“Eventually I came to the headwaters of the Bohikly and wandered westward. And then I was stopped by the Ringing Sea. I thought of making a dugout and venturing out westward, hoping to come to the edge of the world itself. But, I thought, what if the sea extends for a thousand miles? How could I survive? So I did not venture out. Besides, Kho might not wish a mortal, even such a mortal as I, to look over the edge into the abyss. Who knows what secrets She hides down there?”
Kwasin then had thought of roaming along the shore of the Ringing Sea and perhaps circumambulating it. He could not decide which way to start, north or south, so he sacrificed a red river hog to Kho and asked Her to choose his way. He waited, and after a while a white kagaga (raven) swooped over him and flew northward. And so he had set out in that direction, keeping to the shoreline.
“But after a year, I became convinced that I could walk forever and still I would not come to the place from which I started. Besides, I grew lonely. I saw only three settlements of blacks along the shore, and I lusted for women. I did take several of the women I abducted along with me, but one died of a fever and one I had to kill because she tried to knife me, and two escaped.
“Then I came to a great mountain range which ran northward and eastward along the beaches. I followed that, and behold, one day I saw across the sea a great rocky mountain*. The Ringing Sea was not a sea which ran around the edge of the world. There were other lands beyond that land.”
*Gibraltar.
“Or perhaps,” Hinokly said, “the mountain was only an island in the Ringing Sea.”
“I said I didn’t like to be interrupted, scribe,” Kwasin said. “So I considered crossing the waters to that rocky mountain, but the current is swift there, though the waters are narrow. I walked on, and after many months came to a place where the mountains cease—at least for a while. Here a great river ran into the sea—”
“Probably the river which we found,” Hinokly said.
“Scribes have big tongues and thin skulls,” Kwasin said, glaring. “Anyway, I had become weary of the sea, so I turned inland and made a dugout and paddled up the river. Now I was in the land of white savages, and the women were more pleasing, though they smelled as bad as the blacks. However, after I dunked them in the river and got them to comb out their hair and wash off the paint, they were acceptable. Some of them would have attracted attention in Khokarsa, they were so comely. And so I improved the stock along that river.
“Then I came to the mountains from which the river flowed, and I set out wandering the savannas southward. I thought that perhaps I might return to Khokarsa. Kho might have forgiven me by now. I had done enough penance for what was, after all, only a drunken prank.”
“Raping a holy priestess of Kho and smashing the skulls of her guards was only a prank?” Hadon said.
“That priestess was a teasing bitch,” Kwasin said. “She urged me on, and then, when I had bared myself, became terrified, though I suppose I shouldn’t blame her for that. And I was only defending myself when I killed the guards. You have to admit that there were extenuating circumstances. Otherwise, why was I not castrated and flung to the hogs? Why was I punished with exile only, though Kho knows that was a horrible punishment?”
“You escaped execution because the oracle said that you should not be killed,” Tadoku said. “No one except Kho knows why you were let off so easily after such a grave crime. But Her Voice must be obeyed.”
“I thought I would go to an outpost or perhaps even Mukha itself and ask if my exile was over,” Kwasin said. “After all, the oracle had said that I would not have to wander forever.”
“Perhaps she meant by that that death would put an end to your exile,” the scribe said. “The Voice of Kho speaks words that have more than one interpretation.”
“But a club on the skull of a gabby scribe has only one interpretation,” Kwasin said. “Do not arouse me, Hinokly.”
And so the giant had walked around the mountains and then gone south. Then he had come across an assembly of the tribes in this area. They were, he supposed, holding some yearly religious rite. He did not know, but he did know that there were many good-looking women there. When he had his chance, he had seized one and run off with her. But the savages had tracked him, and he had to run.
“Only because they had arrows,” he said. “Otherwise I would have scattered them as a lion scatters a herd of gazelles.”
“Of course,” Hadon said, and he laughed. Kwasin scowled and clutched his club.
“Can you retrace your route to the river that empties into the sea?” Hadon asked.
