by David Mason
Then the feasting began; Daniel, concealing amusement, watched his companions’ amazed faces as the food and drink began to flow. All their lives they had eaten the simple food of their homeland; fish, mostly, and the few scrawny vegetables that would still grow. Now a hundred different sorts of food and drink were being pressed on them; unfamiliar fruits, smoking bits of strange meats, clay jars of what Daniel recognized as a kind of corn beer.
The food was brought by handsome girls, and one knelt between Daniel and Banar, smiling and offering the corn beer drink to each. Ammi, next to Daniel, stared a little coldly, but Banar grinned, taking the jar.
“Do you remember, Daniel,” Banar said loudly, over the uproar, “I asked if other lands had women worth seeing?” He winked at the girl, who giggled and daringly touched his cheek with her hand.
Daniel chuckled and offered his cup to Ammi; she took it, looking a little appeased, and sampled the stuff. She made a face.
“Ugh,” she said, and giggled. “What is it?”
Daniel could not manage a reasonable answer; drums and horns had just joined in with the general outcry, and speech became impossible.
He sat, drinking the stuff and watching, his mind busy. The river people were deeply tanned, but a white race; briefly, he wondered how far in the past that meant he was. But he knew too little of anthropology to guess when the darker peoples had come down into this part of Africa. Always assuming it was actually Africa, he remembered, with a certain wry amusement. He knew the general direction in which they had sailed, but he also knew how crude his skill at navigation really was.
Bronze Age, he thought. Their armor and weapons were obviously copper-colored; if they were bronze or something like it, and not soft copper, these people were fairly civilized. They had bows—he had seen a few. But their principal weapon seemed to be the heavy spear with a long, leaf-shaped blade. And he had seen nothing that seemed to be iron, anywhere.
From the feast, Daniel guessed that the area was fertile and well-populated; and from what he could hear of the speechmaking, he suspected that there was nothing very complicated about their system of government. There seemed to be many chiefs, and a number of tribes, very loosely federated; probably even that had been a recent development, to oppose the new dangers from outside.
The High Chief of the Orak sat, his leathery face impassive, studying Daniel. Beside him, the chiefs of five other tribes sat also, as silent as he; but he was oldest, and none would speak before him.
“In a time long ago,” the High Chief said slowly, “our fathers’ fathers came out of the land Eloranar. All men came from that land, where the first men were born, out of the sea.”
It seemed to be some sort of rote sentence, Daniel thought
“Now, you come to us, telling that Eloranar is dead,” the High Chief went on. He was silent for a moment. “In our tales, the great cold is spoken of, and how the water itself became stone. We have not forgotten these things, though we have changed in much else.” He looked strangely at Daniel. “We dare not go down to the sea any longer, as you do; we cannot speak to the sea folk, now.”
He stopped and passed a cup, a great clay one filled with more of that strong bitter brew. It passed from hand to hand, being sipped ceremoniously.
“Now, you from the sea,” the High Chief said, looking from one to another of the five. “We have eaten and drunk together, we have sung together. We are one people, as you say.” His eyes gleamed. “Your chief is a great wizard. If he would remain with us, we might drive away the western men forever, when they return. He might cast lightning upon them!” His teeth glittered in a fierce grin. “If he would do this, he might have a high place among us; many cattle, and fine women to give him sons.”
Daniel felt Ammi stiffen slightly beside him, and he held back a chuckle.
“High Chief,” he said slowly, “My magic is not as great as it seems; it is only a simple skill. I can show how it is done; perhaps, if the materials can be found, your own men may do exactly as I did.”
The High Chief tried hard to keep his expression calm, and nearly succeeded; the others around him were not as successful.
“I may show you other things,” Daniel said. “I know of various weapons, and ways to make useful things besides weapons. If you have all these things, you may drive your enemies away, as you say, forever.”
The High Chief nodded solemnly.
