Free Watchstar by Pamela Sargent

something in you I cannot reach, I do not think even the Merging Ones could root it out, and perhaps it would not be good if they did. You must do it yourself. You must search yourself and rid your mind of anything which will separate you from the community and from God, or you will embark upon your journey and your ordeal and meet death—
    —But I've tried—she replied, watching her father's dark eyes moisten as he felt her fear.—I know all that—
    Brun put a hand on her shoulder. She felt his mind settle around hers, nestling against it, warming her with love and concern.—Remember, daughter, you are a fragment of the Merged One, a fragment which for only a moment is apart from eternity. God is reality, the rest is illusion, a dream in the mind of the Merged One—For a moment, she felt herself believing as he did, secure in his faith. Then she sensed her mind pushing against his, a tentacle of consciousness escaping from his grasp.
    —More questions—Brun thought, and she felt cold icicles jab her.—Too many questions! I'll answer the one I sensed, for I see you must be given an answer many times before you're content. Yes, there are isolates in the world, separate Selves who are born, but they are no more than the rocks and mud which God dreams, and they have no more reality than that. They cannot truly die, they are already lifeless, as dead as a piece of wood carved to resemble a man. They seek to trap us in illusion, that is all—He handed her the wineskin again and she took a long drink this time.—They are as real and as unreal as this wine—He laughed, and the ripples of laughter caught her, making her giggle. She felt his intoxication; it was making her drunk as well. She laughed again, for a moment caught by eternity; that was eternity, laughter and the moment of pleasure during lovemaking, the moments when she knew Brun was right.
    Silla splashed in the water and laughed also. She stumbled toward them, reeling like a drunkard, captured by Brun's mind. Brun took off his tunic and dried her with it while Daiya hurried to the water's edge and filled the bucket. Then Brun picked up Silla and they began to walk home.

    Daiya stood in the public space with Mausi, watching the cat-dancer. The woman grinned at them, shaking back her long brown hair, then folded her legs. Five cats, three white and two black, sat in front of her, fur preened, front legs stiff.
    The woman seized them with her mind and they rose and danced, leaping and swooping, bounding over one another and kicking up their feet. It was a good trick. Mausi smiled, but neither she nor Daiya laughed; the cats were much too dignified for that. The animals rolled over, then sat up again in an orderly row. The two black cats had been on either end of the row before they danced; now they alternated, white, black, white, black, white. They bent their furry heads, bowing.
    Daiya nodded to the woman, thanking her, then followed Mausi to a knot of people who were watching a vine-weaver. The vines crept up a trellis, twisting into shapes so elaborate it seemed they could never be untangled. Then they unraveled themselves, standing straight up, pointing to the sky. Next to the vine-weaver stood a small pavillion which shaded kegs of beer. Mausi turned a spigot with her mind, shaping the beer into globules before it hit the ground, then floated it over the heads of the nearby crowd. She turned her head up, opened her mouth, and Daiya did the same. The globules dropped. Daiya swallowed and felt the beer trickle down her throat.
    Over by a table filled with fresh fruit, a young man in a brown tunic stood before a group of children. He rolled up a sleeve, took out his knife, and slashed his arm. Blood trickled from the gash. The man stanched the flow with his mind, healing the cut as the children watched, eyes narrowed as they concentrated. He gestured at a little girl. She came forward, he made a tiny cut in her arm, and stood aside while she healed