Tarot - God Of Tarot Part 6

Phew! The colonists were taking this matter much more seriously than did the scholars back on Earth. "I really cannot undertake to do that," Brother Paul said cautiously. "To me, G.o.d is All; He favors no particular sect. The Holy Order of Vision is not a sect in that sense; we seek only for the truth that is G.o.d, and feel that the form is irrelevant. While we honor Jesus Christ as the Son of G.o.d, we also honor the Buddha, Zoroaster, and the other great religious figures; indeed, we are all children of G.o.d. So we seek only to know whether G.o.d does manifest here; we do not seek to channel Him, and would not presume to pa.s.s upon the merits of any religious sect."

"Well spoken! Yet I think G.o.d Himself will be the final arbiter. He will make known His will in His fashion, and you-according to the opinion of the colony majority, which I question-shall reflect that will. G.o.d is power; none of us can stand against that, nor would we wish to."

Brother Paul was not certain he had established any solid community of concept with the Reverend, but found the discussion stimulating. Still, it was time to get more practical. "I would like to know more about your geography," he said.

"Particularly where the Animations take place."

"We shall show you that tomorrow. Animations are erratic, but generally occur in the oasis three kilometers north of here. We shall have to select guards for you."

"Oh, I don't require-"

"We value your safety, Brother Paul. If you should die within an Animation, as so many do, not only would we be bereft of our answer, we should be in bad repute back on Earth."

Sobering thoughts! The Reverend Mother Mary had warned him that religious scholars had lost their minds or died exploring this phenomenon; this was the confirmation. Still, he protested, "I would not want you to be in bad repute, but-"

He was interrupted by Siltz's snort of laughter at the notion that planetary repute was more important to him than his own life. "But I understand that predatory animals avoid Animations."

"They do. But what protects you from the Animations themselves?"

"As I understand it, these are merely controlled visions-visible imagination.

There would, of course, be no physical-"

Reverend Siltz shook his head emphatically. "They are physical! And it will be a physical G.o.d you meet, whether he be valid or invalid. You will see."

Physical imagination? There had to be some sort of confusion here! Of course there had been suggestions of this in his briefing on Earth, but he had tended to dismiss such notions as exaggerations. "I am afraid I don't-"

The Reverend raised a hand. "You will ascertain this for yourself in due course.

I do not wish to violate the spirit of the Covenant, though I fear I have already compromised the letter of it. Now we must go before the storm comes."

Even as the man spoke, Brother Paul heard the imperative rumble of thunder.

"Where are we going?"

"To the communal lunch. It is more efficient than home cooking, and provides for a fairer allocation of food, so we do it in summer." Naturally a Communist would feel that way! "Storm time is good eating time, since we cannot then work outside."

"Your wife-isn't she coming too?"

"She is not. She eats at another shift, as does my son. I am relieved of my community labors for the duration of your stay; my labor is to attend to you.

Now I must see that you are properly fed. Come, I have delayed too long. I neglect my responsibility. We must hurry."

They hurried. Outside, Brother Paul saw the ponderously looming clouds coming in over the lake from the east, so dense that they seemed like bubbles of lava in the sky. By some freak of the local system, the wind was coming from right angles, from the north, and it looked as though rain were already falling on the wheatfield to the west. The clouds, then, must be only the most visible portion of the storm; the outer swirls of it were already upon the village. Indeed, now he spied flashes of color-Tarot Bubbles borne on the wind, popping frequently but in such great numbers that they decorated the sky. What a pretty effect!

"Too late," Reverend Siltz said. "Yet I am remiss if I do not bring you to the others. We shall have to use the cups."

"I can stand a little rain," Brother Paul said. He rather liked bold storms; they showed the power of nature vividly.

But the man was already diving back into the house. "It is not merely water," he called from inside. "Bigfoot lurks in rain and snow."

Bigfoot? Brother Paul knew of the legends back on Earth of Yeti, Sasquatch, Abominable Snowman, Skunk Ape, and Bugbear; in fact he was somewhat of a fan of Bigfoot. With the cultural and technological regression Earth had suffered as a result of the depopulation of emigration, these legends had increased in number and force. He believed that most sightings of huge manlike monsters were merely distortions of straggling, perhaps ill human beings. An unkempt, ragged, wild-haired, dirty and desperate man could be a sight to frighten anyone, particularly when he was glimpsed only at dusk as he skulked in his search for food. Whether any nonhuman monsters existed-well, who could say? But Brother Paul hoped they did; it would certainly make Earth more interesting.

