Winter in Eden e-2

by Harry Harrison

  “No. Personal ignorance of technical concepts.”

  “Understandable. I will explain. Distant Entoban* is ours — our cities there stretch through all the habitable areas between the oceans. But now we are in a new world, where life forms have developed and differed. There is no reason to assume that our species is unique to Entoban*. It could be here as well.”

  “Then — I did see an elininyil?”

  “You might very well have. That is a possible conclusion. We must now make observation to see if you were correct. If you did see it — then I believe that this is the most important event since the egg of time cracked. Come!”

  Ambalasi waddled down the bank and hurled herself into the river with an excess of scientific fervor. Enge quickly followed, frighteningly aware of possible danger lurking in the muddy waters. The current was slight in the backwater here and Ambalasi quickly reached the channel and started up it. It came only to her waist and she found it easier to walk than to swim.

  Enge hurried up, going past the elderly scientist to lead the way. Low branches overhung the stream and the air was thick and humid, filled with biting insects. The flowing water kept them cool enough, but when the channel widened out they plunged beneath the surface to escape the insects. They surfaced, treading water, looking about, unable to communicate other than the most simple concepts until they had climbed out on the grassy bank.

  “We are clearly on another island, separated from ours by this side channel of the river. Warm water of a constant temperature, yet shallow enough to keep the larger predators from entering. If — and I accentuate the if — there are Yilanè here this would be a perfect site for the birth-beach. Water protected from the large life forms in the river, plenty of fish for the young to eat. And ready access to the river and the sea when the young have grown and become elininyil.”

  “This could be a path about the island,” Enge said, pointing at the ground.

  “And it could be an animal track. We will follow it.”

  Enge went first, beginning to regret their precipitous venture. They were unarmed — and any sort of creature could be hidden by the jungle.

  The track was easy to follow. It swung around the bole of a large tree that had long roots extending into the river, then back to the shore to a sandy beach bordered with soft grass. They shared the same thought instantly; a perfect place for a birth-beach. Something splashed in the water, but when they looked it was gone leaving only a pattern of ripples on the smooth surface.

  “I feel that we are being watched,” Enge said.

  “Proceed forward.”

  The track skirted the beach and entered the thick stand of trees on the far side. They stopped before it, trying to look into the gloom beneath the heavy foliage. Enge made a sharp gesture of unhappiness.

  “I think that we have come far enough. We must return to the others. We will come back here when we are better prepared.”

  “We must uncover more facts.”

  Ambalasi said this firmly, signed knowledge-primacy, walked forward past Enge.

  With a screeching cry the creature burst from behind the trees, holding a large spider between her out-thrust thumbs, pushing it into Ambalasi’s face.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Ambalasi fell back before the unexpected attack. Enge jumped in front of her, thumbs extended and snapping with anger, shouting commands.

  “Go back! Cease! Error-of-doing!”

  The newcomer did not press the attack — though she still held the spider extended before her. She gaped at the two Yilanè with obvious fear. Then turned and fled.

  “You saw her,” Enge said, more statement than question.

  “I saw. Physically identical to us in most ways. Opposed thumbs grasping the insect. Shorter in height, stockier, light green in coloring becoming darker on the back and along the crest.”

  “Admiration at observation. I saw simply a figure.”

  “Scientific training of course. Now consider! This is wonderful, remarkable, a truly important discovery. For social historians as well as biologists.”

  Enge was keeping one eye on the jungle — she wanted no repeats of the unexpected attack — and was listening to Ambalasi with her other eye. She signed ignorance and query. Ambalasi was exuberant.

  “Biology of course for all the obvious reasons. But that spider — do you not instantly think of the wall of history? No, you wouldn’t. Listen and be guided. You must recall the shells of lobsters, placed there to mark the dawn of our existence when Yilanè were supposed to have brandished them as weapons in defense of the males. Now we have proof that the theory is indeed fact. Wonderful!”

  “But — I saw no lobster…”

  “Creature-of-ignorance! It is the similarity, the action that I am talking about. In the sea brandishing a clawed lobster for defense is what would have been done. On land, as we have seen, a poisonous insect serves the same function.”

  “Information understood. But we must leave, come back with others, this is a most dangerous place to be. Threats of death by poison.”

  “Nonsense. She was just threatening us, a defense reaction since she did not press the attack home. Did you not see the confusion in her movements? We are her kind — yet not her kind. Uncertainty of threat, then retreat. I must consider the way to continue this contact without alarming them more.”

  “Ambalasi, I cannot order you to return — but I can implore you. We can then come back here with help…”

  “Negative. The more of us that there are the more frightened they will be. We have been warned — but not attacked. That is the situation at the present moment, and I do not want it changed. I shall remain here. You will go into the river and catch a fish.”

  Enge could only communicate doubt and confusion.

  “Think,” Ambalasi commanded. “You pride yourself on your powers of rationality. The feeding ceremony, we still use it on important occasions, it must surely be as old as social custom. What is more sisterly than an offer of food? A sharing of sustenance and existence. A fish is now needed.”

