Collected Fiction

by Henry Kuttner

  “They didn’t do it, then.”

  “No. They waited. Each generation thought it could live out its own span. Each generation let the problem go on to its children. And the children thought the same. In the end, the beast-minds were too dull to comprehend.

  “The creatures that had been the First Race remembered only the Flame, and they found their way to the cavern where you saw them. Their nearness to the radiation keeps them alive, and they’ve lived and bred there in the dark for a long time.”

  Raft frowned.

  “But the cat-people. How did they come into being?”

  Craddock’s eyes held a touch of deep horror.

  “I created them. I—wakened the Flame.”

  CHAPTER VIII

  Kharn, The Terrible

  VISUALIZING that scene of thirty years ago, Raft could picture a younger Craddock lost in wonder before the secrets he had uncovered, feeling a dangerous exaltation burning in his mind, and, of all the world, the only man who knew of that tremendous, intergalactic Force that blazed hidden in the jungles. Yes, he could understand why Craddock might have been tempted to meddle with forbidden forces.

  “I wakened the Flame. The records I had found, they told the way. I couldn’t understand all of it, but I understood enough. Too much. That was when—” Craddock held up his maimed hands—

  “I succeeded and I failed,” Craddock continued. “For the Flame wakened raging with power, too much power, though it was far beneath its—maximum. I was lucky to escape as I did.”

  The worn face held horror again.

  “Against that flaming terror I watched my hands change. I saw the living flesh alter. I saw human tissues writhe and blacken into something that was—was a blasphemy, Brian. Even as I ran, I could feel those—things—where my fingers had been. I could feel them—writhing!”

  He drew a deep breath, went on more steadily.

  “I escaped into the jungle, and there I amputated—those horrors. I had my surgical kit. There wasn’t sulfa in those days, but I managed. I thought then I’d never go back to Paititi. My career was ruined, of course; my hands were—not hands.

  “Yet something kept me in the Amazon Basin. I was too close to the Flame once; part of it touched me, and I could never leave Brazil after that. Sometimes I thought I could hear Curupuri in the Jutahy drums.”

  He nodded.

  “Then I did hear it, after thirty years. Parror brought something of the Flame with him when he came down the river, and the Indios sensed it. That incredible vitality sent its message through the jungle. When I saw Parror for the first time, in the hospital, I felt J;hat same life-energy I had found in Paititi. It was faint, but I couldn’t mistake it. I was afraid.

  “Parror came to me in the laboratory and gave me my notebook. He’d traced me through that. There’s the woods-telegraph, and he knew my name. He’d left Paititi on a crazy chance, hoping I was still alive, hoping to find me.

  “And he succeeded. He told me I must come back to Paititi with him, and of course I said no. Then you came along the hospital hall.”

  “I remember,” Raft nodded. “But you were alone in the lab.”

  “Remember Parror’s faster metabolism. He could move at tremendous speed when he wanted to, in our slower world. He had to restrict himself and do everything in slow motion when we were watching. He simply ran out so fast you couldn’t see him. Later, he hypnotized me with his mirror. Though I knew what I was doing, I couldn’t help myself. Not till I woke here in his castle. Now I know the truth, but I’m helpless.”

  “What is the truth? You mean the cat-people evolved in thirty years from primitives?”

  “From the jaguars of the valley,” Craddock supplemented. “But it was not merely thirty years. Thirty million or billion, with the radiations pouring out from the Flame. Remember I told you a man could live a lifetime in a second? What took place in our world over a period of eons, happened in Paititi in three decades. The metabolism, the life-rate, was speeded up so enormously that the jaguars evolved in hours or days to savages. And thence to reasoning beings. Their paws became hands.

  “They learned to walk upright. If we could have looked down on Paititi from above, in those times, we would have seen the shapes actually flowing, living flesh melting and changing.” He paused, glancing at his hands.

  “Yes,” he went on, after a time. “The cat-people evolved and became intelligent. They created a culture of their own based on the older culture that had preceded them. The other life-forms in the valley reached dead ends. Only one species becomes dominant in any milieu. Here it was the cat.

  “Only lately, the Flame has begun to sink again. When I wakened it, I gave it an artificial stimulus, and its flare-up will die as swiftly. In another generation or two, it will sink beneath the danger-level, and then the malignant radiations that destroyed the First Race will come pouring out.”

  QUICKLY Raft sucked in his breath. “I see. I’m getting it now, finally.”

  “Yes. That’s why Parror abducted me. Because the records of the First Race that held the secret of the Flame no longer exist. I left them in the cavern then, and they were destroyed by that horror. As I would have been destroyed if I’d stayed longer. Parror thought I knew how to waken the Flame.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I could not understand all the records,” Craddock admitted. “I told you that. I can waken the Flame, but I can’t control it. That’s the danger.”

  “Not even Parror will risk that,” Janissa suggested. “Until he finds the knowledge he seeks, he won’t take chances.”

  Craddock gestured urgently. “Someone is coming. Parror, I think.”

  Janissa touched the mirror. “We can speak no more, then, until he is gone. But tell him nothing, Craddock.”

  “How can I?” the man asked. Then gray clouds blotted out his face.

