A Woman of the Iron People

by Eleanor Arnason

  I opened my mouth. What could I say? I didn’t like to lie, and I didn’t think Inahooli would believe any lie I told. “I’d better go.”

  She stared at me, her eyes narrow. “What are you? Why do you travel with a woman like that? And with a man?”

  “I told you, I am ordinary. Among my own people, anyway.”

  She made the gesture of disagreement, moving her hand emphatically. “I have met the Iron People and the Copper People and the People of Fur and Tin. No one is really different. Not about things that are important. I think you are a demon.”

  How does one reason with a religious fanatic? I thought for a moment. “Remember what you said before I came here. The tower is magical. If I am a demon, why hasn’t it harmed me?”

  She turned, staring at the latticework. At the top a couple of banners moved languidly. A couple of feathers fluttered. A wind must be rising, though I couldn’t feel it.

  Inahooli made the gesture of agreement. “I did say that.”

  “And I am fine.”

  There was a pause. Then Inahooli spoke. Her voice was slow at first. She was obviously thinking out loud. “You are right. The tower should have harmed you. It hasn’t.” She turned back toward me. “You have overcome our magic. The tower is something.”

  I didn’t know the word, but I could guess the meaning. The tower was polluted, desanctified. It had lost its power.

  “I brought you here,” said Inahooli. “I am the guardian. This will destroy my reputation.” She pulled out her knife.

  “Listen to me,” I said.

  She grabbed my arm and raised the knife. I twisted and kicked, hitting her in the crotch. It was a good solid kick. She staggered back. I ran.

  I made it to the canoe, but she was close behind me. There wasn’t time to get the damn thing into the water. I grabbed a paddle and turned to face her. “Can’t we talk?”

  “No!” She lunged at me. I brought the paddle down on her shoulder. She yelled and dropped the knife.

  “Listen to me! I mean no harm!”

  She grabbed up the knife with her other hand. “How can we use the tower? The masks are ruined. The magic is gone.”

  She ducked to the left. My left. I turned and raised the paddle. The knife flashed. I swung. Inahooli jumped back.

  “I got you, demon!” she cried.

  “What?”

  “Don’t you see the blood on the ground?”

  I glanced down and saw only the rocky beach. No blood. Something moved at the edge of my vision. Inahooli. She was coming at me, her knife raised again. I jerked the paddle up and out. It hit her in the gut. She grunted and bent double. I brought the paddle down on the back of her head.

  She fell. I picked up the knife and threw it out into the reeds, then looked back at her. She lay facedown, motionless.

  I knelt and felt her neck, then ran my hand over the back of her head. Her pulse was strong and regular. Her head felt rock solid. Good! But I wasn’t going to stick around and nurse her. She was too likely to make another attempt to kill me. I pushed the canoe into the water, jumped in, and paddled away from the island. The things I did in order to get a myth!

  After I was well out past the reeds, I noticed something was wrong with my left arm. I pulled in the paddle and took a look. My shirt was slit from the elbow to the wrist. Blood dripped onto the dark wood of the canoe and onto my jeans. “Goddammit.” I took off the shirt and twisted my arm, trying to see the cut. There was a twinge of pain in my shoulder. Funny. I had forgotten how stiff the shoulder was. The cut was long and shallow. A scratch. Nothing to worry about. It was bleeding well, which ought to reduce the risk of infection. Not that infection was likely, unless from something that I had brought with me. I wrapped my shirt around the arm and tied the sleeves together. Then I went back to paddling.

  A wind blew, light and fitful. Waves splashed against the canoe. My arm began to ache. My shoulder also. I concentrated on my breathing: in and out, keeping time with the motion of my arms as I lifted the paddle and brought it forward, drove it into the water and pulled it back.

  Ahead of me was the shore. Where could I land? I shaded my eyes. There was a figure on the bank above the reeds. No. Two figures. They waved at me. I turned the canoe and paddled toward them. In a moment they were out of sight. The reeds leaned over me, their shaggy heads swaying, and I had no room to move. I stuck the paddle down, hit bottom, and pushed. The canoe went forward through the vegetation into an area of clear water. Nia and Derek waded out and pulled me to shore.

