West of Eden

by Harry Harrison

  This meant that he could not leave the area inside the door, so could not see all of the interior of the hanalè. But this did not matter. The males came to him, overjoyed at the novelty of his presence in their sheltered and boring existence.

  Superficially there was no way that Kerrick could tell the males from the females. He was young enough not to think this of any importance and it was only the curiosity of the males, once the novelty of his presence had worn off, that caused them to reveal their nature.

  Though most of the males talked to him or asked him questions at one time or another, it was Alipol who came forward eagerly to greet him whenever he appeared. Although Ikemend ordered all the affairs and operations of the hanalè, it was Alipol who ruled inside the door. He had been selected in Inegban* for this position of responsibility and leadership. He was far older than any of the others, all of whom had merely been selected for youth and good health. In addition Alipol was an artist, a fact that Kerrick did not discover for a long time. This happened on a visit when Alipol did not appear and Kerrick had to call out to one of the others.

  “Alipol is busy at his art as always,” he said and hurried on. Kerrick did not understand the expression, most of the males were worse than fargi in the crudeness of their language, but what he had said had to do with beauty, of making things, of new objects. Alipol did not appear that day, so on the next visit Kerrick displayed his curiosity.

  “Art is of greatest importance, perhaps the greatest thing that there is,” Alipol said. “But these stupid young males don’t know that, and certainly the brutal females would have no idea of its existence.”

  Alipol, and the other males, always referred to the females in this manner, with a mixture of fear and respect that Kerrick could never understand. Nor would they explain it to him, so he had long since ceased asking.

  “Please tell me,” Kerrick said, with curiosity and interest, which Alipol accepted with a certain suspicion.

  “A rare attitude,” he said, then made his mind up. “Stay here and I will show you what I do.” He started away, then turned back. “Have you ever seen a nenitesk?”

  Kerrick did not understand the relevancy of the question, though he agreed that he had indeed seen the great beasts. Alipol left and returned with an object that had Kerrick expressing unconcealed joy and pleasure. In turn Alipol’s own pleasure was beyond belief. “You see what others don’t see,” he said simply. “They have no eyes, no understanding.”

  Alipol had his hands joined before him, all four thumbs turned up to form a bowl. Resting upon them was the delicately formed image of a nenitesk, glowing brightly in the sunlight and seemingly woven from beams of light. The eyes were shining red, while every line of tail and horn, great shield and stumpy legs had been caught in glowing radiance. Kerrick bent close to see that the tiny creature was formed from thin strands of some shining material, woven together to form the intricate object. He reached out a questing finger and found it hard to the touch.

  “What is it? How do you do it? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “Woven of wire, silver and gold wire. Two metals that never grow dim. The eyes are small gems that I brought with me from Inegban*. They are found in streams and banks of clay, and I have the skills to polish them.”

  After that Alipol showed Kerrick other things he had made: all of them were marvels. Kerrick could appreciate art and he longed to have one of them, but dared not express his desire lest it interfere with the friendship they had formed.

  As the city grew and flourished only one major problem remained. The ustuzou. During the rainy months, when there was cold in the north, the city was guarded and ringed with defenses. When the warmth returned to the north, then Stallan led raids up along the coast. Only once did they find a large group of ustuzou; they killed all that did not flee. At other times small groups were attacked and killed, and once they returned with a wounded prisoner. Kerrick went with the others to see the filthy, fur-covered creature, and he felt no sense of identification at all. It never regained consciousness and died quickly. This was the only time that the mounting clashes between Yilanè and ustuzou interfered with the order of city life. All of the other encounters took place at a distance now and were only the concern of Stallan and the others with her.

  Without the rhythms of the seasons, the passage of time was scarcely noted in Alpèasak. The city grew with the leisured pace of any living creature, animal or plant, reaching out into the forest and jungle until it covered a vast area inland from the river and the sea. Reports from Inegban* had the unreality of weather not felt, a storm not experienced. The recent winters had been mild enough so that some there hoped the cold weather was at an end, although the scientists who knew about these things insisted that the condition was only a temporary one. They talked of air and water temperature measurements made at the summer station in Teskhets, and pointed out the increasing numbers of ravenous wild ustuzou that had been driven down from their normal haunts in the north.

