Then he’d lost her, and the only means he had to get out of this terrible place was also lost.
It was no wonder that Kickaha, the man sufficient unto himself, the ever-adaptable, the one who could find comfort even in hell, was now lonely.
This was why he suddenly decided to adopt the miserable wretches of the Thana as his people. If they’d have him.
There was also the desire not to be killed. But it was the wish to be part of a community that most strongly drove him.
CHAPTER NINE
In his still limited Thana, he spoke to Wergenget of this. The chief didn’t look surprised. He smiled, and Kickaha saw in this a pleasure.
“You could have escaped us; you still could,” Wergenget said. “I saw the intent in your face briefly, though it closed almost immediately, like a fist.
“I’ll tell you, Kickaha, why you have lived so long among us. Usually, we kill an enemy at once. Or, if he or she seems to be a brave person, we honor him or her with torture. But sometimes, if the person is not of a tribe familiar to us, that is, not an old enemy, we adopt him or her. Death strikes often, and we don’t have enough children to replace those killed by our enemies. Our tribe has been getting smaller for some time now. Therefore, I will decree that you be adopted. You have shown courage, and all of us are grateful that you saved one of our precious children.”
Kickaha began to feel a little less lonely.
Several hours later, the storm ceased. The tribe ventured again into the valley and retrieved the body of Lukyo. She was carried into camp with much wailing by the women. The rest of the day was spent in mourning while her body, washed clean, her hair combed, lay on top of a pile of skins. At “dusk” she was carried on a litter borne on the shoulders of four men to a place a mile from the camp. Here her corpse was placed on the ground, and the shaman, Oshullain, danced around her, chanting, waving a three-tined stick in ritualistic gestures. Then, singing a sad song, the whole tribe, except for some mounted guards, walked back to the camp.
Kickaha looked back once. Vultures were gliding toward her, and a band of long-legged baboons was racing to beat them to the feast. About a quarter of a mile away a pride of the maneless lions was trotting toward the body. Doubtless, they’d try to drive the baboons away, and there would be a hell of a ruckus. When the simians were in great numbers, they would harass the big cats until they forced them to abandon the meat.
On getting back to camp, the shaman recited a short poem he’d composed. It was in honor of Lukyo, and it was designed to keep her memory fresh among the tribe. It would be on everybody’s lips for a while, then they’d cease singing it. And, after a while, she would be forgotten except in the memories of her child and parents. The child would forget, too, with the passage of time, and the parents would have other more pressing things to think about.
Only those who’d done some mighty deed still had songs sung about them.
The tribe stayed outside the lake country for another day. Wergenget explained that the storm season was almost always over by now. But it had been extended by the Lord, for some reason, and the tribe had made a fatal miscalculation.
“Or, perhaps,” the chief said, “we have somehow offended the Lord, and he kept the lightning from going back to the heavens for a day.”
Kickaha didn’t comment on this. He was usually discreet about getting into arguments about religion. There was also no sense in offending the chief when it might make him change his mind about adopting him.
Wergenget called in the whole tribe and made a speech. Kickaha understood about half of the words, but the tones and the gestures were easily interpreted. Though the Lord had taken away Lukyo with one hand, he had given them Kickaha with the other. The tribe had offended the Lord. Or perhaps it was only Lukyo who had done this. In any event, the Lord still did not hate them altogether. By slaying Lukyo, the Lord had vented his wrath. To show the tribe that it was still in his favor, he’d sent Kickaha, a warrior, to the tribe. So it was up to the tribe to take him in.
The only one who objected to this was the youth, Toini, who had kicked Kickaha when he was bending over the channel. He suggested that perhaps the Lord wanted the tribe to sacrifice Kickaha to him. This, plus Lukyo’s death, would satisfy the Lord.
Kickaha didn’t know why Toini had it in for him. The only explanation was reactive chemistry. Some people just took an instant and unreasonable dislike to certain people in the first minute of acquaintanceship.
