A Woman of the Iron People

by Eleanor Arnason

  I went back to camp. Derek was gone—off to check the animals, most likely. The oracle lay wrapped in his blanket. Nia was going through one of the saddlebags, and Tanajin sat by the fire. A metal tripod stood over it. A pot hung suspended, flames licking around it. I looked in. Gray mush.

  Tanajin said, “I have thought some more about your need.”

  I made the gesture that meant “go on.”

  “There is no quick way through the marshes. I told you that before. There is no safe way, either. The big lizards like to sun themselves on the banks of the river, and they hunt in the shallows. They are hungry this time of year. They know they must eat well, before they start the trip south.

  “There are other animals that are dangerous. The killers of the forest. The little mathadi. They are no bigger than my hand. But their bite is poisonous. You must go on the river.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “There is a man who lives near here. Like me, he comes from the south. He used to be a great hunter of the umazi. He knows the river—all of it. After we eat, I will build up the fire and signal him. If he is in the area, he will come. Maybe he will take you to the lake.”

  I made the gesture of gratitude. She gave the mush another stir. “You will have to leave the animals here. They will not fit in the boat.”

  I made the gesture that meant “no matter.” “Would you like them? We owe you a gift in return for your help.”

  Tanajin frowned. “I do not travel on land. Not any long distance. I can walk to anyplace I want to visit.”

  Nia came over. She looked angry. “What are you saying, Li-sa? How can you offer the animals to this woman?”

  I looked up, surprised. “She has found a way to get us to the lake.”

  “You will meet your friends and go off with them. That is your plan, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not certain. Maybe.”

  “If you do, what about me? What about the oracle? What will happen to us? We will be left alone in the middle of the plain.” She squatted down and stared at me. “I do not want to go to the Amber People. I do not think the Iron People will make me welcome. We need those animals! We are going to have to travel a long distance before we find anyone who will give us through-the-winter hospitality.”

  “What have you done?” asked Tanajin.

  “We’ve had bad luck,” said Nia. She sounded curt.

  “Worse than most, from the sound of it,” said Tanajin. She took a bowl and filled it with mush. “I have heard of people who make one village mad at them. But two! That is something!”

  “I wasn’t thinking,” I said to Nia. “You’re right. You’ll need the bowhorns. We’ll have to find another gift for Tanajin.” I paused. “You don’t have to come with us the rest of the way to the lake. You could stay here.”

  “Is that what you want?” asked Nia.

  “No. I want you to come. It won’t be easy to leave you or the oracle. I don’t want to do it now.”

  Nia made the gesture of assent. “I will go with you the rest of the way. Until you meet your friends.”

  I looked at Tanajin. “Will you take care of the animals till Nia and the oracle return?”

  She handed me the bowl of mush, then made the gesture of assent.

  I made the gesture of gratitude and tried the mush. It had a gritty texture. The flavor was nutty and sweet. Not bad.

  “There is beer to drink,” said Tanajin. “We’ll eat, and then I’ll build up the fire.”

  Nia woke the oracle. Derek returned. I explained our plan between mouthfuls of mush.

  He made the gesture of agreement, then looked at Tanajin. “How safe is the river? I need to take a bath.”

  “The current is strong here. The lizards do not really like fast water. They are not likely to hunt in this area. You can go into the river, but stay close to shore and keep your eyes open. Those animals do not always do what is expected.”

  “Okay,” said Derek.

  Tanajin frowned.

  “All right,” said Derek in the language of gifts.

  “I’ll go with you,” I said and stood.

  “You need a something,” said Tanajin.

  “What?” asked Derek.

  “Let me show you.” Tanajin rose and went in the tent. She came out with an object about the size of a baseball. “This.”

  I took the object. It was yellow and felt oily. “We have nothing like this,” I said.

  “No wonder you look dirty and stink.”

  Derek said, “We have nothing like this with us. We have it at home. And we use it.”

