The Inferior

by Peadar O'Guilin

  The chief hoped it would be enough. These were the best he had left. Sodasi and Kamala, the slingers; Sanjay, who could catch Stopmouth in a sprint and had uncanny accuracy when throwing the warped spear he’d made for himself; Vishwakarma, a brute of a man by these people’s standards, who ignored pain to defeat skilled opponents; Kubar, the ex-priest, oldest of the group, but smart enough to stay alive in a fight…and then there was Varaha. He still wore the little wooden necklace he’d come with and the same knowing grin. It turned Stopmouth’s stomach now. Varaha alone was unafraid of the chief–or indeed anything, as far as Stopmouth could tell. Except maybe marriage. He was the only unmarried adult man left in the Tribe, in spite of what he’d said once before about choosing a wife.

  Only Rockface was missing, and perhaps that was for the best: even if he’d been able to run, this would be a hunt such as the big man had never seen and probably wouldn’t want to see. None of this group would be charging into danger. The chief couldn’t afford to lose them.

  Stopmouth glanced up at the Roof, seeing how the panels darkened. It was time to leave. Nobody was there to wish them well and he missed the comfort of flicking a drop of blood at a loved one as a promise to return.

  The hunters moved off as he’d taught them, passing through the double line of posts topped with beast skulls that now surrounded Headquarters. He winced at every clumsy noise.

  Each hunter carried spear and knife and sling–the customary weapons of humans since the time of the Traveller. Oh, these people couldn’t hunt in the traditional way–it took a lifetime to acquire that skill! But they’d used the time won in the battle to learn to fight as one being, to co-operate as no humans ever had. Still, they weren’t ready. Not even these, his best and brightest. But time was short and people were going hungry.

  Down the streets they moved, never too fast for the weaker ones. Each member of the group took up a position in the formation he’d worked out with Kubar: the best slingers ran at the sides; spearmen took the front, with knife men just behind, ready at a moment’s notice to duck inside and gut the enemy. Their footsteps were silent over the bright patches of moss.

  As they advanced, the streets narrowed, becoming twisty and unpredictable. Small, mean houses crowded the roadside. The few roofs that hadn’t collapsed sloped upwards into little points that no one could possibly sleep on. A vision came to Stopmouth of this place in the time of the ancestors. Humans lived in every building. Women chatted across the width of the alleys from those little windows while their children ran in the streets. Everywhere was thronged like Centre Square on the day of a flesh meeting, and the scent of people and cook fires perfumed the air. Nobody watched the shadows for attack. Nobody had to.

  How did they die? he wondered. Certainly Indrani knew, but he’d sworn not to ask about it. The temptation, however, tore at him constantly.

  Suddenly Sodasi yelped and fell out of position. She had the presence of mind to call ‘Tongue!’

  The formation reacted instantly. The closest knife man ducked in to cut the tongue while spearmen held the charging Slimer at bay. Its weight knocked Kubar backwards to where more tongues emerged from windows to ensnare him. Like a swarm, the other humans turned on the owners of these tongues, slashing and stabbing. One of the Slimers called out: ‘Save me, brothers! Come to me, brothers! Oh, the pain!’

  Shut up! thought Stopmouth. He opened his mouth to call off the attack, but luckily Varaha ended the creature’s pleas with a thrust straight through its chest.

  ‘We have to eat,’ Stopmouth told himself. He knew he’d have to make a proper effort to learn the language of his Tribe, because he’d never be able to take the Talker hunting again.

  The humans suffered a few casualties of their own: one slinger with a sprained ankle and a bad case of nerves; Kubar unconscious through lack of air; one of Yama’s friends bruised and limping from a human slingshot to the back of the leg. Stopmouth himself had felt a stone whistle past his ear during the attack. ‘We still have a lot to learn,’ he commented. But he cheered along with the others, for they’d come less than a thousand paces from Headquarters and already they’d filled their quota.

  ‘I’ll show you how we celebrate,’ he said. He slit open a steaming corpse and removed the first internal organ he could find. He had no idea what it was and didn’t care. He sliced it into little squares for the others to share.

  ‘These bits are always for the hunters,’ he said.

  They chewed, beaming. Only Varaha refused.

  ‘Not after all that action!’ he said.

