The Totems of Abydos

by John Norman

  “Who did this to you?” asked Rodriguez, sternly.

  The Pon pulled back.

  “Note the scarring about the eye sockets,” said Rodriguez, angrily.

  “Yes,” whispered Brenner.

  What had been done there had not been accomplished with surgical neatness. Brenner remembered the bones in the clearing, from the preceding afternoon, the cuts on them, the nicks, where the flesh had been scraped from them, perhaps in some unleashed communal madness, some social passion of mindless vengeance, in some holiday of horror. Brenner turned away from the little thing. He did not want to look at it. It was horrifying enough to look upon one of his own species who had been tortured, or mutilated. It seemed somehow additionally pathetic, if only because so pointless, that an animal, a Pon, should have been treated in this fashion.

  “They did this to you?” said Rodriguez, bitterly.

  The thing shook its head.

  “Do not lie to me,” said Rodriguez. “It was done with deliberation.”

  The Pon pulled the hood again over its head.

  “No!” whispered Rodriguez.

  The Pon backed away, a step.

  “It did it to itself,” said Rodriguez, shuddering.

  “Why?” asked Brenner.

  “There could be many reasons,” said Rodriguez.

  Rodriguez pointed to one of the torches beside the portal.

  “You are going on?” said Brenner.

  “Take it,” said Rodriguez. He seized the other.

  “What do you expect to find here?” asked Brenner.

  “I will show you,” said Rodriguez, the light of the torch moving ahead.

  Quickly Brenner followed him.

  “There!” said Rodriguez after a moment. “There! See!”

  At the end of the large, underground room, they had come to a heavy, broad platform, quite like the one in the open, at the foot of the cliffs. Behind the platform there was a large opening, which might have led into a cavern, or den, or tunnel. What Rodriguez had particularly called Brenner’s attention to was one of two stout posts, set at the front left and right corners of the platform. There had been nothing like these posts at the other platform, the one in the open, by the cliffs. Rodriguez stood at the front, right corner of the platform and lifted his torch. On the top of the post, carved there, painted, very large, indeed., life-size, was the head of an unnaturally huge, terrible beast. The head was broad, and feline. Between the eyes, set rather forward on the head, there were at least eighteen to twenty inches. The iris of the eyes, as the head was painted, was yellow. The pupils were black, narrow and vertical. The eyes had been painted rather in the appearance they might have borne in daylight, rather than at night. Not all features were the same, of course. For example, the head was largely purple, save for the eyes and teeth. Yet, despite such discrepancies, or artistic licenses, there was no mistaking the nature of the beast depicted. It was the same which Brenner had encountered in the forest, that which had followed him to the village. A similar head, carved and painted, surmounted the post at the other front corner of the broad platform. Brenner went and examined it, and then returned to the other side, to rejoin Rodriguez.

  “Occasionally I had suspected some such thing,” said Rodriguez, “but then I would dismiss it.”

  “What is it?” asked Brenner.

  “Look upon the totem of the Pons,” said Rodriguez.

  Chapter 24

  “It is impossible!” said Brenner, looking up at the great, carved head on the post.

  “Not at all,” said Rodriguez. “And that is the least interesting thing about the matter.”

  “I do not understand,” said Brenner.

  “Do you mind if I look a bit into this cavern, or tunnel, or whatever it is behind the platform?” asked Rodriguez. “Such things tend to make me a bit nervous.”

  Brenner shook his head.

  Rodriguez thrust his torch into a nearby rack, or holder. There were many such things about, particularly on the walls. At times, Brenner conjectured, the room might be well lit with such devices. This place did not have look of disuse about it which characterized the platform in the open. Rodriguez then removed the weapon from his shoulder and armed it.

  “Come along,” he said. “I do not anticipate any danger.”

  Brenner, holding up the torch, followed Rodriguez about the edge of the platform, toward the entrance, or exit, as it might be, in the back wall.

  “If this is a cave,” said Rodriguez, “it is almost bound to be empty. If it is a tunnel, it is almost certain to be sealed off.”