Reverend Siltz emerged with an armful of panels. Quickly he a.s.sembled two wooden hemispheres, each about a meter in diameter and girt by wicked-looking wooden spikes. Odd cups! Did this relate symbolically to the storm? Water, the Cups of the Tarot?

"You set this frame on your shoulders, and strap it under your arms," Siltz explained, helping Brother Paul into one. "When the storm breaks, angle forward into it and you will be protected. Do not let the wind catch inside the cup; it could lift you off the ground. If Bigfoot comes, use the spikes to drive him-it- off." Siltz evidently was reminding himself that the monster was inhuman.

"Remember, I will be beside you." And the Reverend donned his own contraption.

The umbrellalike dome came down to circle Brother Paul's shoulders, greatly reducing visibility. He wanted to get along with his host, but this was ridiculous!

Reverend Siltz led the way across the turf, around the now-deserted wood pile (except for two guards armed with tridents) toward a larger building on top of a gentle hill. Despite the c.u.mbersome containers, they made good progress.

There were a few more minor rumbles of thunder, superfluous reminders of the intensification of the storm. The sheet of water was now within a kilometer, churning the surface of the lake with such force that no horizon was apparent there, just splash. That hardly mattered; Brother Paul could not see well anyway because of the interference of the wooden cup. So he looked at his feet and at those of his companion, and marched along, feeling somewhat like a tank with legs, while his thoughts returned to Bigfoot. Could there be a similar creature here on Planet Tarot? Or was this merely frontier superst.i.tion? With all these fragmentary religious cults, it would not be surprising to discover strong beliefs in the supernatural. Still, if there were a- A sudden, quintessential crack of thunder virtually knocked him off his feet.

Never before had he felt such a shock; deafened and dazed, he stood staring at the ground, feeling his hair shifting nervously, and an odd tingling all over his body. The air was electrically charged, and himself too! There would surely be more lightning strikes close by, and he didn't like it. Those had been true words, about the rigorous conditions of this planet! No wooden shields could protect them from this!

Reverend Siltz was gesturing beneath his own shield, pointing urgently forward.

Yes, indeed! Brother Paul was eager to get under proper cover!

The rain struck. It was like an avalanche crushing down the cup. Rain? These were hailstones, b.a.l.l.s of ice up to a centimeter in diameter. They rapped the shield imperatively, small but hard. No, he would not have wanted to go bareheaded among these icy bullets!

A gust of wind whipped a barrage into his legs and tugged at his shield. Quickly Brother Paul reoriented it to fend off the thrust, for indeed this storm had power.

The hail thinned to sleet, then to water. Now he was certain; he did carry a literal cup to protect him from the onslaught of water. Whether the colonists used Tarot symbolism consciously or unconsciously he could not say, but use it they did.

The field was now a river, a centimeter deep. Colored Tarot Bubbles bobbed along on it, seeming to pop as he looked at them. Probably it was the other way around: his eye was attracted to them as they popped. The surviving ones added a surrealistic l.u.s.ter to the scene.

Reverend Siltz brushed close. "Get out of the channel. Follow the ridges."

Brother Paul saw that he was walking in a slight depression. No wonder his feet were splashing! He moved to the side, finding better footing.

"Bigfoot is near," Siltz cried. "More fast!" And he began to run.

More fast. So the language reverted some under pressure. This was no joke; the man was alarmed. Brother Paul followed, wondering how the Reverend knew which direction to go. The rain obscured everything and showed no sign of slackening.

The flash-rivers fed into the lake now, broadening out to obscure the normal fringe of the lake; all was water, below. The hailstones on the ground were turning into slush. But this business about Bigfoot- Then he saw the footprint.

It was like that of a man, but half a meter long. The creature who had made this print, if it were similarly proportioned throughout, had to be triple the ma.s.s of a man. Two hundred twenty-five kilograms!

He felt a thrill of discovery-and of apprehension. This was a fresh print, only seconds old; already it was washing out. There really was a Bigfoot here- and it was within two or three meters of him!

Reverend Siltz grabbed his arm under the cup. "On!" he cried, his voice colored by something very like fear.

Brother Paul's curiosity about the monster warred against his common sense. The latter won. He plunged on. This was hardly the occasion to tangle with a two-hundred-kilo brute!