  Raft leaned back, realizing that he was sweating and exhausted. Janissa watched him sympathetically.

  “It is not an easy road unless you know the way,” she told him. “But it is a road we must take again.”

  “Yeah. I’d like to get my hands on Parror personally. Or see him in my rifle-sights.”

  “Perhaps you will, later.” The cat-face was somber. “You see, there is still danger. Craddock did not understand all the old records, but he read them.”

  “So?”

  “The memory is in his mind. It is forgotten now, hidden away, but it is not lost. Such memories can be recovered. And if they are, Parror will know how to use the wisdom of the First Race.”

  “He can dig up Craddock’s memories, eh? Mnemonics—hypnosis, I suppose.”

  “Not easily.” The girl looked troubled. “He is working on a device that will aid him.”

  Raft’s lips tightened. “But if he succeeds, he’ll try to waken the Flame?”

  “He will, and there is the peril,” Janissa said. “The First Race supposedly learned how to control Curupuri, but their experiment was never performed. How do we know they found the answer?”

  “We don’t.”

  Janissa moved uneasily.

  “It may mean destruction. The Flame unchecked, raging through Paititi. Many of us think as the First Race did, that we can live our lives safely, and let our children make the test. But the Flame sinks fast. The waters run more swiftly than in the old days. We do not know when the danger-level will be reached. And—and the king has not yet decided.”

  “Which side does he favor?”

  “Who knows?” she asked, shrugging. “We cannot read Darum’s mind. Many in Paititi want freedom to live as they always have. They are willing to procrastinate rather than risk extinction. But there are others who think differently.

  “I, for one, do not know, Brian. I know only this: I have my trust. I am of royal blood, and must guard the Flame. Against Parror if need be! When the king decides, I’ll obey him. Meanwhile, Craddock has the answer locked in his brain. An answer that may mean death or life.”

  Raft stare
d toward the open window and the cloudy veil that hung above the great deep beyond. His voice was low.

  “There’s one thing, Janissa. I’m in this game now. I don’t know quite where I’ll fit, but I’m not just a spectator any more.” His eyes hardened. “I don’t like being pushed around. Darum—Parror—even you—have been treating Craddock and me like chessmen. And there wasn’t much we could do about it, because we didn’t know the answers.”

  She watched him unblinkingly. He went on.

  “We were dragged into this. What we want most is to get out, back to our own world. If you’ll help us, we’ll help you. So let me tell you this straight. You don’t mind if Parror gets the secret of controlling the Flame, but you don’t want him to use it. Not without the king’s permission. Right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Fine. Then it’s simply a matter of convincing Darum that I’m Brian Raft. He had me captured because he thought I was Craddock.”

  HER green eyes flashed. “Darum has left the castle, with a band of soldiers. I’ve learned that.”

  “Then he believed me! He went to get Craddock himself.” Raft hesitated. No, he realized, the king had not taken his word for the substitution. Instead, Darum was investigating the possibility, cutting the Gordian knot of uncertainty by going directly to the source—Parror.

  “Parror is resourceful,” Janissa said. “I don’t know. She shook her head, the soft curls stirring with her movement.

  “Well, what am I supposed to do? Sit here waiting till Darum gets back?”

  The girl pondered.

  “Let me use the mirror again,” she said at last. She took out the tiny lens, bending her head to stare intently into those cloudy depths. Raft saw her start.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Wait.” She held up a warning hand. “It is difficult to get through. There’s a barrier . . .”

  She straightened, thrusting the mirror back into her dress.

  “Craddock is tranced,” she said. “Not the spell of the mirror, but a kind of hypnosis. Parror is taking him somewhere—I can’t see where. But they have left the castle.”

  Raft bit at his lower lip. “Can’t you communicate with Craddock at all?”

  “I can catch only a few stray thoughts. Not much.”

  “Can you find out where they’re going? Try again, Janissa. If we could discover that, it might help.”

  She took out the lens, bent above it in an agony of concentration. Raft saw diamonds of perspiration glittering on her forehead. “It’s hard. His mind is veiled.”

  “Try!”

  She let the mirror drop, amazement in her eyes. “No. Kharn—no! He’d never go there!” Raft gripped the girl’s slim arms. “Kharn? Is that where the Flame is?”

  Janissa drew away, shivering.

  “Oh, no. I thought he might take the unseen road, but to go to Kharn. He must have some method of protection I know nothing about. Or else it’s suicide.”

  “What is Kharn? Where is it?”

  “At the source of the great river,” she said. “The river that flows here, under Doirada Castle. That is Kharn. But no man goes there.”

  “Why not?”

  Janissa seemed to draw inward into herself.

  “The Garden of Kharn has life which isn’t like ours. There are beings in Kharn who are—I don’t know what. I’ve never been in the Garden. But I’ve been near it, though. I’ve felt something reaching out to touch my mind, something cold and crawling and deadly.”

  Raft uttered a harsh laugh.

  “I’d be willing to face any ghost if I had my rifle back.”

  “Kharn is unhealthy,” the girl said quietly. “If Parror has found a way to protect himself against the Garden, he’s wiser than I thought. But I fear for Craddock.”