Toini’s speech didn’t exactly cause an uproar, but it did result in considerable loud argument. The chief was silent during the squabble, but apparently Toini had given him some doubts.
Kickaha, seeing that Toini might swing public opinion to his way of thinking, asked the chief if he could speak. Wergenget shouted for silence.
Kickaha, knowing that height gave a speaker a psychological advantage, mounted a hikwu.
“I wasn’t going to say anything about a certain matter until after I was adopted by the tribe,” he said. “But now I see that I must speak about it.”
He paused and looked around as if he were about to reveal something which perhaps he shouldn’t.
“But since there are some doubters of the Lord here, I believe that I should tell you about this now, instead of later.”
They were hanging on his words now. His grave manner and the serious tones made them think he knew something they should know about.
“Shortly before you came upon me,” Kickaha said, “I met a man. He approached me, not walking, but gliding over the earth. He was in the air above the ground at twice my height.”
Many gasped, and the eyes of all but Toini widened. His became narrow.
“The man was very tall, the tallest I’ve ever seen in my life. His skin was very white, and his hair was very red. And there was a glow about him as if he were wrapped in lightning. I waited for him, of course, since he was not the sort of person you would run away from or attack.
“When he was close to me he stopped, and then he sank to the ground. I am a brave man, people of the Thana, but he frightened me. Also, he awed me. So I sank to my knees and waited for him to speak or to act. I knew that he was no ordinary man, since what man can float through the air?
“He walked up to me, and he said ‘Do not be afraid, Kickaha. I will not harm you. You are favored in my eyes, Kickaha. Rise, Kickaha.’
“I did as he ordered, but I was still scared. Who could this be, this stranger who soared like a bird and who knew my name, though I had never seen him before?”
Some in the crowd moaned, and others murmured prayers. They knew who this stranger was. Or at least they thought they did.
“Then the stranger said, ‘I am the Lord of this world, Kickaha.’
“And I said, ‘I thought so, Lord.’
“And he said, ‘Kickaha, the tribe of the Thana will soon be taking you prisoner. If they are kind to you, then they will gain favor in my eyes, since I have in mind something great for you to do. You will be my servant, Kickaha, a tool to effect a deed which I wish to be done.
“‘But if they try to kill or torture you, Kickaha, then I will know they are unworthy. And I will blast them all from the face of this earth. As a matter of fact, I will kill one of them as testimony that I am keeping an eye on them to demonstrate my power. If they are not convinced by this, then I will slay one more, the man who will try to keep you from being adopted by the tribe.’”
Toini had been grinning crookedly up to this moment. It was evident that he was going to denounce the captive as a prevaricator the moment he ceased speaking. But now he turned pale and began to shiver and his teeth started chattering. The others moved away from him.
The shaman was the only one who was looking doubtful. Perhaps, like Toini, he thought that Kickaha was lying to save his neck. If so, he was waiting for more developments before he gave his opinion.
“So I said, ‘I am grateful, Lord, that you are honoring me by using me as your servant and tool. May I ask what task you ha
ve in mind for me?’
“And he said, ‘I will reveal that to you in the proper time, Kickaha. In the meantime, let us see how the Thana treat you. If they act as I wish, then they will go on to great glory and will prosper and thrive as no other tribe has ever done. But if they mistreat you, then I will destroy them, men, women, children, and beasts. Not even their bones will be left for the scavengers to gnaw.’
“And then he turned and rose into the air and moved swiftly around the side of the mountain. A few minutes later, you showed up. You know what happened after that.”
The effect of his lie was such that Kickaha almost began to believe in it. The tribe surged around him, fighting to touch him as if to draw to them the power he must have absorbed just by being close to the Lord. And they begged him to consider them as his friends. When the shaman, Oshullain, pushed through the mob and seized Kickaha’s foot and held on as if he were absorbing the power, Kickaha knew he’d won.
Then the chief said loudly, “Kickaha! Did the Lord say anything about you leading us?”
