West of Eden

by Harry Harrison

  “This is where they were working,” she called out.

  The silence closed in when Stallan stopped speaking. A bird flew by overhead cackling loudly, but there was no other sound. Nor was there anything to see. The guards clutched at their weapons, looking about in all directions. Nothing. It was Vaintè who broke the deadly silence.

  “They must be found. Spread out through these channels. Stay alert.”

  Kerrick had good eyesight and caught the movement first.

  “There!” he called out. “In that waterway. I saw something move.”

  Every weapon was pointed that way in an instant, until Stallan commanded them to be raised.

  “You will be shooting and killing each other. Or me. I’m going in there. Point your hèsotsan some other way.”

  Her boat slipped forward slowly, Stallan standing with one foot on the thing’s shell, peering ahead into the leaf-shrouded darkness.

  “It’s all right,” she called back. “It’s one of our own boats.” Then, after a long moment of silence, she added reluctantly, “It’s empty.”

  The other boat shivered when her boat bumped against it, shivered even more when Stallan jumped into it. It took shouted commands, and a good kicking, before the boat backed away from the bank. As it approached the other boats Stallan was silent—but her pointing finger was explanation enough.

  There was something stuck into the boat’s thick hide. Stallan reached down and pulled it free and the boat quivered with pain. Kerrick felt his heart beat loudly in his chest as Stallan held the object out for them to see.

  A Tanu arrow!

  Stallan dipped the arrow in the river to wash it clean, then leaned out and handed it to Vaintè. She turned it over and over in her hands, reading a detestable message there that arched her thick body with anger and detestation. When she looked up at Kerrick he cowered back as though from a blow.

  “You recognize this, don’t you? I also know what it is. An ustuzou artifact with a sharp tip of stone. There are more of your disgusting ustuzou out there. We did not kill them all. But we will now. Kill them all, every one. Find them and slaughter them. This land of Gendasi is large, but not large enough to hide your ustuzou. It will be Yilanè or ustuzou—and it will be Yilanè who prevail.

  There were hisses of agreement from all who heard her and Kerrick felt a sudden fear that he would be the first to be killed. Vaintè raised the arrow to throw it far from her, then lowered it and grew silent. Then she looked at Kerrick with a sudden new interest.

  The deaths of Sòkain and the others would now have a purpose, she thought. She sat silent and unmoving for a long time, not seeing Alakensi or any of the others, but looking into a distance at something visible only to her. They waited patiently until she moved again and spoke.

  “Stallan, you will search until you are sure that all those missing are gone. Return before dark. I am going back to the city now. My duty is there.”

  She sat in immobile silence all of the way back to Alpèasak. She had to. Her plan was finished and complete and if she dared move at all everyone would read it clearly. Only when they were at the dock and climbing back onto the shore did she move. Her eyes slipped across Alakensi’s broad back, hesitated a second and moved on.

  The plan was indeed made.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  No trace of the surveying party was ever found. The arrow was grim evidence of their fate. Vaintè went alone to her chamber where she put it away with the other ustuzou artifacts that they had captured, in the chests that grew from the walls. Then she sat on her seat of power and sent for Vanalpè and Stallan, who arrived with the ever-present Alakensi close behind her. Kerrick looked in as well, but fled at her gesture. She could not bear the thought of an ustuzou presence now. The three of them conferred for a long time with Stallan about the security of the city. There would be more traps, more guards—but no more survey parties for the time being. After this she dismissed them and called in one of the fargi she had recently promoted to assist her, the one who could speak the best.

  “The uruketo will be here soon. When it leaves I want you to leave with it. I want you to return to Inegban* and seek out Malsas<. You are to tell her what I will now tell to you. You will tell her in exactly the way I tell you. Do you understand?”

  “I do, Eistaa. I will do as you command.”