  The old scientist irascibly rejected all arguments and communication, simply settled back comfortably onto her tail with a last imperative fish! and stared at the forest, her limbs shaped into welcome and warmth. Enge had no choice but to turn and walk into the river, diving beneath the surface.

  There she saw them, a sight to bring happiness to any Yilanè. An immature efenburu gliding through the clear water, scarcely elininyil, the youngest of the young groupings, they were so small, moving in pursuit of a school of silver fish. She watched for a long moment until they saw her, turned with colored signs of fear on their palms. She raised her own palms telling them not to be afraid. But they were, she was too strange, and in an instant they were gone. One of them had been holding a freshly caught fish, had just bitten through its spine, and now she released it in panic as she rushed away. Enge swam forward and retrieved it, returned to shore.

  Ambalasi looked at the small fish with doubt. “Speed of fishing produces tiny catch,” she said.

  “I didn’t catch it. I surprised an immature efenburu, disturbed their feeding. They were attractive beyond measure.”

  “Undoubtedly. The fish will have to do. Remain here while I go forward.”

  “You may order, I will not obey. I will walk behind you, then move forward to assist you if there is danger.”

  Ambalasi began to speak, realized it would only be a waste of effort, and signed reluctant agreement. “At least five paces behind me. We proceed.”

  She held the tiny fish before her and walked slowly along the path, stopping before she entered the grove.

  “Fish, tasty, nice, friendship,” she said loudly but pleasantly. Then she settled back slowly on her tail, the fish still held out before her, and repeated her entreaties. Something stirred in the darkness and she did her best to convey warmth and friendship in the simplest manner.

  The leaves parted and the stranger came reluctantly out. They examined each
other in silence for the moment, Ambalasi with the skill of the scientist. All differences appeared to be superficial. Size, structure, surface coloration. A subspecies at most. With slow movements she bent and placed the fish on the grass, then stood and slowly stepped back.

  “It is yours. A gift of friendship. Take it and eat. Take it, it is yours.”

  The other looked confused, drew back a bit and opened her mouth with lack of comprehension. Perfect dentition, Ambalasi observed. She must simplify.

  “Fish-for-eating,” she said, using the very simplest expression, non-verbal and simple color-change in her palms. The other raised her hand.

  “Fish,” she color-signed. Bent and seized it up, turned and fled from sight once again.

  “Excellent first contact,” Ambalasi said. “That is enough for today, and I grow tired. We return. Did you see what she said?”

  Enge was radiant with excitement. “I did, it was wonderful! There is a theory of communication that begins in this manner. It assumes that we learned to speak in the ocean, physically at first, then with greater skill and verbalization.”

  “It makes biological sense as well. Non-verbal communication would appear to be universal in the sea. When our species separated from theirs, signed-colored speaking must have existed — or we would not have been able to communicate just now. The question is — are they Yilanè or yiliebe? Is this primitive signing all that they know? I must find out. There is much work to be done with them.”

  Enge was just as enthusiastic. “It is an opportunity never presented before! What pleasure. I have long studied communication and look forward expectantly to further work.”

  “I am pleased to hear that you have interests other than your life-death philosophizing. You will join me in this project, for there is much to be done.”

  They made their way back to the riverbank, but they were now more hesitant about plunging into the river. No longer carried away by excitement they were fully aware of the dangers beneath the surface: they attempted to stay in the shallows as they worked their way around the growing barrier. Smeared with mud, uncaring, they made their way back through the dead plants. The Daughters of Life were gathered by the uruketo, talking. Ambalasi looked about with growing anger.

  “The work has not been done! No excuses for sloth-laziness-unsuitability.”

  Enge signed a query as well and Satsat, who was at the center of the circle, requested permission to speak.

  “Far‹ requested permission to address us all. Of course we listened, for she is a deep thinker. Now we discuss her thoughts—”

  “She will speak for herself!” Ambalasi said with growing disgust. “Which of you Daughters of Talk is Far‹?”

  Enge indicated a thin Yilanè with large, intense eyes, who filled her days with Ugunenapsa’s thoughts. She signed them all to attend her, then spoke.

  “Ugunenapsa said that—”

  “Silence!” Ambalasi ordered, using the rudest form of address, from highest to lowest fargi. Far‹ colored at the insult. “We hear far too much of Ugunenapsa’s thoughts. I asked why you stopped the work here?”

  “I did not stop it — I just suggested it be examined. It is because we all came to this place of labor of our free will. But once we had arrived here you issued orders as to what we were to do, yet you did not ask how or why we wanted to work, but simply and as imperiously as an eistaa issued orders. But we do not take orders. We have come too far, have suffered too much for our beliefs to abandon them at this time. We are grateful, of course, but gratitude does not imply servitude. As Ugunenapsa said—”

  Ambalasi did not hear what Ugunenapsa had said this time, but turned to Enge and signed urgency of attention.