  In Alpèasak news of this sort was, of course, of great interest, but they were still tales told of a distant land. More uruketo were being bred, that was good to hear, and one day Inegban* would come to Alpèasak and the city would be complete. One day. In the meantime there was much to do here and the sun was always warm.

  For Kerrick the world was endless summer. Without the arrival of autumn he never looked forward to the snows of winter. From his place of privilege close to the Eistaa he watched the city grow—and he grew with it. Memories of the life he had once led grew dim, vanished altogether except for the occasional confusing dream. In mind if not in body he was Yilanè and none dared speak otherwise in his presence. He was no longer ustuzou. No longer Ekerik. When Vaintè called him by his name she changed the way the word was said and everyone else copied her way. He was no longer Ekerik, slow and stupid, but Keririk, close to the center.

  There was need for the new name for he was growing, tall as a Yilanè, then even taller. There was so much hair on his body now that the unutakh died, perhaps from overeating, and he had been supplied with a larger and more voracious unutakh. But without the cold of winter to end the year, the green of spring to begin the new, there was no way to measure the track of time.

  Kerrick did not know it but he was fifteen years of age when Vaintè ordered him into her presence.

  “When the uruketo leaves in the morning I go with it to Inegban*.”

  Kerrick showed abstract interest, but little else, though he did lie and say it was sorrow to be parted from her. Inegban* was a word to him, nothing more.

  “Major changes are on the way. The new uruketo reach maturity and in one summer, two at the most, Inegban* will be abandoned. They are so concerned there with fear of the future and the changes it will bring that they do not appreciate the real problems we have here. They care nothing about the ustuzou that threaten us, scarcely even notice the Daughters of Death who sap our strength. I have great labors ahead of me and you must aid me. That is why you are coming with me to Inegban*.”

  Now Kerrick’s interest was indeed captured. A voyage inside the uruketo, across the ocean, a visit to a new place. He was both excited and afraid and Vaintè was aware of that since he was too upset to lie.

  “You will capture everyone’s attention, and when I have that attention I will convince them what must be done.” She looked at him quizzically. “But you are too much of a Yilanè now. We must remind them all that you were once ustuzou, still are.”

  She went to the opening where she had placed the small knife many years ago, and took it out. Zhekak had examined it, pronounced it a crude artifact worked from meteoritic iron, had then placed a rustproof coating on it. Vaintè gave it to Etdeerg, her first assistant, and ordered her to fix it into position about his neck. Etdeerg did this with a piece of twisted gold wire, attaching it to the shining iron of his collar, while the fargi watched and listened at the doorway.

  “That looks strange enough to make them look twice,”
Vaintè said, reaching out to press flat the sharp end of the wire. Her fingers touched his skin, the first time in years, and she was surprised at the warmth of it.

  Kerrick had looked at the dull knife with lack of interest, had no memory of it at all.

  “The ustuzou drape themselves with skins, it has often been remarked, and you had one about you when you were brought here.” She signaled to Etdeerg who opened a bundle and shook out a smooth deerskin. The fargi chattered with distaste and even Kerrick moved away from it.

  “Stop that,” Vaintè ordered. “This is no piece of lice-ridden filth. It has been sterilized and cleaned, and that will be done again daily. Etdeerg, remove the false pouch and put this in its place.”

  Then Vaintè ordered the fargi cleared away and Inlènu* to block the doorway since she remembered why the pouch had been made in the first place.

  Etdeerg stripped off the pouch and tried to fit on the skin, but the seals were in the wrong place. She went to fix them and Vaintè looked at Kerrick with interest. He had changed, grown, and she stared at him now with a mixture of attraction and disgust. She went across the chamber and reached down to him and Kerrick shivered at her touch. Vaintè laughed with pleasure.

  “You are a male, very much like our males. Just one instead of two—but you respond just as they do!”

