by Joe Darris
It would be wiser to let the old man rot. The young hunter could live his own life, seek another tribe. The old hermit can perish in the sky if he must. He would not blame Kao if he abandoned him, but he knows the hunter will come, if not for him then for the dream of his sister. But the young hunter will wait. To assault their ivory tower before the full moon would be folly. So the hermit bides his time.
He eats the vile food. He knows his old feeble body can't fight its corrupting force anymore than he can survive without food. The veined Hidden stays longer once the hermit eats. He speaks to the hermit with a quick tongue. There is an unlimited amount of sounds he makes, and he tries them all on the hermit. The hermit tries to understand but cannot. He needs his mushroom potion, good food and fresh air. In his cage his mind is tired and sluggish. He speaks to veined one but he does not like the gleam in his beady eyes. His eyes reveal secret ambitions and cold calculation each time the hermit grunts a response.
For the hermit understands that is what he must sound like to the man. His tribe responds to his stories in unrefined grunts and growls. Compared to the little man's flowery, twittery voice, his language sounds brutish and primitive. Most of his words are little more than grunts or howls, while the sky man uses his tongue, teeth, lips and some sort of humming to communicate. The hermit wishes to make him understand that there is no more than a difference in their tongues. But he fears the gap is too great. Like his tribe and the songbirds, he worries the two tribes will never share more than a handful of words.
The hermit resents the veined man, but wants to prove his intelligence to him. He knows he must. The veined man tests him, but the hermit fears his intentions. If he cannot prove his intelligence, the Hidden will see him as nothing more than an animal. The hermit fears losing his mind to one of their stones. He must convince them his wisdom exists and is worth keeping.
The beady eyed, veined sky man is not the only one to visit him though.
One day (or however the sky people measure time) he smells a girl. He smells her come again and again, always getting closer. There is something about her...
Once when he awakens, she is there, so close yet forever out of reach. The girl from the ceremony who left in a rush. Whitepatch.
She is taller than any of the other Hidden and has expressive eyes that say everything and nothing. She has long black hair and the hermit swears he can hear her purring. She looks at him with equal parts fear and awe, like he is the two headed wolf of legend, the destroyer that must cull the one so the many will flourish. She sits down on the other side of the invisible barrier. The two sit and stare at each other but say nothing. It feels honest.
She holds herself differently than the rest of the sky people. She is graceful and feminine. Her movements are controlled but say much.
She has been in the mind of a cat.
Her eyes are catlike. They perceive more than what is there. She does not try to intimidate him like the veined sky man. Instead she sets with patience and grace, though her eyes flick at any sound.
She does not want to be caught.
She too, fears the little veined one. That bodes poorly for him. It seemed that he was the prize of the most powerful Hidden of all.
The girl leaves but returns, she is there when he awakens. A boy stands next to her, her twin. They have the same black hair, the same smell, though the boys eyes are harder and more watchful. He thinks he is older, not yet a man but thinks he is. The hermit worries for the boy.
He is more distant than the girl. His eyes are never still. They always move, scanning for weaknesses, movements of import. The boy is the one-eyed kingcrow that snagged him from the cliff face. The hermit is sure of it. He prefers to be removed from danger, high above it. Instead of his sister's serene patience, he needs to move. The hermit means him no harm but the boy is frightened just the same.
Though the hermit cannot understand their words, its obvious that they argue. From the way the girl keeps giving him guilty looks, it must be of his death, or worse. The brother wants it, the sister does not.
The boy storms off. The girl breaks down into tears. She looks so much like one of the hermit's people when she cries. She crumples to the floor, a sobbing wreck.
The hermit reaches out a hand and places it against the invisible barrier. His collar stings but he does not mind it. The girl slowly reaches out with her own hand, then rests it against the hermits. A perfect match. The girl's is smaller, but the proportions are the same, four fingers and a grasping thumb.
The girl stares deep into his eyes. Her eyes plead for him to understand, to help her. She is as much a prisoner as him. He coos to her softly, and her tears dry.
She says in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “Urea,” as she thumps her chest. She repeats the word again and again, “Urea, Urea, Urea.” Her name.
He tries to imitate the sounds. He feel's Kao's frustration at learning his own language. The 'Oo' is easy enough, but the others are made in strange parts of the mouth, too close to the front. He tries a few times and finally manages something close.
“Oo-ah-uh.”
Urea gasps and starts chattering quickly and excitedly. The hermit shrugs. He doesn't understand a word she says.
“Urea,” she says as she points to herself.
“Ooh-arh-uh,” he grunts as he points to her. The middle sound could be made if the hermit growls.
She points to him and raises her eyebrows, like a curious child. The hermit scratches his head, then strokes the hairs growing on his chin. He has no name for himself, no word to sum up all that he is. Kao was the first of the tribe ever to be worthy of a symbol, and he never asked the hermit for a word to call him. Instead he picks up a piece of fruit, squeezes the dark juice from it and begins to paint.
