested.

And now, it seemed, the Great Light once again was taking a visible means of showing His love for His people.

On the day of the dedication the land was crowded with men and women of all clans and all classes, come in from everywhere in the province of Dimay, some even from Sugon to the north, Thyvash and Pelvash to the south, and a few from the westerly province of Lebron.

The farmers rode great, heavily-muscled deests, animals with broad shoulders fitted for pulling plows rather than riding. The priests and the laughing, joking merchants rode in on slim racing deests, their bony legs flashing as they brought their three-toed hooves down on the turf and lifted them again, prancing smartly, with their arched necks held proudly high.

One area of the field had been closed off with stout ropes of braided peych-fiber; within this area, no one was permitted to go. Yellow-robed acolytes stood by to ward off the curious.

The day wore on; the crowd gathered. Kinis peCharnok Yorgen had seen to it that Nidorians of all kinds, from every stratum of life, would be present. The miners of the Bronze Islands had sent a delegation; farmers busy with their crops of peych had come up the Tammul and eastward down the Vash.

At Midmeal, the Elder Leader stepped forward to conduct the Midmeal Services. They were held on a small portable altar that had been brought over from Gelusar's secondary temple, the Kivar, and an acolyte held a miniature burning glass, to remind the people of the use of such a lens long ago by the Great Lawyer, Bel-rogas Yorgen, who had led the people after the Cataclysm so many thousands of years before.

The ceremony ended. Kinis peCharnok drew back from the altar. The time had come, he knew, for the Earthmen to appear, and his sense of timing was as acute as it had always been. He looked upward.

The assemblage followed him. He raised his eyes to the sky, narrowing them to shield them from the awful glare of the Great Light as He shone through the ever-present clouds of Nidor.

At first, nothing could be seen but the glare and the pearly-gray background of cloud. Then a gasp went up from the crowd, spreading rapidly as person after person saw the swiftly-expanding dot.

They had been told to expect a ship. But this was a ship such as none on Nidor had ever seen before.

They knew ships, ships made of wood, with masts and sails. But this was of metal, and it was surrounded by an ethereal blue nimbus. The ship was not large, as ships went. It was a tapering, rounded cylinder some forty feet in length, perhaps twelve feet thick. Slowly, like a soaring sea-lizard, it settled gently to the ground in the center of the roped-off area.

A door in its side opened.

An Earthman appeared.

Almost automatically, the entire crowd, man by man, bent in a reverent bow. There could be no doubt now that this was the magic of the Great Light.

After a long moment, during which the Earthman's searching eyes roved over the crowd, he spoke. He held something small and metallic near his lips, and his voice thundered over the crowd.

"My name is Jones," he said. "I am an Earthman. May the Great Light illumine your mind, that you may see the truth of His Word.''

He paused, while the answering murmur rustled through the crowd. ''And may you walk in the Way of your Ancestors."

After a moment he continued. "You come here today to see ground dedicated for a school. Some of you, probably, are wondering why we are here, and why we are building this school. And it is not to be thought odd that you wonder. I will explain, and I would have you think long on my words.

"There comes a time in the history of any people,''

Jones said, "when they find themselves becoming too self-satisfied. They believe that they are doing their best, but the Great Light demands more of them. They may know the Law and the Scriptures fairly well, but the Great Light demands that they study them even more closely.

"That time has arrived for Nidorians. In order to follow the Law as the Great Light meant it to be followed, the Law must be studied more closely. What does it really mean? What is the real meaning of the precepts which the Great Light would have us follow?

"The Scriptures, too, must be studied; they tell a story, a history. What is the Great Light trying to tell us in that story? What message is He trying to give us? Are we doing enough in our efforts to understand ourselves and Him?

"To really understand one's religion, it is necessary to correlate it with the facts of the world around one. And that will be the purpose of this school. The students that attend here will be taught the Law and the Scripture, and their uses in everyday life. They will be taught the facts of nature, things that men need to know and understand in order to reach a greater understanding of the True Nature of the Great Light.

"Thus, we will come to know Him better.

"And, in honor of the Lawgiver who knew Him so well, this school will be named for the Great Lawyer who brought the people of Nidor safely out of harm at the time of the Cataclysm. Henceforth, this land will be known as the Bel-rogas School of Divine Law, in eternal honor of the Lawyer, Bel-rogas Yorgen."