  Kerrick felt unease at what she was doing, tried to pull away but she seized him tight with her other hand and drew him close.

  Vaintè was aroused now, the aggressor as all female Yilanè were, and he was pulling away yet responding at the same time like any male.

  Kerrick had no idea of what was happening to him, nor what were the strange sensations he was feeling. But Vaintè was well aware. She was Eistaa, she could do as she willed. With practiced motions she hurled him to the floor and mounted him, while Etdeerg watched with appreciation.

  Her skin was cold on his, yet he was warm, strangely warm, and then it happened. He had no idea of what it was, just that it was the greatest and most wonderful thing that had ever occurred in his entire lifetime.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “I have a respectful message from Erafnaiś,” the fargi said, speaking slowly and carefully, yet quivering with the effort to get the message correct. “The loading is complete. The uruketo is ready to leave.”

  “We go,” Vaintè announced. Etdeerg and Kerrick stepped forward at her gesture. She looked around at the leaders of Alpèasak gathered before her and spoke in the most official and formal manner. “The city is yours until I return. Keep it well. You have my trust.”

  Having said this she took her leave and went slowly through the city with Kerrick and Etdeerg walking a decent pace behind.

  Kerrick had long since learned to control his movements so he appeared as calm as the others. Inside he churned with conflicting emotions. This voyage, he was looking forward to it, yet was also afraid of such a major change in his ordered existence. And yesterday, what had happened yesterday with Vaintè, he still couldn’t understand. What had caused such an all-encompassing sensation? Would it happen again? He hoped that it would. But what was it?

  Any memories he had of Tanu passion, of the differences between the sexes, of the funny-forbidden talk the older boys had whispered to each other, even of the pleasure he once felt in touching Ysel’s bare body, all this was gone. Overlaid and forgotten under the need for survival with the Yilanè. The males in the hanalè never talked of their relationship with the females, or if they did it was never in his presence. Inlènu* was dumb on the subject. He had no knowledge of sexuality, Yilanè or Tanu, and could only puzzle over this exciting mystery.

  The sky behind them was red with sunset when they reached the harbor. The enteesenat, leaping with anticipation of the voyage, surged up out of the sea and splashed back into the water in a welter of red-tinted froth. Kerrick was last aboard, climbing down the opening in the high fin, blinking at the dim-lit interior. Beneath him the floor pulsed and he lost his footing and fell. The journey had begun.

  The novelty quickly wore off for Kerrick since there was little to see and nothing at all to do. Most of the interior was taken up by the dead-alive bodies of deer and stalakel. The stalakel lay heaped in piles, small forelimbs limp, horn-beaked jaws gaping open. Some of the deer, though unmoving, had their eyes wide open, and this was clearly visible in the light from the luminescent patches. He had the uneasy feeling that they could see him, that they were crying out at their paralyzed state. They couldn’t be, he was putting his own feelings into theirs. The sealed interior closed in on him and he clenched his fists with unknown terror, made worse by what seemed to be an endless storm. The uruketo’s fin stayed sealed and the air grew musty and foul.

  In the darkness the Yilanè grew torpid and slept. There were only one or two on watch at any time. Once he tried to talk to the Yilanè at the helm, but she would not answer; all of her attention was focused on the compass.

  Kerrick was asleep when the storm ended and the heavy seas died down. He jerked awake as the chill, salty air washed over him. The Yilanè stirred and reached for the cloaks—but the air and the shaft of light were pure pleasure to him. He tugged at his lead until the sluggish Inlènu* woke up and had wrapped herself in a cloak, then pulled her after him towards the opening in the fin. He scrambled quickly up the corrugations and pulled himself up beside Erafnaiś who stood there, wrapped tightly in a large cloak. Inlènu* stayed below, as far as the lead would permit her. He held tight to the edge and looked out at the green waves rolling towards them and frothing over the uruketo’s back, laughing when salt spray splashed his face. It was different, wonderful, exciting. Rays of sunlight cut through the clouds lighting up the vastness of the sea that stretched to the horizon in all directions. He shivered with the chill and wrapped his arms about him, but would not leave. Erafnaiś turned and saw him, and wondered at his emotions.