  ‘You’re not even panting,’ said Stopmouth. ‘Go on, you’ve earned your share.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘That’s not the point!’

  Kamala intervened. ‘He’s just private, Chief,’ she said. ‘A lot of people are still ashamed at the way we eat here.’

  She ducked her head at Varaha’s beaming approval.

  Stopmouth thought about ordering the man to eat, but hated acting the bully, whatever personal animosity he might have felt. Besides, what Kamala had said was true.

  ‘Let’s butcher these and get them home,’ he said.

  Back at Headquarters he made great show of cutting up the flesh and sharing it out. People listened with rapt attention while his hunters told their stories. They laughed as Varaha described Kubar’s knock on the head as ‘falling asleep on the job’. He continued loudly, ‘Nor was this the first time. Just ask his wife!’

  They pretended to be scandalized and maybe, in the Roof, they would have been. But Varaha had read them correctly and bathed in their laughter.

  The crowd began to disperse and the teacher turned to leave. Stopmouth caught him by the arm.

  ‘Chief?’

  ‘Are you still not hungry, Varaha? You forgot your share of the meat.’

  The man smiled his handsome smile. ‘So kind of you to remember.’

  ‘Varaha…what are you doing with my wife? Ever since the battle, you’ve been…you and her—’

  Varaha surprised him by laughing in his face. ‘Oh, I’ve seen this before! This is how your brother started with you, isn’t it? He couldn’t hold onto his wives and the next thing he was sending you and that buffoon, Rockface, off by yourselves to take on the Armourbacks.’

  ‘How…how could you know that?’

  ‘The Roof sees everything. Surely your woman told you as much?’ Varaha’s voice turned hard and his eyes glittered. It was a side of him that he’d never revealed before but must have been there all along. ‘Now, listen to me, Chief. If you’re falling asleep on the job like Kubar, that’s none of my doing. My advice to you is to wait.’ The scorn left his voice, to be replaced by what Stopmouth now recognized as false friendship. ‘A few more days, Chief, and the problem will just go away. I promise you.’

  The teacher left and Stopmouth found himself alone with Varaha’s share of the flesh still in his hands. What had he meant by ‘the problem going away’? What? Stopmouth leaned against a wall, fighting some of the most horrific thoughts of his life. He hadn’t felt so lonely since his mother died.

  As if to mock that memory, laughter erupted from a nearby annexe. ‘Who’s there?’ he asked. He stepped under an arch to find that it was only some children, playing at hunting. Somebody had fashioned a little bag of Slimer hide and stuffed it with moss. Five or six boys and a pair of girls ran with it here and there, stabbing with little spears while Rockface shouted encouragement to them in Human. Everyone was screaming with mirth, Rockface most of all. A pair of infants too small for the game poked at the tattoos on his skin, while another rested in the crook of one massive arm.

  ‘Do you see, Stopmouth?’ he boomed. ‘These ones are already better than the adults! These are worth my time!’

  Stopmouth wanted to ask who’d made the spears, but then he remembered the perfect set of miniature weapons Rockface had created for his lost son, Littleknife. The chief realized his friend would be an ancestor after all, for his teaching wo
uld pass through these children and into every generation that followed them.

  Stopmouth handed over the flesh. ‘Varaha didn’t want this.’

  ‘He never does,’ said Rockface, helping himself to an eyeball. ‘Mmmm. Better than Armourback, hey?’ Then he was shouting, ‘No, Shankar! No! Use the point! Ah! Good boy!’ To Stopmouth: ‘He’s a strange man, hey? That Varaha. Do you think your Indrani likes him? Is that it? You shouldn’t let her spend so much time with him. It’s not good for the chief. Remember Wallbreaker.’

  Stopmouth did. All the time. It was like his brother sat at his shoulder, watching everything he did. And more than that: he’d had a growing feeling, a certainty, that one day he’d meet his brother again, although that was impossible.

  ‘You shouldn’t let him get away with it either,’ said Rockface. ‘You know he leaves Headquarters every day by himself around this time? Down the ladder at the river window. That’s probably when he meets her.’

  Stopmouth felt sick. What if it was true? What would the chief do about it? He couldn’t be sure, but for his own sanity he had to know what was going on. He had to.

