The castaways of tanagar, p.31
The Castaways of Tanagar, page 31
His first sight of the ‘•village” where the forest men lived nearly took his breath away with astonishment. He had expected to find something like oversized birds’ nests, or perhaps hollows cut into the junctions between the larger boughs and the trunk. What he actually saw was a vast three-dimensional web of creepers, arranged in semitransparent nets and tunnels and curtains, in catenoidal and parabolic curves, and sometimes even hemispheres. The houses of the Lu’el were “nests” of a sort, but they hung pendulously from the boughs, or were knitted into the junctions of the web, like great wicker baskets twelve meters deep and five or six in diameter at the waist. The entrance holes were near the top, but always set slightly to one side, so that they could be covered by big broad leaves in the event of rain.
The most remarkable thing about these nests was their state of decoration, for every one was colored outside, with patterns in four or five different pigments. The woven strands were plastered with some kind of clay, and the colors were laid onto it with minute care. There was, so far as Cheron could tell, no representative art of any kind, but the abstract patterns were by no means careless in their design. Often, they had been planned with considerable subtlety. In the blue-green light of the dappled sky they looked magnificent. No two were identical, though a certain conformity was apparent in the color preferences (much use was made of red and orange) and in the predominance of stripes over spots.
As they began to move through the web—which was not an easy task, for it had not been engineered for the convenience of upright-walking men—Cheron began to appreciate the amount of time and effort that had gone into the construction of this place. The blend of natural substance and human ingenuity was marvelous in its subtlety, and he could not doubt that the intelligence behind it had been considerable. He had fallen into the habit of describing the Lu’el as forest savages, and thinking of them not merely as primitives but as subhumans, but the sight of the village shook this judgment considerably.
The Lu’el were plainly interested in the fact that they had visitors. There seemed to be a good many of them about— many of them young ones. They did not, however, gather in a crowd to stare and point, but simply took care that whatever path they chose took them closer to the strangers than convenience really warranted. They had seemed like spiders on the ground, but up here in their own element, they no longer gave that appearance despite the web that formed their streets and highways.
It was easy. ^ they passed among them, to imagine the nests as the bizarre fruits of the gargantuan tree—hundreds upon hundreds of them, and every one permanently ripe.
Cheron observed that M’lise was surefooted in negotiating the folds and curves of the web, and complimented him on the fact.
“I have spent a good deal of time here,” answered the black man. “It is you who should be complimented on your sense of balance and your lack of fear. In fact, you cannot fall, but I think many men might be paralyzed with panic by the knowledge of where they were.”
“Are we heading for some kind of meeting place?** asked Vito Talvar.
“The web has no real center,” M’lise told him. “There is no vast arena—vertical or horizontal—where the whole village might gather together and form a crowd. The opportunities for collaborative democracy are not great, and a strict order of precedence exists to determine who will give way when two individuals meet in a narrow causeway. Despite their gregariousness the Lu’el have no egalitarian spirit. Hence, there are no meeting places, merely chains of instruction and invitation.”
M’lise led them, eventually, to one of the nesta placed higher than the rest. It was no larger, nor was there anything special—at least to Cheron’s untutored eyes—about its decoration, but of all the houses of the village it stood closest to the sun. Cheron guessed that they were close to the main trunk of one of the trees, but there was no way he could be certain.
Obtaining access to the nest was the most difficult thing they had had to do in crossing the web, but they managed the maneuver successfully, albeit uncomfortably. The entrance hole let them down into a chamber some four meters deep. The woven door was slightly elastic and gave way a little beneath Cheron’s weight, which must have been three times that of one of the forest men. There was a hole in the floor which allowed access to the next chamber below, but this was displaced to one side. Waiting for them in the chamber were two of the Lu’el, each considerably older than those they had previously seen. They were squatting to one side, backs against the wall, and M’lise indicated that Cheron, Talvar, and himself should adopt a similar posture facing them. Cheron found it far from comfortable.
One of the Lu’el was crowned with black and red, the other with black and yellow. The former seemed to be the older; his frame was cadaverously thin and his hair was growing thin.
“The One Man,” said M’lise, “is Gy’liu. The other is Or’u’um. Gy’liu will die within the next few days, and Or’u’um will take his place.” Without pausing to permit a reply, M’lise began addressing the forest men in their own language, pointing first at Cheron, then at Talvar. The two Tanagarians looked at one another uneasily.
Gy’liu answered the stream of chatter with a long speech of his own, and then M’lise took up the thread again. Both of the Lu’el glanced occasionally at their white guests, but for the most part their attention was firmly fixed on M’lise.
Cheron was surprised when both of the forest men, suddenly heaved themselves up onto their toes, reaching for handholds in the wall of the nest, and swarmed up the wall to disappear through the entrance port into the forest.