  “You are cold. Go below. Take a cloak.”

  “No—I like it like this. I can understand now why you cross the sea in the uruketo. There is nothing else like it.”

  Erafnaiś was very pleased. “Few others feel this way. Were the sea to be taken from me now I would feel very strange.” Strange had overtones of unhappiness and despair, with just the slightest suggestion of death. The scar on her back made it difficult to express this with exactitude, but so powerful were her feelings that the meaning was clear.

  A flight of seabirds floated by overhead and Erafnaiś pointed in their direction.

  “We are not far from the land now. In fact there, low on the horizon, that dark line. The coast of Entoban*.”

  “I have heard the name spoken, but never understood its meaning.”

  “It is a great land mass, so large that it has never been sailed around for the sea gets cold to the south. It is the home of the Yilanè where one city stretches to the fields of another city.”

  “That is our destination?”

  Erafnaiś agreed. “On the northern coast. First through the passage known as Genaglè into the warm waters of Ankanaal on whose shores is Inegban*.”

  When she spoke the word there were mixed overtones of pleasure and pain. “Be pleased it is now midsummer, for the past winter was the worst in the city’s history. Crops died. Animals died. Beasts from the north raided the herds. And once, briefly, hard water fell from the clouds and was white on the ground before it melted.”

  Hard water? The meaning was clear—but what was it? Before he could ask for an explanation Kerrick had a vision, clear and sharp, of snow-covered mountains. But accompanying it was a terrible pang of apprehension and fear. He rubbed at his eyes—then looked out at the sea and thrust the memory from him. Whatever it was it did not bear considering.

  “I am cold,” he said, half-lie, half-truth. “so return to the warmth inside.”

  One morning Kerrick awoke to warm air and sunlight, a beam that poured down from the open fin. He climbed quickly to join Vaintè and Etdeerg who were already there. He was surprised at their appearance, b
ut since they said nothing about it he did not comment. Vaintè had an aversion to being questioned. He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. Her forehead and the strong angles of her jaw had been painted red with pigment, neatly applied in scrolls and turns. Etdeerg did not have any coloring on her face, but black vines appeared to twist about her arms, ending with leaf patterns on the backs of her hands. Kerrick had never seen a Yilanè decorated in this manner before, but managed to contain his curiosity and looked towards the shore instead. The coastline moved slowly by, green wooded hills clearly visible above the blue of the sea.

  “Inegban*,” Etdeerg said, a wealth of mixed emotions behind the single word.

  Grassy fields were mixed in among the forests now, with the dark figures of beasts grazing upon them. As they moved past a point of land a grand harbor opened out. Upon its shores were the beaches of Inegban*.

  Kerrick, who thought Alpèasak a city of wonder, now saw what a real city was and allowed his feelings to show, to the immense pleasure of Vaintè and Etdeerg.

  “Alpèasak will be this one day,” Vaintè said. “Not during our lives, for Inegban* has been growing since the egg of time.”

  “Alpèasak will be greater,” Etdeerg said with calm assurance. “You will make it so, Vaintè. You have an entire new world to build it in. You will do it.”

  Vaintè did not answer. Nor did she deny it.

  As the uruketo approached the inner harbor Erafnaiś climbed to the top of the fin, then called down orders. The great creature slowed and stopped, lay wallowing in the clear water. The pair of enteesenat swam ahead, then turned about sharply before they reached the floating boom of large logs. They had no desire to brush against the long stinging tentacles of the jellyfish that were suspended from the logs. They hurtled back and forth, anxious for the boom to be opened so they could reach their waiting reward, the treated food they were longing for. This was delayed until the uruketo in the harbor were driven away. Smaller than normal, still half trained, they were slow to obey. When they were safely restrained a harnessed uruketo tugged the boom open and the enteesenat instantly darted inside. Their own uruketo proceeded at a more leisurely pace.