Fire Time

by Poul Anderson

  Ulu lay in the eastern foothills of the Worldwall range. Forest all around gave some shielding from the suns, though most trees were scrubby and this year their red or yellow leaves drooped, curled, withered. The occasional blue T-plants looked better, and in places a phoenix loomed magnificent. The household held frequent fire drills, and Jill recollected that the phoenix had its name, translated from a native equivalent, because its reproduction depended on the conflagrations which devastated these lands every millennium.

  A trail into the woods soon ended at a cabin. Two armed guards waved her off. She asked Innukrat why and got an Uneasy response: ‘Best not talk of that till the Overling comes back, if he then chooses.’ Jill decided probably it was a shrine or a magical site. And yet nobody minded her inspecting the family dolmens, though oracular dreams were supposed to come from them.

  This was the single restriction on her freedom of movement. Every other path she could follow as long as hunger or weariness allowed. Ten kilometers southeast the forest came to a halt and she looked widely from mountain peaks sheer in the west, across umber hills and down over a remote veldt, ashimmer in the heat which billowed from the two suns.

  Here and there she saw crofts. The social system appeared to rest on a kind of voluntary feudalism. An Overling dominated a region, led its fighters in battle or its workers in civil emergency, tried lawsuits upon request, officiated at the major religious rites. Lesser families could stay independent of him if they chose, but most found it preferable to become his ‘oathgivers’, pledge him certain services and obedience in exchange for the protection of his household troops and a share in his food stores when times got hard. Either party could annul the contract for cause, and it was not binding on the next generation – after the latter had passed that sixty-fourth birthday before which the power of the parents was absolute.

  Innukrat spoke of killings, especially among the young. Both sexes were raised haughty and quarrelsome. ‘They must be ready to fight, and know how, when raiders come or when we ourselves go raiding; for you see what a niggard land ours is.’ Nevertheless Overlings and oldsters kept bloodshed within bounds and eventually got unfriends reconciled. Well Jill thought, Ishtarians aren’t human.

  Her loneliness began to press in on her. She craved language lessons from Innukrat, and the female obliged as much as possible. That was no large amount, a wife’s duties being countless. Jill offered to help, but soon discovered she was merely in the way. Beside lacking the strength to use these crude implements, she hadn’t the skill.

  She took to spending most of her daytimes outdoors. The open country threatened sunstroke; and besides, the woods held more nature to study. It was sparse compared to that in the southern hemisphere, but as she gained a little familiarity, she found herself just as captivated, and frequently stayed out late.

  Thus it was that she had her encounter.

  She was returning after both suns, now close companions, had set. Tropical twilight was brief. However, the moons sufficed through this scanty foliage. Often her trail went through what she would have called a meadow were it less parched. Entering one such, the path curved sharply around a canebrake, to bring her out in a single stride.

  Low, gnarly trees made shadow masses around. Behind them on her right, the battlements of the Worldwall glimmered gray into a black-purple sky where stars burned fewer than usual. For Caelestia was rising near the full, and Urania at the half hung close by. No longer did either have two clear phases at once or avoid regular eclipse. Apart from a thin edging of silver, they shone pale red. Their glow upon dead lia and dry thornbushes made the air feel more hot than it was. Silence lay like a weight.

  Jill stopped noticing, stopped moving. Her pulse alone jumped, a knock-knock-knock through head and throat, as she and the creature stood confronted. It had been crossing the meadow when she surprised it.

  No – can’t be – trick of moonlight – I’m hungry, heat-exhausted, my brain’s gone into free fall–

  The shape bounded from her.

  ‘Wait!’ she cried, and stumbled after. But already it had disappeared among the trees.

  A moment’s dread made her grip the dagger Arnanak had given her. No, it fled, not I. … Regardless, I’d better get on back.

