If only I knew which direction leads to the surface.
* * *
The events that have happened since I last recorded an entry are so extraordinary that they have completely altered everything I thought I knew about Iris.
I cannot tell how long I blundered around, blindly seeking some way out with no more than my hands to feel my way. I finally gave in and ate half the meal bar in my pocket, drank from my canteen, and sat down on hard rock to doze off to sleep.
I was awakened by the sound of someone singing. She was still far away, but in the utter silence of the cavern the sound was sweet beyond describing. I leaped to my feet, painfully aware of hope. I could see no sign of light, but I called out for help as loudly as I could. The singing stopped for a moment, and I was seized with fear that she would pass me by, so I cried, “Over here! Help! I’m here!”
Impatiently I waited while the sounds indicated that someone was approaching. Still I could see no light. From time to time I called out to let her know my position, but got no reply. At last a tapping noise became audible, and I cried out again, “Over here!”
“Who doth cry so?” a voice said in antiquated Universal. It was not Sara, nor anyone else I recognized from the ship. In fact, it was a young girl’s voice. She was either traveling entirely without light, or my eyes had failed.
“It’s Thora,” I replied.
She was silent a moment, then said, “Who’s that?”
“Who are you?” I said.
“It’s Moth,” she said. Then, more formally, “Moth-Das Torobe.”
“You’re not from the ship, then,” I said.
“Ship?” she repeated in utter puzzlement.
We had all been told that Iris was uninhabited. Either the reports had been wrong, or I was no longer on Iris.
“Where am I?” I said. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Thou’rt off the path,” she said. “Wait there, I’ll come to thee.”
She approached with the same tapping sound I had heard before. I realized she must be carrying a stick, like a blind person. Other than that, she moved quite silently. I was startled when she touched me on the cheek, but the feel of another human was so welcome that I quickly grasped her hand. It felt reassuringly familiar and ordinary—a little sweaty and sticky, small, fitting into my hand like a casting into its mold. “Moth,” I said, “I am glad to meet you.” I have never said a truer thing.
“How came thou here?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I was outside, on the surface, exploring a spatial phenomenon, when there was some sort of gravity shift, and I fell, and then I was here.”
“Oh,” she said, as if this explanation were the most incomprehensible thing she had ever heard. Then, “Who beminded thee?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She tried another tack. “What habitude are thou from?”
Searching for an explanation she would understand, I said, “We call our ship the Escher. We have come from far, far away to visit you. We want to be your friends.”
“Oh,” she said brightly. “Thou’rt one of the newcomers!”
“You knew of us?” I asked, thinking they must have seen the shuttle land.
“Oh, aye,” she said. “Such a knot as thou hast made is not an easy thing to hide. But we could not visit, as thou knew us not.”
She was speaking Universal, but I could not make much sense of what she was saying. I said, “We didn’t know you were here. Now that we do, we will be better neighbors.” What a botched First Contact this will be, I thought. Epco is not going to be pleased. I would have to take care to minimize the damage. “Can you lead me out of here?” I asked.
“To Torobe, you mean?” she said a little uncertainly.
“Is that your village?”
“Aye.”
“Yes, take me to Torobe. Please.”
To my horror, she let go of my hand and started off through the darkness.
“Moth!” I cried out, panic-stricken. “Don’t leave me!”
“I’m right here,” she said from a few steps away, puzzlement in her voice.
I took a step toward her, then another, groping the air with my hand.
“What is amiss with thy feet?” she exclaimed.
“Nothing,” I said. “It’s my eyes. I can’t see.”
She grasped my arm again, then ran her hand from my waist down my pants leg to my feet. When she reached my boots she gave a little cry of horror. “Thy feet. They are deformed.”
“No, no, those are just my boots,” I said. “They come off.”
“Thy feet come off?” she exclaimed.
“No, just the boots.” To reassure her, I sat down and took off one boot, and showed her the foot underneath. She touched it gingerly.