“With my eyes closed!” Kwasin bellowed.
“Good! Now we have two guides, you and Hinokly. Surely we cannot get lost now.”
But they could. The mountains here were not one formidable range but many small ranges and isolated mountains and valleys. Hinokly confessed that he did not know where they were. Kwasin refused to confess, but it was evident that he was as confused as Hinokly. After they had wandered for three weeks, often backtracking, Hadon decided that they should go west until they were clear of the mountains. Then they would march north for a week before turning eastward. And in another three weeks, they came across their first river. Both Hinokly and Kwasin declared that this was the river up which they had come.
“There must be still another farther eastward,” Hinokly said. “This stream and the other originate in these mountains and run parallel, I suppose, northeastward until they run into a larger river. That one must originate in the great range which runs inland along the Ringing Sea. The three rivers become one, which flows into the sea.”
“Are we near to the place where you lost the witch, the baby, and the manling?” Hadon said.
“No, that was below the confluence of this river and the one from the northern mountains. It was somewhere between that confluence and the confluence of the river east of this.”
They felled trees, chopped off the branches, shaped the exterior and interior into dugouts, and shaped planks into paddles. Each dugout could hold seven, a lucky number, and there were seven dugouts, some of them undermanned. Hadon put the giant Kwasin in a vessel with two others. This was designated the scout boat, since Kwasin wanted to lead them. Also, the sight of the monster might discourage the savages from attacking. They were vulnerable now, especially to arrows, because the river was lined with a broad and thick jungle. They encountered hippopotami and crocodiles, and elephants often came down to bathe and drink. Birds by the hundreds of thousands lived along or on the“ river, and the trees screeched and vibrated with monkeys. Now and then they glimpsed the small antelope which made the jungle its home, and the leopard which hunted them, monkeys, and river pigs. The slingers killed monkeys and birds, and the spearmen slew crocodiles, hippos, and pigs. For the first time since leaving the outpost, they had more than enough meat. The river also contained many kinds of fish, which gladdened the Khokarsans.
Unfortunately, the day before they arrived at the confluence, a wounded hippo upset a dugout, and he and two bulls had killed five men before anything could be done. One man was pulled out of the water; the other swam to a mudbank only to be seized by a monstrous crocodile and carried off into the river.
Afterward, the priestess cast her omen bones, and reading them, declared that they had offended the godling of the river. They sacrificed two pigs, a boar and a sow, which they had captured during a hunt, and the next day went smoothly. Near evening they came out onto the broad river that ran down to the sea.
Hinokly, sitting behind Hadon, said, “I last saw the three about twenty miles from here. But I won’t be able to recognize the exact spot. There were no distinguishing landmarks around.”
“In any case, they wouldn’t be likely to stay there even if they survived,” Hadon said. “But we’ll explore the area around there. If they died, their bones might still be there.”
The next day, what with traveling with the current and a steady paddling, they reached the place where Hinokly thought the attack had occu
rred. Hadon ordered the dugouts to put into a marshy spot that contained several small islands. They camped on one, huddling around fires the smoke of which was supposed to keep the mosquitoes off. But it didn’t.
“Some of us got sick with swamp fever,” Hinokly said. “Five died, and when the savages attacked, many were too weak to fight. You can expect to lose some men before we get to the sea. Fortunately, there are not many mosquitoes on the beaches.”
“What do mosquitoes have to do with swamp fever?” Hadon said.
“In fifteen-thirty-nine A.T.,” Hinokly said, “the priestess-doctor Heliqo observed that in areas where swamps and standing water were drained off, the mosquito population decreased. And the incidence of the fever dropped in proportion. Also, where there were no mosquitoes, there was no swamp fever. That was fifty years ago, and she was scoffed at then. But lately the doctors say that she was probably right.”
“That’s nice to know,” Hadon said. “But in the meantime, about all we can do is pray to Qawo, our lady of healing, and M’agogobabi, the mosquito demon, that we be spared.
