Mer-Cycle

by Piers Anthony

  Quetzalcoatl grew up tall, robust, handsome, and bearded. He loved all living things, and would not kill a bear or pick a flower. Then an enemy showed him his image in a distorting mirror, and he saw himself as wasted away. He was shocked, and went into seclusion so that his people would not see him. But then his enemy dressed him well, painted his face, and gave him a fine turquoise mask, making him appear so handsome that he had to celebrate. He was then tempted with wine: first just a sip, then more, until he became intoxicated. His sister Quetzalpetlatl was similarly tempted into inebriation, and in this carefree state the two indulged in an act of incest. Later, in remorse, Quetzalcoatl immolated himself on his own funeral pyre.

  “That derives from this legend on the tablet!” Don exclaimed. “The symbolism, the elements of illness and incest—only the bull has been eliminated!”

  Splendid nodded, eyes bright.

  “And the bull—that carried on through the Minoan culture,” Don continued, seeing whole sections of the puzzle fall into place. “The Greek legend of Theseus—it derives from the same source! According to it, King Minos controlled the seas, but his wife became enamored of a bull, and finally concealed herself inside a wooden cow in order to couple with the bull. Then she gave birth to the Minotaur, a man with the head of a bull, who fed on human flesh. He was confined to the Labyrinth—the Greeks’ notion of the complex Minoan palace, in whose center court the bull-leapers performed. But the Greeks transferred his hero-properties to their prince Theseus, who slew him. The mythic lineage is plain, now. A forbidden sexual act that spawns a man-creature with godlike properties who finally dies ignominiously, in both the Mayan and Minoan/Greek versions.”

  AND SO WE VERIFY ATLANTIS, she wrote.

  “And the ancient sea empire,” Don agreed. “It explains so much. Like that fabulous sunken Yucatan city, that Pi-ja apparently didn’t know about—and the later Dzibilchaltun, whose source of culture was such a mystery.”

  Then he had to explain about that, for of course Splendid hadn’t known of the submerged city. She knew about Dzibilchaltun, though, and was fascinated by the apparent connection.

  At last they returned to the manuscript. New horizons had opened, and Don was in a hurry to assimilate the remainder, for the rest of his group was overdue to return. He would have been more concerned about what was delaying them, had he not been so distracted by the Minoan manuscript.

  I conjecture this: our bull and snake honoring ancestors of many thousands of years past emerged from the coastline of Anatolia, becoming a great seafaring nation. Soon they spread even to Atlantis, perhaps under some great king whose birth was clouded: illegitimate, possibly, the result of covert incest. Thus his identification as the anomaly of the feathered bull. The wealth to be derived from wide-spread trade would account for this basic initiative, and there would be a powerful civilizing effect wherever this trade touched, as there has been in the case of our own missions about the Aegean and other islands and peninsulas. The case of the Greek tribes may seem hopeless, but even there there are signs of promise. But under poor kings even the soundest empire becomes weak, and there may have been extensive natural catastrophes. Again, as we know from bitter experience. So the empire that spawned all the present cultures of the world at length passed, and was almost forgotten.

  But I could discourse interminably on the ways and legends of these people. It must suffice to establish that they differ in many ways from our own culture, but not so completely that we would not accommodate. And that is the problem. For if we adapt too amicably to their customs, and marry their women, and become absorbed in their culture—then we shall surely lose their own identity. We were not spared the holocaust of our island, we did not survive the ferocity of the ocean storm, we did not endure the mutiny of the hungry crew merely for this!

  So I did what I had learned with such difficulty when the captain died at sea, and I assumed once more the leadership of our remaining group. There was some strenuous resistance, but I performed as necessary, even to distasteful bloodshed, and we won free and set sail by night. Northward across the round sea, bearing toward the place we understood there was a colony of kinsmen. If we could join these, our situation would be better.

  “Don! Don!”

  Don jumped, startled. It was as if Pi-ja-se-me had called to him directly! But it was the radio, which he had left on in the hope that Melanie would respond to one of the Germanic spelling broadcasts.

  “I’m h-here,” he said, reorienting. “What—?”

