Winter in Eden

by Harry Harrison

  None of the hunters could sleep. They wiped the blood from their hands and arms as well as they could, sat and talked quietly until dawn. When there was enough light to see by, Herilak stood and issued orders.

  “I want help here. I want to seal up this hole where we were hidden so nothing can be seen. Pull some of the bodies on top of the rocks. They might find the opening, I don’t know—but if they don’t it will be something more to worry them. They will then wonder how this happened, how we got past their defenses, and it could slow them down.”

  “Will they go back then?” Nenne asked.

  “No, that won’t happen,” Herilak said, feeling the anger rise within him. “They will keep coming. But we can slow them, kill them. We can do that. Now the rest of you, wait until it is full light and the thorns withdraw. Don’t touch anything, just use your spears to pull aside the vines. Leave everything else the way it is. We’ll take the death-sticks, some meat, nothing else. Pull the vines back into place when we go. This will be a sight to make the murgu very, very unhappy. I want it to be that way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  They sailed south along the coast. The Paramutan were excited by this journey into the unknown, pointing out every new headland and bit of beach with shouts of wonder. Kerrick did not share this enthusiasm but sank deeper into a grim unhappiness with every day’s travel. Armun saw this and could only share his despair because she knew there was little she could do to help him. As they voyaged south the weather improved, but not his spirits. She almost welcomed the bad weather that followed because he had to work with others to reef the sails and pump out the bilge so had little time to think about the future.

  The coastline made a turn here, they could see it on the map, until they were sailing due west. Although the sun was warm the winter storms lashed down from the north bringing squalls of rain. On their eighth day of sailing they ran through one cloudburst after another, starting soon after dawn, but by midafternoon the last squall had passed and the rainstorm had blown past them to the shore.

  “See the rainbow,” Armun said, pointing to the great arch that spanned the sky, stretching inland from the sea. It appeared to end upon a rocky headland. “My father always said that if you found the spot where the rainbow ends you would find the greatdeer who would speak to you. When you found it there at rainbow’s end it could not escape and would have to answer any question that you asked it. That is what my father said.”

  Kerrick was silent, looking toward the land as though he had not even heard her.

  “Do you think that would happen?” she asked.

  Kerrick shook his head. “I don’t know. I have never heard a greatdeer talk. They are good to eat—but I don’t think I would take their advice about anything.”

  “But this is a special kind of greatdeer. You will only find it at rainbow’s end. I believe that it really is there.”

  She said this firmly, watching the rainbow grow fainter and fainter still until it vanished as the storm swept inland over the wooded hills. Kerrick did not disagree with her, was sunk again into his depression.

  The wind died down after the storm and the sun shone warmly. Armun turned her face to it and ran her fingers through her hair so it would dry. Only the Paramutan were unhappy, taking off their fur jackets and complaining of the heat. They were creatures of the north and grew unhappy when they were too warm. Kalaleq stood in the bow, the breeze ruffling the long fur on his back, peering ahead at the coast.

  “There!” he cried out suddenly, pointing. “That is a new thing, a thing that I have never seen before.”

  Kerrick joined him, squinting at the distant green patch on the shoreline, waiting until he was absolutely sure.

  “Turn about, go to the shore,” he said. “I know what that is. It is . . .” His vocabulary failed him and he turned to Armun and spoke in Marbak.

  “There is no word for it—but it is the place where the murgu bring their creatures that swim. The murgu are there, at that place.”

  Armun spoke quickly in Paramutan and Kalaleq’s eyes grew wide. “They are indeed there,” he said, pushing over on the steering oar as the others rushed to the lines. They went about and on the opposite tack angled back to the coast, away from the Yilanè dock. Kerrick was looking at the chart, tracing it with his finger.

  “This is it, it must be. We must land on the shore and approach it on foot. We must find out what it is doing here.”

  “Do you think there will be any murgu there?” Armun asked.

  “There is no way to tell from here—but there could be. But we must he careful, go cautiously, just a few of us.”

