The Wolf-cat saw the advancing wall of water, threw back its head and uttered a kind of barking howl. It looked up at the distant Maned Wolf, its father, then at the equally distant Leopard, its mother, and it didn’t know which way to run.
So it ran along the bottom of the canyon, pursued by the roaring water. The Paragons’ pity changed to amazement, because the animal was the swiftest they’d ever seen—swifter even than the Maned Wolf or the Leopard. It moved like the wind itself, bounding and fluid, with all the best of both wolf and cat in perfect motion. It was the most beautiful thing the Paragons had ever seen—and in their awe there was covetousness.
Starquin sensed this, and the land shuddered and the walls of the canyon moved farther apart. Because Starquin had at last realized that perfection can only exist in isolation and that the Paragons were becoming contaminated by their very nearness to each other.
The love-animal, his great speed waning as he tired, felt the ground move, too, and saw that the water was almost upon him. So he made his decision, veered right and bounded up the canyon wall to join the Leopard, his mother, because this is the way a mortal animal’s strongest bonds lie. The Maned Wolf, far away on the opposite bank, barked for joy to see his son safe, although he knew he would never see him again.
Neither would he ever see the Leopard again, because this part of Pangaea had divided into two great continents moving ever farther apart, which in the Ifalong would become known by new names—South America and Africa. The Maned Wolf would never leave South America, but the Leopard would find vast new lands, because Africa was destined to meet Asia and India.
And the Wolf-cat? Lob saw him go to Fel’s side of the canyon and knew beyond doubt that Fel now possessed the swiftest animal in the world. He was overcome with envy. Thinking Fel had used the power of the mother Leopard to capture his prize, he shouted again and again, “You cheat! You cheat!” until the Earth rumbled again and the new continents moved ever faster, until they were lost from sight of each other.
As time went by, the incident became lost among new legends of the new lands, and Lob and Fel died. But the love-animal carried the stigma of Lob’s taunt down all his generations into the Ifalong, and his kind became known as the Cheater.
The May Bees
The noise of pounding water increased and Manuel guessed that he was approaching a waterfall. The trail took a sudden bend, hugging the wall of a rocky outcropping. He trod carefully because here the trail was little more than a pebbly shelf ten meters above the river, which flowed fast and foamy with swirling eddies. The nature of the rock changed, the dry redness giving way to a more mellow brown, with here and there a plant thrusting its roots into a crack. Manuel left the outcropping behind, the trail widened again and the scene changed completely.
Now the narrow river valley was filled with lush vegetation. Manuel was filled with a longing for home. The valley was similar to one he’d known not ten kilometers from Pu’este: the rushing water, the tall trees with their thick old trunks acrawl with insects, the rustling life in the undergrowth and everywhere the hanging, looping vines. Even the smell was similar, a nostalgic recipe of damp earth and rotting leaves, of aromatic herbs, animal droppings and resin. He wandered on more slowly now, stepping carefully, because there was a waiting stillness about this place. The trail descended precipitously toward a broad pool that formed a tranquil backwater to the river.
On the bank of this pool sat the Girl.
She didn’t look up as Manuel approached. She sat with drooping shoulders, staring down at the slow surface. Her hands were clasped loosely in her lap and her plump legs swung idly above the water. Manuel sat beside her, easing himself quietly into her company.
“That’s me down there,” she said. A tear dropped from the end of her nose, and ripples widened for a moment. The reflection soon reformed, however—remorselessly.
“No, it’s not,” said Manuel. “It’s just a package your soul’s wrapped up in. There’s an old priest in the village called Dad Ose. That’s what he used to say when the girls from the village complained boys wouldn’t mate with them because they were too ugly. He used to say the package doesn’t mean a thing... Why am I talking as if it all happened a long time ago? Anyway, he says that there are even places where people could unwrap you and put you in a different package if you wanted—which shows the package doesn’t matter.”