  While she strode, faster and faster, she tried to conjure the shape forth as it had stood in the red beams. A T-beast, beyond a doubt. Whatever life had been like on Tammuz a billion years ago, when it started anew from microbes on Ishtar it did not follow the same course as ortho-life, or Earth’s. There were three sexes. There was no elaborate symbiosis, nor hair or milk; and instead of plant chemistry or perspiration, the homeothermic animals, like many plants, controlled temperature by changing color. There were vertebrates of a sort, but none descended from an ancient worm, rather from a thing like a starfish – no true head but a branch, the fifth limb changed into a carrier of mouth and sensory organs. There were a few bipeds–

  But they were small. This had been a giant of its kind. The petals atop its branch would have reached to her chest. On the abdomen she thought she had made out three eyes above the central bulge of the genital sheath. Legs had been long and powerful for the size; it was more a leaper than a strider. Yet the boneless-looking arms were well developed also, ending in a hand of five fingers arranged in a star.

  Hands? Fingers?

  Yes, if she wasn’t crazy. She’d seen the right arm lifted, digits spread, as if caught by astonishment at sight of her. The left had been carrying what seemed to be a knife.

  Illusion. Got to’ve been. I’ve made a remarkable discovery, sure, a T-beast never suspected before. Probably come down from the north because of changing conditions. Only a beast, though!

  Windows appeared yellow ahead of her. She burst into the hall, pushed through its crowdedness, blurted to Innukrat what had happened.

  The female traced a sign. ‘You met a daur,’ she said uneasily.

  ‘A what?’ Jill asked.

  ‘I think best we wait for Arnanak about this too.’

  ‘But–’ Memory stirred. Primavera did have xenological data on the Valenneners, mostly taken second-hand from members of the Gathering, yet filling a few books which she’d read. ‘Daur. Dauri.’ Yes I seem to recall, they believe in a kind of elf or pooka or minor demon– ‘Are those, uh, are they beings that haunt the wilderness – magical powers–?’

  ‘I told you, wait for Arnanak,’ said the chieftain’s wife.

  He returned some days later. Jill didn’t know how many; she’d ceased keeping count.

  She chanced to be home when he arrived. To save her human clothes, she’d begged a length of the coarse cloth the natives wove from plant fibers, and stitched together several knee-length shifts caught by a rope belt. She was no Ishtarian whose life depended on ample sunlight; hereabouts, Bel could burn off her skin. Head, arms, and legs were sufficiently tanned to be safe if she took due care. Next she wanted footgear. Her shoes stank from overuse.

  The household produced most of what it consumed. Occasionally Valenneners needed boots. The female who was best at leatherwork proved quite willing to make Jill two or three pairs – maybe because that got her out of her ordinary chores, maybe because it was a challenge, maybe from simple kindliness, or a combination of these. She required the girl on hand, to be a living dummy and to explain with gestures and a few Tassu words how the things should fit.

  Jill stood at the booth, holding up a parasol she had made against heat and glare. Shouts lifted, foot-thuds, a rattle of iron. Into the courtyard dashed Arnanak and his followers. Jill dropped the parasol. For a second she went dizzy. Then: ‘Ian!’ she yelled, and sped heedless across adobe which tried to blister her soles. ‘Ian, darling!’

  And into his arms– She burrowed against the human male strength, hardness, sweat, and warmth of him. She kissed him so teeth clashed together; after having drawn back just enough to look upon his beaky face through tears and wonder, she kissed him again with a trembling tenderness which turned into th
e way of lovers.

  At last they stood apart, hands in hands, dazedly regarding each other. It made no difference that scores of Ishtarians milled around in the white and crimson dazzle.

  ‘Oh, Ian,’ she stammered, ‘you came … to fetch me–?’

  Joy drained from his countenance till the bones stood forth like reefs at low tide. ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he answered in a voice gone dull. ‘No release yet.’

  Her first emotion was bewilderment. ‘What? Then why’re you here?’