“Or,” he added, “the next best thing is to get out of here and go where there are none of the little devils. I can’t imagine those three staying here, and if they did, they are surely dead. The fever might not kill them, but they would be too weak to hunt, and the leopards would get them.”
Despite this reasoning, he knew that they had to search the region. They started the next morning, wading through the marshes until they got to higher ground, walking a half-mile, and plunging back through the marsh to the river banks. As they went, they shouted the names of Lalila and Paga. Though the noise would attract the savages, they had to call out. Otherwise, the ones they sought might be very close and yet not know their saviors were nearby. Also, so much din might scare away both savages and the large predators. At least, Hadon hoped that it would.
By the end of the second day he knew that this method of search was hopeless and stupid. If they were alive, they would not stay here. They would either have gone back to the seashore or gone south toward Khokarsa. The best thing was to proceed to the sea first and find out what they could there. If there was no sign of them, they would go south again.
That morning, many of the party became sick. Hinokly and the doctor shook their heads and said, “Swamp fever.”
Hadon moved them to the higher land, since there were too many sick men to paddle the boats on down the river. He found a place on top of a hill about sixty feet high that had a spring of good water. They settled down to battle out the chills, the fever, and the sweatings. He fell sick the third day and experienced once again the coldness, the heat, the sweatings, and the delirium that had several times afflicted him in his youth. The few left standing, including Kwasin, who claimed immunity from the demon, had to take care of the others and hunt for food. The priestess, Mumona, was also spared, and the chief burden of nursing fell on her. The doctor died the sixth day; several days later most of the humans and some of the Goat and Bear people were dead.
On the twelfth day Hadon felt well enough to take short walks around the camp. On the fourteenth, he went into the wilderness to set traps for hares. He also brought down a monkey with a stone from his sling, a welcome addition to the pot. When he returned, he was greeted with a loud cry from Mumona. Her baby had just died.
“She’ll soon enough have another,” Kwasin said unsympathetically. “Though no one will know who its father is.”
Kwasin was angry at the priestess because she had refused to lie with him. Under other circumstances he might have brained her, since he could not see why she would reject a man who was not only the strongest man in the empire but the handsomest.
Hadon went to comfort her. He had grown fond of her during the sickness, and he admired her uncomplaining attitude and the skill with which she treated the men. She could not cure them, but she had eased their chills and fevers as best she knew how.
The expedition, only thirty strong now, paddled away from the place of death a few days later. Of the humans, only Hadon, Tadoku, Kwasin, the bard, the scribe, and a young private from Miklemres had survived, and most of these were weak.
They traveled uneventfully, getting stronger each day, until they reached the falls of which Hinokly had warned them. Here the river went through a narrow rocky valley and fell about sixty feet in thunder and steam. They got off the boats as soon as they heard the roar and portaged the dugouts, with much difficulty, down the steep slopes beside the cataract. A mile below, they camped for the night. The next morning, as they set out, three arrows shot from the dense brush nearby. And a Klemqaba was dead of a shaft through his neck.
Though burning to get revenge, Hadon gave the order to move to the center of the river out of range and go on. To have plunged into the jungle against an unknown number of enemies would have meant only the loss of more men.
Twelve days later they came out of one of the mouths of the river and gazed awe-struck at the Ringing Sea.
12
There were, Hadon found, about a hundred and fifty savages, mostly consisting of groups of a dozen to a score, living along a twenty-mile stretch of the shore. These might have the information he needed, and dead people could not give it. He ordered that his men should not attack unless attacked. Leaving the force, he walked alone into the nearest encampment. This was a dozen small cone-shaped huts of poles covered with hides. The people fled as he approached them, gathering on a little hill near the camp and shaking their spears at him. He walked boldly up to them, his hands held to indicate his desire for peace. Presently, one of the slim, dark, hawk-nosed men, holding his stone-tipped spear before him, walked slowly toward him. He jabbered away in a harsh tongue which Hadon did not, of course, understand. He stood his ground, continuing to make peaceful gestures, and then, slowly, held out a rosary of tiny emeralds, a gift to Hadon from the priestess at the outpost fort. It was an expensive gift, but he hoped that it would be worth it. Though the man would not take it, probably because he thought that it might contain an evil magic, his wife could not restrain herself. She came forward and gingerly took it and then put it around her neck.
