Pathfinder Hardcover - 2010

Summary

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1
If a Tree Falls

Saving the human race is a frantic business. Or a tedious one.
It all depends on what stage of the process youre taking part in.



Rigg and Father usually set the traps together, because it was Rigg who had the knack of seeing the paths that the animals they wanted were still using.

Father was blind to ithe could never see the thin shimmering trails in the air that marked the passage of living creatures through the world. But to Rigg it was, and always had been, part of what his eyes could see, without any effort at all. The newer the path, the bluer the shimmer; older ones were green, yellow; the truly ancient ones tended toward red.

As a toddler, Rigg had quickly learned what the shimmering meant, because he could see everyone leaving trails behind them as they went. Besides the color, there was a sort of signature to each one, and over the years Rigg became adept at recognizing them. He could tell at a glance the difference between a human and an animal, or between the different species, and if he looked closely, he could sort out the tracks so clearly that he could follow the path of a single person or an individual beast.

Once, when Father first started taking him out trapping, Rigg had made the mistake of following a greenish trail. When they reached the end of it, there were only a few old bones scattered where animals had torn the carcass many months ago.

Father had not been angry. In fact, he seemed amused. We need to find animals with their skins still fresh, said Father. And a little meat on them for us to eat. But if I had a bone collection, these would do nicely. Dont worry, Rigg.

Father never criticized Rigg when it came to his knack for pathfinding. He simply accepted what Rigg could do, and encouraged him to hone his skill. But whenever Rigg started to tell someone about what he could do, or even speak carelessly, so they might be able to figure out that he had some unusual ability, Father was merciless, silencing him at once.

Its your life, said Father. There are those who would kill you for this. And others who would take you away from me and make you live in a terrible place and make you follow paths for them, and it would lead to them killing the ones you found. And, to make sure Rigg understood how serious this was, he added, And they would not be beasts, Rigg. You would be helping them murder people.

Maybe Father shouldnt have told him that, because it haunted Riggs thoughts for months afterwardand not just by giving him nightmares. It made Rigg feel very powerful, to think that his ability might help men find criminals and outlaws.

But all that was when Rigg was still littleseven or eight years old. Now he was thirteen and his voice was finally changing, and Father kept telling him little things about how to deal with women. They like this, they hate that, theyll never marry a boy who does this or doesnt do that. Washing is the most important thing, Father saidoften. So you dont stink. Girls dont like it when boys stink.

But its cold, said Rigg. Ill wash later, just before we get back home.

Youll wash every day, said Father. I dont like your stink either.

Rigg didnt really believe that. The pelts they took from the trapped animals stank a lot worse than Rigg ever could. In fact, the stink of the animal skins was Riggs main odor; it clung to his clothing and hair like burrs. But Rigg didnt argue. There was no point in arguing.

For instance, this morning, before they separated, they were talking as they walked through the woods. Father encouraged talking. Were not hunters, were trappers, he said. It doesnt matter if the animals run from us right now, because well catch them later, when they cant see us or hear us or even smell us.

Thus Father used their endless walks for teaching. You have a severe case of ignorance, boy, he often said. I have to do my best to cure that sickness, but it seems like the more I teach you, the more things you dont know.

I know everything I need to know already, Rigg always said. You teach me all kinds of strange things that have nothing to do with the way we live. Why do I need to know about astronomy or banking or all these languages you make me speak? I find the paths of animals, we trap them, we sell the furs, and I know how to do every bit of it.

To which Father always replied, See how ignorant you are? You dont even know why you need to know the things you dont know yet.

So tell me, said Rigg.

I would, but youre too ignorant to understand the reasons why your ignorance is a fatal disease. I have to educate you before youll understand why it was worth the bother trying to tan your brain. Thats what he called their schooling sessions: tanning Riggs brain.

Today they were following the trail of an elusive pench, whose pelt was worth ten otters, because penchfur was so thick and the colors so vibrant. During a brief lull in Fathers endless teaching, during which he was presumably trying to come up with another problem for Rigg to work out in his head (If a board fence is nine hands high and a hundred and twenty yards long, how many feet of four-inch slat will you need to buy from the lumbermill, knowing that the slats come in twenty- and fourteen-hand lengths? Answer: What good is a nine-hand-high slat fence? Any animal worth keeping inside it can climb it or jump over it or knock it down. Then a knuckle on the back of his head and he had to come up with the real answer), Rigg started talking about nothing at all.