  “Here is the message. Greetings, Malsas<, I bring you a message from Vaintè in Alpèasak. This is a sad and anger-filled message of great concern. Some are dead. Sòkain is dead. She and the other Yilanè were killed by ustuzou, the same kind of ustuzou who slaughtered on the birth beaches. We did not see them but our knowledge is certain. We found a weapon of wood and stone of the kind that they use. These ustuzou must be found and killed. They lurk invisible in the jungles around Alpèasak. They must be found, they must be killed. All killed. When the uruketo returns to Alpèasak I ask you to send many fargi in it who can shoot well, with hèsotsan and supplies of darts. I feel it imperative that this be done. The fate of Alpèasak depends on the ustuzou deaths.”

  Then Vaintè grew silent, oppressed by the truth and the darkness of her own words, while the fargi swayed before her with fear at the terrible message she must carry. But Vaintè had the strength to push the darkness aside and she did so, then ordered the fargi to recite the message back to her until it was perfect.

  The morning after the uruketo left Vaintè went to her chamber and sent for Kerrick. Many days had passed since he had last been in her presence and he approached her with a certain amount of fear. There was no need. Vaintè had many important things on her mind now, he could tell that at a single glance, and actually seemed pleased at his presence.

  “Inlènu*,” she called out, and the great creature shambled forward obediently. “You are to stand in the entrance, fill it with your body and no matter who approaches you will send them away. Do you understand?”

  “They go away.”

  “Yes, but say it strongly like this. Go away, Vaintè commands. Say it.”

  “Go away, Vaintè commands.”

  “That is correct. Now do it.”

  Inlènu* made a good guardian; there was a scurry of running feet at her ominous presence. Vaintè turned to Kerrick and spoke as Eistaa issuing orders.

  “You will now tell me everything about the ustuzou, your kind of ustuzou. Speak.”

  “I do not understand the meaning of the Eistaa’s words.”

  Vaintè saw his fear and confusion and realized that the question was too general. She must be more specific. “What is the name of your ustuzou city?”

  “Ustuzou do not have cities. This is the first city I have ever seen. Ustuzou live in . . .” He searched his memory in vain. It had been so long since he had heard or spoken Marbak that the words would not come. He fell back on description. “Soft structures made of skins, hung over poles. These come apart and the poles are pulled by . . . large animals with hair.”

  “Why do they come apart? Why do they move?”

  Kerrick shrugged, then wriggled with the effort to put together bits of faded memory. “That is just the way that it is done. You hunt one place, fish another. That is just the way it is done.”

  Continued questioning elicited few more answers. The ustuzou seemed to live in groups, like the group they had slaughtered, and there were other groups, but no indication of how many. The unused memories of the boy were vague and uncertain. Vaintè finally had enough of the questioning and stopped it with a single gesture. Now came the important part. She would use fear and reward, train this ustuzou to do what must be done. Her manner changed and she spoke now as Eistaa, she who controlled the life of the city and its inhabitants.

  “I can kill you or have you killed at any instant—you know that.”

  “I know that.” He trembled with supplication, confused by the sudden change of tone.

  “I can also raise you up, see that you are honored and do not always remain an ustuzou, lowest of the low. You would like that, wouldn’t you
? To sit by me, to command others to labor for you. I can do that for you—but you in turn must do something for me. Something that only you can do. You must do for me the thing that only you can do.”

  “I will do what you ask, Eistaa, but I do not understand what you are saying. I do not know what you are talking about.”

  “It is what you do when you speak of one thing and think another. It is what you did to Stallan. You told her you were choking and you were not.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Kerrick said, radiating stupidity and lack of knowledge, innocence. Vaintè moved with joy.

  “Wonderful! You are doing it now. You are doing the thing where you talk about things that didn’t happen as though they did happen. Admit it—or I will kill you on the spot.”

  He quailed at the abrupt change in Vaintè’s mood, the motion of killing with her mouth open, her face close to his, those rows of deadly teeth just before him. “I did that thing, yes, I admit it. I did it to escape.”