M’lise turned back to Cheron and said, “He has granted permission for you to see what it is needful that you should see. It is a privilege, in their view. It represents a considerable…how shall I put it?…invasion of privacy. You will be allowed to look into a facet of their lives which is really theirs alone, to which no other race of man here on Earth can be admitted. You will catch no more than a glimpse, but they will be a great deal more conscious of your presence than you of theirs. Do not underestimate the value of this gift. I have explained to them why it is necessary for you to know. They know nothing of other planets circling other suns, but they understand the notion of other worlds.”
Cheron made as if to rise, and said, “Where now, then?” The last syllable died on bis lips when he realized that M’lise was not moving.
“Here,” said M’lise. “They will return. Or’u’um will bring that which is necessary. Gy’liu will share with one of you—the other will watch. You should choose now which of you is to undertake the journey. No harm will come to you—that I can promise. You will travel in your dreams, and you will wake up in due course, wiser but unchanged.”
“Wait a minute,” said Talvar. “That isn’t enough. I want to know what’s going on. I want to know who you are, and how it is that you know who we are, and I want to know a lot more about whatever kind of game you’re playing. I’ve had my fill of dreaming, and if your friends are bringing back some other drug to take me out of my head they can keep it to themselves. I’ve had enough.”
M’lise looked at Cheron. “It is necessary,” he said. “In time, I will tell you everything. But if it is to make sense, you must catch a glimpse of possibilities that you know nothing of as yet. No harm can come to you.”
Cheron turned many questions over in his mind. There were far too many for him to be comfortable. It was difficult for him to select just one. In the end, he said, “How do you know who we are?”
“We know,” replied the black man, infuriatingly uncommunicative.
“I suppose you also know that everything that happens here will be known to the men who had us brought here? You know that the satellite is picking up transmissions from devices hidden somewhere in our bodies?”
“The transmitters were embedded in your skulls,” said M’lise, with equanimity. “We put them out of action. That’s why you had to be put to sleep before being brought up the mountain.”
‘
Cheron remembered the pain in the back of his head which he had felt on awakening, and which he still felt if he turned his head suddenly.
“Suppose we both refuse to participate in this educative experience?” he asked.
“Why should you?” asked M’lise. “I have assured you that it is the only way to reach the understanding which you desire so devoutly.”
Talvar shook his head and said, “Not me.”
A typical Hedonist’s response, thought Cheron. He’s prepared to ask the questions, but in the end he wants the answers only to protect himself. Who can blame him?
M’lise had not looked at Talvar to acknowledge the denial. His dark eyes were still fixed on Cheron. Cheron nodded, almost imperceptibly.
They all looked up at the sound of the forest men returning. The older one came first, then the black-and-yellow, carrying a bowl in which there was a viscous liquid.
’The One Man and you will drink from the same bowl,” said M’lise in a low voice. “Then you will descend into the sleeping quarters. There is nothing to fear. What you see may be disturbing, but nothing can hurt you.”
No, indeed, thought Cheron. There is nothing to fear in drugs or dreams. Nothing at all. How can dreams he poisoned? And what can they really do to a man’s inner self?
20
Sarid sat down on his bed and began to take off his boots. A slight sound made him pause and look up, and he saw Baya-undi emerge from the bathroom.
“I thought you’d gone to bed,” he said.
‘I thought you might need me,” said Baya-undi. He made no move to help Sarid with his boots, but added, “After all, I am your valet.”
Sarid frowned slightly, but his voice was quite even when he said, “I don’t need you. You’d better get some sleep while we have the opportunity of using such beautiful beds.”
“I’m sure that your accommodation in Solis will be just as comfortable,” replied the black man. He paused for a moment, and then said, “When I saw you first—before you saw me—you seemed troubled. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you wear your feelings in your face.”
Sarid stared at his companion, wondering what had changed. It was not the kind of statement that he associated with Baya-undi.
“I discovered something that surprised me,” he said. “I don’t know whether I like it or not”
Baya-undi refrained from asking the obvious supplementary question, which Sarid would not have answered. Instead, the black man crossed the room and drew the curtains over the window, pausing only for a moment to look down into the street far below. He turned back to Sarid, but the Tanagarian had turned his attention once more to his boots, which he now managed to remove.
“I came to say goodbye,” said Baya-undi calmly.
Sarid turned then, to look his companion in the face. After a few moments he said, “They won’t let you go. Not now.” “They won’t catch me,” the black man assured him.
“I trust that you’re not going to insult me with yet another invitation to accompany you?” asked Sarid.
“Of course not.”
“Then why tell me? Suppose I were to warn Zeyer?”
“Is that what you intend to do?”
“No,” answered Sarid.
“I once told you that 1 think of you as a friend,” said Baya-undi. “I do not think that you believed me. It is true. I am not deserting you. It is simply that the time has come for me to go. Do you think that you will be happy in Macaria?” Sarid shrugged. “Why not?” he countered. “It is the one place on Earth where a man can get things done.”