Wergenget was concerned about his own position.
“No, the Lord did not. I believe that he just wanted me to take a place in the tribe as a warrior. If he had wanted me to be chief, he would have said so.”
Wergenget looked relieved. He said, “And what about this wretch, Toini, who said that perhaps you should be sacrificed?”
“I think he knows he was very wrong,” Kickaha said. “Isn’t that right, Toini?”
Toini, on his knees, sobbing, said, “Forgive me, Kickaha! I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“I forgive you,” Kickaha said. “And now, chief, what should we do?”
Wergenget said that since it was now obvious that the Lord was no longer angry, it was safe to go into the sea-country. Kickaha hoped that the thunderstorm season was indeed over. If another storm occurred, then the tribe would know he’d been lying. Which meant it’d probably tear him apart.
For the moment, he was safe. But if anything went wrong, if it became evident that the tribe wasn’t favored by the Lord, then he’d have to think up another lie fast. And if he wasn’t believed, curtains for Kickaha.
Also, what if they should run into Urthona, the real Lord of this universe?
He’d deal with that situation when it happened.
Anyway, if he saw any sign of Anana, any evidence that she was in the sea-land, he’d desert the Thana. It seemed to him that if she’d survived, she would have gone to this area. She’d know that if he’d lived, he would go there too.
Also, Urthona and McKay would go to where the land was relatively stable and where there’d be plenty of water. And where they were, the Horn would be.
He wondered if Orc had been caught in the flashflood which had carried him away. Or had he only been swept a little distance, enough to take him out of reach of Urthona and McKay?
Such thoughts occupied him until the caravan reached the sea. There they drank the water and let the moosoids satisfy their thirst. Some of the women and children gathered nuts and berries from the trees and bushes. The men waded around in the waves and jabbed their spears at the elusive fish. A few were successful.
Kickaha got a small portion of the raw fish, which he examined for worms before eating.
Then the Thana formed a caravan again and began the march over the white fine sand of the beach. They had come in on the right side of the channel, so they turned right. To cross the channel where it emerged from the sea, they would have had to swim a quarter mile of deep water. They passed many trees and animals felled by the lightning. The carcasses were covered with scaly amphibians, teeth flashing or dripping blood, tails flailing to sweep their competitors away, grunting and croaking, snapping. The birds were busy, too, and at many places the uproar was almost deafening.
When the tribe came across a lightning-blasted female elephant and calf, it drove away the multitude of sea, land, and air life and carved up the bodies for itself. Kickaha took some large cuts but put off eating them. When “night” came he piled branches and twigs to make a fire and he fashioned a bow-drill to start a fire. The others gathered around to watch. He worked away until the friction of the drill generated smoke, then added twigs and presently had a small fire going.
Kickaha borrowed a flint knife and cut off some smaller portions. After cooking a piece of leg and letting it cool off, he began eating as if he’d never stop. The chief and shaman accepted his invitation to dine. Though they were suspicious of cooked meat, their fears were overcome by the savory odors.
“Did the Lord teach you how to make that great heat?” Oshullain said.
“No. Where I come from all people know how to make this … fire. We call it fire. In fact, your ancestors knew how to make fire. But you have forgotten how to do it.
“I think that your ancestors, when first brought here, must have wandered for many generations before finding a sea-land. By then the scarcity of wood had made your people forget all about fire. Still, I can’t understand why you didn’t re-invent fire-making when you did find the sea-land, which has plenty of trees.”
He didn’t say that the most primitive of humans had had fire. Wergenget might have thought he was insulting him. Which he was.
He thought about Urthona. What a sadist he was. Why, if he had to make a world and then place humans on it, had he set up such a barebones world? The potentiality of Homo sapiens could not be realized if it had almost nothing to work with. Also, the necessity to keep on the move, the never-ending changing of the earth, the limiting of human activity to constant travel while at the same time seeking for food and water, had reduced them almost to the level of beasts.
