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  "I did not say we received this message," the vedek replied. "It is as you say: No word has come from the Kai. But these words remained behind." He removed the ornate stopper from the metallic tube in his hand and slid out the pale blue scroll within. "Since the Kai's departure, the members of my order and myself have been devoting our efforts to organizing and archiving all personal writings that she left with us. Such must be preserved."

  "She was a woman of wisdom," Sisko agreed. I am sure there is a great deal of value in any works she left behind."

  "More than you know, Commander." Carefully the vedek moved the dish of oil to one side and unrolled the scroll on the pedestal. "Are you able to read Bajoran? There are several versions of our written language, you know, some used only within the Temple."

  "I understand. I'll try," Sisko said, looking over Vedek Torin's shoulder. "If I can't make this out, would you have any objections to my having the computer translate it?"

  "None. That way you will be assured that the translation is an honest one. Is that not so?"

  Benjamin Sisko was momentarily embarrassed by the vedek's insight. "The computer can also confirm that this is a message left by the Kai, and not something deliberately planted by someone else for your order to find."

  Vedek Torin nodded. "The intrigues of Bajor. You are wise to be so cautious, Commander. Your mind is open, but your eyes remain open as well. That is good. The Kai was altogether right in placing so much trust in you. With such good judgment, perhaps you may not need to submit this message to your computer after all. See."

  What Sisko saw was a closely written, beautifully lettered example of the most common, accessible form of Bajoran script, easily legible. The message was framed by a thick band of dark blue and gold decorative calligraphy that reminded Sisko of ancient Islamic art from Earth. He had no trouble reading the Kai's message.

  "'By the blessings of the Prophets, I, the Kai Opaka, have been vouchsafed a vision of the child,"' Sisko read aloud softly, occasionally glancing up at Vedek Torin for any sign that he was mistranslating the Kai's words. "'The hour has come when the Prophets choose to reveal the place where we must seek the child, and the peace of Bajor hangs in the balance. My time may not permit me to witness the search, but if this mission is entrusted to one who has walked with the Prophets, all may yet be well. Seek her in the places of desolation, for she shall heal them. In the heart of the green valley of song, in the village where many waters dance, the prophesied one shall be found. Let her then be brought to the Temple, into the sight of the Prophets and the people, that they may behold and believe.'"

  Sisko lifted his eyes from the scroll. "A child?" he asked. "What child?"

  "The child of an ancient prophecy," Vedek Torin explained. "It speaks of a healer to come and make all things whole. Do your people have such prophecies?"

  "Many peoples of the Federation do," Sisko admitted. "But this"—he gestured at the message—"this doesn't strike me as a matter for the attention of Starfleet. It seems to be a purely internal Bajoran concern, something the Temple itself should pursue, not us."

  "I would agree with you, Commander," the vedek said, "if not for the fact that the Kai's message is no longer solely in the keeping of my order."

  "What? You spoke of the need for secrecy—"

  "Secrecy as far as those who do not believe in the prophecy," Vedek Torin said, folding his hands on the pedestal. "To us, the child is everything. If you have a treasure you prize above all others, what would you give to recover it should it fall into a stranger's hands?"

  Sisko felt a pang as Jake's face flashed before him. "Anything," he said sincerely.

  "Better, then, to do all in your power to prevent the treasure's initial loss. No matter what the differences separating the different political factions of Bajor, we are united in this belief of the prophesied healer. But those who do not believe would see the child as a pawn to further their own desires for the future of Bajor."

  Sisko was inclined to agree with Vedek Torin. Yet, knowing what he did of the Bajoran religious establishment, he wondered whether this Na-melis vedek was not being too optimistic. His order had served the Kai Opaka; in a way, their exclusive devotion sheltered them from the realities of life outside the Kai's service. On Bajor, intrigue was not limited to politicians. It was an insidious growth that sent tendrils of plot and counterplot even into the heart of the Temple itself.

  "Then other Bajorans know about the Kai's vision of the child?" Sisko asked. The vedek indicated that this was so. "I don't see your problem. The more who know, the easier your search for the child will be."