  “If you go—I am going.”

  He started to speak, but heard the firmness in her voice and only nodded instead. “We two, then. And one or two at most of the Paramutan.”

  Kalaleq included himself in the scouting party and, after much shouting and arguing, Niumak was added as well because he was known as a great stalker. They ran the ikkergak ashore on a sandy beach. Armed with spears the small party set out along the sand.

  The beach ended in a rocky headland, forcing them to go inland among the trees. The forest here was almost impenetrable with fallen trees tumbled between the living ones, thick trunks mixed with the smaller secondary growth. As soon as they could they worked their way back to the ocean, toward the sound of waves on rock.

  “I die, the heat kills,” Kalaleq said. He was staggering, close to exhaustion.

  “Snow, ice,” Niumak said. “That is where the real people belong. Kalaleq speaks truthfully, death from heat comes near.”

  There was blue sky ahead and a welcome breeze. The Paramutan praised its cooling touch while Kerrick pushed the leaves aside and looked out at the rocks and the breaking waves below. They were very close to the dock now. There were rounded mounds of some kind behind it, but be could not tell what they were from this distance. Nothing moved, it look deserted.

  “I’m going to get closer . . .”

  “I’ll go with you,” Armun said.

  “No, I had better go alone. If the murgu are there I’ll come right back. And I know them, know how they react. It would be much more dangerous with you along. The Paramutan would be in the way as well—if they could walk that far. Stay with them. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She wanted to argue, to go with him—but knew that he was doing the only thing possible. For a moment she held her arms about him, pulled her head against his chest. Then pushed him away and turned to the gasping Paramutan.

  “I’ll stay with them. Now go.”

  It was hard to move silently through the forest; too many branches had to be pushed aside and the dead wood crackled underfoot. He went faster when he came to a game trail that led down from the hills. It angled off in the right direction, toward the shore, and he followed it with care. When it emerged from the trees he stopped and looked out carefully from behind the screening leaves. The empty dock was directly ahead of him with the high, rounded mounds beside it. They were too smooth and regular to be natural formations—and they had openings like doors let into them.

  Should he go any closer? If there were Yilanè inside them—how could he find out? There were no uruketo at the dock, but that meant little since Yilanè could have been left behind.

  The sharp crack of the hèsotsan was unmistakable. He hurled himself aside, falling, horribly afraid. The dart must have missed. He had to get away.

  There was a crash of heavy feet and even as he struggled to push his way through the screen of young trees he saw the Yilanè run up, hèsotsan half raised. She stopped suddenly when she saw him, her arms curved with a gesture of surprise. Then she raised and aimed the weapon.

  “Do not shoot!” he cried out. “Why do you want to kill me? I am unarmed and a friend.”

  His spear had fallen from his hand and he pushed it deeper into the undergrowth with his foot as he spoke.

  The affect on his attacker was dramatic. She stepped backward and spoke with disbelief.r />
  “This is an ustuzou. It cannot speak—yet it spoke.”

  “I can speak and speak well.”

  “Explanation of presence here: immediate and urgent.”

  The weapon was ready but not pointed at him. That could change in an instant. What could he say? Something, anything to keep her listening.

  “I come from far away. I was trained to speak by a Yilanè of great intelligence. She was kind to me, taught me much, I am a friend of the Yilanè.”

  “I heard once of an ustuzou that talked. Why are you here alone?” She did not wait for an explanation but raised and pointed her weapon instead. “You have fled your owner, escaped from her, that is what you have done. Stand there and do not move.”

  Kerrick did as he had been ordered; he had no choice. Stood there in silence as he heard more footsteps, saw the two fargi come down the path from the forest carrying the body of one of the giant birds. He cursed himself for not realizing that he was walking on a well-trodden path, not a natural game trail. There were Yilanè here after all. And this one, she looked brutal, a hunter just as Stallan had been. She must have been out hunting for fresh meat and had practically stumbled over him. He should have known, a hunter would have seen at once this was not a game trail and would have taken precautions. He had done nothing. The fargi came up, passed him, each rolling one eye as she went by, making muffled remarks of wonderment, their load making speaking difficult.