“I lived in a place something like that. The package did matter, more than you’d ever believe.”
“So why did you leave?”
“Zozula took me away. Anyway, there were other things wrong with Dream Earth.”
Manuel thought for a moment. “There was something terrible about that place you lived in—I could tell by the way you spoke about it. And by that name you didn’t want to be called—Marilyn. You wanted to get out.”
“Look at me—see that face? These arms, and this great pudgy neck? I wish I were a Marilyn, you know that?”
“What can be so good about a Marilyn?”
“If I were a Marilyn, sitting here right now, you’d love me. You wouldn’t be able to resist me.”
“Is that really what you want, Girl?” Manuel regarded her reflection, trying to imagine a girl so beautiful that she could make him forget Belinda.
“I didn’t say I wanted it,” she said hastily. A mosquito landed on the pale flesh of her arm and she regarded it, felt it sting, then frowned. “Go away,” she said. The mosquito remained, drinking her blood.
Manuel slapped the insect and it dissolved into a small smear of blood. “That’s how you do it. You keep forgetting, don’t you.”
“I hate this place! It’s worse than the Train! Nothing will do what you want it to!” The Girl felt like a fool.
“That’s where the fun is.”
“You call this fun?”
“The fun’s in fighting when you know that everything on Earth has the power to kill you if it got the chance.” He was watching her wrist and he saw the smear of blood turn pale and disappear, leaving no mark, no sign of a bite. “Even this place isn’t real enough,” he added. “You remember that pool where the axolotls were? That’s the kind of place I like. All this dream stuff scares me almost as much as the real things scare you. But it doesn’t bore me. You got bored in your Dream world. It’s enough to bore anybody, having everything done for you.”
“Manuel...” She turned and looked at him. Her eyes are quite pretty, he thought. Blue and wide, like sapphires in an unsuitable setting. “How real is this place? Could we die? Really die, I mean? This pain I feel often, and I’m always tired. I never knew what tiredness and pain were, before. The ground’s so rough, and it gets so cold at night. Everything keeps changing, and I can’t keep up with it...”
“You’ll be all right. This is a halfway place—the monsters are fake; but nobody spent any time on the scenery, so it’s almost real. It’s like an old store where a merchant is showing all sorts of beautiful and impossible rugs and drapes from far-off places, and behind them the walls and floors are dried mud because it doesn’t matter. And in the back are the things he couldn’t sell, in a little room where they lie all colorful and alone, too weird for anyone to buy.”
This reminded her. “What happened to your mind-painting machine?”
“I left it behind at the Dome. I know where it is, and one day I’ll be able to finish that picture I made in it.”
“One day... ? You talk so strangely, Manuel. Nobody talked about the future where I came from.”
“I expect they missed a lot. Look!”
A small, bright bird swooped low over the water, iridescent, looking for food. It seemed to be real, lost from some obscure happentrack. It plunged under the surface, emerged with empty beak and then perched on a stump to watch the surface with a fierce, irritated eye.
“What is it?”
“A kingfisher. A bird.” He eyed her curiously. “You did have birds in your world?”
“Of course we did.”
She w
atched the tiny creature preening itself, a fragile thing of feathers that had to fight for every minute of survival, yet found time to look after its beauty—which beauty was all the more valuable for that. She wondered what else was missing from Dream Earth, where so many creatures had been lost from the mists of memory and appeared only as freakish manifestations of somebody’s whim.
After a while Manuel said, “We’d better get back to the others and tell them about this place. There’s food here—see that fruit?” He dribbled some dirt into the water, shattering the mocking reflections. “They’ll be wondering where we are.”
“Let’s go a bit farther.” She took his hand. “There’s a waterfall down there. I’d like to see it.”
And over the trees a swarm of dots circled, picking up a scent only they could sense.
“We’ll just take a quick look, then. We’ll have to go that way anyhow, if we want to reach the sea.”
“Why should we want to reach the sea?” The dots were closer, humming on rapid wings.
