Northshore by Sheri S. Tepper Page A

back as soon as I can, and you have it ready.’ And she went off, late already, looking over her shoulder to catch that same expression of stubborn puzzlement, which she saw with a catch in her throat, wondering if she could not somehow have been more convincing and more hopeful.
    But then it was all driven from her mind by the day’s work, so different a day from the one before. As she went toward the plaza, she passed the merchants’ hall and the gardeners’ mart and the guildhalls and artists’ council houses, and from each of them representatives were coming out in the customary garb of their professions and guilds, all wandering in the same direction. They took no notice of her, or she of them, but each one of them had to give way when she came by, and she knew it ate into them like acid. ‘Scoff and sneer,’ she murmured to herself, ‘but stand aside when I come by, other-caste.’
    At the plaza each representative went off to his own booth, there to spend the day in earnest conversation with the caste-less youths who were not yet fastened into any way of life. For her there would be the usual curiosity seekers and those who came on a dare. And among them might be the one or two she would recruit, though they had often not intended it when they came. It was true that Pamra could recruit better than any of the senior grade. Perhaps because she was not much older than the young people she talked to. Perhaps because she cared more about it. Though Ilze was a stickler for duty, sometimes he seemed almost to mock the Tower and the law. Almost as though it were no better than law mongering, or body fixing, or garbage shifting, some low-caste activity that no one would bother with if they could do something better. Occasionally Pamra wondered if any of the high-grade Awakeners took it seriously, though of course they must! The religious glory, the ecstasy, wouldonly come if one were serious. How could they remain in the work otherwise?
    And it was the ecstasy she talked about with the recruits. By midmorning she had collected a small group – two gigglers and one swaggering boy with a perpetual sneer. There was also a narrow-chested, fire-eyed youth who glared at her as though she guarded the gate to a treasure he sought. She could almost feel the spear of his glance skewering her, as though he feared she might oppose him rather than help him!
    ‘Do you remember when you were children,’ she began, ‘at the time of Conjunction, at festival time, when the Candy Tree grew in your bedrooms at night?’ She smiled at them, and they back, unable not to smile, even the gigglers and the swaggering one, though he covered the smile with a sneer pretending mockery. ‘When you awakened in the morning, the evidence of the tree was there, on your bedcovers, sweet and marvelous.
    ‘Later, of course, you learned that it was your kin who put the candy there, and you believed the story of the Candy Tree must be false, a simple myth for little children. You did not realize that there was a greater truth – that the Candy Tree did indeed grow on the night of festival, not in your bedroom alone, but over all the land of Baris, to drop its festival spirit into the hearts of everyone. If you looked into their faces, your mothers and fathers, you would have seen that festival spirit blooming.’ Her voice began to sing, she herself began to sway. Her exhilaration in what she said began to catch them, and herself. She felt the blood rising into her face and knew she was beautiful to them.
    ‘There is indeed a Candy Tree, though it is a more complicated concept than children know. And just as the sweetness spread upon your bedcovers is the physical evidence of the spiritual tree, so the existence of the Awakeners is the Northshorely evidence of a greater mystery, the love of Potipur. It is true that we Awakeners raise up those who come to us from the east to provide a service they failed to provide in life. It is equally true that we