  “Very good.” She stepped back and the moment of danger was past. “This thing that you do, that no Yilanè can do, we will call it lying. I knew that you lied, and I also know that you will undoubtedly lie to me in the future. I cannot prevent it—but Inlènu* will see to it that your lies will not permit you to escape. Now that we know that you lie, we will put that lying to good use. You will lie for me. You will do that for me.”

  “I will do what the Eistaa orders,” Kerrick said, not understanding, but quick to agree.

  “That is correct. You will do as I order. You will never speak of this order—for if you do you are dead. Now—here is the lie you must speak, and you must speak it in a very excited way. You must say—‘There, in the trees, an ustuzou, I saw it!’ Those are the words. Now repeat them.”

  “There in the trees I saw an ustuzou.”

  “Good enough. Do not forget that. And speak it only when I order you to. I will make a motion like this.”

  Kerrick agreed happily. It was easy enough to do, though he could not see the reason for it. The threats had been real enough though so he made a special effort not to forget the words and the sign, muttering them to himself as he walked away through the city.

  Many days had passed since Kerrick had last seen Enge. He rarely even thought of her now for his new-found freedom occupied every moment of his waking day. At first he had been hesitant to venture out alone and even took pleasure in the dumb presence of Inlènu* as some measure of security. When he did leave his room he very quickly discovered how stratified Yilanè social structure really was. He quickly came to understand that his position was somewhere near the top, since he was seen often in the Eistaa’s presence, sitting close to her. For the nameless fargi this was evidence enough of how high he ranked above them and, crude as it was, this respect was represented in the way they addressed him.

  When he walked through the green corridors he saw how those fargi with the intelligence and ability to master their language were quickly slotted into city life. They became guards, food preparers, slaughterers, work gang supervisors, agriculturists, a wealth of occupations about which he knew little. With these Yilanè he spoke in a neutral manner, taking them as equals, or slightly lower, and this was readily accepted.

  Respectful speaking he saved for those who were the leaders. Their position was obvious, though what they did was not always as clear, since they were trailed by aides and assistants, these followed in turn by fargi eager to be called upon, anxious to find a fixed status In the order of the city.

  With so much to see Kerrick had very little time to miss Enge’s daily visits. The city was an ant’s nest of industry and occasionally he wished that she were there to explain some of the more puzzling aspects of life in Alpèasak. He asked after her a few times, but the curt dismissal of his question taught him not to follow that subject any further. But the response made him curious. When Enge and Vaintè had talked together it had been as equals. So why this bias against even mentioning her name? He considered, then rejected, questioning Vaintè about her whereabouts. The Eistaa made it very clear that she was the one who began and terminated conversations.

  He saw Enge again strictly by chance. He was near the ambesed, where Vaintè had dismissed him from her presence, when there was a stirring of excitement among the fargi. They were asking questions of each other and all hurrying in the same direction. Curious, he followed after them just in time to see four Yilanè go by, carrying a fifth one. He could not get close in the press and decided not to draw any attention by ordering them aside. He was about to leave when the same four Yilanè returned, walking slowly now, mouths agape. Their skins were splotched with dirt, their legs caked with red mud. Then Kerrick saw that one of them was Enge. He called out and she turned to face him. She was attentive, but did not speak.

  “Where have you been?” he asked. “I have not seen you.”

  “My language skills are no longer needed, so my meetings with you are ended. I work now in the new fields.”

  “You?” There was astonishment, even dismay, lack of understanding with the word.

  “I.” The other three had stopped when she did and she signaled them to continue on, asking Kerrick to do the same. “I must return to work.”

  She turned away and he hurried up beside her. There was a mystery here that he dearly wanted to solve, but he did not know how to begin.

  “The one that you carried here. What happened?”

  “A serpent bite. There are many where we work.”

  “Why you?” They were not overheard now as they walked; the plodding Inlènu* did not count. “You talk to the Eistaa as one equal to another. Yet you now do work better done by the lowest fargi. Why?”

  “The reason is not easy to tell. And I have been forbidden by the Eistaa to speak of it to any Yilanè.”