Jones paused for a moment, then he said, "When the task of building the school is finished, we will return and begin our teaching. We will select the wisest of the Priesthood to assist us, and those students who pass our rigid entrance examinations will inaugurate then-studies with us."

Turning, Jones re-entered the strange ship. Silently the door swung shut.

The ship lifted again—toward the Realm of the Great Light.

The Bel-rogas School of Divine Law was built rapidly, but with care.

Each building was constructed exactly according to the detailed specifications of the Earthmen. They were lovely buildings, high, vaulting, surrounded by the spacious parks Jones had spoken of.

And when the job of construction was done, Jones and his fellow Earthmen returned as they had promised. This time they came, not in their ship, but floating down by themselves, each surrounded by a pale blue aura which winked out as soon as their feet touched the ground. It made an impressive spectacle.

Those were Light-touched days on Nidor. With representatives of the Great Light actually on the planet, working with the Council, travelling through the land from Thyvash to Lebron, it was as if the Light shone a little brighter on Nidor.

From the very beginning, the School was successful. From the day the first class, five hundred strong, men and women, the pride of Nidor, entered the gate that led to the School grounds, the School was hailed by all.

Great, colorful ceremonies were held on feast days. The students soon became widely known for their piety and learning. When they returned to their homes during the annual recess, they were regarded with awe and respect by their families; youngsters, seeing the returned scholars, were fired with the ambition of studying at Bel-rogas themselves.

It was not easy to be accepted by the Bel-rogas School of Divine Law. Only those young men and women who were physically in excellent condition and mentally active and wholesome were permitted to enroll—and even then, if the candidate came from a line known for sickness or inheritance of some disease, he would be sorrowfully turned away. Standards were high—but those who graduated were the finest of the young people of Nidor.

Marriages among the students were common. And, more often than not, the children born of such marriages expressed a desire to study at Bel-rogas almost as soon as they were old enough to talk.

Time rolled by. As had been expected, the Elder Leader, Grandfather Kinis peCharnok Yorgen, outlived the Elder Vyless by three years, and was succeeded by a priest of his own clan, the Elder Grandfather Yorgen peDom Yorgen. The Yorgens had always been known for their longevity, which was not surprising, since they could trace their ancestry back to the incredibly long-lived Bel-rogas Yorgen.

As the years passed, the stature of the School grew even greater. Many of its graduates trained especially for the priesthood, and became learned judges of the court; it was expected that in the course of time they would succeed to the Council. Others became successful merchants whose fairness in business dealings was renowned.

And the School grew, and prospered, and Nidor was happy that the Great Light had sent the Earthmen.

Kiv peGanz Brajjyd had no way of knowing that he was marked for a special destiny, when he made his decision to enter the School.

His father was a fanner, moderately wealthy, a devout man and a good farmer. He held large acreage near Kandor, in the Province of Thyvash. Old Ganz was anxious for his oldest son to follow in his footsteps, and manage the farm which had made the family comfortable for so many generations.

But Kiv would have none of it. He insisted that the management of the farm should eventually be turned over to his younger brother, Kresh peGanz; Kiv, himself, had an eye on the priesthood.

"Very well," old Ganz said, sighing unhappily. He was a shrewd man, and saw that he would gain nothing by thwarting Kiv. "Enter the priesthood, if you can. But I insist that you study at the Bel-rogas School."

"I had planned to," Kiv said.

"Well enough. Should they refuse you—should you be unable to pass the entrance requirements, or if you fail to complete your training—then you're to return to Kandor and settle on the farm, as you should."

"And if I graduate, father?"

"Then you can go on into the priesthood—with my blessing."

Kiv had little doubt about his ability to enter the School. Physically and mentally, he was in excellent condition. He was confident that there would be no problems keeping him from the School.

The Earthmen agreed with him. He travelled up from Thyvash to Holy Gelusar and submitted himself to the entrance requirements; he was duly enrolled. Within the first year of his studies, he had met and proposed to one of the most beautiful—to his mind—of the girl students. She was Narla geFulda Sesom.

At the end of the first year, he took her home with him to Kandor to meet his parents. But he was impatient to return to the School. They cut short their vacation and set out once again for Gelusar, and the Bel-rogas School.