  "I wish that were so, Commander." Vedek Torin sighed. "It is not. When we discovered the Kai's message, we brought it before the Temple council, as was our duty. By rights, the matter should have remained within the Temple until our own searches and inquiries might bring the child into our midst, as the Kai directed we must. But word escaped. Rumors sped through the capital. Not every ear that heard them was bound by the silence of the Temple."

  "The silence of the Temple isn't all that effective if the rumors escaped in the first place," Sisko pointed out.

  "Alas, that too is so." The vedek made a gesture of resignation. "Only a directive from the council, worded in the strongest possible terms, put an end to the gossip. But it was too late; the harm was done."

  "What harm? Did the rumors reach the ears of any unbelievers?"

  The vedek's eyes glittered brightly by the light of the oil lamp. "You are the first such to know, and that only because you have walked with the Prophets. May you be the last, until the child is found. No, Commander Sisko; word of the child's existence only touched Bajoran ears, but that was enough. Tell me, have you heard of the Dessin-ka?"

  Sisko thought hard. The name sounded familiar, something Major Kira had mentioned to him once. "The Dessin-ka … Isn't that the name of one of the political factions making up the provisional government?"

  "A very influential faction, Commander," Vedek Torin agreed. "My brethren and I did not know precisely how influential the Dessin-ka were until our news escaped to their ears. They are—how would you say it?—a group given to the more traditional values of our faith."

  "Then they oppose the Federation presence on Bajor?"

  "Adherence to tradition need not mean refusal to accept all things new. The Dessin-ka recognize the many advantages your Federation may bring to Bajor. They are a strong voice in your favor … for the moment."

  "For the moment?" Sisko repeated slowly. He didn't like the sound of that.

  The vedek stared into the flame that danced above the smooth surface of the oil. "You said before that you know of many peoples besides our own who cherish belief in the prophecy of a healing child. Yet I think you will agree, these beliefs are not identical?"

  "There are some variations, of course, but in general—"

  "The Dessin-ka, too, have a prophecy. We see the promise of a healer in the Kai's words; they see more. The child of the Kai's vision is for them the Nekor, the one who brings a sword. She will make all Bajor one by her power."

  Sisko was at a loss to comprehend Vedek Torin's words. "I thought all your people shared a single faith. How can the healer of one Bajoran prophecy be the—the sword-bearer of another?"

  Vedek Torin turned from the pedestal. He walked to a wall where a plaque set with dozens of crystals glimmered in the shadows. His fingers plucked three long, tapering stones from their setting and showed them to Sisko. One was blue, one red, the third a purple so deep it was almost black.

  "Beautiful, are they not?" the vedek said, letting Sisko see that the ornaments were actually hollow. With extreme care he dipped each one into the oil and held them up to the light of the flame. Beams of green, orange, and pale amethyst light shone through the facets. "What has changed?" he asked, as if speaking to a child.

  "Only what we see," Sisko replied. "The crystals and the oil inside each one is the same. I see what you mean, Vedek Torin."

  The
vedek sighed. "Would that the Dessin-ka shared your willingness to be instructed. They are convinced that the vision-child is their Nekor and none other. They clamor for her to be found at once. Their prophecy, you see, foretells that the Nekor's reign must begin with the Berajin, the time of the harvest festival. We have tried to explain to them the difficulty—perhaps the impossibility—of complying with their demand. The Berajin comes too soon for us to have hope of finding her and bringing her to the Temple by then."

  Commander Sisko studied the Kai's message. "True. This doesn't give you much help about where to begin your search."

  "No?" Vedek Torin looked perplexed. "What further details would you desire than the name and location of the village where the child may be found?" His gnarled finger touched a line of the text.

  "'In the heart of the green valley of song, in the village where many waters dance,'" Sisko read once more.

  The vedek laughed. "With respect, Commander, your command of this form of written Bajoran is excellent, but you are reading the meaning of our place-names, not the names as themselves."

