The World of Tiers, Volume 1

by Philip José Farmer

  “How did our father manage to entice you out from your world, where you were safe and happy?” Wolff said.

  Luvah grinned crookedly and said, “I might ask you the same thing. Perhaps he played the same trick on you as on me. He sent a messenger, a glowing hexaculum, and it said that it was sent by you. You wanted me to come visit you; you were lonely and wished to talk again to the one member of your family who did not want to kill you. So, after taking what I thought were good precautions, I left my universe. I entered what I thought was your gate, only to find myself on this island.”

  Wolff shook his head and said, “You were always too impetuous, brother, too rash. Yet, I feel honored that you would forsake your safety to visit me. Only …”

  “Only I should have been much more careful, more sure that the messenger was from you. At another time, I might have been. But at the moment the hexaculum arrived, I was thinking of you and longing for you. Even we Lords have our weaknessess, you know.”

  Wolff was silent for a while, watching the exultant Ilmawir carry away fowl, animals, necklaces, and rings of sea-jade. Then he said, “We are in the most desperate situation we have ever faced, Luvah. The greatest peril, of course, is our father. But almost as deadly are those on whom we have to depend most. Despite their word of honor, they will always need watching. I propose that we support each other. When I sleep, you watch. When you sleep, I stand guard.”

  Luvah smiled one-sidedly again and said, “And when you sleep, you will keep one eye open to watch me, heh, brother?”

  Wolff frowned, and Luvah said hastily, “Do not be angry, Jadawin. You and I have managed to survive so long because we never fully gave our trust. With the best of reasons. How sad it is that all of us, our sisters, brothers, and cousins, once lived and studied and played together in innocence and even love. Yet, today, we are as hungry wolves at each others’ throats. And why, I ask you? Why? I will tell you. It is because the Lords are mad. They think they are gods, when all the time they are only human beings, really no better than these savages here. Only they happen to be heir to a great power, a science and technology which they use without understanding the principles behind it. They are as evil children with toys that create whole worlds and destroy whole worlds. The great and wise men who devised the toys have long since died; knowledge and science have died out; and the good inherent in the cosmic powers is twisted for their benefit and theirs only.”

  “I know that well, brother,” Wolff said. “Better than you, perhaps, since I was once as selfish and vicious as those others. Yet I underwent an experience which I will tell you about sometime. It changed me into a human being—I hope—into a being only you have the ability to appreciate.”

  The Ilmawir had dropped great balloon-like ladders with weights on them from the abuta. The loot was tied to these and floated back up along guide-ropes into the hatches in the bottom of the island. Those gliders worth repairing were also returned to the floater. When the stripping of the Friiqan was done, the abutal ascended. Wolff rode up in a harness attached to a pair of bladders. He held his beamer ready, since now the abutal had him in a position where they could attempt murder and have some hope of success. However, no moves were made. He rose through the opening and was seized by two grinning women. They dragged him to one side and unharnessed him. The bladders were taken into the dim interior of a large chamber, where other bladders were stored.

  When all the Lords were landed, they were led by Dugarnn and his woman, Sythaz, up a winding flight of steps to the upper part of the island. The stairs were made of very light, paper-thin but strong material. This was the hardened shell of gas-bladders. On the abuta, where weight was critical, everything was as light as possible. This consideration had even affected the language as he was to discover. Although the speech differed little in basic vocabulary from the parent, it had undergone some sound changes. And new words relating to weight, shape, flexibility, size, and vertical and horizontal direction had arisen. These were used as classifiers in a sense unknown to the pristine speakers. Indeed, no noun and few adjectives could be used without accompanying classifiers. In addition, a detailed nautical and aeronavigational terminology had arisen.

  The stairwell was a shaft cut through a hard tangle of roots. On coming out at its top, he found himself on the floor of a sort of amphitheater. The floor was made of broad strips of bladder-covering, and the sloping walls were composed of huge bladders tied together with roots. There was only one building on the great deck, a thatch-roofed opensided longhouse. This was the social and recreational building. It had flat stones on which each family cooked the meals. Domestic fowl and sea-rats ran loose, and meat-seals played in an inch-deep pool of water near the center.

  Sythaz, the commander’s wife, showed them where they would live. These quarters consisted of cubicles cut out of the roots and floored and walled with bladder-shells. Openings were cut in the floor and descent was made by a portable ladder. The only light came from through the hatch or from small fish-oil lamps. There was just enough room to take two steps one way and two another. The beds were coffin-shaped holes in the wall in which were mattresses of feathers stuffed into sealskin. Most of the daily and nightly activity took place on the “maindeck.” There was absolutely no privacy except in the chief’s bridge.

  Wolff had expected the abutal to hoist anchor and sail off at once. Dugarnn said that they must wait a while. For one thing, the island needed more altitude before it could start out over the open seas. The bacteria that generated gas in the bladders worked very fast when fed nutrient, but it still would take two days before the bladders were filled enough for Dugarnn to consider it safe to cast loose.

