Winter in Eden

by Harry Harrison

Ambalasi reinforced the strength of her statements with modifiers of infinite enlargement. Enge bowed beneath the weight of her rage and assertiveness, but did not alter anything.

  “That may be as you say, great Ambalasi, for you are the wisest in the sciences of life. I am humble before your knowledge—yet I still know what I know.”

  “How could you know?” Ambalasi hissed, her entire body atremble, her crest engorged and inflamed.

  “I know in the simplest manner. The Sorogetso grew angry when I would not respond as it wished, made threatening gestures, one of which involved opening its sexual sac. I have seen what I have seen. It is male, not female.”

  Ambalasi collapsed backward, suddenly pale, gasping aloud as her strong passions ebbed. There was no mistake; Enge had seen what she had seen. Her limbs twitched in confusion as she sought some meaning, some possible explanation. Her inescapable conclusions were logically correct, personally repulsive.

  “If the creature made gestures of threat, and one of these gestures involved its sexual organs, I can only conclude that it must be the aggressor sex. Which in turn leads inescapably to the conclusion that . . .” She could not continue, but the movements of her limbs revealed the unavoidable conclusions. Enge spoke it aloud.

  “The males here are dominant, the females at the most equal or possibly subservient.”

  “How unacceptably loathsome! Not the natural order for Yilanè. In the case of lower animals, yes, it is possible, for they are senseless brutes. But intelligence is female, thought is female, the source of life, the eggs—they are inescapably female. The males provide the crude biological functions of supplying half the needed genes and all of the reflexive-boring prenatal care. That is all they are good for, they have no other function. What you have observed is preposterous, unnatural—and utterly fascinating.”

  Ambalasi had recovered her aplomb, was thinking now like a true scientist not a mindless fargi. Was it possible? Of course it was possible. The diversity of sexual roles, relationships, variations and inversions among the species in the world was almost infinite. So why not a variation in her own species? How far back would the breaking apart of the two have to have been? She would have to consider that. The fact of even crude communication indicated a relatively recent separation. Unless the forms of basic communication were fixed in the genes and not learned. It all became more and more interesting. Enough. Observation first, theorizing last. Facts were needed, facts and more facts.

  That she had been the one to discover this . . . ! She struggled to her feet.

  “Imperative now! I must see, talk, record everything about the Sorogetso.”

  Enge signed patience. “You will do that, for yours is the mind of science that will disclose all. But communication first. I must learn to speak with the Sorogetso, gain their confidence, then penetrate their culture. It will take time.”

  Ambalasi leaned back with a tired sigh. “Of course it will. Proceed at once. Devote your time to nothing else. Take Setèssei with you, I will relieve her of all other tasks. She is to record everything. Detailed records must be kept. My name shall roar like the bellow of a nenitesk down through the annals of time for making this discovery. Of course you will get some credit as well.”

  “Your generosity is infinite,” Enge said respectfully, concealing most of her feelings; luckily Ambalasi was too involved in her own whirling thoughts to notice any negative connotations in the statement.

  “Yes, of course, well-known fact. I must learn the language as well—Setèssei will bring me the recordings daily. You will learn to speak with them, gain access to their community, give them food, hopefully they will have sickness and I can give them medical aid. In doing so I will make a study of their physiology. Doors of knowledge opening—facts accumulated, soon revealed!” She looked at Enge and her expression grew stern. “But knowledge reserved for those with the capacity to understand. Just as males are kept from the casual attention of fargi and unsuited ones, so must this fact of maleness be kept from your companions.”

  Enge was concerned. “But openness is the basis of our existence. We share with each other.”

  “Wonderful. But this fact is not for sharing.” She pressed the point when she saw that Enge was still doubtful. “I make a comparison. A Yilanè would not put a hèsotsan in the hand of a yiliebe fargi with the sea still wet on her hide. It would mean death for the fargi or others. The maleness of the Sorogetso could be a weapon, a cultural poison, a threat. Do you understand that and agree?”

  “I do,” with grave reservations.