  “Where is Inahooli?” Nia asked.

  I stood. The canoe shifted under me. Derek grabbed my arm.

  “No!”

  He let go. “What is this?” He held out his hand. The palm was red.

  “Blood.” I stepped onto dry land, sat down, and fainted.

  When I came to, I was on my back, looking up at foliage, the long narrow leaves of monster grass. They shone, edged with sunlight.

  Derek said, “Can you understand me?”

  “Yes. Of course.” I turned my head. He sat cross-legged on the ground. His upper body was naked, and I could see the bracelet on his arm. The wide band of gold. It kept going in and out of focus.

  “What happened?”

  “The woman. Inahooli.”

  “Nia told me about her. What did she do?”

  “She thought I was a demon. I was bad luck for her”—I paused, trying to think of the right word—“artifact. The one she was guarding. She came after me with a knife. I hit her. Derek, she’s alive. What if she comes after me?”

  He smiled briefly. “I’ll worry about that. You rest.”

  “Okay.” I closed my eyes, then opened them. “The bowhorns.”

  “I found one. The Voice of the Waterfall managed to stay on. I don’t know how. He let it run till it was exhausted. He had no choice, he told me. In the end it had to stop. He calmed it and let it rest. Then he turned back. I met him at sundown. We camped on the plain. And in the morning—” He made a gesture I didn’t recognize.

  “What was that?”

  “What?”

  “The gesture. The wave.”

  He grinned. “It’s a human gesture, Lixia. It means—approximately—’skip it’ or ‘why bother’ or ‘you can imagine the rest.’ ”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “We got here at midmorning, after you left.”

  “Oh.” I closed my eyes, then remembered something else. “The radios.”

  Derek laughed. “They’re on the other bowhorn. The one I didn’t find.”

  “Shit.”

  “Uh-huh. I thought I ought to make sure the Voice of the Waterfall got back to the lake. Nia will go out tomorrow on the animal we have. She’s a better rider than I am, and this is her planet. With any luck she’ll find the radios. And I will make sure what’s-her-name—the woman who cut you up—”

  “Inahooli.”

  “I’ll make sure she doesn’t cause any more trouble.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He grinned. “Nothing dramatic. I’ll stay here and keep my eyes open. Now, go to sleep.”

  Derek left. I worried. What if Nia couldn’t find the other animal? We’d be alone for the first time. Really alone on an alien planet. It might be days before the people on the ship realized that something was wrong. Then what would they do? How would they find us? I tried to think of signals. A huge fire. That would be best. But could we make one that was big enough? And would they know it was made by us?

  I dozed and had bad dreams. Inahooli was after me. I ran down a long corridor between ceramic walls. Then the corridor was gone. I was on a plain. I turned and saw a wall of flame advancing toward me. A grass fire! I ran. But it was so difficult. The grass was tall and thick. I kept tripping. The fire was gaining.

  I fell, rolled over, and opened my eyes. Smoke drifted above me. I sat up, terrified.

  Oh, yes. The campfire. It burned three meters away. My companions sat around it. Beyond them was the lake an
d the low sun. It was late afternoon. My arm hurt, my head ached, and my throat was dry. “Is there anything to drink?”

  They looked at me.

  “Are you all right?” said Nia.

  “I’m thirsty.”

  Nia brought me a green sphere with a hole punched in the top: something like a gourd or maybe a coconut. Where had she found it? I took it and drank. The liquid inside was cool and had a sharp flavor. Like what? A citrus fruit? Not quite. I drank again.

  “Can you talk now?” asked Derek. “What was the woman guarding? And why did she decide you were a demon?”

  I looked at Nia, who was squatting next to me. “You were right. Your people have talked about you. Inahooli remembered. Nia the Smith. The woman who loved a man.”

  Nia frowned. “There are times I think my people talk too much. Don’t they have anything better to do?”