I love autumn, said Rigg. I know it means winter is coming, but winter is the reason why people need our furs so I cant feel bad about that. Its the colors of the leaves before they fall, and the crunching of the fallen leaves underfoot. The whole world is different.

The whole world? asked Father. Dont you know that on the southern half of the world, it isnt even autumn?

Yes, I know that, said Rigg.

And even in our hemisphere, near the tropics its never autumn and leaves dont fall, except high in the mountains, like here. And in the far north there are no trees, just tundra and ice, so leaves dont fall. The whole world! You mean the tiny little wedge of the world that youve seen with your own ignorant eyes.

Thats all the world Ive seen, said Rigg. If Im ignorant of the rest, thats your fault.

You arent ignorant of the rest, you just havent seen it. Ive certainly told you about it.

Oh, yes, Father, I have all kinds of memorized lists in my head, but heres my question: How do you know all these things about parts of the world we can never ever see because theyre outside the Wall?

Father shrugged. I know everything.

A certain teacher once told me that the only truly stupid man is the one who doesnt know hes ignorant. Rigg loved this game, partly because Father eventually got impatient with it and told him to shut up, which would mean Rigg had won.

I know that I know everything because there are no questions to which I dont know the answer.

Excellent, said Rigg. So answer this question: Do you know the answers to the questions you havent thought of yet?

Ive thought of all the questions, said Father.

That only means youve stopped trying to think of new ones.

There are no new questions.

Father, what will I ask you next?

Father huffed. All questions about the future are moot. I know all the answers that are knowable.

Thats what I thought. Your claim to know everything was empty brag.

Careful how you speak to your father and teacher.

I chose my words with the utmost precision, said Rigg, echoing a phrase that Father often used. Information only matters if it helps us make correct guesses about the future. Rigg ran into a low-hanging branch. This happened rather often. He had to keep his gaze upward, because the pench had moved from branch to branch. The pench crossed the stream, he said. Then he clambered down the bank.

Vaulting over a stream did not interrupt the conversation. Since you cant know which information youll need in the future, you need to know everything about the past. Which I do, said Father.

You know all the kinds of weather youve seen, said Rigg, but it doesnt mean you know what weather well have next week, or if therell be a kind of weather you never saw before. I think youre very nearly as ignorant as I am.

Shut up, said Father.

I win, said Rigg silently.

A few minutes later, the trail of the pench went up into the air and kept going out of sight. An eagle got him, Rigg said sadly. It happened before we even started following his path. It was in the past, so no doubt you knew it all along.

Father didnt bother to answer, but let Rigg lead them back up the bank and through the woods to where Rigg first spotted the penchs trail. You know how to lay the traps almost as well as I do, said Father. So you go do it, and then come find me.

I cant find you, said Rigg. You know I cant.

I dont know any such thing, because no one can know a false thing, one can only believe it with certainty until it is contradicted.

I cant see your path, said Rigg, because youre my father.

Its true that Im your father, and its true you cant see my path, but why do you assume that theres a causal connection between them?

Well, it cant go the other wayyou cant be my father because I cant see your path.

Do you have any other fathers?

No.

Do you know of any other pathfinder like you?

No.

Therefore you cant test to see if you cant see the paths of your other fathers, because you dont have any. And you cant ask other pathfinders whether they can find their fathers paths, because you dont know any. So you have no evidence one way or another about what causes you not to be able to see my path.

Can I go to bed now? asked Rigg. Im already too tired to go on.

Poor feeble brain, said Father. But how it could wear out I dont know, considering you dont use it. How will you find me? By following my path with your eyes and your brain instead of this extraordinary ability of yours. Youll see where I leave footprints, where I break branches.

But you dont leave footprints if you dont want to, and you never break branches unless you want to, said Rigg.

Ah, said Father. Youre more observant than I thought. But since I told you to find me after the traps are set, doesnt it stand to reason that I will make it possible for you to do it, by leaving footprints and breaking branches?