  “Where does it lead?” asked Brenner, after a moment or two. It did, indeed, appear to be some sort of tunnel, or, at any rate, a long, narrow cave, of some length.

  “I don’t know,” said Rodriguez.

  They had come to a stout gate of timbers. This was reinforced from the back and, on the side which faced out, away from the room, was guarded by numerous, projecting spikes of sharpened wood, each, at its base, as thick as the body of a Pon.

  “The gate suggests that this is a tunnel,” said Rodriguez. “And, if so, there is probably a similar barrier at the other end.”

  “It seems they do not trust their totem,” said Brenner.

  “The gate, or gates, may not be to fend away the totem,” said Rodriguez.

  “True,” said Brenner. He recalled the tawny brute which had carried away Archimedes, and the beasts in the pack, in the forest. There might be many varieties of creature in the forest, which reportedly teemed with life.

  “I see no tracks on the other side,” said Rodriguez. “Nothing may have come down that passage in a thousand years.”

  “Let us go back to the main room,” said Brenner.

  Rodriguez disarmed the rifle, returned it to its harmless guise, and replaced it, by means of its sling, on his shoulder.

  “It is an incredible animal,” said Brenner, in a few moments, again looking up at the gigantic, carved head, that on the post at the right, forward corner of the platform.

  “It is a most beautiful and dangerous creature,” said Rodriguez.

  “Yes,” agreed Brenner.

  “Now it becomes clear why the Pons accepted with such good grace your disproof, so to speak, of the git as their totem. It was not their totem.”

  “But this!” said Brenner, looking up at the monstrous head.

  “It is not that unusual to pick a terrifying, dangerous animal as a totem,” said Rodriguez. “There are many points in favor of doing so. Better to be allies with such a terror than its enemies, or prey. Too, you must see the advantage of such an arrangement from the point of view of the Pons, from the point of view of the primitive mind. They are “children of the totem.””

  “And no animal devours its own young,” said Brenner.

  “Precisely,” said Rodriguez. “Such a belief, too, interestingly, might even give them some security from the totem. In its presence, they would not be likely to sweat the exudates associated with terror, or to betray fear by awkward, or uncertain, or uncoordinated movements, arousing curiosity and aggression, or to flee from it, inciting pursuit, and so on. And, of course, if a dangerous totem animal does attack one once in a while, or eat one, or whatever, that can always be explained as the result of some hidden fault in the victim, some secret violation of taboo, such things.”

  “Of course,” said Brenner. Such closed belief systems, like circles without openings, not susceptible to clear refutation, existed in their thousands in the galaxy. Interestingly, they tended to be taken seriously by their devotees. Their imperviousness to refutation, their immunity to disproof, a natural consequence of their vacuity, tended to be taken by many as evidence of their truth.

  “And it is certainly not as if they were consorting with the beast on a familiar basis,” said Rodriguez.

  “No,” agreed Brenner.

  “We had best be getting back,” said Rodriguez.

  “Why did they conceal the true nature of their totem?” asked
Brenner.

  “That is not that unusual,” said Rodriguez. “The totem animal is sacred. Its relationship to the totem group is quite sensitive. It is to be protected, perhaps even against enchantments or spells. They may not wish the identity of the totem to be known, for fear enemies might try to harm it. The name of the totem may be seldom mentioned. If it is mentioned, it may not be called by its own name, and so on.”

  “I understand,” said Brenner.

  “In some groups it is forbidden even to look upon the totem,” said Rodriguez.

  “The Pon we met within the portal?” said Brenner.

  “I do not think so,” said Rodriguez. “The Pons outside tonight, those within the palisade, dozens of them, looked upon the beast. I noted it. I watched them. Too, there are two explicit carvings of it, in this very room. Presumably Pons enter here. It seems certain that there is no taboo, or, at least, no general taboo, against Pons looking upon the totem animal.”

  “Then what of the Pon we saw when we entered?” asked Brenner.