  “Go after them,” the hunter ordered. “Run and you die.”

  Kerrick had no choice. He stumbled along the path, numb with despair, toward the rounded constructions on the shore.

  “Bring the meat to the butchers,” the hunter ordered. The two fargi went on past the first dome, but the hunter pointed it out to him with signs of entry.

  “We go in here. I think that Esspelei will want to see you.”

  There was a leathery door set into the side of the dome; it split and opened when he pressed a speckled area. It revealed a short tunnel with another door at the far end, barely seen in the light from the glowing patches on the wall. His captor stood well back, weapon ready, and ordered him forward. He touched the second door and a wave of warm air washed over him as he went into the chamber beyond. The glowing patches were larger and the light was better in here. There were many strange creatures on the ledges, creatures of science, he could tell that much. Charts were on the walls and a Yilanè was bent over one of the instruments.

  “Why do you disturb me, Fafnege,” she said with some irritation as she turned about. Her gestures changed instantly to surprise and fear.

  “A filthy ustuzou! Why is it not dead, why do you bring it here?”

  Fafnege signed superiority of knowledge and contempt for fear. She was very much like Stallan. “You are safe, Esspelei, so do not betray your quivering fright. This is a very unusual ustuzou. Watch what happens when I order it to speak.”

  “You are in no danger,” Kerrick said. “But I am. Order this repulsive creature to lower her weapon. I am unarmed.”

  Esspelei was rigid with surprise. Long moments passed before she spoke.

  “I know of you. I spoke with one who spoke with Akotolp who told her of the ustuzou that speaks.”

  “I know Akotolp. She is very-very fat.”

  “You must be the one then, for Akotolp is fat. Why are you here?”

  “The thing has escaped,” Fafnege said. “There can be no other explanation of its presence. See the ring about its neck? See where a lead has been severed? It has fled its master.”

  “Is that what happened?” Esspelei said.

  Kerrick was silent, his thoughts jumbled. What should he tell them? Any story would do; they had no ability to lie themselves since their very thoughts showed in the motion of their bodies. But he could lie—and would.

  “I did not escape. There was—an accident, a storm, the uruketo was in trouble. I fell into the sea, swam ashore. I have been alone. I am hungry. It is good to be able to speak with Yilanè again.”

  “This is of great interest,” Esspelei said. “Fafnege, bring meat.”

  “It will run again if we let it. I will order a fargi.”

  She went out but Kerrick knew she had not gone far. He would escape when he could—but first he needed to get at least some advantage from his capture. He must find out what these Yilanè were doing this far to the north.

  “From one of great stupidity to one of highest intelligence; respectful request for knowledge. What do Yilanè need in this cold place?”

  “Information,” Esspelei said, answering without thinking, amazed at the presence of the Yilanè ustuzou. “This a place of science where we study the winds, the ocean, the weather. All of this is beyond you of course; I don’t know why I bother to explain.”

  “Generosity of spirit, from highest to lowest. Do you measure the coldness of the winters, the cold winds that blow ever stronger from the north?”

  Esspelei signed surprise and a shade of respect. “You are no fargi, ustuzou, but can speak with the smallest amount of intelligence. We do study the winters for knowledge is science and science is life. This is what we study.”

  She gestured toward the grouped instruments, the charts upon the wall, movements of unhappiness behind her speech. Talking more to herself now than to him. “Each year the winters are colder, each winter the ice is further south. Here is dead Soromset and dead Inegban*. Dead cities. And still the cold comes. Here Ikhalmenets which will be the next to die when the cold comes its way.”

  Ikhalmenets! Kerrick trembled with the force of his emotions, took time to speak so his trembling voice did not betray his eagerness. Ikhalmenets, the city that Erafnais had told him about on that beach, before she died, the city that aided Vaintè, the city that had launched the attack that had retaken Deifoben. Ikhalmenets, the enemy.