  “This is the end of my patience, end of my help. I know all that must be done; your Daughters of Stupidity know nothing but argument. I am through — unless you convince them quickly that interference must stop. Without my assistance you will all soon be dead and I am beginning to feel that that day would be a very happy one for me. I now go to the uruketo, to cleanse myself, to eat and drink and compose my thoughts. When I return you will tell me if you wish a city here. And if you do, you will tell me how cooperation will be achieved. Now — silence, until I am out of sight. I wish to hear nothing of your discussion, nor do I wish to hear the name Ugunenapsa uttered in my presence again without my permission to speak it.”

  With every line of her body radiating anger and firmness of purpose she turned and stamped away toward the uruketo, nail gouges in the dirt marking her path. After rinsing herself at the river’s edge she clambered onto the uruketo and settled in the shade of its fin, calling out for attention as she did so. Elem emerged from the fin and looked down from above.

  “Food and water,” Ambalasi ordered. “Speed of delivery. Urgency.”

  Elem brought them herself, for she respected the scientist for her great intelligence, forgiving her all insults with gratitude for knowledge gained. Ambalasi saw this in the movements of her body and was mollified.

  “Your scientific interests far outweigh your philosophical bent,” she said. “You are a better individual for it and I can bear your presence.”

  “Kind thoughts from above equal to warm rays of the sun.”

  “And you are Yilanè with gracious speaking as well. Share my meat and let me tell you of a scientific discovery that is incredible in its magnitude.”

  Time was taken in the telling for Elem was a most satisfactory audience. The sun was on its way down the sky when Ambalasi finished and returned to the land. The first thing she saw, with a great deal of satisfaction, was that the Daughters were now working to clear the dead undergrowth. Enge put down an armload of wood and turned to speak with the scientist choosing her expressions carefully in order to obey the edict not to mention the name of Ugunenapsa.

  “We discussed the work here in the light of our beliefs. A decision was reached. We must live, for we are the Daughters of Life. To live we must have a city to live in. The city must be grown. You are the only one who can grow a city. To grow the city we will take your instruction since we must do that in order to live. So now we work.”

  “So I see. But only now as you have just told me. When the city is grown will you then stop taking my orders?”

  “I have not considered all of the implications of thinking that far ahead,” Enge said with an attempt at evasion.

  “Think. Speak.”

  She must, though with great reluctance. “It is my belief that when the city is grown — the Daughters will no longer obey your orders.”

  “I thought not. I hesitated to consider any future for them other than certain death. For the moment, for my own comfort, I accept this weak and dispirited arrangement. There is too much of importance to be done here to involve myself with more argument now.” She held up her hand and displayed the large portion of jellied meat held between her thumbs. “I return to the jungle to continue my contact with those we met. Will you accompany me?”

  “With utmost pleasure and joy-in-tomorrow. This will be a rich city, rich with life and scientific endeavor.”

  “The scientific endeavor, yes. But I do not see a favorable existence for your Daughters of Disagreement, followers of she-who-shall-be-nameless. I think that your theory of life will one day be your death.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Imame qiviot ikagpuluarpot takuguvsetame.

  There are more paths on the sea than you can find in a forest.

  Paramut saying

  It was the waiting now, the not-knowing, that bothered Armun. At first it had been all right, once the decision had been made to leave the camp by the lake there had been no turning back, no hesitation on her part. If anything she had been the strong one, forcing Kerrick again and again to remember that it had been a good decision — and the only one possible. Whenever she found him sitting, grim with worry, she patiently went through their reasons for deciding to leave — yet once again. They had no other choice. They had to go.

  Arn
wheet, the one they were both most concerned about, seemed to care the least. He had never been parted from his mother so could not understand what it would be like. Darras, who was finally getting over her nightmares, was not happy about the change at all and cried a lot. Ortnar did not care one way or the other — while Harl could not wait for them to leave. Then he would be the only hunter, the sole provider. But the two Yilanè were sure that their end had come. Imehei was composing his death song. Nadasake was determined to die fighting and kept his hèsotsan close by him at all times. Kerrick understood their fears — but rejected them. The two halves of sammad Kerrick had a working relationship now and would have to go on like that. There was no need for it to change. The Yilanè were adept at catching the lake fish and crustacea, swimming out at dawn to set their traps and nets. But they were indifferent hunters at the best. Because of this an equal trade had been established, fish for meat, and all those concerned were pleased with the arrangement. Arnwheet, the only one welcome without suspicion in both camps, took care of the exchanges, proudly staggering under the weight of his burdens. The males would be safe — they would all be safe enough as long as their presence here was not discovered.

  Leaving, getting to the headland by the sea, all that had gone easily and well. With no responsibilities or cares they had looked to each other, reveling in the newfound freedom and closeness. Many times they even walked hand-in-hand through the summer warmth. No true hunter would have done that, there must only be silence and watchfulness on the track, but Armun appreciated this even more.

  That had been during the first days. But now the waiting was a strain in their camp above the bay, looking out at the empty ocean day after day. Kerrick was in a dark and sullen mood, would sit staring out over the sea, watching for the Paramutan ikkergak that never came. He sat there and did not hunt; their meat was almost gone, and he did not seem to care. Armun knew that when he was like this and if she spoke to him, she would say too much — or too little — so she stayed away during the daytime gathering the roots and plants that made up the larger part of their diet now.