The water buffeted them, trying to twist the cups about. But the turf remained firm, and in due course they hove into the shelter of the community kitchen.

Their legs were wet, but that didn't seem to matter.

"You exposed our guest to Bigfoot?" the guard at the door muttered to Reverend Siltz, holding his trident ready against the storm.

The Communist did not answer, but pushed on in. Brother Paul followed.

"Actually, I'd like to meet Bigfoot," he said to the guard. "It was the lightning that scared me." But the man did not smile.

Other people were in the building, going about their a.s.sorted businesses, but there were no hearty welcomes. Reverend Siltz ignored all except those wearing the hammer-and-sickle emblem of his Church. Nevertheless, he guided Brother Paul to a table where several men of differing denominations sat. Or so Brother Paul a.s.sumed from the fact that the emblems on their clothing were dissimilar.

"It is necessary that you a.s.sure these people I have not tried to compromise your objectivity," the Reverend grumbled. "I shall fetch soup."

Brother Paul seated himself and looked around. "I so a.s.sure you," he said with a smile. "I embarra.s.sed him with a number of questions that forced him to invoke the Covenant, but he withstood the onslaught. I am wet but uncompromised."

The man across from Brother Paul nodded affably. He was middle-aged and bald, with smile-lines in lieu of Reverend Siltz's frown-lines, and bright blue eyes.

"I am Deacon Brown, Church of Lemuria. We are sure you remain objective. You must forgive your host his taciturnity; he is suffering under a difficult family situation."

"I have no complaints," Brother Paul said carefully. "I am not sure I can say the same about your Covenant, but the Reverend Siltz has treated me cordially enough. I fear I kept him so busy answering my routine questions that we left his dwelling late, and so got caught in the storm. I do tend to talk too much."

That should absolve the Reverend on that score. Brother Paul was tempted to inquire about this multi-sected society, but decided to wait. He already knew the colonists were not supposed to enlighten him on this matter informally, lest they be accused of proselytization. These men had clearly ignored his hints about this inconvenience.

"You see, his son is serious about a young woman of the Church of Scientology,"

Deacon Brown continued. "The two young people worked together this spring on a tree-harvest mission, and the Cup overflowed."

No doubt about the Tarot reference this time! Cups were not only the suit of water; they signified religion-and love. A difficult juxtaposition here, it seemed. "You do not permit marriage between churches?"

"It is permitted by some sects, and forbidden by others. You must understand, Brother Paul, that we are a jealous community." Reverend Siltz had used a similar expression; there was no doubt it was true! "We came here as individual sects to further the purity and freedom of our own selective modes of worship, and it is to our displeasure and inconvenience that we find ourselves required to interact so intimately with false believers. We find it difficult to agree on anything other than the sheer need for survival-and not always on that."

Even so! "Yes, but surely religion should not oppose common sense. I doubt that you have enough members of each sect in this village to be able to propagate freely within your own churches. There must be some reasonable compromise."

"There is some," Deacon Brown agreed. "But not enough. We understand Reverend Siltz's position; none of us would wish our children to marry Scientologists, or Baha'is, or any other heathen offspring. My daughter does not keep company with the son of Minister Malcolm, here, of the Nation of Islam." The adjacent man smiled affirmatively, the whiteness of his teeth vivid against the brownness of his skin. "Yet the Cup is powerful, and there will be serious trouble unless we can soon determine the true nature of the G.o.d of the Tree."

"So I have been advised." Brother Paul was now aware of the reason for the tense relations between individuals, but it seemed to him to be a foolish and obstinate situation. With savage storms and Bigfoot and similar frontier-world problems, they did not need pointless religious dissension too. It was certainly possible for widely differing sects to get along together, as the experience of the Holy Order of Vision showed. To Brother Paul, a religion that was intolerant of other religions was by its own admission deficient. Jesus Christ had preached tolerance for all men, after all. Well, perhaps not for moneylenders in the temple, and such. Still...

Reverend Siltz returned with two br.i.m.m.i.n.g wooden bowls. He set one before Brother Paul, then seated himself on the wooden bench. There was a wooden spoon in each bowl, crude but serviceable. There must be quite a handicrafts industry here, fashioning these utensils. This was certainly in accord with the principles of the Order; wooden tableware did make sense.

Brother Paul and Reverend Siltz fell to. There was no blessing of the food; probably the several sects could not agree on the specific format, so had agreed by their Covenant to omit this formality. The soup was unfamiliar but rich; it had a pithy substantiality, like potato soup, with an unearthly flavor. If I may inquire-" he started.