  “Ikhalmenets? In my stupidity I have never heard of the city of Ikhalmenets.”

  “Your stupidity is indeed monumental. Sea-girt Ikhalmenets, a shining island in the ocean. You are not Yilanè if you do not know of the existence of Ikhalmenets.”

  As she said this she reached out to make her point, tapping one thumb lightly on the hanging chart.

  “So stupid I wonder that I can live,” Kerrick agreed. He leaned forward and noted exactly where the thumb had touched. “What generosity of highest to lowest that you even bother to speak with me, much less waste your incredibly valuable time in increasing my knowledge.”

  “You speak the truth, Yilanè-ustuzou.” The door opened and a fargi entered with a bladder of meat. “We will eat. Then you will respond to my queries.”

  Kerrick ate in silence, filled with a fierce and sudden happiness. He had no other questions, there was nothing more that he needed to know.

  He knew where the enemy Ikhalmenets was located in the vastness of the oceans, in all the width of the world.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Kerrick had just finished eating the preserved meat and was wiping the grease from his fingers onto his furs when the door opened again. But this was no wide-eyed fargi; a Yilanè of age and substance entered and looked at him with signs of doubt and suspicion. Esspelei stood in a position of subservience and he copied her at once. The newcomer was heavy of jowl, her thick arms painted with a pattern of whorls even here in this crude place so far from the cities. She was very much in control of the situation. Fafnege, still armed with her hèsotsan entered behind her, also signing respect for her rank. Kerrick knew that this one would not be as easy to fool as the others. She examined his face closely with one eye, while at the same time looked him carefully up and down with the other.

  “What is this piece of ustuzou filth? What is it doing here?”

  “Lowest Esspelei to highest Aragunukto,” Esspelei writhed humbly, “the hunter found it in the forest. It is yilanè.”

  “Is it? Are you?” An imperious order that Kerrick answered with all signs of deference.

  “It is my pleasure to speak and not be dumb like other ustuzou.”


  “Tear off those repellent coverings—the beast is difficult to understand.”

  Esspelei hurried forward and Kerrick made no protest, stood with humble submission as she cut away his furs with her string knife. He was bleeding from a number of cuts before his clothing lay tumbled on the floor.

  “Pink-ugly, disgusting,” Aragunukto said. “And obviously a male. Admit no fargi lest the sight of this one generate unacceptable thoughts. Turn! I knew it, no tail either. I have seen pictures of your kind, safely dead, in far-away sea-girt Ikhalmenets. How did it get here?”

  “It fell from an uruketo during a storm, swam ashore,” Esspelei said. She said it as a fact; since he had spoken of it it must be a fact. Aragunukto’s features clouded with anger.

  “When could this have happened? It is my certain knowledge that there is only one Yilanè ustuzou and that it has escaped and is feral. Are you that same ustuzou?”

  “I am, great one. I was recaptured, sent in an uruketo across the ocean, then washed overboard.”

  “What uruketo? Who commanded? Who captured you?”

  Kerrick was becoming tangled in his own web of lies. Aragunukto was too shrewd to fool—but there was no way out now.

  “This knowledge is not mine. I was struck on the head, a storm, night . . .”

  Aragunukto turned away and signed Fafnege for attention-to-orders. “This creature of disgust speaks like it is Yilanè. It is not. There are shadows in its speaking that reveal its ustuzou nature. I feel dirtied by this communication. Kill it, Fafnege, and let us be done with it.”

  With gestures of satisfaction and happiness Fafnege raised her hèsotsan, aimed it.

  “No, you have no reason,” Kerrick called out hoarsely. But the order had been given, would be obeyed. He jumped sideways, away from the weapon, stumbled against the shocked scientist at his side. In an agony of fear he seized her heavy arms and pulled her before him, crouching so her body shielded him from any dart. “I can help you, give important information!”