  “Well, use it now,” said Tanajin.

  We went upriver till we were out of sight of the tent, stripped, and waded in. The water was lukewarm, about the same temperature as Tanajin’s native beer. Even close to shore I could feel the current. I dunked down till the water covered me, then stood and rubbed myself with the yellow ball. It foamed. Wonderful!

  Derek held out his hand. “Me, too.”

  “Just a minute.” I covered myself with lather and rubbed lather in my hair. He stood watching, waist-deep in water, his hands on his hips. “Impatience on a monument,” I said.

  “What?”

  “It’s a quote, but I don’t have it right.”

  “Shakespeare. Twelfth Night. ‘She sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief.’ I don’t remember the act or scene, but it’s Viola speaking to the duke. About herself, of course, though the duke does not know it. Give me the soap.”

  I handed it over. He lathered. I rinsed. Was there anything equal to getting clean? Especially after traveling so long. I got the soap back and covered myself with lather again.

  Derek said, “I think we could use this stuff to wash our clothes. I have reached the point where I don’t want to stand upwind of myself.”

  A log floated by. There was a lizard on it. A little one, no more than a meter long. It turned its head and looked at us, then inflated the sack in its throat. Ca-roak!

  “The same to you,” I said.

  We waded back to shore, washed our clothes, and spread them on the sand to dry. The air was almost motionless. The day was getting hot. We sat down side by side. I glanced at Derek. His hair was blond again. His skin had returned to its usual color: brown and reddish brown. He looked attractive.

  “The old saints were right,” he said. “The ones who didn’t take baths. Being dirty does interfere with sex. I’m not sure what the exact connection is, and it doesn’t work for everyone, of course. But it certainly works for me.” He made the gesture of inquiry.

  I replied with the gesture of agreement and the gesture of assent.

  We made love on the sand, then waded back into the river and washed ourselves off. We sat down again. He leaned over and kissed my ear. “Aristotle was not right. ‘All animals are sad after sex.’ I tend to feel mellow and sentimental after getting laid.” He grinned. “And complacent, as if I’ve pulled off something out of the ordinary. A better-than-average card trick or a really clever essay.”

  “I didn’t know you did card tricks.”

  “Not at the moment. I left my cards upstairs.”

  I looked downriver. A thick column of smoke rose into the sky. The signal fire.

  “But I can prove that I’m clever,” Derek said.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “There was someone in the tent when we arrived last night. Hiding. I think it was a man.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Footprints. Big ones. Entering and leaving. The ones close to the tent were scuffed. But I found others farther away. Good clear ones. One set was fresh. The ones leaving. My bet is he left after we went to sleep.” Derek paused. “Not by the front. That would have wakened me. He cut apart two skins in the back.”

  I thought for a moment. “Do you think it’s the man she’s signaling?”

  “Most likely. She didn’t want us to know she was friendly with a man. Even though I am a man and so is the oracle. These people are careful.”

>   I checked the clothes. They were still damp. “I just realized this morning—there’s a chance our journey is almost over. We won’t see Nia or the oracle after another day or two.”

  He made the gesture of agreement.

  “I didn’t mind leaving that village in New Jersey. Those people were loathsome. I barely got out alive. But every other time I’ve finished a study, it’s been painful. At least a little. To go in and out of the lives of other people.”

  “I’m usually ready to go,” said Derek. “I start thinking of my house in Berkeley. My books. The indoor plumbing. The kitchen with everything I need for cooking. And all the lovely women that are to be found around a university.” He paused. “Later, when I’m back, I miss the people I was studying.” He grinned. “In the comfort of my house.”

  I checked the clothes again. We talked about the people we had studied and the people we had known as friends and colleagues on Earth. A wandering conversation, full of pauses. We made love a second time and washed again in the lukewarm river. The day kept getting hotter. Clouds appeared in the west.