  Even as she spoke the words Enge realized the ambiguity of meaning that they contained. Kerrick was not a Yilanè. She indicated Inlènu*. “Order that one to walk ahead of us, to follow those three.” As soon as this had been done Enge turned to Kerrick and spoke with an intensity he had never seen before.

  “I am here, these others are here, because we have strong personal beliefs that those who rule do not agree with. We have been ordered to abandon them—but we cannot. For once you have discovered the truth you cannot turn away from it.”

  “What truth are you talking about?” Kerrick asked in puzzlement.

  “The burning, disturbing truth that the world and all things in it contain more than can be easily seen. Do you ever think of these things?”

  “No,” he answered quite honestly.

  “You should. But you are young—and not a Yilanè. I have puzzled about you since you first started to speak, and your existence is still a puzzle to me. You are not a Yilanè, yet you are not a bestial ustuzou since you can speak. I don’t know what you are or how you fit into the scheme of greater things.”

  Kerrick was beginning to be sorry that he had found Enge. Little of what she said made any sense to him. But now that she was speaking, for her own benefit more than his, she could not be stopped.

  “Our belief must be true because there is a power in it that passes the comprehension of the nonbeliever. It was Ugunenapsa who came first to this understanding, spent her life ordering her mind, forcing herself to understand. To bring a new thing into the world where none had been before. She talked to others about her belief and they laughed at her. Word reached the Eistaa of her city about her strange ways and she was called before the Eistaa who commanded her to speak. And she did. She spoke of the thing within all of us that cannot be seen, the thing that enables us to speak and separates us from the unthinking animals. Animals do not have the thing within which is why they cannot speak. Therefore speaking is the voice of the thing within and that thing within is life and the knowledge of death. Animals have no knowledge of life or death. They are, then they aren’t. But the Yilanè know—and now you know. Which is the great puzzle that I must grapple with. Who are yo
u? What are you? Where do you fit into the design?”

  Enge turned to face Kerrick, looked into his eyes as though she might find the answer to her question there. But there was nothing that he could say in answer, and she realized that.

  “Someday you may know,” she said. “Now you are too young. I strongly doubt if you can comprehend the wonder of the vision that Ugunenapsa had, a vision of a truth that she could explain to others. And the proof as well! For she angered the Eistaa who ordered her to set aside these false beliefs and live as all Yilanè have done since the egg of time. Ugunenapsa refused and thereby put her beliefs ahead of her city and the commands of her Eistaa. The Eistaa saw disobedience and stripped her of her name, ordered her from the city. Do you know what this means? No, you cannot. A Yilanè cannot live without her city and her name once she has attained it. To leave is to die. Since the egg of time a Yilanè turned away from her city has suffered a deadly change. The rejection is so strong that the Yilanè collapses instantly, quickly falls unconscious and soon dies. It was always that way.”

  Enge was possessed now of a strange humor, something between elation and delight. She halted and took Kerrick lightly by both arms and looked into his eyes, trying to convey what she felt.

  “But Ugunenapsa did not die. There was a new thing in the world with proof undeniable. And since that day this truth has been proven time and time again. I was ordered from Inegban*, ordered to die—and I did not. None of us died, which is why we are here. They call us the Daughters of Death because they say that we have a pact with death. That is not true. We call ourselves the Daughters of Life and that is true. Because we live where others die.”

  Kerrick wriggled free of her cool and gentle grasp, turning away, lying. “I have come too far. I am forbidden to be here in the fields.” He tugged on his leash, avoiding the intensity of her gaze. “Inlènu*, we return.”

  Enge watched in silence as he left, then turned back to the fields. Kerrick looked behind him then and saw her plod slowly down the dusty track. He shook his head with mystification and wondered what she had been talking about. Then he noticed the orange trees nearby and pulled Inlènu* that way. His throat was dry and the sun was hot and he had not understood one word in ten that Enge had said. He had no way of knowing that her beliefs were the first rift ever torn in the millions of years of Yilanè homogeneity. To be Yilanè was to live as Yilanè. Nothing else had been comprehensible. Until now.