  “Then I ask only for scientific reserve—for the present. When we have learned more we can discuss it again. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” With strong modifiers. “We must discover the truth, then determine its effects upon us. Until we have reached that point I will remain silent.”

  “Very good. Since you agree with me my respect for your intelligence grows. Send Setèssei here so I can instruct her as what is to be done.”

  The city grew luxuriously, and as it did Ambalasi drew more and more away from it. When problems were brought to her her wrath was so great, her insults so bitter that many grew to fear her. They began to discover ways to solve the problems on their own. This was made possible, as they soon discovered, by the fact that the city of Uguneneb had few of the city comforts they had known in older, larger and long-established cities. Refuse was not consumed and recycled by the city, water had to be brought from the river. Few if any of the other amenities of city life were present. Still existence here was superior to their imprisonment in the orchard. They would have to make do. If they had to sleep communally under the thick-leaved branches and eat a monotonous diet of eel and fish, it was not too important. What was more precious than food and drink to them was the unlimited opportunity to discuss Ugunenapsa and her ways, to seek truth and discover portents. It was a heady and wonderful existence at that moment.

  For her part Enge actually managed to forget the existence of Ugunenapsa for a good part of her day, as she labored to understand the Sorogetso, to learn to speak as they spoke. Eeasassiwi did not return after their first encounter, but Enge did manage to make contact with another Sorogetso, who was withdrawn and shy but finally was won over by patience and gifts of food. This one was named Moorawees, which seemed to mean orange-of-color, perhaps because of the slight orange fringe on her crest. She was a female and Enge found that this made it easier to work with her, relate to her.

  Understanding of Sorogetso communication grew slowly, but grow it did. They seemed to have very few modifiers and most of the meaning was carried by common color tonality. A few new verbal controllers were noted and soon after this Enge found that she could discuss basic concepts with Moorawees. It was then that the chance came at last to get Ambalasi involved.

  “Opportunity unrivaled,” she signed as she hurried toward the scientist—who instantly abandoned her work and radiated obedient attention. Enge was flustered by this—had never suspected that Ambalasi even knew these subservient gestures.

  “Urge of explanation,” Ambalasi said.

  “Forthcoming. My informant mentioned that one of her companions—there is no shade of male-female attached to the term that I could tell—has been wounded in some manner. I informed Moorawees that one of us was skilled in repair of bodies and Moorawees grew excited. I think she will lead us to the injured one.”

  “Excellent. I have studied their communication as you have recorded it.” She stood erect and spoke in the proper Sorogetso manner. “Help-given, person-aided, gratification.”

  Enge was truly impressed. “That is perfect. The time has come for us to penetrate the jungle. I fear only for your safety this first occasion. Perhaps I might take Setèssei now, she has healing skills, and might be more suitable for this first visit . . .”

  “It is I who will go now.” Said with all her imperiousness and might. Enge accepted; this was one time she knew that Ambalasi would not be disagreed with.

  Ambalasi push
ed the bulge on the hide of the carrying creature and its mouth opened to reveal the medical equipment stowed inside. After carefully checking the contents Ambalasi added more nefmakels, large ones for serious wounds, and other items that might be called for. When she was satisfied she shut it, then turned to Enge.

  “Carry this yourself—we want no witnesses with us now. Lead the way.”

  The Sorogetso was waiting in the river, only her head above the water. Her eyes widened with fear when Ambalasi came up and she turned about and moved away through the stream. They followed her into the river but she was the faster swimmer and her orange crest quickly vanished from sight. Ambalasi saw her emerge on the distant bank and splashed ponderously in that direction. Enge followed, much burdened by the medical supplies. She was gasping for breath when she finally stumbled ashore. Moorawees was at the forest edge, slipping away between the trees as they approached. They hurried after her, losing sight of her finally, but noting that they were following a well-trod path. When they emerged from the shadow of the jungle, on the bank of a stream they found her waiting for them.

  “Stop,” her palms flashed, with head-movement controllers of danger-imminent. The two Yilanè stopped at once, looked about in all directions yet saw nothing to fear.