“Well then, leave them off,” she said.
“I can’t. I would hurt my feet.”
“But how can I lead thee to Torobe if thou cannot walk?”
“I can walk,” I said. “I just can’t see. You need to hold my arm, and lead me.”
“Very well,” she said in a tolerant tone, as to a cripple or an idiot.
I took her arm; she shifted the stick to the other hand and set out confidently, tapping the path ahead. Before we had gone five steps we came to an uneven patch, and I stumbled. “You need to tell me if there is a step,” I said.
“If thou would but take the casings from thy feet, thou could tell for thyself,” she suggested.
“No, I couldn’t,” I said. “I would just stub my toe.”
She led me back the way I had so laboriously come, toward the sound of trickling water, walking at an even, unhurried pace. Somehow, she found a path through the pitch-dark chamber full of boulders, and we soon left the sound of water behind.
“Moth,” I asked, “why do you use the stick?”
“To see the path,” she said, slowing down. “It is not well marked here.”
“So you are using the stick to see?”
“Aye, that’s what I said.”
“Can you see with your eyes?”
She laughed as if I had asked whether she could see with her shoulder blade. “Can thou?”
“Not now,” I said. “Where there is light, I can.”
“Well, that must be a comfort to thee,” she said tolerantly.
So she was blind. Her seeming competence in this environment was born of familiarity.
“Is that why they send you into the cave?” I asked.
She came to a halt. “What frothy questions thou doth ask. Now be quiet, or I shall lose the way.”
So I held my tongue and concentrated on not stumbling. We had been walking perhaps half an hour or more when I began to hear ahead a rushing sound, as of water falling. A breeze touched my face, bringing a complex of smells—sulfur, as of hot springs, and cooking food. I strained to see light ahead, but all remained inky.
Presently I heard a tinkling sound, as of wind chimes, nearby. Moth stopped to put away her stick. “We may go by cord now,” she said, letting go of my hand.
“What do you mean?” I said.
She took my hand and placed it on a line that had been strung between posts along the side of the path, approximately waist-high. When I touched it the chimes sounded, and I realized they were hung at intervals from the cord.
“Just follow me,” Moth said, and started off again.
“Stop!” I cried out. “Moth, I can’t tell where you are. Let me hold your hand.”
“By my troth,” she said, “dost thou have someone to lead thee about Escher?”
“I don’t need anyone to lead me about,” I said. “There, I can see.”
“Aye, so thou hast said,” she replied.
The path led uphill, punctuated with steps and rough spots that Moth seemed to navigate without difficulty. Soon, out of the darkness ahead, an old man’s voice called out, “Winden-Wan Torobe! Who doth tread so heavy?”
“Moth-Das!” Moth called out. “I have found a wend
er lost in the cold lands, and brought her back. Tell the others.”
We reached the top of a slope and began to descend. Now the sounds of trickling water and chimes were all around us, and soon we began to pass other people. I could hear hammering not far away, and a whir that sounded like a potter’s wheel. At one point I could have sworn we passed a coop of chickens. In fact, I was surrounded by all the sounds and activities of a normal preindustrial village—but all without a particle of light.
No wonder we failed to detect the inhabitants of Iris. They live inside caves, hidden deep in the ground.
Moth kept greeting people along the way, and telling her remarkable news, so that soon people began to come out to verify the rumors. As we progressed toward what was evidently the center of the village, a crowd of giggling children surrounded us, grasping my hands, exclaiming at my boots, feeling me all over. The adults at least announced their names before thrusting their hands in my face and stroking my hair and shoulders. They examined everything about me with their hands, feeling my hair and the caste stone on my forehead, probing into my pockets. I soon felt handled all over. The manner of their greeting convinced me that Moth was no aberration—all of these people were blind.
A tremor of silence passed through the crowd, followed by whispered warnings: “Anath-Not is coming!”
I whispered to Moth, “Is this someone in charge?”
“Well, she thinks so,” Moth said flippantly.
