Neverness by David Zindell Read Free Book Online

the sea of people, He was leading a beautiful, eyeless scryer by the arm. I was struck immediately by the contrast of white and black: The scryer's black hair hung like a satin curtain over the back of her white robes, and her eyebrows were bushy and black against her white forehead. She moved slowly and too carefully, like a cold, marble statue brought to sudden - and unwelcome - life. I took little notice of her heavy breasts and dark, large nipples so obvious beneath the thin silk; it was her face that fixed my stare, the long aquiline nose and full red lips, and most of all, the dark, smoothly scarred hollows where her eyes used to be.
       "Katharine!" Justine suddenly exclaimed as they came closer. "My darling daughter!" She threw her arms around the scryer and said, "It's been so long!" They embraced for a while; then Justine wiped her moist eyes on the back of her gloves and said, "Mallory, may I present your cousin, Dama Katharine Ringess Soli."
       I greeted her and she turned her head in my direction. "Mallory," she said, "at last. It's been so long."
       There have been moments in my life when time came to a stop, when I felt as if I were living some dimly remembered (though vital) event over again. Sometimes the sound of thallows screeching in winter or the smell of wet seaweed will take me instantly back to that clear night long ago when I stood alone on the desolate and windy beach of the Starnbergersee and gave myself over to the dream of mastering the stars; sometimes it is a color, perhaps the sudden orange of a sliddery or a glissade's vivid greenness that transports me to another place and time; sometimes it is nothing at all, at least nothing more particular than a certain low slant of the sun's rays in deep winter and the rushing of the icy sea wind. These moments are mysterious and wonderful, but they are also full of strange meaning and dread. The scryers, of course, teach the unity of nowness and thenness and times yet to be. For them, I think, future dreams and self-remembrance are two parts of a single mystery. They, those strange, holy, and self-blinded women and men of our Order, believe that if we are to have visions of our future, we must look into our past. So when Katharine smiled at me and the calm, dulcet tones of her voice vibrated within me, I knew that I had come upon such a moment, when my past and future were as one.
       Although I knew I had never seen her before, I felt as if I had known her all my life. I was instantly in love with her, not, of course, as one loves another human being, but as a wanderer might love a new ocean or a gorgeous snowy peak he has glimpsed for the first time. I was practically struck dumb by her calmness and her beauty, so I said the first stupid thing which came to mind. "Welcome to Neverness," I told her.
       "Yes, welcome," Soli said to his daughter. "Welcome to the City of Light." There was more than a little sarcasm and bitterness in his voice.
       "I remember the city very well, Father." And so she should have remembered since, like me, she was a child of the city. But when she was a girl, when Soli had gone off on his journey to the core, Justine had taken her to be raised by her grandmother on Lechoix. She had not seen her father (and I thought she would never see him again) for twenty-five years. All that time she had remained on Lechoix in the company of man-despising women. Although she had reason to be bitter, she was not. It was Soli who was bitter. He was angry at himself for having deserted his wife and daughter, and he was bitter that Justine had allowed and even encouraged Katharine to become a scryer. He hated scryers.
       "Thank you for making the journey," Soli said to her.
       "I heard that you had returned, Father."
       "Yes, that's true."
       There was an awkward silence as my strange family stood mute in the middle of a thousand babbling people. Soli was glowering at Justine, and she at him, while my