“I am pleased,” he said, staring at Daniel. He glanced at the others. “You, chiefs, hear. Often, wizards say great things, claiming much wisdom; and many times you have seen that such men lied. This one does not lie. He says his knowledge is a thing of the hands, which he can show us; this, no wizard would do.”
There was a mutter among the chiefs and a nodding of heads.
“I say that this Daniel is no wizard, but a great chief, like those who were chiefs in the old time,” the High Chief said. He leaned forward and lifted a heavy necklace of carved shell over his head; with slow formality, he placed it around Daniel’s neck. There was a new murmur from the others.
“Let my brother, the Chief Daniel, call for those who make spears, and those who are smiths, and any others he requires,” the Chief said. “And the young men, also; they shall come to him, and he will show them these things he speaks of. When the men from the west come again, we shall be strong!”
Inwardly, Daniel cursed. He had been neatly taken, he suddenly realized, with a new respect for the Chief. The old man had certainly known that magic was, generally, trickery; but he must also have known that the strangers could show his own warriors a good many new things. Now, it would be difficult to make a polite departure in a hurry, Daniel thought. The Morra-ayar might have to wait awhile; the dolphins would doubtless be fidgeting out there in the sea, for a time.
But then, why not stay? It seemed to be a fine land, pleasant and rich, if a little hot. Except, of course, for the threat of the western raiders… and Daniel’s mind reverted to that puzzle again.
What could I do, anyway? he thought angrily. Change the pattern of the future itself? Some day the pact will be broken; the men of the future will never even know that once man and beast had shared so much. And if I made a new future… there was something chilling in the thought. I could never have been born, then, Daniel said to himself, and tried to think that unthinkable idea.
Let the Morra-ayar wait awhile, and their answer to my question, too… if they’ve got an answer.
“I thank my brother, the Chief,” Daniel said solemnly. “And I shall do all I can.”
What he could do, he found in the following weeks, was limited only by the number of hours he could stay awake. The tribesmen flocked into the big village; metal workers, builders, men of a dozen crafts. Word had gone out through the country, telling of the marvelous things being done by the stranger chief, and of the wonders still to come.
For the first time in his new life, Daniel was at last able to be an engineer again. In his other life, he had read much; but somehow, many things that dealt with other sciences had gone out of his memory. He could not recall more than a bare outline of the wars and kings of history, but he could remember descriptions of tools and weapons, from catapults to cannons. He brought back a hundred fragments, in his mind; obsolete crafts and bits of technique, half-forgotten in the twentieth century, but useful now.
He found a material on which he could make drawings, a smooth tree-bark; and to his intense pleasure, the craftsmen could understand what he drew with surprising ease. But he worked with them, too, in every step of the things he was showing them.
There would be iron soon; he had red earth, brought to him by a runner from a place not far up river. There would be a swarm of other things; but first there would be weapons to beat off the invaders when they came.
He had questioned those who were most familiar with the raiders, and learned enough to make a beginning. They had come in big boats, he was told; the boats had entered the river mouths, here and at other places. The raiders had come ashore and gon
e from village to village, driving back the tribesmen with showers of arrows.
Now Daniel made bows such as the locals had never seen; their own were small and weak, but his new one was a longbow. With it, he drove an arrow high and far, again and again, to the amazement of his watchers.
But they would take time to learn the use of the bow, he knew. And more time would pass, while his other plans came to birth. Meanwhile, he completed the first weapon that would strike the invaders harder than they had ever been hit before; and he brought the High Chief himself to watch it tried.
“It is a stone-thrower,” Daniel said as the old man walked slowly around the wooden frame. The Chief looked at the long beam and the heavy rock that rested on it; the rope and weights, taut and ready.
“No man could throw such a stone,” the Chief said. “But if he could…”
“A stone, like that one, could crush a boat,” Daniel told him. “With several throwers, the men of the west would not go home in their boats, this time.”