“You cannot be sure of that”
Sarid permitted himself a small laugh. “You are a spy, aren’t you?” he said.
“Yes,” answered the black man. “I think that in your terms I am most certainly a spy.”
“And what will your masters think when you tell them about me? Will they believe you? Will they care?”
“I have already communicated with my…masters. They know all about you, and they believe everything that I have told them. Your presence in Macaria might make a considerable difference to the fortunes of the nation. Their slow and unsteady progress in recovering the knowledge of the ancient world is certain to be accelerated. Their conquests will be accelerated also.”
“Do you fear for the security of Khepra?”
Baya-undi smiled broadly, and said, “No.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in the knowledge of the ancient world. Not in its utility, at any rate. Or was that just for show?”
“Just for show,” confirmed the black man.
Sarid studied his manservant carefully, Baya-undi moved aside from the curtains and leaned on the door frame, pausing before going into the sitting room—and then, presumably, out of the suite, out of the hotel, and out of Sarid’s life.
“You’ve been acting the part of a fool,” said Sarid. “But you’re not a fool, are you?”
“There’s a little of the fool in all of us,” replied the black man. “The man who cannot play the fool is not a man but a carrot So they say in Khepra, the one civilized nation on Earth, where they know how to value fools properly. Barbarians—especially Macarians—have lost the art through their relentless pursuit of knowledge and power. The same may happen to you, I fear, though not to your companions. Vito Taivar had a rare gift for foolishness, and I liked him for it. Cheron Felix was perhaps a little earnest, but there was something he saw in much of what went on around him which allowed him to retain that sense of wonder that is so essential in the man who is—occasionally, of course—disposed to be a fool.”
“You sound like Midas,” said Sarid, a little too tired to be wholeheartedly amused.
“A real barbarian,” said Baya-undi. “But likeable, in his way. Perhaps we will meet again some day. Perhaps we will all meet again.”
“I think the likelihood is small,” answered Sarid dryly. “I cannot really believe that there is a life beyond the grave— and if there is, it must be far more populous than this tiny world where men live now. I doubt if we shall ever see Midas or Cheron Felix, even if we have eternity in which to search for them. For that matter, I doubt if we shall see one another, if you really do intend to desert Wouldn’t it have been easier in Asdar? Or even in Sau7”
“It might have been easier,” said Baya-undi. “But it would have been less interesting.” He made a small bow, and turned to go through the open door.
“Baya-undi!” called Sarid softly.
The black man turned, still smiling.
“Good luck,” said Sarid.
Baya-undi bowed again, and then was gone, without returning the compliment.
Sarid began unbuttoning his shirt
21
Salvador stood on the ridge far above the railway line and watched the train disgorge its human cargo: three hundred men in the uniform of Macaria’s army. He watched them gather and parade, saw them split up into platoons, and watched them disperse again as a dozen search parties.
He frowned, more thoughtfully than angrily. He had seen army vehicles moving along the road earlier in the day. He had seen three small monoplanes moving between the mountain peaks. There had even been a dirigible balloon. He knew very little about the present strength of Macaria’s air power—the last information transmitted by the satellite had not afforded such intelligence a high priority—but it seemed unlikely that a search by air could be mounted unless the situation was very special indeed.
It was possible, he knew, that Teresa had killed one or two of the policemen who had tried to arrest them. Even adding two policemen to a handful of Merkadian petty criminals, however, did not add up to a justification for this kind of operation. There seemed to be two probable conclusions. Either the search was for someone else and not for him or they had somehow discovered who and what he was. If the latter was the case, then they must have discovered it after the police had stopped the train, otherwise the opportunity would not have been left for him to get away.
If they had apprehended Teresa, and she had told them everything…
Would they have taken her story as seriously as this?
Salvador had traveled far enough by now to know how difficult was the task facing the soldiers who had just left the train. Whether there were three hundred or three thousand, the odds were against them. There was plenty of forest to give him all the cover he needed, and the region was vast.
The weather was poor, and the Macarians, for all that this was their country, were less adaptable to these conditions than he. Neither cold nor hunger could threaten him in the short term. He could travel farther and faster than they, and if necessary could live on snow for twenty days. The worse conditions became, the greater would be his advantage. No longer encumbered by Teresa, he would be a difficult man to catch.
He was quite unafraid, but he was a little worried, because he could not be entirely sure what was going on. If they knew about him, they might know about the base. They could not know its position—but even he knew it only in terms of its positional coordinates. The degree of accuracy with which he could deliver himself to it would leave him a good deal of searching to do. It was bound to be well camouflaged, and would not be easy to locate. Once there, it was not certain that he would be able to walk in. Entering the base might still prove to be a problem, especially if there was no one actually inside it. It was quite likely that all personnel would be on the satellite.
Given these difficulties, his situation was not good. The Macarians could not catch him, but they might find the base before he did, if they knew what they were looking for. If it tso transpired, then his ability to evade capture would become far less significant.
