"Have you asked about their religion?" he asked Mekbill bluntly.
"No. It is obvious they have no religion. They have no idols, they do not offer gifts, they do not pray."
"Ask them," Ombissu said tersely. "Ask Eln-Tika what she believes in, if you can risk being tainted by one of these heathens. She’s as clever as any of us and you will receive a considered answer, I am sure."
"I have spoken to her on this subject, but I could not make her understand my questions," Fallassan said quietly. "That was some days ago but no doubt she understands more now."
"She did not understand? And this is someone you say is as clever as us? I don’t think so."
"Mekbill," Reffurio said in a low intense tone that made Ombissu instantly realise that Reffurio was extremely angry, "you are a fool. How many words of their language do you know? Rather fewer than one, I fancy. And you expect this hunter, this heathen who cannot read or write, to be able to understand an explanation of the concept of religion in a language foreign to her? It is a miracle that she can understand as much as she can. You..."
"Reffurio, that’s enough," Ombissu said sharply. "Mekbill has a job to do, authorised by the King. You and I may not agree with it, but we cannot stop Mekbill from carrying out his duties."
"We can if we believe they would endanger the safety of the ship."
This silenced Ombissu for a few moments. It was possible Reffurio was right. "It’s a moot point," he conceded. "Although it is theoretical. I can’t imagine any situation where the ship would become endangered as a result of Mekbill’s activities."
"Oh, can’t you? I can. The hunters are incredibly dangerous. We’ve seen them hunt. They have poisoned arrows. The black-quilled arrows, as we now know, are designed to kill instantly. How long would we last if they turned against us?"
"We have rifles," Ombissu reminded him.
"True, but I would not care to predict the result of any battle between us."
Ombissu turned to Mekbill. "You are to be very careful. You are to do nothing without my permission. Is that clear?"
Mekbill said angrily, "It is clear, but I must protest."
"Your protest is noted. Now, I think the next time we see Eln-Tika we will ask what they believe. My bet is it will turn out to be something very sensible."
The opportunity arose the following day, when Ombissu and Mekbill rode into the hunters’ camp. The sailors had been fishing in the river with lookouts in case of attack by the snappers and they had caught an impressive haul. They had brought eight large fish with them for the hunters. They were very pleased and promptly offered to share them with the two sailors. The fish were filleted and fried and served with rather tart berries which worked very well.
Ombissu wondered how to begin the subject that they wanted to discuss. After a few moments’ reflection he decided on the straightforward approach that Reffurio favoured. He had not found the hunters at all devious; they probably appreciated the simple approach.
He turned to Eln-Tika. "A few days ago you asked what Mekbill did and we answered that he was our priest, but we couldn’t really explain that. I am going to try again."
Eln-Tika leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, please do. I think it is important."
" We - or rather, many of us - believe that we are looked after by a group of superior beings which we call gods. In order to improve our good fortune we make offerings to these gods and we worship them." He saw the puzzled look on Eln-Tika’s face. "Worship means that we make it plain that we regard them as superior and that we are their puppets - a puppet is a doll, Eln-Tika," he explained hastily.
"I don’t understand," she said. "Where do these superior beings live? Why cannot we see them?"
"Nobody can see them," Mekbill said. "They do not live in our own world, but sometimes they visit us."
"If you cannot see them, how do you know they exist?"
"It is part of our faith that they exist," Mekbill replied.
"Faith means an unquestioning belief in things we cannot understand," Ombissu said helpfully.
"And these gods decide what will happen to you?"
"Yes," Mekbill said. "Although your fate depends very much on the strength of your belief. If you do not believe then the gods will not help you."
"We do not believe any of these things," Eln-Tika said. "We believe we control our destiny. Our actions determine what will happen to us. To me, that is obvious."
"Suppose you suffer bad weather - what do you do then?"
Eln-Tika looked blank. "Nothing. What can we do? We cannot say - please rain tomorrow because it will make the berries grow, or please can it stay dry so that we can be comfortable. That is ridiculous."
Ombissu grinned while Mekbill looked disapproving.
"What happens when you die?" Mekbill asked.
"Again - nothing. When I die then I am no longer myself. I am left on the earth and eventually I become part of the earth. Ferns will grow in the patch of ground where I died and they will be eaten by grazers. Or I will be found by vultures who will eat me and I will become part of them. Either way I will become part of the great cycle of life."
"And you are happy with this?"
"It is not a question of being happy. It is what is. But yes - I am happy with this."
"We believers," Ombissu said with faint irony, "go to a better place when we die. We call it heaven, and there we will live in perpetual happiness."
"You believe this?" Eln-Tika asked in amazement. "What proof have you that there is a heaven or that there are gods? I have lived for as long as you and I have seen no sign of these things."
Mekbill was becoming angry. What right had these heathens to question the faith? Ombissu saw the signs and quietly signalled that he keep quiet.
He said to Eln-Tika gently, "You like and admire Fallassan, don’t you?"
"Of course. She is my friend."
"She is a believer."
Eln-Tika was surprised. "She believes these children’s tales? I am very surprised. I must talk to her about it."
"She has not spoken to you about it?"