  “And she figured out that Derek was a man.”

  “Because I used the male ending on his name.”

  “Yes.”

  She stood up and clenched her hand into a fist, then hit her thigh. “I am just like my relatives. My tongue goes up and down like a banner in the wind, and I do not think.” She opened her hand and made the gesture that meant “so be it.”

  “One of us ought to stay up tonight and keep watch. That woman is probably a little crazy. She has been alone too long, and she has been too close to something that is holy. She may come after Li-sa.”

  Derek made the gesture of agreement.

  “I hit her pretty hard,” I said. “For all I know, she is still”—I paused and tried to think of the right word in the language of gifts—“asleep. Or maybe dead.”

  Derek looked out at the water. “Maybe. I don’t intend to go and check. The island is holy. She’s made it very clear that she doesn’t want us on it. And as a rule, I don’t interfere with other people’s karma. She chose to invite you to the island, and she chose to try and kill you. If those choices end in her death—well.” He paused, then used the same gesture that Nia had used a minute or so before. “That is the way it is,” the gesture said.

  The oracle leaned forward. “I don’t know what you did in the past, Nia, and I don’t know why your people tell stories about you. But this situation is not your fault.”

  “Why not?”

  The oracle pointed at Derek. “He went into the valley of demons. He took the bracelet. Now, the demons are angry. They are causing all this trouble—the shuwahara and the angry woman.”

  Shuwahara? Was that the name of the animal that had frightened our bowhorns?

  The oracle stood up. He held out his hand. “Give me the bracelet.”

  Derek frowned.

  “Do it,” I said in English. “We’re in enough trouble already.”

  Derek pulled off the bracelet. The oracle took it and slid it onto his arm.

  “What are you going to do with it?” I asked.

  “The spirit will tell me.” The oracle pulled off his tunic. He was naked except for the bracelet and his necklace. His dark fur shone. The jewelry glistened. Taken all in all, he was impressive. He tossed the tunic on the ground. “I am going off by myself. I will dance and sing until I am in a frenzy. Then—maybe—the spirit will come to me.” He walked away toward the lake.

  “Do you think I’ll get it back?” asked Derek.

  “No.”

  “Goddammit.” He laughed and shrugged. “Oh, well.”

  Nia fixed dinner: fresh fish, gutted and stuffed with herbs, then wrapped in leaves and roasted in the coals. It was delicious, but I was too tired to be hungry. I ate half a fish and lay down. The sun had set. Clouds were moving in. They were high and hazy, golden in the last light of day. My companions talked quietly. The birds made little evening noises. I closed my eyes.

  When I woke, the sun was up again. Who had guarded the camp? Had Derek remembered? I climbed to my feet, groaning. A body—dark and furry—sprawled by the fire. The oracle. Asleep. There was no sign of Nia or Derek or the bowhorn. I walked through the grove. The animal was definitely gone. Nia must have left as soon as there was any light. I looked out on the plain, shading my eyes against the sun. Nothing. I went back through the grove. The oracle had rolled over on his back. His arm was over his face. He was snoring.

  Down to the lake. Birds flapped in the reeds. On the shore were two canoes. I stopped, terrified. I was in no condition to fight Inahooli. Had she done something to Derek? I needed a weapon. A paddle had worked before. I went to the canoes.

  Inahooli was in one of them, on her back. She was naked. Her feet were tied with a strip of yellow cloth, and she was gagged with another piece of yellow fabric. Her hands were behind her. I couldn’t see how they were tied. She glared at me.

  I laughed, relieved. I hadn’t killed her. “You must have met Derek.”

  She grunted.

  “I don’t think I’ll take out the gag. I’d like to know where he is. But I don’t suppose you’d tell me, even if you knew.”

  Inahooli growled and twisted. Was there any chance that she could get free? Of course not. Derek had tied her. I wondered if he would ever make a serious mistake.

  “I have to go. I’ll be back later.”

  Inahooli growled a second time.