  Without another word, he left Rockface and ran full tilt for the river side of the building. Sure enough, when he looked out of the window there, he saw a human figure in the distance, disappearing in among the houses. It was against his own rules, but without a second thought he plunged down the ladder and ran after Varaha.

  Soon he caught up, but kept a careful distance, tracking his quarry through the streets next to the river. Varaha never looked behind him, causing Stopmouth to scold himself for being such a bad teacher. How could an otherwise good hunter be so stupid? Did he think himself an ancestor who could just ignore all possible threats? Still, the chief was glad of the advantage it gave him.

  The streets narrowed further and most of the buildings had surviving balconies, shielding both men from the Roof. Stopmouth checked behind to make sure he wasn’t being stalked in turn. When he looked back, he saw Varaha had disappeared.

  He froze, wondering if he’d been spotted after all, if the other man now lay in wait for him round a corner. He stepped forward, eyes flicking onto the ground for clues, and up again. A strange window appeared in the wall, so low it was at street level. The moss in front of it had been scraped away in a few places.

  Stopmouth crouched down, wincing at the little twinge in his leg left over from the battle. He made the elemental mistake of blocking some of the light cast into the window with his head, but he needn’t have worried. Varaha was too busy to see anything. He stood with his back to the chief in a small room, with stairs leading up into the rest of the house. He was crouching in front of a massive chunk of masonry, easily as large as a man. Varaha grunted and heaved once. The chief stifled a gasp as the stone left the floor and was thrown to one side. How could one man do such a thing? And yet he remembered now how Varaha never seemed to tire like the others, never broke sweat, was never afraid. The man pulled handfuls of white wafers from a previously hidden niche in the wall. Stopmouth had seen their like somewhere. He couldn’t quite remember where until Varaha started stuffing them into his mouth. Of course! The rations he’d found in the wrecked Globe. He’d tried eating them, but had thought them too powdery, too sweet to be food.

  Stopmouth felt revulsion rising in his chest. Varaha seemed to have stacks and stacks of the stuff. He was hoarding it. He would have to answer for this crime, no matter how strong he was. Stopmouth was about to squeeze through the window after the teacher when the man spoke.

  ‘You want some?’

  Indrani was standing halfway down the stairs, her hands again over her belly. Stopmouth froze. He felt as if he were floating out of his body, like when his legs were broken and his world was all pain and nightmare. If she kissed Varaha…If she looked at him the way she’d looked at Stopmouth only thirty nights previously…Stopmouth gripped the shaft of his spear, but was saved from murder by the bitterness in Indrani’s voice.

  ‘You persist in this hypocrisy, Varaha.’

  ‘What are you talking about, woman?’

  ‘I hear you made a kill today and yet you still refuse to eat flesh.’

  ‘You think I’m a savage? After saving your lives? You and all your precious spirit-lovers?’

  Indrani sat down on the stairs glaring at him. ‘Yes, I think you’re a savage. Oh, I was one back then too—’

  ‘Indeed,’ he drawled, ‘the chairman’s daughter. The face of the Committee!’

  ‘I believed in it,’ insisted Indrani. ‘In everything I did then. I can’t deny that, much as it shames me…’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. It hasn’t mattered since the day you shot my Globe out of the sky.’

  ‘Oh, stop whining about that. I let you live when it would have been so easy to finish you off. I got into a lot of trouble for it. And now, lucky you, they want you back.’

  ‘Shall I tell you why?’ she asked.

  Varaha looked at her in sudden fear. ‘I don’t want to know.’

  ‘Maybe I should tell you anyway.’

  ‘You do, and I swear I’ll make sure your pet savage dies before I do! Look! See this?’ He indicated a section of concrete wall. ‘That’s his head.’ A rapid punch. A cloud of dust round a new hole.

  Indrani struggled for control. Eventually she said, ‘You promised not to touch him, remember? I could have revealed your identity to the Tribe at any time.’

  He sneered. ‘But you wanted to keep your options open. Lucky for you during that battle that you did.’ He placed the rest of his food packets in a hole in the floor. Then he began hiding the crumbs and other evidence. Blood dripped from his knuckles where he’d punched the wall. ‘This whole operation was my idea, you know. I thought I’d enjoy watching these snivelling pacifists die. But believe me, it’s nothing compared to the pleasure of seeing them betray their ideals first and then dying. I never expected that.’