  “Don, return instantly! And be careful! I cannot—”

  There was a click, and Don was unable to get further response. The other radio was off.

  Splendid was evidently annoyed by this abrupt interruption of the Minoan narrative. HER VOICE HAS CHANGED.

  “That’s not Melanie! It’s Eleph! And something’s wrong. He’s not one to play games—” He paused. “He doesn’t even have a radio, now. He must have been using Gaspar’s, or one of the others. And someone must have stopped him. Why?”

  THERE MUST BE TROUBLE IN YOUR PARTY.

  “Yes! I should have been suspicious about this long radio silence. I have to get back. When Eleph cries for help—” But again he paused. “The translation! I may never have another chance. I can’t go without finishing that!”

  I CANNOT GO WITH YOU, Splendid wrote. THE COLD AND THE SALT AND THE PREDATORS OF THE MARINE—

  “And Pi-ja’s request! I agreed to honor it—but I don’t know what it is. But if I keep Eleph waiting—I know I can’t afford to waste any time!” Don was not a man of decisive action in a crisis; he felt himself falling apart. What should he do?

  Splendid looked at him compassionately while her hand printed her message. COMPROMISE. PROMISE TO SPEAK WELL OF US TO YOUR PEOPLE, AND I WILL HELP YOU RETURN SWIFTLY.

  “You can’t help me! The phase—”

  But she was still writing. THE OLD WOMAN TOOK AWAY YOUR ROPES. WE CAN SHOW YOU A BETTER ROUTE.

  Don was aghast. “Pacifa wouldn’t take away the lines! I need them to climb out of this trench! The cliffs—”

  “She did, you know,” Melanie said suddenly on the radio. “She told me we might need the rope, and it seemed to make sense at the time. I never thought—”

  “Melanie! Where have you—?”

  “Something is wrong,” she said. “Nobody else has used the radio since we split into two parties. Except you and me. And now Eleph. I—”

  “You refused to t-talk to me!”

  “I was in a jealous snit. Because—well, never mind. I thought the radio silence was just to keep from alerting the sub to the locations of the others. But Eleph wasn’t fooling. I can tell.”

  “Why didn’t you say something before? I never realized—”

  “And interrupt your charming relationship with that fishwife? You can go to hell for all I care! But not Eleph. You’ve got to go back!”

  Don caught a movement, and turned to see Splendid swimming swiftly away. “Wait!” he cried. “I agree to your compromise! I—”

  Then he saw that her tablet was filled with writing. He moved over to read it.

  “What compromise?” Melanie demanded.

  “The mer-people will show me a fast route back to the depot, if I agree to speak for them when I get back. I really don’t know much about them—”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I think they’re afraid of the U.S. reaction to their presence here. You know, the depth-bomb psychology. They mean no harm; they’re practicing for colonization of Jupiter. But Splendid just took off. She left a message—”

  “Well, read it!”

  Don read aloud: IT WILL TAKE ABOUT AN HOUR TO GET THE INFORMATION FROM OUR PERIMETER GUARD. I WILL RETURN WITH A MAP YOU CAN COPY. MEANWHILE, TRANSLATE THE END OF THE NARRATIVE. YOU CAN KEEP BOTH PROMISES.

  “Two promises?”

  “Melanie, the author of the tablets made a condition for anyone who reads them. Splendid and I have been translating the whole time. Didn’t she e
xplain that in the German?”

  “Yes,” Melanie admitted. “She also said you goosed her.”

  “Well, she deserved it! And if you don’t stop being so cynical, I’ll goose you, first chance. I tell you, we never—”

  “That’s three promises,” Melanie muttered.

  “So you know you don’t have reason to—”

  “Well—”

  “Melanie, I love you! I—”

  She was evidently startled. “But—”

  “But Splendid has a glorious head of hair. So I’ve been exposed to that, now. And I know. So if you—”

  “If you repeat that when we get together again, I’ll say it too. But that’s personal. Right now you have to get on that translation.”

  “Yes. I—I’ll see you soon, Melanie. I hope. Then—”

  “Then,” she agreed. She clicked off. He knew this was to guarantee him the undistracted time he needed.