The Chief uttered a noncommittal grunt and stepped back, waiting. Daniel went forward and looked toward the river, where he had aimed the catapult. There were no canoes in range, he saw; he picked up a sledge and swung it down.
The trigger snapped; the arm slashed up and the stone sailed up and away in a long arc. It crashed into the river with a fountain of spray; the watchers cried out, a shout of pleasure. Warriors began to beat on the dusty ground with their spear butts, yelling with delight, and the Chief himself deigned to laugh aloud.
The damn thing worked without a hitch this time, Daniel thought with vast relief. It had failed twice the day before. If it had failed this time, his reputation would have gone down with it.
“There will be as many of these as we can make, Chief,” Daniel said wearily. He leaned against the frame, wiping sweat from his face; the Chief gazed at the catapult, still grinning.
“Many, many of them,” the Chief said. “Yes.”
“The raiders had iron swords,” Daniel said. “I was shown some of them. In a little while there will be better ones here, made of iron too, as the smiths learn. And lightning pots, such as I used, as soon as the yellow earth is found.”
The Chief nodded. “I have seen the other things you plan, too,” he said. “These are wonders. A way to make cloth, better than we have now. My women will like that. And you plan boats, too, like your own.”
“Your carpenters are good at their work,” Daniel told him. “But the new boats can’t be made till there are better tools. And there won’t be better tools till the smiths begin to work with iron.”
“Then you will stay with us, many years,” the Chief said, watching Daniel. “All these great things will take a lifetime.”
“Well, not quite that long, I hope,” Daniel said. But he realized, with a twinge, that the Chief might be right at that. He was very tired, too.
Watching the Chief move off, Daniel considered the curious addiction that made a man an engineer to begin with. Gadgets, dingbats, doohickeys… somebody made a wheel, and the disease began. And ended with jet bombers, he remembered. But he had always had that addiction to the things that turned and clanked and wagged. A man couldn’t be forever worrying about what some fool might do with the new thing he had built; it was somehow necessary to build it, anyway.
I’ve given them far too much, though, Daniel thought, staring up at the catapult. I could show them even more; things it would take them a lifetime to get around to making. But if I draw them a picture, they’ll keep on trying to make it, whatever it is… even if it takes them that lifetime.
Too much. I won’t show them cannon, he thought. Let them find out about that for themselves. Damn them, they probably will, too. They’ll be building generators, if I’m not careful; he chuckled aloud, a little bitterly.
He went back to the wooden house he had been given; a big, much-ornamented place where awed natives constantly waited for a look at the wonder-worker. Ammi had been greatly pleased with her new status; she enjoyed herself immensely at first, playing at the business of being a chief’s lady. But she had been becoming oddly snappish lately, and sometimes gazed at him with a new, narrower look.
“You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” he said a little later. He was lying back comfortably in the cool shade in the big house; Ammi sat cross-legged opposite him, her face in shadow.
“You must go to the Morra-ayar soon,” she said in a low voice. “It has been many, many days since we came up the river.”
He nodded, but said nothing.
“This is a good enough place,” he said after a while. “Don’t you like it here, Ammi?”
“It’s too hot, always,” she said quietly. “Also, there are always too many people, making much noise.” She shrugged. “They are good people. But they have forgotten so much. They cannot go to the sea either, or they will not.” She leaned forward toward Daniel. “Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Let us go on,” she said. “You have shown them the new things. They can fight now.”
“Go? Where?”
“Where it is a little cooler,” she said. “Where there are not so many folk, all talking at once. There are many lands. We would find the right one, if we look.” She paused. “And you must find… the thing you seek. The thing the wise old ones could tell you.”
“Maybe I… don’t want to know, anymore,” he said, closing his eyes.
But much later he awoke to the clamor of voices, an uproar that increased as he listened. And catching a shouted phrase, he realized what was afoot.
“Sea folk!” the voices were shouting.
The dolphins swam, circling slowly in the wide river beside the town; from time to time their noses lifted above the water and an odd piping cry echoed. On the shore, awed and silent, crowds of people waited and watched.