  “I do not know,” said Rodriguez.

  “His injuries were self-inflicted?”

  “It seems so,” said Rodriguez.

  “But why would he do such a thing to himself?” asked Brenner.

  “Perhaps he witnessed the beatific vision,” said Rodriguez.

  “I do not understand,” said Brenner.

  “And did not care for it,” added Rodriguez.

  “I do not understand,” said Brenner.

  “It is not important,” said Rodriguez.

  “Rodriguez,” protested Brenner.

  “Many is the saint,” said Rodriguez, “who, granted a glimpse of his god, would cry out with horror.”

  Brenner was silent.

  “That is the “father,”” said Rodriguez, looking up at the great, painted head on the post. “And how many, in any culture, can look on the “father,” if they understand it, and see it as it truly is, unflinchingly?”

  “But the others look upon it,” said Brenner.

  “Not comprehendingly,” said Rodriguez. “The rarest gift is to look upon such things, and understand them, in all their terror, their mercilessness, their beauty, their reality, to look upon the world, the cosmos, the father, so to speak, and understand it, and then, knowingly, with a hearty will, rejoicing, even with a great laugh, to accept it, to affirm it, to rejoice in it, to celebrate it, to meet it, to make of it a game and a festival.”

  “You are speaking of more than a totem,” said Brenner.

  “We all have our totems,” said Rodriguez.

  “This thing, for you, is only a symbol!” said Brenner.

  “But one which is quite exact,” said Rodriguez.

  “Let us leave, quickly!” said Brenner.

  “You think that I am mad?”

  “It is hard to understand you,” said Brenner.

  “It was not my intention to frighten you.”

  “We should go now,” said Brenner. “We have solved the mystery of the Pons.”

  “That is absurd,” said Rodriguez. “We have solved but one mystery, and that the least of all, the mere nature of the totem beast.”

  “What more is there to learn?” asked Brenner.

  “Much,” said Rodriguez.

  “What?” said Brenner.

  “This afternoon,” said Rodriguez, “the beast brought his kill to the gate of the Pons, and left it there. I saw it coming across the clearing, roused by the cries of Pons. The Pons, when the beast had left, rushed out, rejoicing, striking the carcass with sticks.”

  “I do not understand why the beast would have killed the other animal, or brought it here.”

  “It is quite clear from the point of view of the Pons,” said Rodriguez.

  Brenner looked at him, perplexed.

  “Surely you see?”

  “No,” said Brenner.

  “It is in accord with the pact, the pact, between the totem and the totem group.”

  “That is madness,” said Brenner.

  “You saw the carcass. It is that of the animal which slew Archimedes.”

  “It is some sort of coincidence,” said Brenner.

  “The beast followed you, did it not, into the forest?”

  “I encountered it in the forest,” said Brenner.

  “You carried Archimedes back to the village,” said Rodriguez. “Your shirt is still filthy with his blood. The scent of Pon would have been on you.”

  “I was threatened by hideous creatures in the forest,” said Brenner, numbly. “They left, detecting the presence of the huge beast. I ran. The beast followed.”

  “It protected you,” said Rodriguez, fiercely.

  “No!” said Brenner. “It threatened me. It would confront me. I would run another way. Then I found the trail of stones. I followed it back to the village.”

  “Followed by the beast,” said Rodriguez.

  “Apparently,” said Brenner.

  “It guided you to the stones,” said Rodriguez.

  “No!” said Brenner.

  “It was your guide, and your guardian angel,” said Rodriguez.

  “Madness,” said Brenner.

  “On you was the scent of Pon,” said Rodriguez.

  “It is a coincidence,” said Brenner.

  “Here,” said Rodriguez, thoughtfully, “it is as though the pact was not mere totemistic mythology. It is rather as though it were real.”

  “Do not speak madness,” said Brenner.

  “That is one of the true mysteries here,” said Rodriguez, “the pact.”

  “Have you see such a beast before?” asked Brenner, looking up at the head on the post.

  “Of course,” said Rodriguez.