  Don pored over the remaining tablets, picking out those symbols he could read easily so as to get a rough gist before settling down to the final one. He was pegging in meanings with a facility that amazed him. He could almost read the text straight, now!

  Pi-ja, it seemed, had directed the ship north toward the American Gulf coast, searching for the settlement whose descendants would be known as the Yuchi Indians. But another storm, or perhaps an arm of the Gulf Stream, carried them east and south, at last brushing the north shore of Cuba. There his men jumped overboard and swam for shore, for what reason Don wasn’t clear. But Pi-ja-se-me seemed to be an extraordinarily capable and hard-nosed leader, despite his literary background. He had invented magic to cow the superstitious, and perhaps had over-done it. But he was suffering again from debilitating illness, possibly nutritional deficiency symptoms.

  At any rate, only one loyal slave remained. The two attempted to sail the ship, but lacked the ability to do more than keep it clear of the shoals. It was in poor condition, with its repairs haphazard after the hurricane that had sunk the other two ships, and a tattered partial sail on the stripped mast was all they could muster. Mostly it drifted, while Pi-ja wrote his long memoirs, baking each finished tablet in the galley hearth. Apparently the ship passed all around Cuba and between it and the island of Haiti, losing its mast in another storm, and was progressing back toward the Yucatan when Pi-ja called a halt. His augurs had identified this particular spot as most propitious for his purpose. He had his slave bail water into the ship, already half swamped by the storm, until it sank. The implication was that ship and passengers went down together.

  Then the final passage:

  I have considered carefully the destruction of my own world. We were a prosperous, carefree people, much given to pleasure, but we knew our gods and took them seriously. I remain satisfied that in no way did we renege on our rituals prior to the calamity. In fact our religious exercises had become more detailed as our wealth and power waxed, and many more youths of either sex were sacrificed in the bull-leapings than had been done in prior centuries. Almost every year we had a champion who performed so well as to complete the leap uninjured and in perfect form. Had the Earth Mother chosen to rebuke us, she should have done it long ago, before our faith and technique were perfect. Almost, it seems, our very closeness to our subject was our undoing, for the farther away any given city was from Thera, the less it suffered.

  So I am forced to a conclusion that counters the faith of my lifetime: Our Gods do not care. Our worship was vain, not because the object was false, as it demonstrably was not, but because of our conceit that anything we might offer could have any conceivable ameliorating effect on that arrogant Power. We are as ants before the hoof of the bull: neither our love nor our hate can mitigate the weight and placement of that deadly tread. We were fools ever to think otherwise, and we have paid the ultimate price.

  Oh, scholar, honor then my charge: Build not on the flank of the Bull. Delude not yourself about the propensities of the Beast, by whatever guise it manifests. Imagine not that you can propitiate it by dances or offerings or prayer, lest that monster heave without reason or warning and destroy all that you have wrought.

  CHAPTER 15

  CRISIS

  Proxy 5–12–5–16–8: Attention.

  [No answer.]

  Status?

  [No answer.]

  Don looked up. Splendid was back. He had continued translating aloud, from habit and for Melanie’s benefit (if she tuned in), and knew that the mermaid had heard enough.

  “Do you know,” Melanie said after a moment, “we have already built on the flank of the bull. We call it the Bomb.”

  Don nodded, though she could not see him. “It’s a bigger bull than that. Nuclear power has enormous advantages and equivalent liabilities. But it’s only one facet of the danger to our species and world. We are overrunning the planet, enslaving or destroying all other species. The climate is changing, deserts are being made, the sea is dying. Maybe we are the bull, this time. The world is too small for us. But we have no way to get off. Nowhere to go.”

  EXCEPT TO GO TO JUPITER, Splendid wrote.

  “Maybe so,” Don agreed after reading her words to Melanie. “I’ll do what I can—for Eleph and Jupiter.” Yet he suffered a background doubt. Could this be all of it? Just to come here and read the Minoan warning? Meet the mermaid? These things somehow seemed incidental to whatever mission might have been set up. Who had set it up? And what had gone wrong? Why had Pacifa seemingly arranged to isolate him here, by taking the ropes and not returning? Where was Gaspar, and why was he maintaining radio silence in the face of this situation?

