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"Don't you see that you can't kill me, even though at this very moment, Elemak, you're imagining slitting my throat and throwing my body into the sea?"
Elemak's rage and fear redoubled within him. Nafai could feel it, striking at him in waves.
"Don't you see that already the Oversoul is healing the wounds in my throat, in my chest?"
"If they were real wounds at all!" cried Meb. Poor Meb, who still thought that Elemak's original lie might be revived.
In answer, Nafai plunged his finger into the wound in his own throat. Because the scar tissue was already forming, his finger had to tear its way in—but no one could miss the fact that Nafai's finger was into the wound nearly to the third knuckle. A couple of people gagged; the rest gasped or moaned or cried out in sympathetic pain. And, in truth, the pain was considerable—worse as he pulled his finger out than when he plunged it in. I must learn to avoid theatrical gestures like that, thought Nafai.
He held up his bloody finger. "I forgive you for this, Elemak," said Nafai. "I forgive you, Mebbekew. If I have your solemn oath to help me and the Oversoul as we build a good ship."
It was too much for Elemak. The humiliation was far worse now than it had been in the desert eight years before. It could not be contained. There was nothing in his heart but murderous rage. He cared not at all now what others thought—he knew he had already lost their good opinion anyway. He knew he had lost his wife and his children—what was left? The only thing that could heal any part of the agony he felt inside was to kill Nafai, to drag him to the sea and plunge him in until he stopped kicking and struggling. Then let the others do what they wanted—Elemak would be content, as long as Nafai was dead.
Elemak took a step toward Nafai. Then another.
"Stop him," said Luet. But no one got in his way. No one dared—the look on Elemak's face was too terrible.
Mebbekew smiled and fell in step beside Elemak.
"Don't touch me," said Nafai. "The power of the Oversoul is in me like fire. I'm weak right now, from the wounds you gave me—I may not have the strength to control the power I have. If you touch me, I think you'll die."
He spoke with such simplicity that his words had the plain force of truth. He could feel something crumble inside Elemak. Not that the rage had died; what broke in him was that part of him that could not bear to be afraid. And when that barrier was gone, all the rage turned back into what it had really been all along: fear. Fear that he would lose his place to his younger brother. Fear that people would look at him and see weakness instead of strength. Fear that people wouldn't love him. Above all, fear that he really had no control over anything or anybody in the world. And now, all those fears that he had long hidden from himself were turned loose within him—and they had all, all of them, come true. He had lost his place. He looked weak to everyone, even his children. No one here could love him now. And he had no control at all, not even enough control to kill this boy who had supplanted him.
With Elemak no longer moving forward, Meb, too, stopped—always the opportunist, he seemed to have no will of his own. But Nafai well knew that Meb was less broken in spirit than Elemak. He would go on plotting and sneaking, and with Elemak out of the picture, there would be nothing to restrain him.
It was clear to Nafai, therefore, that he had not yet won. He had to demonstrate clearly, unforgettably, to Meb and Elemak and to all the others, that this was not just a struggle between brothers, that in fact it was the Oversoul who had overcome Elemak and Meb, not Nafai at all. And in the back of his mind, Nafai clung to this hope: that if Elya and Meb could come to understand that it was the Oversoul who broke them today, they might eventually forgive Nafai himself, and be his true brothers again.
Enough power to shock them, said Nafai silently. Not to kill.
(As you intend, the cloak will act.)
Nafai held out his hand. He could see the sparking himself, but it was far more imposing when he saw through the eyes of others. By accessing the Oversoul he could see dozens of views of himself at once, his face a-dazzle with dancing light, growing brighter and brighter. And his hand, alive with light as if a thousand fireflies had swarmed around it. He pointed his finger at Elemak, and an arc of fire like lightning leapt from his fingertip, striking Elemak in the head.
Elya's body spasmed brutally and he was flung to the ground.
Have I killed him? cried Nafai in silent anguish.
(Just shocked him. Have a little trust in me, will you?)
Sure enough, Elemak was moving now, writhing and jerking on the ground. So Nafai extended his hand toward Meb.
"No!" cried Mebbekew. Having seen what happened to Elemak, he wanted no part of it. But Nafai could see that in his heart, he was still plotting and scheming. "I promise, I'll do whatever you want! I never wanted to help Elemak anyway, he just kept pushing me and pushing me."
"Meb, you're such a fool. Do you think I don't know that it was Elemak who stopped you from murdering me in the desert, when I stopped you from killing a baboon?"
Meb's face became a mask of guilty fear. For the first time in his life, Mebbekew had come face to face with one of his own secrets, one that he thought no one could know; there'd be no escaping from the consequences now. "I have children!" cried Mebbekew. "Don't kill me!"
The arc of lightning again crackled through the air, co
Nafai was exhausted. He could barely stand. Luet, help me, he said silently, urgently.
He felt her hands on his arm, holding him up. She must have climbed into the paritka beside him.
Ah, Luet, this is how it should always be. I can never stand without you beside me. If you're not part of this I can't do it at all.
In answer, all he could feel from her was her love for him, her vast relief that the danger was over, her pride at the strength he had shown.
How can you be so forgiving? he asked her silently.
I love youwas the only message for him that he could find in her heart.
Nafai decided that the paritka should settle to the ground, and so it did. Luet helped him step from it, and with their children swarming around him, she led him back to the house. Over the next few minutes, all the others came to the house to see if they could help. But all he needed was to sleep. "Look after the others," he whispered. "I'm worried that the damage might be permanent."
When he awoke, it was near dusk. Zdorab was in their kitchen, cooking; Issib, Hushidh, Shedemei, and Luet were gathered around his bed. They weren't looking at him… they were talking among themselves. He listened.
They spoke of how sorry they felt for Eiadh and Dol, and for their children. Especially Proya, who lived for the pride he felt in his father, Elemak. "He looked as if he had just seen his father die," said Luet.
"He did," said Hushidh. "At least, it was the death of the father that he knew."
"The damage from this day will be a long time healing," said Shedemei.
"Was it damage?" said Luet. "Or the begi
Hushidh clucked her tongue. "Nafai would be the first to tell you that what happened today wasn't healing, it was war. The Oversoul got her way today—the starship will be outfitted, and Elemak and Mebbekew will work as hard as anyone, when they recover from this. But the damage was permanent. Elemak and Mebbekew will always see Nafai as their enemy. And anyone who serves Nafai."
"Nobody serves Nafai," said Luet. "We only serve the Oversoul, as Nafai himself does."
"Yes," Shedemei agreed quickly. "We all understand that, Luet. This wasn't Nafai's battle, it was the Oversoul's. It might have been any of us with the cloak."