custard, which most of the others hated. And if they were allowed butter biscuits with the custard, his happiness would be complete.
He smiled at the thought. Then he caught a shifting of the light in the air, and there appeared above him a line of ghostly men and women, all kneeling, with their heads bowed.
"You are seeing a memory of a memory," said Miriander. "You are seeing the first brothers and sisters of our Community."
The images were faint, and the thin shafts of light passed through them, further distancing them. But the kneeling people were visibly dressed as the Nomana were dressed to this day.
"They kneel," said Miriander, "because they expect to die. A warlord has come to Anacrea, and they know his power is too great for them to resist."
"Noman," murmured the Wildman.
They all knew the story of the warlord who had become the founder of the Noble Warriors.
"Yes," said Miriander. "This is the coming of Noman."
Now in the memory-scene above, the novices saw a man stride towards the kneeling figures. In his right hand he held a long straight slender sword. Little more than a shadow among shadows, he came to a stop before the kneeling group, and they looked up at him and spoke to him, though no sound could be heard. Then he raised his right arm, and holding his sword horizontal over his head, as if to guard himself against attack from above, he strode onwards, between the kneeling figures, across the domed space of the Night Court, and so out of sight.
The Wildman's eyes tracked the figure all the way. He half raised one hand, as if he too might hold a sword above his head, but then he lowered it again.
Seeker made no move, but he shivered as he watched. It seemed to him that somehow he had seen this before.
Miriander's quiet voice told the familiar story.
"Noman was the first and last man to go into the Garden. He remained in the Garden for a day and a night. He never spoke of what he found in the Garden. But when he came out, he disbanded his army and joined our Community."
"How long ago did Noman die?" This was Morning Star, gazing up at the ghostly figures above.
"Noman lived on Anacrea over two hundred years ago," said Miriander. "But I never said he died."
The class heard but did not understand. Above them now in the speckled shadows, the kneeling figures were rising to their feet and reaching their arms high in the Nomana salute. And now others were joining them and standing close behind them, saluting also; and more came and stood behind them, and more, until the entire vault of the Night Court was thronging with a great crowd of Nomana, all reaching upwards.
"Memories of memories," said Miriander. "You are seeing every Noble Warrior that has ever lived. They salute you. This is your Community, past and present."
The novices looked up and marvelled at the vast gathering, and in all of them, there swelled the same sensation of pride and fellowship, that these were now their brothers and sisters for all time.
"Go to them," said Miriander.
The novices then rose up from the ground on which they sat and passed among the ghostly figures above, who embraced them and gathered round them with smiling faces. No one of these faces was clearly recognizable, but from them all flowed a current of love and power that warmed them and made them feel as if they had come at last to their true home.
"We are always with you." The murmur of deep voices seemed to come from the mouths of all that great gathering of ghosts. "Our strength is always with you."
Seeker felt it then; so did Morning Star and the Wild-man and the others: a new force sprang to life within them, which they knew was not theirs alone, but was the force of the Community.
Then the insubstantial figures in the air began to melt away, and the novices were seated once more upon the ground.
"You are not alone," said Miriander. "This is the beginning of true strength."
She rose to her feet. The novices too rose. From outside came the sounds
He smiled at the thought. Then he caught a shifting of the light in the air, and there appeared above him a line of ghostly men and women, all kneeling, with their heads bowed.
"You are seeing a memory of a memory," said Miriander. "You are seeing the first brothers and sisters of our Community."
The images were faint, and the thin shafts of light passed through them, further distancing them. But the kneeling people were visibly dressed as the Nomana were dressed to this day.
"They kneel," said Miriander, "because they expect to die. A warlord has come to Anacrea, and they know his power is too great for them to resist."
"Noman," murmured the Wildman.
They all knew the story of the warlord who had become the founder of the Noble Warriors.
"Yes," said Miriander. "This is the coming of Noman."
Now in the memory-scene above, the novices saw a man stride towards the kneeling figures. In his right hand he held a long straight slender sword. Little more than a shadow among shadows, he came to a stop before the kneeling group, and they looked up at him and spoke to him, though no sound could be heard. Then he raised his right arm, and holding his sword horizontal over his head, as if to guard himself against attack from above, he strode onwards, between the kneeling figures, across the domed space of the Night Court, and so out of sight.
The Wildman's eyes tracked the figure all the way. He half raised one hand, as if he too might hold a sword above his head, but then he lowered it again.
Seeker made no move, but he shivered as he watched. It seemed to him that somehow he had seen this before.
Miriander's quiet voice told the familiar story.
"Noman was the first and last man to go into the Garden. He remained in the Garden for a day and a night. He never spoke of what he found in the Garden. But when he came out, he disbanded his army and joined our Community."
"How long ago did Noman die?" This was Morning Star, gazing up at the ghostly figures above.
"Noman lived on Anacrea over two hundred years ago," said Miriander. "But I never said he died."
The class heard but did not understand. Above them now in the speckled shadows, the kneeling figures were rising to their feet and reaching their arms high in the Nomana salute. And now others were joining them and standing close behind them, saluting also; and more came and stood behind them, and more, until the entire vault of the Night Court was thronging with a great crowd of Nomana, all reaching upwards.
"Memories of memories," said Miriander. "You are seeing every Noble Warrior that has ever lived. They salute you. This is your Community, past and present."
The novices looked up and marvelled at the vast gathering, and in all of them, there swelled the same sensation of pride and fellowship, that these were now their brothers and sisters for all time.
"Go to them," said Miriander.
The novices then rose up from the ground on which they sat and passed among the ghostly figures above, who embraced them and gathered round them with smiling faces. No one of these faces was clearly recognizable, but from them all flowed a current of love and power that warmed them and made them feel as if they had come at last to their true home.
"We are always with you." The murmur of deep voices seemed to come from the mouths of all that great gathering of ghosts. "Our strength is always with you."
Seeker felt it then; so did Morning Star and the Wild-man and the others: a new force sprang to life within them, which they knew was not theirs alone, but was the force of the Community.
Then the insubstantial figures in the air began to melt away, and the novices were seated once more upon the ground.
"You are not alone," said Miriander. "This is the beginning of true strength."
She rose to her feet. The novices too rose. From outside came the sounds
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