First he paints himself. His old body bent and stooped with age, while his mind glows with thoughts and ideas. He paints trees from his jungle, birds, animals, his cave. He draws members of the tribe and the great bonfire they celebrated around. He paints the moon, a thin crescent, hoping Urea can bring it to him.
Urea weeps as he paints the tornado that destroyed his home. She knew of it then, but he does not blame her and is glad she does not keep secrets. She gasps as he draws the white Totem, the clouds atop it and the eternal lightning storm. He paints her brother with wings as the one who captured him. He paints her own sorrowful face with slitted cat eyes and she understands.
He does not paint Kao. Instead he draws his sister, the poor little girl who he prays is not as scared and as lonely as he. He paints her gathering berries near the stream, with grass braids in her hair. Then erases everything but her, and draws a six sided cage around her, like the one that cages him.
When he looks up at her Urea no longer weeps. Instead her eyes ask You came for her?
The hermit nods, and bares his teeth. Urea growls, and the hermit can taste her anger in the air, not at him though. She nods a curt goodbye and leaves. The air crackles as she storms off.
Chapter 26
Urea!
She calls out into the cacophony of voices inside their heads. The voices go silent. Urea's symbol is the only one lit.
What is that? She asks, pointing into empty space
Her name, Phoebe says softly. The girl nods, intrigued but not yet wanting one of her own.
Urea's name blinks in front of them and the girl hears a new voice in her head, strong and proud but sorrowful, they can tell she's been crying.
Hi Phoebe. I haven't seen you in a while.
I know. I've been busy.
Listen, things are going to change around here pretty soon.
That's kind of why I'm chiming you. We need some help.
We? The sadness in her voice is replaced with curiosity. Who do you need to help?
She doesn't have a name yet.
“You need to see this,” Urea kept her voice level as she led Baucis down the hallway, towards the caged old man.
“What were you doing in this wing Urea? This
is a restricted area,” unease was creeping into the ecologist's normally controlled voice.
“There are questions you need to answer.”
“Then ask them!”
“They're not my questions,” her voice was hostile.
Baucis rarely prayed but he did now. He prayed to Nature that Urea had found the old man and not the girl cloistered away with Phoebe. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't abide by that. Time to call, and bluff what he could.
“Look... I know what this is about. You found the ape? I would have told you but I worried this would happen. You're too used to the Evanimals having freedom in the Garden, but the ape is content. It has food and space to move around.”
“He is a man, not an it. And he doesn't like our food or his cage.”
“You sound like you did when you first saw the howluchins. Remember Urea? You were so precious... You asked if they were happy. You still personify the animals. You think they understand more than they really do.”
“He understands more than you realize.”
“Maybe there's something to your theory about the pheromones...I think the ape is manipulating you.”
“How can you speak of manipulation?”
“This is why I didn't tell you where he was kept. I knew it would use your empathy against you. You're still so vulnerable Urea.”
She hated the way he said her name, like it was supposed to placate her, like she was just a pouty little princess.
”So then you knew he was intelligent?” she managed to ask, though all she wanted to do was scream.
“No, you're twisting my words. I thought that it might convince you to try to help it escape.”
“So you think I'm foolish enough to be tricked by an animal?”
“We can't underestimate it.”
“He's a man! Don't you see that?” Urea screamed. That was the first time she ever raised her voice to Baucis, the man who raised her like his daughter. It felt deliciously rebellious. Urea instantly understood why Skup did it so often.
“You sound like a Naturalist.”
“How can you even say that? You and Priestess Ntelo work together! If you know Naturalism is a lie, then why make the Spire believe it?”
“Come on Urea, surely you've figured it out by now. You've been inside the minds of animals, there's no hidden resentment. Nature's not your panthera, biding her time, waiting for a moment of weakness to attack. The religion is for everybody stuck in this world without any real power. It's a mental escape for those who have no alternative. Not everyone's as privileged as you.”
“Privilege comes with responsibility.”
“That's my girl. Now let's head back. I don't like you being in this hall. That ape is a trickster.”
“You still have questions to answer.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him on.
As Baucis approached he understood there was more here than pheromones. The ape had undeniable intelligence. Paintings of biselk ran through fields while hominids equipped with spears chased them. More of the apes danced around campfires, or stalked through jungles. The mural was impressive for an animal, he conceded to himself.
“You want me to stop my research because of this?” Baucis asked, his voice like hot needles. The painting left Baucis feeling hollow. It wasn't art, just primitive scribbles and a waste of thousands of credits worth of food. Ungrateful beast, ungrateful girl. “You think its worth interrupting my experiments to look at how a monkey smeared its food all over the floor?”
“You need to answer his questions.”
“From the monkey? Fine! I'll answer his questions. Yes he can have more bananas, no he can't run around the hallways.”
“Just watch!” Urea screamed with fury.
The words drained out of Baucis's mouth. He had never been spoken to like that. Not ever from her rebellious brother. He started to protest but saw the murderous predatory stare in her eyes that dared him to speak.
But someone else spoke first.
“Oo-ray-uh!” the ape said, then pointed to a picture on the floor, closest to the door.