  Around noon Nia came looking for us. “The man has arrived. He must live close to here. He’s willing to take us to the lake. But he wants to go now. He says there will be a storm in the afternoon. He wants to be a good distance down the river by then.”

  We put on our underwear and shook the sand off the rest of our clothes, rolled them and carried them to camp.

  There was a canoe drawn up on the shore. A dugout. Good-sized. Surprising that a single man would need a boat that big. The prow was high. The top was an animal head, elaborately carved. The eyes were inlaid with shell. The mouth was open and had real teeth: triangular and white. They were all the same size. Unspecialized. Most likely the teeth of a fish or reptile or a very large bird. The owner of the canoe was nowhere in sight.

  “He’s in the tent,” said the oracle. “Talking to Tanajin. They are a strange pair.”

  “We’d better put on shirts,” said Derek. “The day is bright. We’ll get burned out on the water.”

  “Okay.”

  We packed the jeans and the rest of our belongings.

  Nia said, “I talked with Tanajin this morning and told her I am a smith. She has tools here, left by a traveler. She says there is a hole in the bottom of her best cooking pot, and Ulzai—the man—has a knife that no longer holds an edge. And there is other work to be done.”

  “I am not much use at a forge,” said the oracle. “But I know stories, and my dreams are useful.”

  Reciprocity. A gift must always be returned. What could we possibly give to Nia and the oracle in return for their help?

  Tanajin came out, carrying a sack made of leather and a large metal jug. “Food,” she said.

  The man came after her. He wasn’t tall, but he was broad and heavy. His fur was shaggy. It made him look even bigger than he was. He limped heavily. There was a patch of white fur on his leg. Was that evidence of scar tissue? He turned his head, looking us over. Two lines of white fur went down the side of his face. The inner line touched the corner of his mouth and the lip was twisted out. I could see the red mucous membrane.

  His eyes were red. His pupils were contracted and so narrow I could not see them. The eyes were blank. Eerie!

  “You are certainly different,” he said. His voice was deep and harsh. “Tanajin says you have not been sick.”

  Derek made the gesture of affirmation.

  “I am Ulzai.”

  He wore a kilt made of brown cloth. His belt was leather with a buckle of yellow metal. Brass, most likely. A long knife hung at his side. The sheath was leather and brass or bronze. The hilt was tarnished silver. His feet were bare. He wore no jewelry at all. He was the plainest-looking man I had seen on the planet. Plain in both senses. Unadorned and ugly.

  “Get everything you own in the canoe. Does any one of you know how to paddle?”

  “I do,” I said.

  “I will be in the stern. You sit in the prow. These others will go in between.” He stared at Derek and Nia and the oracle. “The boat is going to be heavily laden. It may be that I am a fool to carry so many people. But I know what I am doing out on the water, and I have always been lucky there. Listen to me! Stay quiet! If you move around, the boat may turn over.”

  “Okay,” said Derek.

  “What?” asked Ulzai.

  “That word means ‘yes,’ ” said the oracle.

  We loaded the canoe and pushed it into the water. Nia and the oracle got in clumsily.

  “Be careful!” said Ulzai.

  Derek did a little better.

  Ulzai and I turned the boat, then climbed in. “You—at least—can get in a canoe,” the furry man said. “Tell me your name.”

  “Lixia.”

  “Li-zha,” he repeated.

  Tanajin said, “Farewell.”

  I found my paddle. It was almost the same as the paddles I had used in northern Minnesota.

  “Get to work,” said Ulzai.

  I dipped the paddle in the water. My first stroke was shallow.

  “Is that the best you can do?”

  “Give me time,” I said. “I have not done this for many years, and I will not remember how to do it if you make me uneasy.”

  He made a barking noise. “All right.”

  The canoe moved out into the river. I glanced back once and saw Tanajin standing on the shore: a dark figure, motionless. Her tent was behind her. Smoke rose from her fire. It was still thick and dark.

  “Don’t look back,” said Ulzai.

