"Why, to all of you. Certainly to you, Abara.... What's the profit of
any effort if the result is thrown away in a time of weakness? You
discard only if what you have is proven false. We haven't much--we
never have much. Some things appear to be empirically certain. Not
many.... You know, I believe I've given a few people--call it a
wakening of curiosity. I think that's good. Curiosity and patience.
Good as far as it goes. I'm not ashamed." He was trying to see
Wright's gaunt face. "You picked a tougher subject, didn't you, Chris?
Don't worry--give you an A for something more than effort.... Now
look, this hanging around here won't do." He caught Paul's hand and
heaved himself upright. "I remember--map--damn it. Need another whole
day before we pass the hills. Susie--down, Susie--"
But Susie, fumbling at him with her trunk, would not kneel. Paul heard
Mijok's agonized whisper: "She knows."
Sears laughed. "All right, make the old man climb." And before anyone
could stop him he had tottered a few steps and burned out the last of
his strength in a heaving jump toward her neck, which barely lifted
him from the ground and dropped him at Paul's feet. Groping for him,
Paul saw that he was dead, saw also, above the arching of the trees, a
lucid cruelty of morning.
7
Twice that day Elis dropped far behind to listen and reported there
was no pursuit. It was hard to judge their distance from the foothills
of the western range, for now there was no open ground--only Wright's
compass, the memory of the map, and treetop surveys that Mijok made
from time to time. Abara rode Mister Johnson in the lead, making the
beasts travel slowly since the pygmies were faint with weariness.
Susie trailed forlornly; she had not been willing to abandon the grave
till the others went on without her.
The pygmies carried only half a dozen makeshift stretchers; the number
of unwounded had diminished too. "They slip away," Brodaa said to
Paul. He saw three men carrying children too small to walk; no old
women. The fat witch rode his litter, unconcerned at the fatigue of
its bearers; the other old man, smeared with white and purple paint,
stalked beside him. Brodaa said, "My sister Tamisraa ended life with
the white-stone dagger. While Elis and Mijok made the--what
word?--grave. We left her body looking north to help the spirit
journey. There are many lost who will have no prayers--bad--they may
follow us. What is this--burial, Paul-Mason?"
"A Charin custom. Most of us believe the spirit dies with the body:
different parts of the same thing."
"Ah?" She did not seem shocked. "Maybe true for your people."
"We live in others," Paul said. "Sears lives so long as we remember
him. That will be always...." It seemed to Paul there were scarcely a
hundred in this worn line. "We mustn't try to hold them if they want
to go. If you, Brodaa, or any others want to leave us, you know you
are free."