  ‘I couldn’t leave you alone, could I?’ He marshaled himself and spoke fast. ‘Don’t be afraid. ‘I’m here by agreement. Arnanak isn’t ready to let us go – he and Larreka made a very limited bargain that didn’t change anybody’s objectives – but he’s anxious to get on good terms with us humans eventually. Two hostages are better than one, he thinks. The idea is to exchange us in due course for concessions – which might amount to no more than establishing a kind of diplomatic relations with his kingdom – and for that, obviously we’d better be well treated meanwhile. We talked a lot on the road. He’s really not a bad chap in his fashion. For now, well, I’ve brought along food, medicine, clothes, as much stuff as I could for you. Including, uh, what I think are your favorite books.’

  She searched the blue-green eyes and knew: He is in love with me. How could I not have been sure?

  ‘You shouldn’t have,’ she forced out.

  ‘Like hell! I, I’ll explain the situation – got a lot of news to pass on – but it amounts to me being the logical choice. How’ve you been? How are you?’

  ‘All right–’

  ‘You’re looking good. Kind of thin; but, you know, that sunbleached hair against that sun-tanned skin, you’re damn near a platinum blonde.’ In haste: ‘Everybody was okay at home, at least they were when last we heard in Port Rua. They send their love. The whole community wants you back.’

  ‘Chu’ Arnanak’s Sehalan joined their English, ‘will you not come indoors? Go to your room, you two guests of mine. The males will bring your baggage. Later we will feast. But you must have much to talk about.’

  Most certainly they had much.

  Sparling knew her better than to soften his tidings. ‘No real compromise. Just a couple of minor arrangements to make the war less destructive on both sides, which can’t affect the outcome either way. The Tassui won’t stop till the last legionary is out of Valennen or dead in it. The Zera will hang on as long as it possibly can, in the hope of reinforcements. I can hardly blame the barbarians. According to Arnanak, if they stay penned in their homelands, Fire Time – he calls it Fire Time – will kill most of them. We, we humans, should’ve given more thought to that. We should’ve mounted programs for the relief of this country too. Not that that swine Dejerine would let us carry them out.’

  ‘Yuri is no villain,’ Jill said. This made Sparling look so grim and hurt that she must stroke his cheek and lean closer to him. They were sitting side by side on the boughs and straw mattress which made her bed, backs against a rough log wall, legs stretched across a clay floor. With a loose-woven blind over its single window, the room was dim and halfway cool. It had no door; a similar curtain in the entrance let through the sounds of readying for rejoicing which filled the hall.

  ‘Neither is Arnanak,’ he said, milder the moment she chose him to be. ‘Still, they both have missions, and Lord help whoever gets in the way. Arnanak means for his people to grab off territory less hard hit by periastron and its aftermath than here – territory to live in, and live well. Of course, that involves breaking up the Gathering. It couldn’t stay idle while that many of its members were overrun, displaced, subjugated, slaughtered. And when the Gathering’s gone under, Beronnen will lie wide open. The end of civilization on Ishtar – again. Arnanak made no bones about that to me.’

  ‘Nor to me,’ Jill said. ‘Though he does think his descendants will inherit and rebuild it.’

  ‘In time. How long, considering Ishtarian life-spans? What horrors go on meanwhile, and how much gets lost forever?’

  ‘I know, Ian, I know.’

  ‘For us, time’s gotten damnably short, if we want to do anything to help Larreka. Arnanak told me he already has messengers out, calling ships and ground forces to rendezvous. I don’t give Port Rua another month before he cuts loose the storm.’

  Jill sat quiet a while. Somehow Sparling had not spoken like a man in despair. At last she ventured, ‘You sound as if we’re not altogether helpless.’

  He nodded. His cowlick bobbed, ludicrous and dear in the gray-shot black hair. ‘We can try. Jill, I’d have come anyway to help you, but it happens I made me an excuse.’ He slid back the sleeve on the left arm against which she nestled. Braceleted on the wrist was a micro transceiver. ‘Arnanak checked my kit item by item before allowing anything along. But as I’d hoped, he didn’t recognize this. He believed me when I explained it’s a talisman.’

  She frowned. ‘What’re you getting at? We must be three hundred kilometers from Port Rua, or worse. Under ideal conditions, a high-gain detector might pick this thing up at ten.’