Make sure you fart frequently, too, Rigg suggested. Then I can track you with my nose.

Bring me a nice switch to beat you with when you come, said Father. Now go and do your work before the day gets too warm.

What will you be doing?

The thing that I need to do, said Father. When you need to know what that is, Ill tell you.

And they parted.

Rigg set the traps carefully, because he knew this was a test. Everything was a test. Or a lesson. Or a punishment from which he was supposed to learn a lesson, on which he would be tested later, and punished if he hadnt learned it.

I wish I could have a day, just a single day, without tests or lessons or punishments. A day to be myself, instead of being Fathers project to make me into a great man. I dont want to be great. I just want to be Rigg.

Even taking great care with the traps, leaving them in each beasts most common path, it didnt take that long to set them all. Rigg stopped to drink, and then to empty his bladder and bowel and wipe his butt with leavesanother reason to be grateful for the autumn. Then Rigg backtracked his own trail to the place where he and Father parted.

There wasnt a sign of where Father went. Rigg knew his starting direction because he had seen him go. But when he walked that way, Father had left no broken branches, no footprints, nothing to mark his passing.

Of course, thought Rigg. This is a test.

So he stood there and thought. Father might mean me to continue in the direction I saw him go when we parted, and only after a long time will he leave a mark. That would be a lesson in patience and trust.

Or Father might have doubled back as soon as I was out of sight, and left in another direction entirely, blazing a trail for my eyes to see, but only after I had walked blindly for a while in each random direction.

Rigg spent an hour doubling back again and again, so he could search for Fathers signs of passing in every direction. No luck, of course. That would have been far too easy a challenge.

Again he stood and thought. Father listed the signs he could leave; therefore he isnt going to leave any of those signs. Hell leave different signs and my job is to be creative and think of what they might be.

Rigg remembered his own snotty remark about farts and sniffed the air, but he had only the ordinary human sense of smell and he couldnt detect a thing that way, so that couldnt be Fathers game.

Sight and smell havent worked. Taste seemed ludicrous. Could Father leave a clue using sound?

Rigg gave it a try. He stood in absolute stillness so that he could truly hear the sounds of the forest. It was more than holding his body still. He had to calm himself and concentrate, so that he could separate sounds in his mind. His own breathinghe had to be aware of it, then move past it so he could hear the other sounds around him. Then the near soundsa scurry of a mouse, the scamper of a squirrel, the jarring notes of a birds song, the burrowing of a mole.

And then he heard it. Very distant. A voice. A human voice. Impossible to know what words it was saying, if any; impossible to know if it was Father. But he could tell what general direction it was coming from, and so he moved that way, trotting along a path used by many deer so he could make good time. There was a low rise on the left that might block soundhe wanted to get past that; he knew there was a stream to the right, and if he got too close to that the babble of the water might drown out the voice.

Then he stopped and went into stillness again. This time he was reasonably sure the voice was Fathers. And he was more certain of the direction.

It took two more stops before he could hear the voice clearly enough to run continuously till he reached Father. He was saving up some choice criticisms of this tracking method when he finally reached the spot where the voice was coming from, a clearing where a large tree had recently fallen. In fact, the path of the falling tree was still sparkling blue. There was little occasion to follow plants, since they moved so little, except a bit of waving and bending in the breeze, but this tree must have fallen only a few hours ago, and the movement of its fall had marked a bright path through the air.

Rigg couldnt see Father at all.

Where are you? he asked.

He expected some remark with a barbed lesson in it, but instead Father said, Youve come far enough, Rigg. Youve found me.

No, I havent, Father.

Youve come as close as I want you to. Listen carefully. Do not come any closer to me.

Since I dont know where you are

Shut up, said Father.

Rigg fell silent and listened.

Im pinned under the tree, said Father.

Rigg cried out and took a step toward the tree.

Stop! cried Father.

Rigg stopped.

You see the size of the tree, said Father. You cannot lift it. You cannot move it.

With a lever, Father, I could

You cannot move it because I have been pierced by two branches, completely through my belly.

Rigg cried out, imagining the pain of it, feeling his own fear at Fathers injury. Father was never hurt. Father never even got sick.