"I’m not sure. Often I cannot understand. She may have done."
Ombissu smiled at her. "I like your beliefs. They are simple and they make sense." He could see Mekbill getting angry again, but he ignored him. "But are they the beliefs of just the hunters or do the people in the towns believe the same?"
"Oh, I think they do. The silents never worshipped gods. They believed in deep meditation, but the meditation was directed towards purifying the mind. You can ask Sil-Jeve - he was a silent."
Mekbill looked suspiciously at the rather ascetic Sil-Jeve. He had heard from Ombissu and Reffurio about these silents, these monk-like figures who lived lives of self-sacrifice but did not worship. He thought them an abomination but, remembering Ombissu’s instructions, he kept his thoughts to himself.
Sil-Jeve looked slightly amused at the conversation. He was now only slightly behind Eln-Tika in an understanding of this strange language and he had been following the argument closely. Like Eln-Tika, he saw no sense in adding to the complexity of life by introducing invisible gods. It was obvious Ombissu, who was a good fellow, did not really believe. Mekbill, on the other hand, had the eyes of a fanatic and was thus dangerous.
Later that afternoon, riding back to the river, Ombissu said to Mekbill, "Well, there you are. Now you know. Not only are they unbelievers but they have perfectly rational reasons for being unbelievers. They simply don’t do anything, and have a very logical explanation for not doing anything."
"They must be converted," Mekbill said tersely. "I will bless them at the first available opportunity".
"It is not a good idea, Mekbill. I know you are acting on the King’s orders, but he could never have envisaged a people like these. These are good people, Mekbill, and they are happy. Why not leave them that way?"
"The gods created them, and the gods must be thanked."
Ombissu sighed. He knew that it was impossible to change Me
kbill’s thinking.
"Just promise me one thing, Mekbill - don’t do anything stupid. Just promise me that."
Mekbill said nothing and Ombissu became vaguely alarmed. As events transpired, he was right to be alarmed.
Chapter 25
Reffurio and Wath-Moll were discussing uniforms. The hunters had been intrigued by the cloth that the sailors wore.
Reffurio explained: "It comes from an animal that lives in the mountains. In order to keep itself warm, it is hairy. Once a year we catch them and cut off the hairs. From these we make the cloth. The colours come from various dyes."
The idea of a hairy animal was strange to Wath-Moll; there were none in his warm country. He also found it difficult to understand the process involved in making the cloth, his understanding not being helped by Reffurio’s rather sketchy knowledge of the techniques.
Then Wath-Moll turned to the uniforms themselves. Why was Reffurio’s uniform more elaborate than those of the sailors? Why was Ombissu’s elaborate but different from Reffurio’s?
"It’s about power," Reffurio explained patiently. "The greater your power the more elaborate your uniform. I hold power over the sailors. In a way, Ombissu holds power over me. The King, who wears the most elaborate uniform of all, holds power over us all."
Wath-Moll understood the concept, but was unimpressed.
"I am the leader of the octet but I don’t have power - not really. I say we do this or do that but if it did not meet with the approval of the group it would not get done."
Reffurio answered, "In a large complex society like ours that would not work. You need leaders and the led. A society that only made decisions that required universal approval would stagnate very quickly."
Wath-Moll listened to this explanation in silence. There was so much that was strange, so much that he did not understand.
On another occasion they were discussing their weapons. It had taken several tens of days, but now Wath-Moll had a working knowledge of the sailors’ language, certainly enough to discuss the relative merits of bows and rifles. Reffurio had given Wath-Moll his rifle who was studying it carefully. He noted the long bronze barrel, the wooden stock, the intricate firing mechanism and the shielded trigger.
"What causes the bang?" he asked.
Reffurio produced a small leather pouch, opened it and produced a bullet. He pointed to its base.
"In here is a black powder. When the hammer strikes it, it makes the bang and sends the bullet down the barrel."
"Why does it make the bang?"
"The black powder explodes."
"What makes it do that?"
"I have no idea."
"You mean it's magic."
"No, I don't mean it's magic. I mean I don't understand it. There are people - cleverer people than me - who understand it completely. "
"I understand my bow."
"That's because it's simple. This rifle is complicated."
"I don't like the idea of using things I don't understand."
"It's called progress, Wath-Moll. Ideas are developed upon ideas so things get more and more complicated. It doesn't matter if you don't know how something works as long as you know how to use it."
"It's still magic and the people that invent these complicated things are magicians."
"Well, maybe they are. There's nothing wrong in that."
"Perhaps not. But these rifles have their limitations. You cannot make these bullets yourself so when you no longer have any the rifles are useless. When we run short of arrows we make some more. When my bow loses its power I will make another one."
"This is true, but we have plenty of bullets. It is unlikely that we will run out on this journey, and although you can fire your arrows incredibly quickly - much quicker than we can fire - a rifle has the greater range. And a bullet fired from a rifle is much more likely to penetrate the hide of some of your enemies."
"What enemies?" Reffurio asked in surprise. "Our only enemies are the slashers and they are small with a thin skin. An arrow easily kills them."
"What do you mean - what enemies? We met this huge predator just up the coast. You must get them down here. It was enormous - greeny-brown with a huge head, a huge mouth, lots of very long and sharp teeth, and runs like the wind."