  “In-water,” Moorawees signed, then opened her mouth wide and emitted a high-pitched warbling cry. She did this a second time until there was an answering call from the other side of the stream. There were movements in the brush there and two more of the Sorogetso emerged and looked doubtfully across the flowing water.

  “Danger of strangers, much-fear,” one of them signed.

  “Death of Ichikchee greater danger,” Moorawees answered with some firmness. It was only after more hesitation, and shouted commands from Moorawees that they shuffled to the large tree trunk floating by the shore and pushed it out into the stream. One end remained secured on the far bank so that, when the free end had drifted across and lodged on the shore, a bridge was made across the stream. Moorawees led the way, hooking her claws carefully on the rough bark and holding to the projecting stubs of branches. Enge waited for Ambalasi to precede her—but the scientist was rigid and uncommunicative.

  “I will go first,” Enge said. “I believe that there is nothing to fear.”

  “Stupidity and incomprehension,” Ambalasi said with some vehemence. “I am not afraid of these simple creatures. It was the silence of thought and observation that stayed me. Did you see what they did?”

  “Of course. Floated this log over so we could cross the stream dryshod.”

  “Brain-of-lowest-fargi!” Ambalasi snapped with quick anger. “You see with your eyes but fail to understand with your brain. They have used an artefact in the manner of the ustuzou—not the Yilanè. Now do you see what is happening?”

  “Of course! Joy-of-revelation, acknowledgment of stupidity. Though physically like us, they are fixed at a social level scarcely above the lower animals with no knowledge of Yilanè science.”

  “Obviously. But obvious only when pointed out to you. Proceed.”

  They crossed the bridge as carefully as the Sorogetso had done, though Ambalasi stopped halfway over and bent down to look closely into the water. The Sorogetso called out with fear until she signed a negative and went on to the other bank.

  “No danger visible,” she said, watching with great interest as the Sorogetso pulled on projecting branches and trailing vines—careful not to step into the water—until the tree had been pulled back into its original position. As soon as this was done the two Sorogetso hurried out of sight among the trees. Enge called for attention.

  “Moorawees has gone this way; we must follow her.”

  They followed another well-trod path through the thin growth of trees and emerged into a clearing. Only Moorawees was visible, waiting for them, though they felt that many others were watching them from the concealment of the brush. Ambalasi expressed happiness at excitement of new knowledge.

  “Look at the shore there, through the trees. I do believe that we are surrounded by water, an island in the stream that acts as a barrier, containing some danger-to-be-discovered. Gaze upon primitive and disgusting habits, discarded bones now black with flies.”

  “Moorawees calls to us,” Enge said.

  “Follow me and bring the medical supplies.”

  Moorawees pushed aside a low bough to disclose a nest of dried grass under a tree. Lying there unconscious, eyes closed, was a Sorogetso. Obviously female, her sac gaped slightly open, she stirred and moaned with pain. Her left foot had been bitten by some creature, was half eaten away. Now it was swollen and black, covered with flies. Her ankle and the leg above were also swollen and discolored.

  “Neglect and stupidity,” Ambalasi said with some satisfaction, opening the container creature. “Drastic measures must be taken and you shall assist me. This is also the opportunity for certain scientific experiments and observations. Send Moorawees away. Tell her this one’s life will be saved but she must not watch or the cure will not take.”

  The Sorogetso was happy to leave and retreated quickly. As soon as she was gone Ambalasi, with quick, accurate movements injected an anesthetic. As soon as Ichikchee was silent she wrapped a binding creature around the injured limb, centering the head over the large artery behind her knee. When prodded, the binding smoothly swallowed its tail until it grew tight, sunk into the flesh, cutting off the blood supply. Only then did Ambalasi take her string-knife and cut off the infected foot. Enge turned away but could still hear it crunching through flesh and bone. Ambalasi saw this and registered astonishment.