  ‘You were always the cruellest of us. You belong here.’

  ‘No, my sweet. I belong up there. Where I can watch. And yet…there is something in what you say. Seeing them so close, smelling their blood and shit as some beast grabs them in its teeth…Oh, hide your disgust. And you called me a hypocrite! You sicken me.’

  ‘We need to change this place,’ said Indrani. ‘It’s wrong, all wrong.’

  ‘Are you saying the Deserters didn’t get what they deserved? You’re joking.’

  ‘Oh, by all the gods, Varaha, the last of the Deserters died lifetimes ago! Are we religious that we believe they keep being reborn here as their own descendants? We’re the guilty ones now, as bad as they ever were. We’re killing them and all the beast prisoners as surely as if we lifted the spears ourselves!’

  ‘Well, little miss chairman’s daughter’–Varaha’s grin was fierce–‘we’ll just close it all down, shall we? Deny the masses their entertainment right when we need to keep them quiet? Strange coming from you when thousands are here by your say-so.’

  Stopmouth’s jaw dropped. He knew the Roof people watched his world, but never before realized they did so for entertainment. They’d sentenced the Deserters to die, and instead of honourably volunteering them, they’d amused themselves–amused!–with the deaths, the sufferings, the unending fear and hunger of generations. His heart sped up, a furious thumping in his chest. Not even the wasting of food could be so obscene. Stopmouth could think of nothing worse, nothing! Except that Indrani had played a part in the whole thing. How could he lie beside her again? She and those like her had caused the deaths of his mother, his father and everybody he’d ever held dear.

  Now he watched her hang her head, and strained to hear as her voice became a whisper. ‘I told you, I want to put it right. I’ve changed.’

  ‘Sure! And you’ll change back tonight.’

  ‘T-tonight?’

  ‘Or never. It’s your choice. I have it all arranged. As we agreed. It’s tonight or you can stay here and rot. And I swear, if you let me down, I will kill him.’


  Indrani bowed her head. ‘Tonight then,’ she said meekly. ‘We leave tonight.’

  And the chief bit his own knuckles to stop himself crying out.

  Stopmouth sent the orphans off to another chamber in Headquarters and was waiting for her when she got back, arms folded; clasped tight to hide the swarm of emotions tearing at him. When Indrani finally walked in, no words would come to him. She belonged to a group that sent creatures here to die or to kill in entertaining ways. He imagined the eyes that had watched him his entire life; he heard sniggers as he’d cried over Mossheart and scorn at the generations of savages who gave their flesh so that other savages might keep the game alive. He knew he should hate her, that he should punish her in some way.

  But the sight of her sad, beautiful face made that impossible. She looked much older than when he’d first seen her; so tired about the eyes, so drained by all that had happened to her. He remembered then how she’d saved his legs and the way Wallbreaker had paid her back. How much she’d suffered in the care of his Tribe!

  Indrani had already been punished and there was no doubting her sincerity when she’d told Varaha she’d changed.

  ‘You ought to be more careful,’ she told him quietly.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Your head,’ she said. ‘You didn’t pull it back far enough from the window.’

  She sat down on the moss with her face in trembling hands. ‘I wanted to tell you, Stopmouth, but wasn’t sure how. I’m glad you saw. Now that you know what I’ve done, it’ll make it easier…’

  The chief felt drained of emotion. When he spoke, his own voice sounded empty to him. ‘What was Varaha saying to you. What’s happening tonight?’

  Tears peeped between her fingers. Still she didn’t look at him. ‘He can get a Globe to take me out. They’ve already interfered too much here, so they’ll have to make sure the other Globes are elsewhere when they do it.’

  ‘But, Indrani, I thought I’d found a home for you, for us. I thought—’

  She took her hands away and looked up at him, eyes swollen. ‘You thought wrong! So wrong. And you should have known better. Have you forgotten the Diggers? I’m sure they haven’t forgotten you. Nor have they stopped spreading. None of my orphans will be old enough to hunt by the time those creatures get here. A thousand days, or two thousand. Nothing we’ve built will matter then. But up there, Stopmouth, that’s where I’ll find a way to make up for my crimes and keep you all safe. Up there!’