  "Ah!" Sisko exclaimed, understanding his error. He recalled a conversation with Chief O'Brien during which the Irishman had told him that the Terran place-name Dublin actually meant the black pool. On Earth, no one bound for Dublin spoke of going to the black pool, and here—

  "Then this says …?" Commander Sisko asked, placing his finger beside the vedek's on the scroll.

  "The Kaladrys Valley, Bennikar village." The vedek's hands retreated to the shelter of his sleeves. "It might as well say the abyss. The Kaladrys Valley is a wasteplace now, and no longer do waters dance in Bennikar."

  "The Kaladys Valley?" Brother Gis's visitation returned to Sisko.

  "In the Kai's service, we lost track of the world's small ironies," Vedek Torin said, his eyelids lowered as he contemplated the oil lamp's fame. "Had the Prophets granted the Kai this vision a few years earlier, the Cardassian destruction was still comfortably far off from Bennikar. We could have found the child and brought her to the Temple with time to spare. Now there is no Bennikar."

  "And what guarantee do you have that the same is not true of"—Sisko hesitated, hating the words, but forced to say them—"the child as well?"

  Vedek Torin's eyes snapped wide open. "But that cannot be true," he insisted. "It must not be true. This is why you must help us, Commander. You must lend us the Federation's aid in finding the child. If she is not found, if the Dessin-ka do not see their promised Nekor before them in the Temple at Berajin, they will accuse us of having found her and hidden her from them—even if she is not there to be hidden! The repercussions will be terrible. They will pull all their support from the provisional government, upsetting—even smashing the balance we have worked so hard to achieve."

  His hands darted out to seize Sisko's. "You have the resources we do not. You can find the blessed child where we could not begin to seek her."

  "One child …" Sisko took a deep breath. "A child from a village that's been wiped out of existence. No other clues? Any description of what she looks like?"

  The Bajoran shook his head. "Neither here nor in any of the scriptures of prophecy. But she will be known to you."

  "You are asking for a miracle, Vedek Torin," Sisko said. "The Federation will help as much as possible, but we can't promise miracles."

  The vedek inclined his head. "When you first came to Bajor, you promised us peace. Is this not the greatest miracle of all?"

  CHAPTER 3

  "COMMANDER?"

  Taren Gis was waiting outside the shrine when Benjamin finally emerged. For an instant, the commander imagined that the monk hailing him was Vedek Torin, who had inexplicably slipped past him to catch him off-guard for some unknown reason. It seemed impossible—he had left Vedek Torin replacing the colored crystal droplets in their settings in the wall sculpture—but Sisko had learned to redefine "impossible" since coming to Deep Space Nine. Quickly enough he recognized his error. In their earth-colored robes, their hair mostly concealed by the long-lappeted caps, the resemblance between the two Bajorans was uncanny.

  How did the punch line of that old joke go? Sisko mused: Oh yes: You find what you look for.

  "Brother Gis, this is a lucky chance," Sisko said. "I have some very good news for you."

  "You will lend us your healer," the monk said, anticipating him.

  "Hmmm, maybe not just chance after all," Sisko said, stroking his chin. He thought of the flimsy crystal curtain and how easy it made an eavesdropper's task.

  "Forgive me for speaking in haste. You are thinking uncharitable thoughts of me, but I assure you, they are undeserved."

  "What I was thinking, Brother Gis, was that your colleague, Vedek Torin, has much to learn about choosing the proper place for a private conversation; that is, if he wishes it to remain private."

  "You were with him now?" Brother Gis asked. When the commander nodded, the monk went on: "The confidentiality of what is uttered within the precincts of the shrine is sacrosanct. I give you my solemn oath, I know nothing of what passed between you."

  "Then how did you know what I was about to tell you?" Sisko asked. "You're not a mind reader, are you?" This last was uttered only half in jest. There was much about the Bajoran monks that remained unknown and more that defied explanation.