  Secondly, the invasion had cost the abutal a relatively staggering number of casualties. There were just not enough people to work the island efficiently. So, Dugarnn proposed something that the abutal had not had to do for a long time. The shortage of population would be made up by recruiting from the Friiqan. After making sure his “guests” knew where they were to be quartered, Dugarnn went back to the surface. Wolff, curious, accompanied him. Vala insisted on going with him. Whether this was to satisfy her curiosity or just to keep an eye on him, Wolff did not know. Probably, she had both motives.

  Dugarnn explained to the chief of the Friiqan what he wanted. The chief, dispirited, waved a hand to indicate that he did not care what happened. Dugarnn gathered the survivors together and made his offer. To Wolff’s surprise, many volunteered. Vala told him that the two peoples were thorough enemies, but that the Friiqan had lost face. Moreover, many of the young considered an aerial life as romantic.

  Dugarnn looked the volunteers over and picked out those who had distinguished themselves during the fighting. He chose more women than men, especially those with children. There was an initial ceremony of ritual torture, which consisted of lightly burning the candidate on his or her groin. Normally, a captured enemy was tortured to death unless he exhibited exceptional stoicism and bravery. Then he could be initiated into the tribe.

  In emergencies, such as now, the torture was only token.

  Later, after the island had set sail, the initiates would go through a ceremony in which each would mingle his blood with that of an Ilmawir. This prevented revenge from the surface-people, since blood-brotherhood was sacred. “There’s another reason besides needing more crew,” Vala said. “The abutal—in fact both surface and air islanders—have a tendency to inbreed. To avoid this, prisoners are sometimes adopted into the tribe.”

  She was very friendly with Wolff now and insisted on being with him every moment. She had even resumed calling him wivkrath, the Lords’ term for “darling.” She leaned against him every time she had a chance and once even gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Wolff did not respond. He had not forgotten, even after 500 years, that they had been lovers and yet she had tried to kill him.

  Wolff set out for the area of the gate through which he had entered. Vala went with him. To her questions, he answered that he wanted to t
alk to Theotormon once more.

  “That sea-slug! What can he have that you would want?”

  “Information, perhaps.”

  They came to the gate. Theotormon was not in sight. Wolff walked along the edge of the island, noting that here and there the land sank slightly under his weight. Apparently, the bladders were not so thick in these places.

  “How many of these islands are there on this planet and what is the maximum size?” he said.

  “I do not know. We have sighted two since we’ve been here, and the Friiqan say that there are many more. They speak of the Mother of Islands, a relatively huge island that they claim to have heard of. There are many aerial islands, too, but none larger than the Ilmawirs’. Why do you want to talk of boring things like that, when we have ourselves to discuss?”

  “Like what?” he said.

  She faced him, so close that her upraised lips almost touched his chin. “Why can’t we forget what happened to us? After all, that was a long time ago, when we were much younger and therefore not so wise.”

  “I doubt that you’ve changed,” he said.

  She smiled and said, “How would you know? Let me prove that I am different now.” She put her arms around him and placed her head on his chest.

  “Different in everything but one. I loved you once, and now that I see you again, I realize I’ve never really stopped loving you.”

  “Even when you tried to murder me in my bed?” he said.

  “Oh, that! Darling, I thought you were with that loathsome and conniving Alagraada. Can you blame me because I was crazed with jealousy? You know how terribly possessive I am.”

  “I know only too well.” He pushed her away and said, “Even as a child, you were selfish. All Lords are selfish, but few to the degree to which you were. I cannot see now why I ever loved you.”

  “You toad!” she cried. “You loved me because I am Vala. That’s all, just that I am Vala.”

  He shook his head and said, “That may have been true once. But it is not true any longer. Nor will it ever be true again.”

  “You love another! Do I know her? It’s not Anana, not my stupid murderous sister.”

  “No,” he said. “Anana is murderous, but she’s not stupid. She didn’t fall into Urizen’s trap. I don’t see her here. Or has something happened to her? Is she dead?”

  Vala shrugged, turned away, and said, “I haven’t heard of her for three hundred years. But your concern shows that you do care for her. Anana! Who would have thought it?”

  Wolff did not try to change her mind. He did not think that it was wise to mention Chryseis, even though Vala might never have contact with her. There was no use taking a chance.

  Vala spun around and said, “What happened to that Earth girl?”

  “What Earth girl?” he said, taken aback at her viciousness.

  “What Earth girl?” she mimicked. “I mean that Chryseis, the mortal you abducted from Earth some two and a half millennia ago. From a region the Earthlings call Troy or something like that. You made her immortal, and she became your mistress.”

  “Along with quite a few thousand others,” he said. “Why pick on her?”

  “Oh, I know, I know. You have really become degenerate, my brother Wolff-Jadawin.”

  “So you know my Earth name, the name by which I prefer to be called? And how much else do you know about me? And why?”

  “I’ve always made it my business to have as much information about the Lords as it is possible to get,” she said. “That is why I have stayed alive so long.”

  “And why so many others have died.”

  Her voice became soft again, and she smiled at him. “There’s no reason for you to pick a quarrel with me. Why can’t we let bygones be bygones?”