"That sounds like a speed-dragon," Wath-Moll said indifferently. "Where did you say you saw it?"
"About a day’s sail north of here - near the base of the mountains. I assume you get them round here."
"We’ve never seen one here - they are quite rare. We met one on the journey, though. We had to kill it."
"Kill it? How could you kill one of those? They’re terrifying."
Wath-Moll smiled. "They look terrifying but, in fact, they are not dangerous. Well, they are to flatheads but not to us."
"Oh yes? And how do you make that out?"
Wath-Moll explained. "When they run they do so in a straight line. They find it difficult to swerve. Now most of the time they aren’t interested in us - we don’t provide enough meat - but once in a while, for no reason that I understand, they notice us. Then they charge. We step aside and fire black arrows into the open mouth - they aren’t very bright and they always have their mouths open. They collapse almost immediately."
"And you’ve done this?"
"Twice. Once with this octet and once with my previous octet."
This gave Reffurio something to think about. It was obvious that Wath-Moll was telling the truth. Reffurio had listened to enough boasting to recognise the truth when he heard it. He was glad he and Wath-Moll were friends. In fact he was glad they were friends with this resourceful and brave octet. And with that thought came the start of an idea.
He was still thinking of the idea and wondering how to put it over to Ombissu as he ate his portion of the most recent kill during the evening meal. Eln-Tika and Wath-Moll had joined them and they were idly talking about the plans for the following day. The hunters were proposing a hunt to which two of the sailors had been invited. Ombissu and Reffurio had just decided it was time the junior officers experienced this hugely enjoyable activity and they had just picked Voyalla and Darbolin, to those officers’ great pleasure.
It was Mekbill who suddenly changed the mood.
He said to Ombissu, "I think this would be an opportune moment to bless these chanits. They are now sufficiently familiar with our customs to be brought into the faith."
"You think so, do you?" Ombissu said dubiously. "Oh, very well, fetch that box of yours and do the deed."
Ombissu watched with a faint sense of unease as Mekbill returned with the blessing box and proceeded to make ready his bottles and lotions. He could see that Eln-Tika and Wath-Moll were watching with interest and - in the case of Wath-Moll - with some puzzlement.
Ombissu decided to speak.
"You remember we spoke of our religion a few days ago? Well, it would make Mekbill very happy if you would allow him to bless you. At worst it does no harm. At best, if you believe, it does a great deal of good. You have nothing to lose."
Wath-Moll and Eln-Tika said nothing but rose to their feet, which Ombissu and Mekbill took as a sign of agreement. When Mekbill was ready he approached Eln-Tika and spoke to her. "I am going to bless you, my dear. After you have been blessed you will be part of our brotherhood. You will be able to participate fully in our great religion." He stepped up to Eln-Tika and dabbed the blessing lotion onto her forehead.
What happened next was such a confusing blur of movement that Ombissu had great difficulty in following it. Eln-Tika stepped back and Wath-Moll, at incredible speed, grabbed his bow and an arrow, fitted the arrow into the bow and pointed it at Mekbill’s chest. Even in this moment of great danger Ombissu somehow managed to note with interest that the arrow had black quills.
For several long seconds nobody moved. Mekbill was frozen in shock, Eln-Tika - the imperturbable Eln-Tika - was still with tension, while Wath-Moll, with ruthless determination on his face, held his bow steady. None of the sailors had move
d at all.
Ombissu said slowly and quietly, "Mekbill, take one step backwards very carefully and place the box slowly on the ground. Then spread your arms out in a gesture of submissiveness."
To Ombissu’s astonishment, Mekbill wanted to argue. "I must complete the blessing. If we could speak to her it should be all right."
"Mekbill, don’t be a fool. If you don’t do as I say you will be dead - and you will deserve to die for being a fool. Now step slowly backwards."
To Ombissu’s relief, Mekbill did as he was told. He removed the box from his neck and placed it on the ground. He spread his arms outwards with the palms upwards. Wath-Moll did not move.
"Wath-Moll," Ombissu pleaded, "it is over. You can put your bow away. Our priest made a mistake for which he will apologise. Please."
Eln-Tika said a few words to Wath-Moll who lowered his bow.
"Thank you," Ombissu said. He turned to Mekbill. "You will now apologise. You are to say you made a mistake and that it will not happen again."
Mekbill was about to protest but changed his mind on seeing the expression on Ombissu’s face. He faced Eln-Tika and repeated Ombissu’s words.
Eln-Tika touched her head in a gesture of understanding then said, "Perhaps it is I who should apologise. It is obvious now that you meant no harm. I did not expect to be touched. Touching is something we rarely do. Certainly we do not expect to be touched by strangers. You must explain this ceremony to me. What is this substance you wish to put on my forehead? Is it magic?"
Ombissu looked expectantly at Mekbill. These were good questions. This was no ignorant savage he was trying to convert, but then Ombissu knew that already, although he suspected that Mekbill did not. He could see that Mekbill, for once, was at a loss for words. Ombissu took over the situation with the skill of a diplomat.
The First Riders Page 18