  “Why? Parror will take mighty good care of Dan Craddock, till he gets the information he wants. Apparently this Kharn is taboo. Which is fine for Parror. He can take his time getting the information he wants.”

  A change had come over Janissa.

  “This alters things, Brian. When Darum reaches Parror’s castle, he’ll find Parror gone. But if he knew his quarry goes to Kharn, he might intercept him, if he goes fast.” She rose to her feet in a lithe, smooth motion. “Yes, this changes the face of our plans. I must get to Darum and warn him.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Raft said.

  “No, you cannot. You couldn’t leave by my path.” She waved toward the window. “And there are guards outside the door.”

  “I can take care of them.”

  “You are not that strong. I must move fast, and alone.”

  Raft caught her arm as she moved away. “At least tell me how to open that door!”

  THE elfin face smiled up at him maliciously.

  “Lay your hand on the brightest spot of light. But you’d better wait here for my return, Brian. A door sometimes has more than one lock.”

  They were on the balcony now, and Janissa swung a slim leg over the railing. “You’ll be back?” Raft said.

  “I promise.”

  “Her mind is like the wind,” Darum had said. How much could Raft trust this cat-girl of an alien species?

  He gripped her arms hard. He drew her toward him. That slim, strong body tensed in revolt, but Raft’s mouth came down hard and covered hers.

  After a moment he let her go. There was a touch of mockery in his eyes now.

  “At least, you may not find it so easy to forget now,” he said.

  Janissa touched her lips with questioning fingers. She stared at him.

  “No,” she said enigmatically. “I shall not forget—that.”

  She slipped over the balustrade and was gone, writhing to avoid the keen blades, clinging precariously to the face of the stone. Raft watched her descend till her figure vanished around a turret. Then, still undecided, he returned to his luxurious prison.

  He had solved nothing.

  He had learned a great deal, but nothing that could be of immediate use. Except—he nodded—the key to the door. That might be of very real help. Unless he wanted to sit here quietly until Janissa or the king returned.

  He found a heavy metal statuette, wrapped it in a silken scarf, and went to the door. He stared at the translucent panel, seeing now that glowing flecks of light moved slowly within the oval, like pallid moon-flames caught in a lazy current.

  The brightest spot of light.

  He found it and laid his palm over its glow. But nothing happened. The fleck slid from under his hand. He tried again, with no result.

  A door has more than one lock. That was what she had meant, then. Smiling sourly, Raft tossed his weapon away and returned to the balcony.

  Janissa had descended, but he could not follow her. He had no illusions on that score. Nor would any rope he might improvise reach to firm footing. He bent and tried to break off one of the swords. All he accomplished was the wounding of a finger.

  Raft swore softly and savagely. After that he felt a little better. He dropped on a pile of cushions and tried to plan. It was difficult. What he wanted, obviously, was to get out of Paititi and take Craddock with him. The way to do that—what was the method?

  He knew the road out. Once back in the Amazon jungle, he’d take his chance, even without a rifle. But escaping wouldn’t solve Raft’s problems now.

  The amulets, Parror’s, and the one taken by the king. They, apparently, gave the possessor power to live outside Paititi, to slow down the metabolism to a speed normal to life beyond the valley’s cliffs. But the effects were variable. Back in the hospital, Parror had once moved too fast for human eyes to observe.

  Suppose, then, Raft thought, he and Craddock managed to escape. They might reach the Jutahy. They might get a week’s start, or a month’s. But in a day pursuers from Paititi could overtake them. With the aid of the amulets, Parror or the king could flash through the jungle in pursuit, and kill or hypnotize with Janissa’s trick mirror. And back he and Craddock would go to Paititi.
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br />   So he was up against a dead end there.

  It was difficult to judge time. The sun didn’t move appreciably, and the secondhand on his watch went so slowly he couldn’t see its progress. He was living at an abnormally increased rate of speed here, which meant that in Paititi he was on more nearly equal terms with the cat-people. Once outside, that slight advantage would be instantly lost, as his metabolism slowed to its former rate.

  The psychology of a feline race—that might be the answer . . .

  Raft was lost in thought for a long time. He roused when the panel opened to admit not Vann, but a guard and a page with a food-cart. After the meal he again fell into his reverie. It should be night now, but the days in this land would be as long as the nights, abnormally long.

  Basically the people of Paititi were feline, as he was of simian stock. Monkeys are curious. The instinct of curiosity is strong in the human race. But cats lose interest quickly. They are not builders. They had taken possession of these castles, reared long ago by the mysterious First Race, and renovated. Cats were essentially hedonists. But the factor of intelligence was a strong influence, and one whose strength Raft could not estimate.

  Could he base any plans on rules of logic, in a land where the human factor was so alien to his own experience? A race of cats might have unpredictable reactions . . .

  Low, urgent, warning, a wordless murmur whispered softly from across the room.

  CHAPTER IX

  Assassin’s Plot

  RAFT was on his feet facing the doorway before those last echoes had died. The translucent oval was open now, the way of escape clear. But barring his path was a figure, veiled in soft grays, her face hidden, and both loveliness and horror breathed out from beneath the shrouding veils.