Despite which, they were human. They had a culture the riches of which he would learn when he became proficient in the language and knew both the customs of the tribe and its individual members.
He said, “Fires are also good for keeping the big beasts away at night. I’ll show you how to keep the fires fed.”
The chief was silent for a while. Besides his food, he was digesting a new concept. It seemed to be causing him some mental unease. After a while, he said, “Since you are the favored of the Lord and this tribe is to be yours, you wouldn’t bring in any evil to us? Would you?”
Kickaha assured him that he wouldn’t—unless the Lord told him to do so.
The chief rose from his squatting position and bellowed orders. In a short while, there were a dozen large fires around the perimeter of the camp. Sleep, however, didn’t come easily to it. Some big cats and dogs, their eyes shining in the reflected light, prowled around the edges of the camp. And the Thana weren’t sure that the fires wouldn’t attack them after they went to sleep. However, Kickaha set an example by closing his eyes, and his simulated snores soon told everybody that he, at least, wasn’t worried. After awhile the children slept, and then their elders decided that it was safe.
In the morning Kickaha showed the women how to cook the meat. Half of the tribe took to the new way of preparing food with enthusiasm … The other decided to stick to eating the meat raw. But Kickaha was certain that before long the entire tribe, except for some dietary diehards, would have adapted.
He wasn’t too sure, though, that he should have introduced cooking. When the storm season started again, the tribe would have to go outside the great valley again. Out there, because of the scarcity of firewood, it would have to eat its meat raw again. They might become discontented, then resentful and frustrated because they could do nothing to ease their discontent.
Prometheuses weren’t always beneficial.
That was their problem. He didn’t plan on being around when they left the valley.
In the “morning” the caravan went on the march again. Wergenget got them to moving faster than the day before. He was nervous because other tribes would be moving in, and he didn’t want his to run into one on the beach. Near the end of the day, they reached their goal. This was a high hill about a half a mile inland from the shore. Though it changed sha
pe somewhat, like the rest of the land in the valley, it did so very slowly. And it always remained a hill, though its form might alter.
On its top was a jumble of logs. This had been the walls of a stockade the last time the tribe had seen it. The mutations of the hill had lifted the circular wall a number of times and had broken the vines which held it. The tribe set to work digging new holes with sticks and flint-tipped shovels, then reset the logs. Vines were cut and dragged in and bound to hold the logs together. By the end of the third day, the wooden fortress was restored. Within the walls were a number of leantos in which the families could take shelter from the rains and sleep.
During the rest of the season the tribe would stay in here at night. During the day, various parties would sally out to fish and hunt and gather nuts and berries. Lookouts would watch for dangerous beasts or the even more dangerous humans.
But, before they started to rest and get fat, it was necessary to initiate Kickaha into the tribe.
This was a great honor, but it was also rough on the initiate. After a long dance and recitation of numerous chants and songs, during which drums beat and bone flutes shrilled, the chief used a flint knife to cut the identification symbols of the tribe on Kickaha’s chest. He was supposed to endure this without flinching or outcry.
Then he had to run a gauntlet of men, who struck at him with long sticks. Afterward, he had to wrestle the strongest man in the tribe, Mekdillong. He’d recovered entirely from his injuries by then, and he knew a hundred tricks Mekdillong was ignorant of. But he didn’t want to humiliate him, so he allowed it to appear that Mekdillong was giving him a hard time. Finally, tired of the charade, he threw Mekdillong though the air with a cross-buttock. Poor Mek, the wind knocked out of him, writhed on the ground, sucking for air.
The worst part—or was it?—was having to prove his potency. Impotent men were driven from the tribe to wander until they died. In Kickaha’s case, since he was not of the tribe born, he would have been killed. That is, he would have been if it wasn’t so evident that the Lord had sent him. But, as the chief said, if the Lord had sent him, then he wouldn’t fail.
The World of Tiers Volume Two: Behind the Walls of Terra, the Lavalite World, Red Orc's Rage, and More Than Fire Page 28