It took several days before their suspicions melted and he could bring in the Klemqaba woman, the bard, and the scribe. Kebiwabes charmed them with his singing. The scribe drew some pictures for them, and Hadon passed out some copper coins. They had no idea of the meaning of money, but they found ways to use the coins as ornaments. Hadon, meanwhile, was learning the language. It had a number of back-of-the-mouth and throat sounds that he found difficult to master. But he had a throat that could change shape like mercury, and he was soon speaking it well enough so that the savages no longer broke up in merriment at his abominable pronunciation.
Hadon permitted his force to move in within half a mile a few days later. They had orders that they were not to molest the women on pain of instant death. Kwasin complained about this; he was all for spearing the men and using the women.
“You are worse than the savages,” Hadon said. “No, I need these people. Perhaps they might be able to tell me something of the people we are seeking.”
“And after you find out?” Kwasin said. “Then do we take the women? There is a little one with big eyes and conical breasts whom I cannot stop thinking about night and day.”
Hadon spat to show his disgust and said, “That would be the basest treachery. No, you will not. If we find out that the men are not jealous of their wives, and if a woman says yes, then you may vent yourself. As for that woman you spoke of, I think she likes me but fears you.”
Kwasin roared with frustration and banged the end of his club into the ground. Hadon, grinning, walked away. Nevertheless, he was worried that some of his men might try to sneak around and take the women into the bushes.
At the end of three weeks, Hadon felt qualified to ask about Lalila. He talked to the chief and found at once, to his delight, that these people knew of her. Moreover, they knew of Sahhindar.
“We first
met them two winters ago,” the chief said. “They came into the village, the violet-eyed yellow-haired woman, her child, the one-eyed manling, and he whom you call Sahhindar. My grandfather and his grandfather knew him, and they would have worshiped him as a god, since he lives unchanged through time, as a god lives. But he forbade any to worship him, saying that he was subject to death and was no true god. I had seen him when I was a child, and I remembered him. He stayed with us for a while, helping us to hunt and to fish, and telling us many wonderful tales. Then he and his people, who he said came from across the great water, moved on. They were going southward, he said.
“I thought that I might never see him again, since he usually appears only once or twice in a generation. But only four moons ago the woman, the child, and the manling reappeared. Sahhindar was not with them. The woman said that Sahhindar had entrusted them to a party of men from the far south, who also live on the shores of a great sea. They were attacked and separated from these men, and they found their way back to us. I asked them to stay with us, but they said that they would go after Sahhindar. He had gone along the coast toward the rising sun, and he may be anywhere in this world by now, for all anybody knows.”
“Was he with a lion and a monkey and an…?” Hadon hesitated, at a loss for a word. He described an elephant as best he could, but the chief was confused. Apparently he knew of lions and monkeys, but he had neither seen nor heard of elephants.
“No, he was with none of these beasts,” he said. “If he had been, I would have said so.”
That night the Khokarsans and the savages feasted on two hippos, and the next day the visitors set out. The woman with the big eyes and conical breasts threw her arms around Hadon and cried. He regretted that he had to leave so soon, but he promised himself that if it were at all possible he would return this way. The band set out eastward, with two men keeping an eye on Kwasin. Hadon feared that the giant would try to sneak back to the savages, and so ruin all the goodwill that had been so patiently built up. There was little to keep Kwasin from deserting them, of course, but if he did, he would not be permitted to rejoin them. Kwasin showed no signs of doing so. The loneliness of his wanderings was still with him. He did not want to be where he would have no one to talk to.
Hadon of Ancient Opar Page 13