  “Who picked a quarrel? No, there’s no reason why bygones can’t be just that, provided they are bygones. But the Lords never remember a good turn or forget an injury. And until you’ve convinced me otherwise, I will regard you as the same old Vala. As beautiful, maybe even more beautiful, but still with a black and rotten soul.”

  She tried to smile. “You always were too blunt. Maybe that was one reason why I loved you so much. And you were more of a man than the others. You were the greatest of all my lovers.”

  She waited for him to return the compliment. Instead, he said, “Love is what makes a lover. I did love you. Did.”

  He walked away from her along the edge of the shore. He looked back from time to time. She was following him at a distance of twenty feet. Now and then, the earth sank beneath his feet. He stopped for her to catch up with him and said, “There must be many caves on the bottom. How can Theotormon be called out?”

  “He can’t. There are many caves, yes. Sometimes a whole group of bladders die, either from disease, old age, or from being eaten by a fish which finds them tasty. Then caverns exist for a while, although they’re eventualy filled up by new growths.”

  Wolff filed this information away for possible use. If things went too badly, a man could always take refuge under the island. Vala must have guessed what he was thinking—a gift he had found irritating when they had been mates—and she said, “I wouldn’t go under there. The water swarms with man-eaters.”

  “How does Theotormon survive?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s too fast and strong for the fish. After all, he’s adapted for that kind of life—if you want to call it a life.”

  Wolff decided that he would have to give up on Theotormon. He walked back into the jungle with Vala close behind. By now he permitted her to be at his back. She needed him too much to kill him.

  He had gone only a few yards when he was knocked down from behind. At first, he thought that she had leaped upon him. He rolled away from her, trying to draw his beamer from its holster at the same time. He saw then that she had been propelled into him by another. The huge glistening wet body of Theotormon was flying at him. The bulk came flat down on him, and his breath was knocked out by the impact of four hundred pounds. Then Theotormon was sitting on top of him and striking savagely at his face with the flippers. The first blow knocked him half unconscious; the second drove him into darkness.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  He must not have been entirely unconscious. He had gotten his two arms out from under the pinning mass and seized the flippers. Slippery as they were, he managed to keep a grip on them. He regained full consciousness just as he yanked so savagely on them that Theotormon shrieked with pain and half-rose. That was enough for Wolff. He shoved against the bulging paunch and thrust himself partly free. He bent his free right leg and kicked. Now it was Theotormon’s turn to gasp for breath.

  Wolff rose to his feet and kicked hard again, his shoe driving into the weakest part of the monster, his head. Theotormon slumped back. Wolff kicked him in the jaw and then half buried another kick in the paunch. Theotormon, the moss-green eyes glazed, fell back, his legs doubled under him.

  Yet he was not out, and when Wolff advanced on him to finish his work, Theotormon kicked with a huge foot. Wolff caught the foot and so denied its full impact, but he was shoved backwards. Theotormon arose, crouched, and leaped again. Wolff also leaped forward, his right knee driving upward. It caught Theotormon on his chin, and both fell to the ground again. Wolff scrambled up, felt for his beamer, and found it was not in his holster. His brother also rose. They faced each other at a distance of six feet, both breathing heavily and just becoming aware of the pain of the blows they had taken.

  Wolff’s natural strength had been increased twofold by artificial means, and his bones had been toughened, without being made brittle, to match the muscular strength. However, all Lords had undergone the same treatment, so that when they engaged in physical combat among themselves, the original strength was, relatively, the same. Theotormon’s body had been reshaped by Urizen, and he outweighed his brother by at least one hundred and sixty pounds. Apparently, Urizen had not increased Theotormon’s power by much, since Wolff had been able to match him so far. Weight mea
nt much in a fight, though, and it was this that Wolff had to watch for. He must not give Theotormon another chance to use it.

  Theotormon, his wind having returned, growled, “I will batter you into unconsciousness again, Jadawin. And then I will carry you into the sea, dive into a cavern, and hold you while my pets eat you alive.”

  Wolff looked around. Vala was standing to one side and smiling very curiously. He did not waste his breath or time asking for her aid. He charged Theotormon, leaped high into the air, and kicked out with both feet. His brother had frozen for a second at the unexpected attack, then he ducked. Wolff had hoped that he would. He kicked low, but Theotormon was very fast. Wolff’s shoes came down hard on his back, the shoes slipped on the wet back, and Wolff skidded down the back. He whirled even as he shot off Theotormon. The monster turned and leaped, expecting or hoping to find Wolff flat on his back. Instead, he was caught by another kick in the jaw.

  This time, Theotormon did not get up. His dark seal fur red with blood from a torn lip and gashed jaw and mashed nose, he lay breathing noisily. Wolff kicked him several times in the ribs to make sure he stayed down.

  Vala applauded Wolff and said, “Well done. You are the man I once loved—still love.”

  “And why didn’t you help me?” he said.

  “You didn’t need it. I knew you’d knock that bag of blubber out of his pinhead-mind.”

  Wolff looked through the grass for his beamer but could not find it.

  Vala did not move from where she stood. She said, “Why didn’t you use your knife?”