The authoritative voice of an elderly woman came from beyond the crowd. “Moth-Das! Hast thou beminded this person?”
“Nay, upon my honor!” Moth said indignantly. “I found her a-wandering in the cold lands. She is helpless as a cripple. She must wear hard shells on her feet, and cannot move a step without being led. She says she is wiser in her own land.”
The crowd had parted, and now Anath-Not’s voice came from directly in front of me. “Anath-Not Torobe,” she said, and out of the dark two hands touched my cheeks, cradling my face.
Moth nudged me. “Greet her, Thora.”
Copying Anath-Not’s actions, I said, “Thora Lassiter, of Capella.” I groped to find her face, though it felt uncomfortably personal. She had the soft, loose skin of old age.
“What brings thee to Torobe?” the old woman asked.
“I came by accident,” I said. “If Moth had not found me, I would have perished. I owe her my life. I hope someday I can repay her, and all of you.”
“Are thou a trader?”
From this, I realized there must be other villages, and exchange between them. “No,” I said. “Perhaps in future there may be trade between your people and mine. But I came to learn about your planet first.”
There was a slight pause, as if I had said something nonsensical. But she continued, “Where do thy people dwell?”
Moth interrupted excitedly. “She is from the new habitude, Anath.”
Severely, the old woman demanded, “Did this young jackanapes bemind thee?”
“No,” I stammered. “That is, I don’t know. I don’t understand the question.”
“We have those about us who bemind all manner of riffraff.”
This barb was apparently aimed at Moth, because she protested indignantly, “Not I!”
“Please don’t blame her,” I said. “I will cause you no trouble, I promise.” I could not help thinking how untrue that would be. “All I want now is to find my friends, and return to my home.”
“Nay, bide with us awhile,” Moth said, taking my hand.
“Hold thy tongue, Moth-Das,” Anath said. “This is above thy ken. If Thora wishes to leave, then she shall.”
Hesitantly, I said, “I will need some help. Some guidance.”
“I told you, she is helpless as a babe,” Moth said.
“What mean thou by guidance?” Anath said.
“I need someone to lead me out of here, to the surface, where I left my friends.”
There was a short silence, then some puzzled murmurs from the crowd. “What surface is that?” said Anath.
Was it possible they had never been outside? “The surface of the planet,” I said. “Outside the cave. The open. The outdoors.” None of these words seemed to elicit the comprehension I was striving for.
“What is she prating of?” Anath said impatiently.
“I told you she’s no wender,” Moth said.
Fearing they would dismiss me as a lunatic, I said, “Our language is a little different from yours. I don’t know all the words you use. But I do need to get back to my home. I can’t do it unless someone comes with me, to show me the way.”
There were subtle stirrings in the listening crowd. Without being able to see facial expressions, I could not interpret their reaction.
“Is Songta there?” Anath demanded.
“Aye, Anath,” said an older woman’s voice.
“We need to converse. Give us some privacy.”
I expected everyone to move away then, but instead they all started to hum. The sound drowned out the voices of the two older women as they spoke quietly to one another.
“Cease!” Anath ordered, and silence was restored. “We have decided to wait till Dagget-Min returns. Thora Lassiter Capella, thou must wait awhile. Someone will show thee hospitality.”
“Me! Let me!” Moth cried, seizing hold of my elbow possessively. “She is my stranger. I found her. Let me take her home.”
“Moth-Das, know thy place,” Songta said sternly. “This concerns the weal of all Torobe, not just thee.”
“I have no wish to offend,” I said, “but Moth has been a good friend to me. She saved me when I could not save myself.”
“As you please,” Songta said, though her tone sounded reluctant.
Moth was tugging at my arm to get me away. Apologizing again, I followed her. We left the crowd behind except for a few children who dogged us till we came to a set of stone steps with a little rivulet running beside them. “There are seven steps to climb,” Moth informed me.