"Wood soup," Deacon Brown said immediately. "The Tree of Life nourishes us all, but it yields its sustenance more freely when boiled. We also eat of the fruit, but this is as yet early in the season and it is not ready."

Wood soup. Well, why not? This secondary worship of the Tree was becoming more understandable. Perhaps it would be best if the G.o.d of Tarot did turn out to be one with the local Tree. If it were simply a matter of interpretation-but he would have to wait and see, not prejudicing his own mind.

Brother Paul finished his bowl. It had proved to be quite filling. Reverend Siltz immediately took it away. Apparently the Reverend wanted to be quite certain the others were satisfied with the visitor's equilibrium, so left him alone at any pretext. Another indication of the strained relations here.

"If I may inquire without giving offense," Brother Paul began, aware that offense was probably unavoidable if he were to proceed with his mission.

"You are not of our colony," Deacon Brown said. "You do not know our conventions. I shall give them to you succinctly: speak no religion. In other matters, speak freely; we shall make allowances."

Hm. He would be unable to honor that strictly, since his purpose here was thoroughly religious. But all in good time. "Thank you. I notice you employ a certain seeming symbolism that resembles that of the Tarot deck. Cups, for example. The Tarot equivalent of the suit of Hearts. Is this intentional?"

Everyone at the table smiled. "Of course," the deacon agreed. "Every sect here has its own Tarot deck, or variant deck. This is part of our communal respect for the Tree of Life. We do not feel that it conflicts with our respective faiths; rather it augments them, and offers one of the few common bonds available to us."

Brother Paul nodded. "It would seem that the concept of the Tarot was always a.s.sociated with this planet, with visions drawn from the cards-"

"Not visions," the deacon corrected him. "Animations. They are tangible, sometimes dangerous manifestations."

"Yet not physical ones," Brother Paul said, expecting to clarify what Reverend Siltz had claimed.

"Indeed, physical! That is why we require that you be protected when you investigate. Did the Communist not inform you?"

"He did, but I remain skeptical. I really don't see how-"

The deacon brought out a pack of cards. "Allow me to demonstrate, if there is no protest from these, my companions of other faiths." He glanced around the table, but no one protested. "We are in storm at the moment; it should be possible to-"

He selected a card and concentrated.

Brother Paul watched dubiously. If the man expected to form something physical from the air...

A shape appeared on the table, forming as from cloud, fuzzy but strengthening.

It was a pencil, or chopstick- "The Ace of Wands!" Brother Paul exclaimed.

Deacon Brown did not reply; he was concentrating on his image. Reverend Siltz had quietly returned, however, and he picked up the commentary. "Now you evidently believe the Lemurian has made a form without substance, a mirror-reflection from the card he perceives. But you shall see."

Siltz reached out and grasped the small rod between his thumb and forefinger.

His hand did not pa.s.s through it, as would have been the case with a mere image; the wand moved exactly as a real one might. "Now I touch you with this staff,"

Siltz said. He poked the end at the back of Brother Paul's hand.

It was solid. Brother Paul felt the pressure, and then a burning sensation. He jerked his hand away. "It's hot!"

As he spoke, the wand burst into flame at the end, like a struck match. Siltz dropped it on the table, where it continued to flare. "Fire-the reality behind the symbol, the power of nature," he said. "Someone, if you please-water."

The representative of the Nation of Islam dealt a card from his own deck. He concentrated. Two ornate golden cups formed. Deacon Brown grabbed one and poured its contents over the burning stick. There was a hiss, and a puff of vapor went up.

Were they trying to fool him with magic tricks? Brother Paul knew something of sleight-of-hand; his own fingers were uncommonly dexterous. "May I?" he inquired, reaching toward the remaining cup.

To his surprise, no one objected. He touched the cup, and found it solid. He lifted it, and it was heavy. Extremely heavy; only pure gold could be as dense as this! He dipped one finger into its fluid, then touched that finger to his tongue. Water, surely! He sprinkled some on his burn, and it seemed to help.

This was a solid, tangible, physical, believable cup, and physical water. Water, the reality behind the symbol, again, the female complement to the male fire.

The Tarot made literal.

"Ma.s.s hypnosis?" Brother Paul inquired musingly. "Do all of you see and feel these things?"

"We all do," Reverend Siltz a.s.sured him.