  I found Derek farther along the shore, on a beach of black gravel. There was a break in the reeds. A channel—two or three meters wide—led out into the lake. A bird floated in the channel. It was perfectly ordinary looking.

  “It has teeth,” said Derek.

  His long hair was wet, and there were patches of dampness on his shirt. He tucked the shirt into his jeans, then grinned at me.

  “A morning swim?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh.” He fastened one of his sleeves. I saw a glint just before he sealed the fabric. He had something metallic on his arm.

  “I found Inahooli. What happened?”

  “Nia went to sleep, and I went off to watch the oracle. I figured, never pass up a ritual. He did exactly what he said he would do. Danced and sang and waved a branch around, all under a moon that was three-quarters full and clearly erupting. You can see the plume above the rim. It starts in sunlight and then curves over the part of the moon that is still in shadow. A heck of a sight.

  “I couldn’t understand what he was saying. He wasn’t using the language of gifts. But I got it all on my recorder.”

  “What did he do with the bracelet?”

  “Tossed it into the lake. That was the end of the ceremony. He went back to camp. I wandered around and kept my eyes open. I figured he would be tired after all that jumping around. You were injured, and Nia had to get up early. That left me to keep watch, and I wanted to keep looking at the moon.” He closed the front of his shirt.

  “The woman came two hours later. No. More like three. The moon was still up. She came in the second canoe. I guess that’s obvious. I didn’t see her land—or hear her. She is a very quiet lady. But she woke up a bird, coming in through the reeds, and it whistled.

  “I waited in the shadows. The fire—our fire—was burning. She moved toward it. I knew she would. When she came into the grove, I jumped her.” He grinned. “She’s strong as well as quiet. But I had the advantage of surprise. After she was unconscious, I dragged her back to the canoe and tied her up. I didn’t have any rope. I cut up her tunic and used it. I’m hungry. Let’s go back to camp.”

  We walked along the shore. Derek continued. “Nia left at dawn. I didn’t tell her about what’s-her-name. It was something else to worry about, and she looked moody enough. Nia, I mean. I guess she isn’t a morning person.”

  “What are we going to do with Inahooli?”

  “Hold her until Nia gets back, then let her go, but only when we’re ready to leave. She won’t follow us. She has her tower to guard.”

  “I wonder if we’re driving her crazy.”

  “What?” He stopped and stared at me.

  “She struck me as a vulnerable person, though it’s hard to judge a person from another cu
lture. Maybe they’re all like that: boastful and defensive. In any case, her self-esteem is all tied up with the tower and her position as the guardian. Now she’s failed. I’m pretty sure that she thinks the tower is ruined, and I don’t think she’ll be able to handle failure. I don’t think she has the—what?—elasticity of spirit.”

  Derek made the gesture of doubt. “I think you underestimate that woman. Her technology is primitive—what you call primitive, anyway. But I don’t think she’s simple. I know Nia isn’t. And the oracle is so damn complex, I don’t know where I am with him. Most likely this lady—I’ve forgotten her name again.”

  “Inahooli.”

  “Most likely she’d do what I’d do in her place.”

  “What?” I started walking again.

  Derek kept pace. “I’d lie. I’d pretend nothing had happened. When my people came, I’d say, ‘Everything is fine.’ ”

  I frowned. Derek glanced at me, then continued, “Every society has standards for proper conduct, and in every society people fail to meet those standards. Reality and human frailty get in the way. Well, you can’t abandon the standards, and you can’t have everyone in the society going around crying ‘Mea culpa.’ So you invent hypocrisy. It’s present in every society I’ve ever studied. I’m sure they have it here on this planet.”

  “Maybe.”

  We turned away from the shore, walking toward the grove.

  “Think of my people,” Derek said. “To them two qualities are important. Mellowness and honesty. Well, what do you do when honesty will create an unpleasant situation?”

  He paused. I said nothing. “First of all, you try to evade the problem. You eat a little peyote. You concentrate on the cosmic patterns. That’s what’s important, after all—all that energy, pouring down from the stars and rising up from the ground.

  “The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

  It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;