Any further movement of the tree will kill me, Rigg. I have used all my strength calling to you. Listen now and dont waste what life I have left on any kind of argument.

I wont argue, Rigg said.

First, you must make your most solemn promise that you will not come look at me, now while Im alive or later after Im dead. I dont want you to have this terrible image in your memory.

It couldnt possibly be worse than what Im imagining, Rigg said silently. Then he silently gave himself Fathers own answer: You cant possibly know whether what you imagine is worse than the reality. I can see the reality, you cant, so . . . shut up.

I cant believe you didnt argue with me right then, said Father.

I did, said Rigg. You just didnt hear me.

All right then, said Father. Your oath.

I promise.

Say it all. Say the words.

It took all Riggs concentration to obey. I promise solemnly that I will not come look at you, either now while youre alive or later after youre dead.

And you will keep this promise, even to a dead man? asked Father.

I recognize your purpose and I agree with it, said Rigg. Whatever I imagine might be awful, but I will know that I dont know that its true. Whereas even if the reality is not as bad as what I imagine, I will know it is real, and therefore it will be a memory and not my imagination, and that will be far more terrible.

So because you agree with my purpose, said Father, following your own inclination will lead you to obey me and to keep your oath.

This subject has been adequately covered, said Rigg, echoing Fathers own way of saying, We have achieved understanding, so lets move on.

Go back to where we parted, said Father. Wait there till morning and harvest from the traps. Do all the work that needs doing, collect all the traps so you dont lose any of them, and then carry the pelts to our cache. Take all the pelts from there and carry them back to the village. The burden will be heavy, but you can carry it, though you dont have your manheight yet, if you take frequent rests. There is no hurry.

I understand, said Rigg.

Did I ask you whether you understand? Of course you understand. Dont waste my time.

Silently Rigg said, My two words didnt waste as much time as your three sentences.

Take what you can get for the pelts before you tell anyone Im deadtheyll cheat you less if they expect me to return for an accounting.

Rigg said nothing, but he was thinking: I know what to do, Father. You taught me how to bargain, and Im good at it.

Then you must go and find your sister, said Father.

My sister! blurted Rigg.

She lives with your mother, said Father.

My mothers alive? What is her name? Where does she live?

Nox will tell you.

Nox? The woman who kept the rooming house they sometimes stayed in? When Rigg was very young he had thought Nox might be his mother, but he long since gave up that notion. Now it seems she was in Fathers confidence and Rigg was not. You tell me! Why did you make me think my mother was dead? And a sisterwhy was this a secret? Why havent I ever seen my mother?

There was no answer.

Im sorry. I know I said I wouldnt argue, but you never told me, I was shocked, I couldnt help it. Im sorry. Tell me what else you think I should know.

There was no answer.

Oh, Father! cried Rigg. Speak to me one more time! Dont punish me like this! Talk to me!

There was no answer.

Rigg thought things through the way he knew Father would expect him to. Finally he said what he knew Father would want him to say.

I dont know if youre punishing me with silence or if youre already dead. I made a vow not to look and Ill keep it. So Im going to leave and obey your instructions. If youre not dead, and you have anything else to say to me, say it now, speak now, please speak now. He had to stop because if Father wasnt dead he didnt want him to hear that Rigg was crying.

Please, he said silently as he wept.

I love you, Father, said Rigg. I will miss you forever. I know I will.

If that didnt provoke Father into speech, nothing ever would.

There was no answer.

Rigg turned resolutely and walked back, retracing his own bright path among the trees and underbrush, along the deer path, back to the last spot where he had seen his father alive.

2010 Orson Scott Card

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Citations

• Booklist, 11/01/2010, Page 53
• Booklist Ed Choice Youth, 01/01/2011, Page 12
• Bulletin of Ctr for Child Bks, 12/01/2010, Page 0
• Horn Book Magazine, 01/01/2011, Page 90
• Hornbook Guide to Children, 01/01/2011, Page 92
• Kirkus Reviews, 10/15/2010, Page 0
• Publishers Weekly, 10/18/2010, Page 0
• School Library Journal, 12/01/2010, Page 104