  “Such squeamishness! Are you then a fargi with no experience of existence? Watch and learn for knowledge is life. The foot was possible to repair—but only as a partial, crippled thing. Better to remove it all. Or rather all not needed. Half of the phalanges and metatarsal bones gone. With care and skill I excise the rest, stopping at the tarsus. We need that. Now—the large nefmakel, yes that one, clean this wound up. Give me the container.”

  Ambalasi found a small bladder of viscous red jelly. She cut it open and used a tiny nefmakel to remove a white kernel from its core—which she fixed into position on the stump of the severed leg. Only when this was placed to her satisfaction did she close the wound and cover it with a larger nefmakel, then found another single-fanged creature for a second injection.

  “Antibiotic. Finished.”

  She straightened up and rubbed at her sore back—and realized that they were no longer alone. A number of the Sorogetso had emerged silently from hiding and now stood close and watched, stirring and moving back a bit when her glance caught theirs.

  “Pain ended,” she said loudly in their manner of communication. “She sleeps. Will be weak, but pain will be gone. She will have many days’ rest, whole again, as she was before.”

  “Foot . . . gone,” Moorawees said, staring wide-eyed at the bandaged stump.

  “I will return and treat her. Then something will be seen that you have never seen before.”

  “What have you done?” Enge asked, as puzzled as the Sorogetso.

  “Planted a cell cluster to grow a new foot. If these creatures are as genetically close to us as they appear to be she will grow a new foot in place of the lost one.”

  “But—what if it doesn’t grow?”

  “Equally interesting in the cause of science. Either result will be of great importance.”

  “Even more so to Ichikchee,” Enge said with obvious overtones of disapproval. Ambalasi expressed surprise.

  “Surely the advance of knowledge takes precedent over this primitive creature—who would have died if I had not treated her. Such sympathy is misplaced.”

  The Sorogetso were even closer now, ten of them in all, jaws gaping as they tried to understand this unknown communication. They watched attentively as Ambalasi spoke, some even shuffling closer to make out her colors better.

  “There you are,” Ambalasi signed abruptly to Enge. “More knowledge must be gained.
You will talk with them now. What a momentous occasion this really is. Momentous!”

  The Sorogetso drew back at the quickness of her unknown communication, but returned when she called gently to them.

  “The are like fargi fresh from the sea,” Enge said. “We must be patient.”

  “Patient, of course, but we are students as well. We are the fargi now, here to learn, for they have a life and existence of their very own that we must plumb and understand. Now we begin.”

  kakhashasak burundochi ninustuzochi ka’asakakel.

  YILANÈ APOTHEGM

  A world without ustuzou is a better world.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Vaintè felt no despair, no fear of her meeting with Lanefenuu. They had their losses, terrible losses—but there had been success as well. In battle you had to accept one in order to gain the other. The final victory was all that mattered, all that would be remembered. She was sure of this within herself, felt not one bit of doubt, yet still kept reassuring herself over and over again of that strength. Lanefenuu might doubt, if so she would not be convinced unless Vaintè wore surety-of-success like an all-enveloping carapace.

  “Desire of position change, insufficiency of light,” the crewmember with the brush and paint said, modifying the demand controllers of extreme humility.

  The uruketo had altered course, they must be nearing Ikhalmenets, so that the shaft of sunlight from the top of the open fin had moved from her. Vaintè leaned forward to take the weight off her tail and stepped into the light to examine the work. Ornate golden leaves spiraled down her arms from her shoulders to terminate in patterns of fruit upon the backs of her hands. Perhaps overly ornate, but suitable for this important meeting. She signed satisfaction and approval: the crewmember returned extreme gratitude.

  “This is excellent, gentle of touch, fine in design,” Vaintè said.

  “It is my pleasure to do anything to assist the Salvationer.”

  Vaintè was hearing the term more and more these days. At first it had been expressed as she-who-aids-us, but had been gradually changed into she-who-saves-us. This is what the Yilanè of Ikhalmenets thoughts and what they said. They had no doubts, cared nothing for the fargi who had died that they might live. They could see the snow ever lower on the mountain peak, could feel the cold breath of endless winter drawing even closer. The eistaa must certainly share these feelings to some degree.