  I turned my head and concentrated on paddling.

  Ulzai

  After a while Ulzai said, “You are beginning to falter. Give the paddle to the man without hair. I’ll watch him and tell him what he’s doing wrong. You watch the river for logs.”

  Derek took the paddle. I rubbed my injured shoulder and looked around.

  We were in the main channel: a broad expanse of water, empty except for an occasional bit of floating debris—a branch, a leaf, a mat of vegetation, a tree.

  On my left was the eastern shore, covered with forest. The valley wall rose in the distance. It had not changed: a row of bluffs, made of soft rock and deeply eroded, pale yellow in the sunlight.

  On my right were islands and sandbars and patches of marsh. Most of the islands were covered with trees. I couldn’t make out the shoreline. There was no neat line between solid ground and water, no way to tell a large island from the riverbank.

  Beyond the marsh and forest rose another line of cliffs, marking the western side of the valley. A lot of water must have run through here at some time in the past. Was this evidence for glaciation? A question for the planetologists. I wondered if they’d ever get down here, ever get to see this valley.

  Midway through the afternoon Nia opened the food sack and handed out pieces of bread. We drank sour beer.

  “There’s our storm,” Derek said.

  I looked west. Clouds billowed above the cliffs: cumulonimbus, tall and grayish white. Other clouds—high and thin—extended to the middle of the sky. The sun shone through them, its brilliance barely dimmed.

  Ulzai said, “You take the paddle back, o hairless woman. We are going to need whatever skill you have.”

  I followed orders. A wind began to blow, and the river grew choppy. Ulzai said, “Turn in.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “The island ahead. The big one.”

  We paddled toward it. Driftwood was piled on the upriver side: gray branches and roots, trunks worn smooth by water. We skirted the driftwood and came to shore on a little sandy beach. I climbed out. There was a low rumble of thunder in the west.

  “Get the boat up on land,” said Ulzai.

  We unloaded the boat and pulled it out of the water, then carried it to the edge of the forest.

  By this time the sky was dark. Ulzai made the gesture that meant “come along.” We gathered our supplies and followed him into the forest. A path wound among the trees. Ab
ove us foliage rustled in the wind. The air smelled of damp earth and the approaching rain.

  We reached a clearing. There was a pool in the middle, three meters across, clear and shallow. I could see leaves on the bottom. Last year’s, maybe. They were dull yellow and gray. A dark blue mossy plant grew at the edges of the pool, and orange bugs skittered over the surface.

  At the edge of the clearing was an awning, large and made of leather, stretched between four trees. All the debris of the forest floor had been cleared out from under it, and a pile of driftwood lay in the middle of the bare ground.

  “That is my home,” Ulzai said.

  “Spartan,” said Derek in English.

  There was a crack of thunder. I jumped. Raindrops splattered down through the forest canopy.

  Ulzai made a gesture.

  We crowded under the awning, and the rain began in earnest. It drummed on the awning, dripped off the edges of the leather and fell into the clearing like—what? A gray curtain. A mountain torrent. I huddled, my arms around my knees. Wind blew water in on me. Lightning flashed. There was more thunder.

  “This won’t last,” said Derek.

  “I hope not,” I said.

  Again lightning. Again thunder. There was no pause between them. The lightning was close. I shivered, not from fear. The air was cold, and I was getting wet. Nia was closer to the edge of the awning than I was. Already her tunic clung to her body. Her fur was matted down, and she had a look of grim endurance.

  “There has been a lot of rain this summer,” the oracle said. “I wonder who is responsible.”

  Ulzai said, “One thing I have learned since I came up the river. The weather here is never reliable. To me it looks as if there are a lot of different spirits who take a hand in making the weather. They don’t get along. They refuse to work together, and that explains why there are so many kinds of weather here and why the weather is always changing.”

  I looked at Nia. She was frowning. “You grew up on the plain, Nia. Is he right about the weather?”