"Why, Elis--" Pakriaa was surprised. "She said something like that to
me herself, a short while before we came away. She said, 'My
yesterdays became tomorrows before I lived them. I want to find today,
Pakriaa. Where is today?'"
Miniann pursued the dark stream of her own thought, which now seemed
to be giving her pleasure and not pain: "This morning I found how
yesterday can bury itself with only the smallest scattering of years.
There will be other cities. Never again Vestoia."
Wright asked gently, "But you can remember good and pleasant things of
the old city, the way it was when you were young there?"
"Oh, I can, I can. But I'll have today, too. I think I found it first
when I bore my little sons, at Adelphi." She sat up, leaning on
Pakriaa's shoulder. "I've had good todays at Adelphi. I don't
understand how it could have been abandoned by this Spearman I've
never seen."
"In a way," Paul said, "you did see him. You were one of those who
came on the canoes up Lake Argo. You saw the boat set your fleet
afire."
"Yes. That was war.... And before I was wounded I killed, I think,
seven of your people, Pakriaa. One with a blue skirt. I wounded her in
the throat, and I have heard she died in the forest, looking north."
"Yes, Tamisraa. My sister Tamisraa was a bitter woman," Pakriaa said,
"and quite brave. Miniaan, all that was over long ago, in a forgotten
country. Now we pull weeds in the same garden."
Night came tranquilly. Elis, who kept the last quarter of the watch,
waked them before first-light. There was the help of a full red moon,
and they followed the sound of a swift river which flowed into North
Lake through the palace district of Vestoia.
For more than a mile outside the city the jungle was like a park,
undergrowth removed, vines cut away. But the vines were coming back.
Greedy purple fingers curled to recapture and reclaim....
In the outskirts no one halted or questioned them. They saw no armed
women; here and there a man crouched in a weedy doorway with staring
children half hidden behind him. Mijok, Elis, Sears-Danik and Arek
walked on the outside, with shields upheld against a possible arrow or
thrown spear. Rifles and pistols were now history, all ammunition
spent; they lay in a closet off Wright's room at Adelphi which he
called the Terrestrial Museum. Paul, Wright, and Elis had Earth-made
hunting knives, still keen. Miniaan, leading them, held a spear, but
there was a blue-flower garland below its blade, symbol of peace.
Pakriaa and Nisana preferred to carry no weapons; Muson and young
Dunin had never handled one in their lives. Miniaan said over her
shoulder, "There is the old stockade. Here we turn right, toward the
palace."
There was scurrying and disturbance now. Beyond Mijok's shield Paul saw a
few lean women running; one of them halted at Miniaan's call and approached
uneasily. There were questions, dubious replies. At the far end of the
shaded avenue was a growing cluster of red bodies before a thatched
building with one tall doorway. Miniaan explained: "I told her that we come
peacefully and want to talk with Spearman-abron-Ismar. And she says she
thinks he would be asleep at this hour."
"So?" Wright frowned and fretted. "But the word you left yesterday
would certainly have reached him." The Vestoian twittered a last word
or two and ran away down the street; Paul saw her elbowing through the
crowd in front of the palace. "We might go forward a little...."
Most of the group melted away; some forty armed women remained, in a
ragged formation blocking the entrance. They made no threatening or
even warning gestures, but their staring was heavy and cold. The
volunteer messenger returned, pushing through them to speak again with
Miniaan; once or twice a halting gabble of something like pidgin
English made Miniaan wave her hand impatiently. She turned to Paul.
"It seems Spearman told her to say that he is under the--the climate?
The weather? Is this meaningful?"
Wright said, "Tell him his third-born son is dead and the doorway of
his palace is too narrow for our friends. Wait.... He asked nothing
about Ann?"
"She does not say so."
"I can send him no message. You see what I meant, Paul?
Paul--you--send whatever word you think best."
"Well.... Miniaan, ask her to tell him that--Ann could not come with
us. That we want to talk with him and, as Doc said, that his door is
too narrow for some of us."
The soldiers seemed to catch a glimmering of it; they made way for the
messenger, and it might be there was less suspicion in them, more
curiosity. Sears-Danik, Tejron's dreamy eldest boy, whispered to Paul,
"I am trying to remember him. Not much hair on his head--it was brown.
I was only seven when he flew us to Adelphi. His voice--heavy."
"Yes. His hair may be gray now, Danny, as mine is. His face will look
older--it never had a young look. His body will not have changed
much."