“Well... It seems the right way to go. Toward the sea... Look! What are these?” Alarmed, Manuel jumped to his feet.
The May Bees surrounded them in hundreds, huge and buzzing, golden brown furry insects.
“They’ll sting us!” The Girl waved them away.
“Don’t be afraid...”
“Who said that? You, Manuel?”
“I think it was the bees. I don’t think they’re dangerous. There’s something soothing about them.”
“That’s right. We mean you no harm...”
“Then go away!”
“We’re here to help... In these parts, we come along when people are lost and don’t know what to do. We can sense these things. We are the May Bees and we only live for a little while...” Indeed, some of the bees were dying already, zooming suddenly out of control, smacking into the ground, buzzing for a while on their backs, spinning and then lying still. “... so we know all about death, and we have compassion, and we help, and we make sure people don’t do anything that might bring them into danger. You’re safe with us, you humans. We’ll show you the way.”
So persuasive were they that Manuel found himself saying, “Tell us which way to go.” Briefly he explained their problem: their conflicting purposes, their dependence on Zozula and the dog, the strangeness of their surroundings. “I’m sure we’d be better off heading for the coast,” he said.
“You would. You certainly would.” A May Bee hung before him on whirring wings. “Take the riverside trail past the waterfall then on through the rain forest, and the sea is no more than two days’ journey away.” The bee, exhausted, fell to the ground and expired.
Another took over, bug-eyed and furry. “And then again, you could build a raft and float down...”
More voices. “... but the river is swift and the waterfall not far away... Although, beside the trail, there is a cliff where a dragon lives... Maybe the desert route would be better—that way you miss the delta, and the alligators...”
Now a very small and somehow feminine bee hovered before Manuel’s face, speaking softly into his mind. “My advice to you, my dear, is to fly. Build yourself a kite of leaves—you see those over there, on that tall tree? Then go to the edge of the cliff and launch yourself off and you’ll catch the upcurrents—I’ve done it myself oh, so many times today. Then you can glide all the way to the beach.”
Manuel said firmly, “We’ll walk, thanks. We’ll take the forest trail and if we see any dragons, well, we’ll just outrun them. Dragons are slow. I’m not scared of them, if they exist at all.”
And now the May Bees chanted in chorus:
DON'T DO IT!!!
You might trip over a log,
You might fall into a bog.
Seven percent of the people who run get attacked by
a rabid dog!
“Well... let’s just go and find Zozula first, before we do anything hasty, shall we?” said the Girl.
“Now that’s a good idea,” said a May Bee seriously, alighting on her shoulder. “It’s always better to seek another opinion. Consider all the options. Act with due forethought.”
“This Zozula sounds like a wise man,” said another. “The sensible thing is to consult with him—he has the experience. And besides, he seems to know the places where you can catch the Train, if you decide on that option.”
“Come on, Manuel.” The Girl’s mind was made up. “He can’t be far back along the trail. Let’s get away from these things!”
But the May Bees chanted in unison:
DON'T DO IT!!!
Perhaps he will slap your face,
Or decapitate you with a mace.
Ninety percent of his former companions are
stranded in outer space!
Now Manuel was nervous. “These things are dangerous! Can’t you feel it, Girl? They’re dying, themselves, and they want to take everyone else with them! Let’s get back—quickly!”
“They’re right, though. Zozula hasn’t exactly distinguished himself as a leader, so far. Maybe we’re better off without him.”
“Can’t you see what they’re doing to us? A minute ago you wanted to find Zozula and I wanted to make for the sea. Let’s try to think this out, before we do something stupid.”
“Think it out carefully. Consider all the alternatives That’s the sensible way.”
“Girl, whether it’s right or wrong, we’re going back to find Zozula and Roller. I’m not even going to discuss why I think it’s what we ought to do.” He took her arm and dragged her away from the riverbank. The May Bees swarmed closer and their buzzing took on an angry note.