  “It was the tracks of such a beast we found within the village, was it not?” said Brenner.

  “That seems certain now,” said Rodriguez.

  “But you seemed surprised,” said Brenner.

  “Certainly,” said Rodriguez, smiling.

  “‘Certainly’?”

  “Certainly,” repeated Rodriguez.

  “Presumably, too, it was the claws of the beast which had torn open the boards, and furrowed the posts, at the other platform, that by the cliffs,” said Brenner.

  “Undoubtedly,” said Rodriguez.

  “But you seemed to dismiss that possibility at the time,” said Brenner.

  “For a very good reason,” said Rodriguez.

  “Why?” asked Brenner.

  “One mystery we may have solved here,” said Rodriguez, “is how the Pons have survived in the forest.”

  Brenner regarded him.

  “Such creatures as Pons can exist only in gardens of flowers,” said Rodriguez, “and then they had best not look into the grass, or between the stems of the plants, lest they see the jungle there. They live in a world of sunlit, benevolent trivialities, without risk, without challenge, without adventure, sunning themselves like turtles until they die. Such creatures are weak, worthless, soft. They cannot live in a real world unless they are guarded by lions. It is the lions which make their little flower worlds possible.”

  “And the beast is their lion?” said Brenner.

  “It makes such things as Pons possible,” said Rodriguez.

  “But there have been Pons for thousands of years,” said Brenner.

  “That is one of the mysteries,” said Rodriguez.

  “There have been “lions,” too, for thousands of years,” said Brenner.

  “Or things like them,” mused Rodriguez.

  “Lions,” said Brenner.

  “No,” said Rodriguez. “That is not possible.”

  “It frightens me,” said Brenner, “that such a thing might once have walked in the village, when the gate had been left open.”

  “It may have been left open by intent,” said Rodriguez.

  “Doubtless as a gesture of hospitality,” said Brenner, bitterly.

  “Possibly,” said Rodriguez. “But surely you do not think the palisade would be suff
icient to keep out that beast, if it wanted in?”

  Brenner shuddered.

  “Consider its size,” said Rodriguez. “It could push through the palings. Consider its agility. It could leap over the fence. Consider its jaws, and the likely might of their grip. It could seize and uproot such palings, such wretched sticks.”

  “Quite possibly,” said Brenner, uneasily.

  “Consider, too, its paws, their unusual nature,” said Rodriguez.

  “I did not notice them,” said Brenner.

  “I did,” said Rodriguez, “this afternoon, and, again, tonight, in the light of the torches. Too, I have seen such things before. They are not the common sort of paw you would expect on a predator. You might have noted the digits, their length, their jointing, the positioning of them.”

  “What are you saying?” asked Brenner.

  “That the paws can grip, not just strike, and hold and tear,” said Rodriguez.

  “They are prehensile?” asked Brenner.

  “With such paws, said Rodriguez, “it could, if it thought in such a manner, push apart palings, snapping them, it could pull them from the ground, it could even reach between them to slide back the bars.”

  “Do you remember, in the forest, when we first left Company Station, months ago, how the Pons were at first uneasy, even frightened, and then, a little later, proceeded with confidence?”

  “Of course,” said Rodriguez.

  “The beast?” said Brenner.

  “Undoubtedly,” said Rodriguez. “It was then with them, their secret companion, the angel, secret, dark, and terrible, which would accompany them in the forests.”

  “The forest was then so quiet,” said Brenner.

  “It knew more than we,” said Rodriguez. “It knew, as we did not, what moved amongst its trees. It was frightened, and hid itself.”

  “You may have seen it,” said Brenner.

  “Now, in retrospect, interpreting shadows, movements amongst trees, what seemed, briefly, to appear, an evanescent silhouette, and such, I think I did,” said Rodriguez. “But, as with the tracks in the village, the marks at the platform, I would not acknowledge that to which the evidence pointed.”

  “Why?”

  “It did not seem to me possible,” said Rodriguez.

  “You know this sort of animal,” said Brenner.