A beautiful little girl with flowers braided into her hair stared up at Baucis. He gasped. He had been watching Phoebe try to communicate with her minutes ago. She was to be the mother of the next stage of humanity's evolution. His look of recognition did not escape Urea's watchful stare.
“You bastard. Where is she?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Liar.”
“Urea, I'll answer all your questions, but not here,” he glanced at the old ape. He stared back at him with eyes as sharp as Urea's.
“Liar!” She pulled back her hand into a claw, ready to strike. Her teeth were bared, her shoulders tensed, her fingernails ended in razor points. A low yowl came from her throat, a thoroughly inhuman sound. Her eyes flicked from his eyes to his neck. She was terrifyingly feline. Baucis didn't doubt for a moment that she could kill him as easily as she'd butcher an elk.
“She's safe... Elia found her on the verge of death, and Skup brought her to me.”
“He doesn't respect you,” was all Urea said.
This infuriated Baucis. The boy told his sister? Of course he did. Disrespectful cretin.
“He respects my power. Elia is talented enough to manage the flock. Skup’s expendable. I made him realize this.”
“Where is the girl?”
“She's with Phoebe.”
Urea's yowl increased in pitch. Baucis was terrified, and he knew she could sense it.
<
<
“You're right Urea, there's much we can learn from them. Phoebe knows this, she's helping us learn from the girl. Already they've learned to communicate. More than childish pictures I might add. These apes show real potential.”
“You're hiding something.”
“Not everyone is as cynical as you seem to be. Phoebe sees the apes for what they are, potential allies.”
A crack and Baucis flinched. Urea did not even blink. Baucis whirled around to see the ape stare at him, his hand on the force field, his collar throwing sparks.
“The Wild Man has another question.”
He knelt down and slowly drew a sharpened piece of elk bone across the palm of his hand. Red blood blossomed from the wound. He dipped a finger in it, then drew a perfect circle in his drawing of the Spire, another in the girl's head, then used the bone to trace a thin red line between them. The symbols couldn't be more clear. The ape understood their technology.
“We had to. When she came in she was comatose, we might have lost her...”
Urea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She trembled, and Baucis knew she fought an urge within her with all of her strength. The Wild Man understood just as easily. He moaned a low and mournful note, a forlorn pitch that filled Baucis with a disconsolate dread.
“You did it for her?” Urea's voice nearly broke Baucis's heart. He knew he was making a grave mistake, but he knew he couldn't lie. Stories weren't his strength, all he could do was stall for time. He let truth bubble out of him like an oil geyser on the surface.
“I did it for all of us! With their hands, we can do anything! No more balancing different species, no more waiting for the Spire to burn up and leave us to perish. With a team of these things, we can bring back industry, we can return to the surface!”
“But she's only a little girl... how could one child do all you ask...” understanding drained the color from Urea's face. At the same moment she heard the shuffling of an approaching troop of howluchins. She waited to see them turn the corner.
“You're a monster,” Urea said dispassionately. It was a statement of the truth as she saw it. Nothing more. Then she drew back
her clawed hand and slashed him across the face.
It didn't hurt, and for a moment he thought she only meant to scare him, but his vision filled with blood. In a haze he saw the howluchins seize her arms and pull Urea backwards. She didn't struggle. He touched a hand to his head and looked at his palm. Four lines of blood, four scars he'd have forever.
Urea looked at her hands, her eyes wide at the sight of Baucis's blood.
“I'm sorry” she mumbled into her hands before the howluchins seized her and dragged her away.
Another shower of sparks and Baucis turned to the caged animal. He pointed at Baucis, then dipped his bone-pen into his blood. First he drew a head, then a chest, arms and legs. He took his time, relishing the rich red the blood left on the ground. He drew a knife in the figure's hand, its point sent a shiver down Baucis' spine. Then he drew three prongs jutting from the figure's left arm and a crown of horns. The Wild Man was there, the true one. The young hunter in all his savagery stared up at Baucis.
Baucis spit at the figure but his saliva only crackled on the force field. The ape laughed at him. Baucis never felt so powerless.
Chapter 27
Tell Baucis to let us out!
We have to be careful, Urea tells them. We don't know who our friends are right now.
We can trust the pilots! Phoebe chimes.
And what do you think little one? Will your brother trust the pilots?
My brother trusts his hands and his knife, she replies.
It may be time for him to make new friends as well.
The dome weighs upon the horizon. Unlike the Totem, it is made of stone. Kao could smell it in the sun, in the night it stands black against the starlight. The Hidden somehow cut it and formed it into an enormous sphere, a drop of the earth, carved and worshiped. It is nothing compared to the Totem in size. It does not claw mercilessly at the stars.
The ferocious lion has not attacked him since their bout. He caught her scent in the air the night before, but she did not threaten him. She accepted they are equals. Good. For if the lion decides to hunt him, she will succeed. Kao's only defense is the Totem's strange power, and he is near it no longer. Though the lightning beetles proved that there are ways to harness the Totem's power, Kao knows none of them.