Daniel came and the crowd parted to let him through; he moved down into the water, waist deep, and called out.
“We have waited long,” the dolphin voice came through the water. “Come with us, man. Come now.”
“I have work to do here,” Daniel told them. “I’ll come later, when I have more time.”
“The Morra-ayar call to us, to bring you,” the dolphin said. “They say there is little time left. And others know of you, man, some who are not your friends.”
Daniel turned and took a step toward the shore. He saw Ammi waiting, her face calm as she watched.
She’d want to go on, of course, he thought. But there’s so much to do here, still. He began to walk shoreward.
Then, a violent blow struck him in the small of the back; a flurry of splashing water erupted and he felt his leg seized in a clamping grip. He was dragged down, water blinding him as he realized that the dolphin had shot forward and seized him. He was underwater now, out in the deep river and going deeper every moment; he had had no time to breathe a full lung of air beforehand. Darkness closed upon him.
Chapter IV
He was almost flying through the dark water, a crest of spray on each side; the inexorable grip holding his ankle and drawing him along. Briefly, he managed to draw a deep breath of air, just before he was drawn down under the rushing water. His lungs held that draught, minute after dizzying minute; then his head broke the surface again, briefly.
For a moment, as Daniel gulped air, he could glimpse the shining backs of other dolphins racing beside his captor. There was distant shouting on the river bank, cut off as he was pulled under once more.
The dolphins swam on, still at the same racing speed, on down the twisting length of the river. Each time Daniel’s lungs began to ache for air, his captor rose long enough to let him renew his breath, then dived again. He did not struggle; there was obviously no use in attempting to escape. But as he was dragged along, he ground his teeth in fury, helplessly.
Now they were in the surf, moving out into the deeper salt sea. The group of dolphins swam more slowly now, and Daniel was allowed to coast along, his head above the swell. He could see t
he shoreline, farther away with each moment
Then the grip relaxed and he floated free. The dolphins moved around him in a circle, blunt noses and grinning faces above the dark water. He trod water and stared at them.
“It was necessary,” one of them said, its voice humming in the sea about him.
“Why?” Daniel snapped. “I would have come when I was ready!”
“The Morra-ayar say the time is coming, soon, man,” the dolphin voice came. Another joined it.
“Our brothers in the other sea,” it said in an oddly regretful tone. “They have brought their land folk to take you. They are near, seeking you. Look, over there.”
On the grey line of the horizon, something showed, like a tiny erect needle of black. And another, near it… a mast, Daniel realized suddenly. He floated, gazing at it.
“Ships and men,” a dolphin said. “Men of Esmare, with weapons, many of them.”
Daniel twisted in the water, glaring at the circle around him.
“Let me go!” he cried out. But they were silent.
Ammi, he thought in sudden agony. But the dolphins would obviously not let him go. He thrust down his fury with an effort of will, and tried to remain calm.
“Where do you want me to go with you?” he demanded. “I’m not of your kind. I could drown here in the sea.”
“We know,” one of them said. “We shall take you, riding on our backs. It is not far to the Great Place…” And he made an odd, bell-like sound, a word that came to Daniel like “Ringongong.”
One of the creatures slid, with neat precision, under him, lifting him; the group swam swiftly on, out toward the open sea.
Time passed. Daniel’s skin began to burn from the salt; his hands grew weary, gripping the smooth wet back. His mind worked, calculating the distance they had come. His anger had turned to an icy, controlled fury now, held in control by a powerful effort of will. There was no use in resisting, not now, but he would watch and wait.
Then he saw something ahead—rocky crags, lifting above the sea. There were several of them, none more than a few yards high, thrusting blades of jagged black rock. Surf beat against the reefs, making a white spray. The dolphins seemed to be heading directly for the reef mass, Daniel saw; then they plunged through a wide opening and entered a broad circle of calmer water within.
