Read Beyond The Tomorrow Mountains for Free Online Page B

away, Noren felt his face redden. “Not often.”
    “You’ve no need to look so guilty. Attendance isn’t required of you, and surely you know that none of us think less of you for not going, as villagers and Technicians would. There are committed Scholars who serve as High Priests before the people but take no part in our private religious rituals.”
    “I don’t feel guilty,” said Noren. “I never felt any guilt for not having faith in religion, and I don’t now.” He paused, deciding what had caused the flush of shame; with Stefred there was no alternative to complete candor. “I’m embarrassed, I guess,” he continued slowly, “because the private rituals like Orison are the one thing I’ve encountered here that makes no sense to me. I just don’t see what they accomplish. The symbolism of religion was designed by the Founders to give hope to those who couldn’t be told our secrets, to express truths that couldn’t be stated in plain language. Yet as Scholars, we’ve learned the truth; our hope is in science. To the people we must speak of the Mother Star in symbolic words, but we who know the facts about it—what use have we for such symbols?”
    “That’s a perfectly legitimate question, and not one to be ashamed of.”
    “But look—I’m supposed to be so intelligent; I should be able to figure it out! There’s got to be something I’m missing. You go to Orison. Every time I’ve been, I’ve seen you there, and I—I’ve seen you enter while I stayed outside.”
    “Have you lost any respect for me because I do go?”
    “Of course not. Why should I?”
    Stefred smiled. “You might, if you were staying away merely to assert your independence.”
    Startled, Noren confessed, “It was that way in the beginning… though I don’t think I knew it. But not any more.” He had found that among Scholars, the right to independence was so plainly acknowledged that one had no need to assert it, and his boyhood antagonism toward religion had given way to genuine puzzlement. Though he’d been too busy to devote much thought to the problem, it was apparent not only that the villagers and Technicians expected more of the Mother Star than fulfillment of the Prophecy’s promises, but that the High Priests endorsed this view. Were it not so incredible, he might even have concluded that they shared it.
    “You’ve come further than you realize,” Stefred commented. “Last year you wouldn’t have believed that there were any mysteries you couldn’t comprehend.” Then, with a penetrating look that warned of disquieting words to come, he once more broached a painful topic. “Do you think it possible, Noren, that if you don’t wholly understand my attitude toward the Mother Star, you also missed something in Talyra’s?”
    At the sound of the name Noren winced. First Brek and now Stefred, when for so long he’d repressed all thought of her! “There’s no comparison,” he asserted.
    “If you see none, I won’t pursue it. But there are other things you don’t understand about Talyra, and in fairness to you I can’t let them pass.”
    “What use is there in discussing them?” Noren burst out, a bit too sharply.
    Quietly Stefred declared, “I called you here this morning to find out if you still love her. Your face tells me that you do.”
    Astonished, Noren abandoned all defenses. “I’ll always love her,” he agreed miserably.
    “Enough to take on the burden of a relationship that would never be truly open—that would require you to conceal much of your inner life, respecting her beliefs without explaining yours?”
    “It doesn’t matter, really. You know I’ll never see Talyra again; she’d have to take the initiative—”
    “Which you’ve been sure she would not do. But she has.”
    “Talyra… requested audience?” Noren whispered, suddenly cold. “When?”
    “Shortly after you recanted. I did not grant it then; I had to be sure that your feelings for each other would not