  Pi-ja’s story might be over, but Don’s wasn’t. And it might not have any happier ending. Key pieces were missing.

  Splendid swam to the edge of the deck, then hovered, waiting for him to let himself down. By the time he was ready to ride from the ship, she had another message:

  ONE STRANGE THING. WE FOUND TRACES IN THE SHIP. NO BONES, BUT METAL BELTS AND JEWELRY. IT SEEMED TO US THAT THE ARTIFACTS NEAR THE CACHE OF TABLETS WERE FEMALE.

  For a moment Don was stunned. Then he shook it off. “That narrative was written by a man.”

  She paused to write again. THERE IS TROUBLE IN YOUR CAMP. WE DON’T KNOW THE MOTIVES OF THE OTHERS, BUT TRUST YOU.

  “Well, thanks, Splendid. But I have no idea what’s going on.”

  YES, YOU ARE INNOCENT.

  That, it seemed, was his prime recommendation.

  Splendid swam ahead, and he followed, riding rapidly across the rocky floor of the sea. She led him down the trench below the ship, then up out of the canyon by a winding path and onto a broad plain. In a surprisingly short time they arrived at the mer-colony.

  The artifacts were not impressive. A cluster of cylindrical tanks evidently deposited by submarine and camouflaged so as to be difficult to spot from above. Several vertical nets, perhaps intended to strain fish out of the moving current—or possibly a kind of defense, as there weren’t many fish in this freshwater enclave. And the mer-people themselves: seven or eight women and about a dozen men. All were well proportioned, the women running to large breasts, the men to powerful chests. Don realized that this might not be a matter of mammary or muscle. They probably needed extraordinary lung capacity to make use of the meager oxygen in the water, and a padding of fat to protect their vital organs, accounting for their notable attributes. The men had no visible genitals, but did have a kind of codpiece effect in the arrangement of their scales. Streamlining, of course.

  Then he saw the submarine. Similar to the one they had encountered before. Don felt an apprehensive chill. It was coming clear how the mer-people had known about the status of the ropes. The sub had indeed kept track of the party. Had it found a way to mess up the other members, perhaps taking them captive one by one? Was this a trap for one more? “They have a sub,” he murmured to Melanie.

  Splendid tried to reassure him. WE KNOW YOU SAW ONE OF OUR PERIMETER GUARDS. THE MACHINE IS HERE TO HELP YOU. ONLY IT CAN LEAD THE WAY OUT OF
THE TRENCH. TRUST US AS WE TRUST YOU.

  Well put! Of course they had submarines; how else could this colony be supplied! It was now to the interest of the Chinese to assist him—or to kill him. If Gaspar or Pacifa had gotten away and could not be stopped, then only Don or Melanie could speak in favor of this mer-project. But his intuition told him that these folk were not hostile to his mission; they were coincidental to it. Splendid seemed like a fine creature. He had to trust them. They only wanted to be left alone to complete their project. He hoped.

  Then he realized what Splendid meant. “Oh-—to hitch a ride!” For the submarine could go where the mer-people couldn’t, into the cold salt water. The cliffs of the trench would be no barrier to it.

  Splendid laughed in her silent way, then looked thoughtful. The other mer-people did not understand English; at least they did not react. Had Splendid told them about the phase?

  THE GLOVE—Splendid wrote.

  “The balloons. Of course. If I can have a handhold, and carry my bike too—”

  “Is that safe?” Melanie asked. “I was always warned against hitching rides on trucks—with a bike, I mean.”

  “Safer than climbing those cliffs without anchored ropes! The sub could cut my time in half!”

  “But if it dropped you—”

  “I’d smash. I wish you hadn’t brought that up, Melanie. But I have to trust them. And I do. Just from knowing Splendid, I’m convinced they’re—”

  “Oh?” Melanie interjected with a certain emphasis. He’d have to stop mentioning the mermaid!

  “I wish I could stay and really study their c-culture,” he said a bit lamely. “There are mermen here too, you know. Tritons. It’s a whole v-village.”

  “So I gather.” She seemed mollified.