  ‘Ah-ah-ah!’ He wagged a finger. ‘You underestimate my low cunning.’

  In a burst of hope, she said, ‘No, if it’s low, I’ve got to have overestimated it.’

  He rattled a laugh. ‘As you like. But listen. Larreka helped me work out the details. Part of the deal he made was, the natives will let small legionary bands hunt freely, in exchange for the soldiers not firing these woods and savannahs. Well, I brought along a few solar-energized portable relays – Mark Fives, you know, same as we’ve got around South Beronnen, wherever a bigger, permanent unit isn’t convenient to install. Certain of those foraging parties will plant ’em strategically when nobody’s looking, well hidden in trees, on hilltops, et cetera.’

  ‘But Ian, how can they come near enough–?’

  ‘They can’t, especially when they don’t know our location. In fact, as Larreka must have mentioned to you, he’s never learned just where Ulu is, where the enemy chief has his headquarters. Arnanak’s been cagy about that; he’s no slumpskull. Yet surely one of those relays will come within a hundred kilometers of here.’ Sparling drew breath. She noticed at the back of her excitement how much she liked seeing his pleasure. ‘Okay. I brought several plastic containers of protein powder, different sizes to confuse the issue. He emptied and refilled each, as I’d expected. But he didn’t think to check for false bottoms. In a particular can is snuggled a rather bigger and huskier transceiver, put together for this purpose. A signal from my micro will switch its main circuit. That’ll be our primary relay – stepping down the frequency so we aren’t limited to line-of-sight – and it can do more than a hundred kilometers!’

  ‘O-o-o-oh.’ She stared before her while all her nerves tingled.

  ‘Nothing can happen in a hurry,’ Sparling cautioned, ‘and the scheme depends on every link in the chain. First, I imagine it’ll take a while before the rest of the system is in place. Then, second, we’ll simply have audio contact with Port Rua. True, they can reach Primavera, but still– Third, With the rudimentary equipment I could bring along, I’ll need a fair bit of time to survey this neighborhood to sufficient accuracy.’

  ‘Survey?’

  ‘Sure. I think probably I can use the stars, and sights taken on local landmarks like mountain peaks, to pinpoint us on the map. Then we can hike to a rendezvous point where a flyer can land for us.’ He gave her a shy smile. ‘It was the best I could invent on short notice.’

  Notice – she thought. I notice that funny little wrinkle at the corner of your lips.

  Damn, though! I don’t want to be merely a captive damsel languishing for her knight.

  It came to her what she might do for her share.

  Arnanak was in alpine good humor. While he ate and drank and boasted prodigiously, standing at a trestle table in the hall, she jollied him along. Not that she pretended to have changed sides. He knew her too well. But she did make plain that her sta
y had given her a favorable opinion of his folk and she would gladly intercede for them. No lie, either. We should be helping them, them and the Gathering both. My lie is a withheld truth, that our cruel, idiotic war makes this impossible. She felt less guilty when he replied:

  ‘We will talk more after I have crushed them in Valennen. If naught else, I must put on such show of might to hold the Tassui at my beck. I warned the legion again and again, if it did not leave it would be destroyed. Now my warriors are coming together. They will see Arnanak keep his word.’

  Sparling stayed short-spoken and noncommittal, on Jill’s orders. The Overling must have gained some feel for human attitudes and expressions, and the man was better at outright concealing than at dissembling.

  At the end of the feast, she turned grave and said, ‘I have to ask you about a thing. Could we three go outside?’

  Arnanak was willing. Beyond the court, Jill tugged his elbow and pointed. ‘This way,’ she urged.

  He stiffened. ‘That path goes to a forbidden place.’

  ‘I know. Come, a short ways.’

  He yielded. They stopped out of view of the buildings. The suns were beneath the Worldwall, though not yet the ocean it hid. Shadows lay thick among dwarfish trees and shriveled brush. Overhead the sky was an ever richening blue, a planet stood white, Ea red. A breeze carried a ghost of coolness and rattled cane stalks.