  "I know none with that power, Commander, although I know many capable of giving the impression of possessing it." Brother Gis chuckled. "There is a certain advantage to be had in the appearance of omniscience. The truth is, Vedek Torin and I arrived here on the same vessel. We were the only passengers, and while in transit he shared his mission and the secret of the scroll with me. He knew I would say nothing of it elsewhere. I am trustworthy."

  "Did he also tell you how news of the scroll leaked out of the Temple through some other 'trustworthy' source?" Sisko asked.

  Brother Gis was unruffled. "He did. But the harm there is already done. You cannot smash the same cup twice. And even if this were not so, my place on Bajor is in the wilderness; whom would I tell? Lizards care very little for politics."

  "I can think of several people who'd disagree with you there," Sisko replied, good humor restored. "So you knew that even if I turned you down at first, Vedek Torin's mission would have to bring me around, hmm?"

  The monk's face turned from cheerful to serious. "Commander, I did not come here to play games. I have no time; the children have no time. The child of prophecy is supposed to heal a world; I only need to heal the few lives still left in my care. Our camp lies in the heart of the Kaladrys Valley, in the general region of Bennikar. I would not be surprised to learn that we host a number of refugees from that village."

  "You don't know for a fact where your people come from?"

  Brother Gis shrugged. "We ask no questions besides 'Are you well?' and 'Are you hungry?' Our guests may speak of other matters only if they choose. We are not concerned with the past, merely the present and, the Prophets willing, the future."

  "But surely the provisional government must ask you for background information about the citizens in your care," Sisko protested.

  "The government has problems of its own," the monk replied. "If they can pretend ours do not exist, all the better. I cannot recall the last time a government representative visited us, for that matter, so I know not whether any of the other camps has received more attention than ours. It would be impossible for them to have had less. At this moment, there is no accurate account of how many displaced persons are still occupying the camps, and certainly no record of their identities. We do not urge our people to speak of the old days if that is not their choice, for kindness' sake. They have had too much taken from them already. You feel a loss less if you do not name it too often."

  "I know," Sisko said. The words were heartfelt. The memory of his wife's face fluttered through his mind. It was thanks to the Bajorans—to the Kai in particular—that it was no longer a memory forever darkened by the circumstances of her death.

 
"Some of our smallest guests do not even know that their villages had names. To them, it was simply home. Now it is nothing." The marks of sorrow on Brother Gis's face seemed to grow deeper. "Still, we are your best place to commence inquiries after the child."

  "I hope so," Sisko said. "Apart from the name of the village, the Kai's vision left no other clues, not even a hint about the child's appearance, her age, nothing."

  "As for that, I may be of some assistance. I have studied some of the prophecies, and perhaps you will find that my brethren in the camp have studied others. I, at least, know that the child should be between seven and twelve years of age."

  "How do you know that?"

  "The prophecies refer to her as one who has passed first presentation to the Prophets, but not yet reached the age of initiation. And of course you know as well as I that we must search for a girl."

  "Yes, the Kai did speak of the child as 'she,'" Sisko agreed. "But that doesn't do much to narrow down the field. How many girl children must there be in the Kaladrys Valley?"

  "There are fewer by the day, Commander," Brother Gis said matter-of-factly.

  "We'll do everything in our power to change that, Brother Gis," Sisko promised. "The supplies you requested are on the way; they should be here within three days. In the meantime, I will be dispatching my chief medical officer, Dr. Julian Bashir, as well as Lieutenant Jadzia Dax to your encampment."

  "This Lieutenant Dax is also a healer?"

  "Not as such, but she is my science officer, and a person of wide experience."

  That was an understatement, and Sisko knew it. Although to the uninformed eye, Lieutenant Dax appeared to be an entrancingly lovely young woman in her twenties, she was in reality a Trill—a life-form made up of a humanoid host and a wormlike symbiont within.

  The inner part of Dax's being had lived for centuries, surviving one host after another but always preserving the memories and experiences it had shared with each. Both parts benefited enormously from the relationship. Sisko himself had originally encountered Dax while the symbiont was lodged in the body of a mature male. The change in Dax's outer looks made for some occasionally awkward moments between old friends.