At the top, she let go of my hand and called out in a breathless rush, “Hanna! I have brought a visitor. I found her in the cold lands, wandering lost. The others tried to steal her, but she came with me instead, because I saved her life.”
“What idle chatter is this?” another voice said out of the darkness. It was the calm, tolerant voice of a youngish woman.
“Come and greet her, and thou will see she is no fancy,” said Moth.
Moth came bounding to my side like a puppy, leading someone else. “Thora Lassiter,” I announced, having learned the etiquette of Torobe. When I put out my hands to feel her face, I found that she was carrying a baby in a sling across her chest.
“Hanna-Das,” she said, greeting me.
“Are you Moth’s mother?”
Hanna laughed gaily. “Nay, I am not guilty of that. We are sisters.”
“My apologies,” I said, embarrassed.
“Come sit thee down, and let me fetch some quencher,” Hanna said. Without prompting, she took my hand and led me over to a low table, which she showed me by touching my hand to it. Pillows were strewn all around it, so I settled down on one. The floor was covered by some sort of woven mat. Although I had no impression of having passed a door, we were evidently in a house now. Behind me I could hear a rustling sound.
There was a creak of hinges, and presently Hanna came back to the table and poured liquid three times. She set something before me, and I groped for it. It was a pottery vessel, full of something cool. I carefully smelled it before tasting; it had a fruity flavor with a tinge of mint.
“Thank you,” I said. Sitting down made me realize how hungry and exhausted I was, but more than either food or rest, I longed for some light. The fact of plant-based food and drink showed they had connections with the outside, though they obviously called it something else. “Where does this come from?” I asked my hostess.
Hanna paused. “This?”
I would have to learn to be more specific. She had no way of knowing if I w
ere speaking of the cup, the drink, or the table. “The drink,” I said.
She described for me how to squeeze fruit for the juice, then add water and herbs.
“Where do you get the fruit?” I asked.
“Oh, a wender came by of late,” she said. “I bought it.”
“Do wenders bring all your food?”
“No, we keep guinea pigs, in the hutch behind you, and chickens. Others raise fish and crabs, or crickets and grubs for feed. Moth is good at finding shrimps, eels, and lichens. But grains and such we buy from the wenders.”
“How do you cook your food?” It had occurred to me that there were no fires visible.
“Why, the usual way,” she said, humoring me like an idiot. “In a cookpit.”
“Can I see your cookpit?”
“I know not,” she said, puzzled.
“No, I mean, could you show it to me?” If I could locate some fire, I might be able to fashion a torch.
She clearly thought me demented, but rose and said, “Over here.” I rose as well, but almost immediately collided with a piece of furniture.
“Thou must lead her, Hanna,” Moth said. “She is purblind.”
Hanna came back and took my hand. She led me into what must have been the kitchen. Stooping down, she placed my hand on a surface that was smooth and warm to the touch. “This is the drypit,” she said, then switched my hand to another surface. “This is the wetpit.”
The smooth surfaces were covers, with handles in the middle. I moved the drypit cover aside, and heat blasted out against my face, together with a delicious smell of cooking food. There was, however, no light.
“Where does the heat come from?” I said.
“From the ground,” Hanna answered.
It was apparently some sort of geothermal vent. This would explain the slight smell of sulfur that permeated the air of Torobe. It also would explain why the village was here. They had a self-contained energy source.
I investigated the wetpit and found that it was a boiling hot spring. It was an ingenious and convenient setup. But it got me no closer to seeing.
The smell of the food had made me aware of my hunger. “That smells delicious,” I said.
“Well then, let us eat some,” Hanna said immediately. She started making thumping noises in the dark; I heard the clash of pottery bowls and the clunk of a ladle. She handed me a spoon and a warm bowl full of something. Moth took my elbow and led me back to the table. For a moment I hesitated, not knowing what was in the bowl, but my hunger overcame my scruples, and I dug in. It proved to be a delicious stew, meat with corn meal. This meant that somewhere on Iris, someone was raising maize.
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