The Girl was silent, stumbling along behind him as he began the long climb up the winding trail. The May Bees surrounded them in a cloud.
“Look before you leap... You can’t judge a book by its cover...Tread carefully... A stitch in time saves nine...”
“Shut up!”
And then the Girl screamed.
Manuel, turning, saw a big bee fasten itself to her plump arm, arch its body and drive home a stinger the size of a dagger.
The Girl screamed again and as the May Bees whirled higher and zoomed off into the trees, she slid to the ground unconscious.
Zozula, Manuel and the dog regarded the motionless figure of the Girl. She lay on her back, a mountain of inert flesh, ashy white except for her arm, which was swollen and red-purple. The dog tentatively sniffed at her.
Zozula was angry. “You’re a stupid young fool, Manuel. She could be dying, you know that? All I do is let you out of my sight for a while, and this happens.”
“I couldn’t help it.”
“You could have protected her, couldn’t you? You’re from the real world, aren’t you? Don’t you realize how vulnerable she is? Where she came from, she was able to wish danger away. Here it isn’t so easy. You should know that, even if she doesn’t!”
“They were all over us in no time at all.” Manuel watched the Girl fearfully. She lay very still, hardly breathing.
Roller said, “I told you this place could kill you!”
Goaded, Manuel snapped back. “The Basilisk didn’t kill us!”
Zozula was feeling the Girl’s pulse. It seemed very weak. He stood, looked around and sighed. “We shall have to go back, of course.”
“Back where?”
“Back to the Dome. The Girl may die if she doesn’t get treatment. We can’t do anything for her here.”
Manuel looked around the rocky land. Away to the right was the path along which he’d dragged the Girl—or was it? The short grass had disappeared and he knew without looking that the tree-lined river was now a dry gulch. They should have gone on; they should have made for the coast while they still had the chance. It was too late now. Night was coming on and screeches and yells were greeting the darkness. The sky was like a shroud. “How?” he asked quietly. He didn’t know his own powers, then. It was much later that he discovered what he could do.
“How what?”
>
“How do we get back to the Dome?”
“The same way we came, of course. On the Train.”
“And where’s the Train?”
Zozula looked around briskly. “Well, it shouldn’t take too long to find the Train. We’ll just retrace our steps...” He pointed. “Back down that trail, then south across the mountain ridge.”
“The mountain ridge has gone, Zozula.”
Meanwhile, the dog had crept close beside their legs, whimpering. Zozula said to him, “You’ll show us the way, won’t you, Roller.”
“Show you?” There was reluctance in the dog’s tone.
“The place in this land where people come and go. Where people appear and disappear, as we appeared. There’s a Locomotive—a great fiery thing pulling a string of carriages a hundred kilometers long. You must have seen it.”
“My master lives there.”
“The math creature?” Zozula brightened. “In the morning you will take us to the nearest trees, where we can make a stretcher for the Girl. Then you will guide us to your master, and to the Train. Meanwhile...” He wetted the Girl’s lips with a couple of drops from a glass vial. She moved her head, murmuring weakly. “She’ll be all right for the night,” he said. “But no longer than that.”
“If I show you the way, you’ll leave me here all alone, forever,” said the dog.
“Of course we shall. You belong here with your master.”
Manuel interrupted. “We’ll take you with us, Roller.”
The dog whined. “No! I’m not real! The moment I set foot in the real world, I shall cease to exist!”
Zozula said, “Let me get this straight. You won’t let us leave you, and you won’t come with us—is that it? You want us to stay here forever.”
“I love you,” said Roller.
“What kind of a reason is that?” Zozula bent down, speaking quietly into the dog’s floppy ear. “I’ll tell you something, my friend. Either you do as you’re told, or I’m going to unstrap those wheels of yours, right now. And where will you be then? Answer me that!”
The Celestial Steam Locomotive (The Song of Earth) Page 21
