"You will," I promised her.
You can accept almost any reality when it's thrust upon you, even the
wonder of a woman of Tragor facing you in a wilderness Eden with a
warmth so unmistakable it makes your senses reel.
Her name was Kallatah, and she had come to Dracona alone in a
faster-than-light cruiser to collect zoological specimens for the
natural history museum at Tagga. Just for the record, Dracona's the
fourth planet of a second-magnitude sun in the Constellation Cygnus,
and it's as far from Tragor City as it is from Earth. Tagga is a suburb
of Tragor City--a white and beautiful metropolis in its own right.
"It's my first important assignment," she told me. "Naturally I've
got to make good at it. You see, there's a new director of biological
research on the Guiding Council, and from all reports he's the kind of
man who is only impressed by results. When I have my first interview
with him he'll forget I'm a woman. I'll have to shine as a scientist
who doesn't make mistakes."
"You've made one already," I told her.
I walked past her, stared into the net. The captive lizard was twisted
into a repulsive-looking knot, its verdigris-colored tail thrashing
furiously back and forth. Draconian flying lizards are monstrous
brutes. They're four feet in length and have a metallic green sheen to
them, and when they have reason to hate their jaws can close with a
ferocity unparalleled in nature.
Visualize a Tyrant King dinosaur with ribbed, skeletal wings, reduced
to the dimensions of a kangaroo, and you'll have a fairly accurate
mental picture of one.
All they do is eat. Birds and small mammals, fruits, berries and nuts.
In twenty-four hours a Draconian flying lizard can eat three times its
weight in food. But a man is safe if he keeps his distance, for they
are lazy by nature and don't attack without provocation.
"They're taboo animals," I told her. "The natives call them 'Servants
of the Mountain.' If your purpose was to infuriate the natives you
couldn't have made a better start."
She returned my stare with a strange mixture of alarm and defiance. "I
had no way of knowing that!" she protested. "This planet is down on the
charts as uninhabited. A virgin wilderness. If there are intelligent
primitives here--"
Her face grew suddenly strained. She stared about her as if seeking an
answer for something intangible that was pressing in upon her thoughts
and undermining her confidence in herself.
I was feeling it too. A kind of cold unpleasantness with underpinnings
of loneliness and dread. When you're thousands of light years from
Earth you've got to hold tight to your anchorage in the past, your
primal birthright of friendship and trust.
There were a thousand ties linking me to Earth, and that distant jungle
world was just a stopping off point to me in a web of heart-warming
memories that sustained me night and day. No matter how lonely I became
I could always tell myself that I'd soon be going back to the people
and places I'd known all my life. I was far away, sure. But there would
always be friends awaiting my return.
Freeze that memory chain, shatter the brittle links, and the human mind
has no refuge left anywhere in time or space. I had only to substitute
Tragor for Earth to know how Kallatah must have felt. But before I
could move to her side all of the links snapped, and we were caught up
in a jungle new and terrible and strange, with all points of reference
stripped away.
I'd experienced that horror before and I knew exactly what to expect.
It began with a dull flickering, a faint shifting of light and shadow
at the edge of the clearing. Leaves swirled up from the forest floor,
and a solid wall of vegetation began to sway, to tremble and twist
about. As Kallatah cried out in alarm a tangled mass of bright,
toadstool-like growths split up into dozens of spinning fragments, the
air about them crackling and bursting into flame.
With a sudden, roaring sound a tree collapsed, dislodging a screaming
shrewlike beast that scampered into the clearing with its tail between
its legs. There was a moment of awful silence while the jungle built
up tensions past all sanity. The clearing became a trap brimming with
a malevolence as unnerving as the ticking of some hidden detonating
device.
A black blur of panic rose to encompass me as a concentration of hatred
almost palpable plucked agonizingly at my mind. I was following the
motion of the foliage with sick horror when out of the jungle came
another beast, web-footed, walking upright.
In utter silence it stumbled to and fro, its froglike body glistening
with swamp water, its stalked eyes luminous with fright. It advanced
and retreated, bent double, and went into a kind of frantic waltz.
What happened then was as unexpected as it was terrifying. The light
grew dazzling again, as if a cloak of fire had descended on the
clearing. With a harsh screeching the frog leapt high into the air and
was slammed back against a tree by a force that ploughed a furrow in
the ground clear across the clearing.
I watched it sink to the ground with a broken back, shaken both by
the violence which had been done to it, and an unnerving glimpse of
Kallatah's white face staring at me from the shadows. So terrible was
the wrath unleashed that it had taken on a blind purposelessness. I
knew that everything in the clearing was marked for destruction unless--
I crossed to where Kallatah was standing, and gripped her by the
shoulders.
I spoke urgently, almost harshly. "The natives are watching us!" I
warned. "When they saw you capture that lizard their anger got out of
hand. Do you understand? They're trying to kill us with their minds."
"What can it mean?"
She swayed against me and I caught the faint fragrance of her hair. She
was trembling so I wondered if she had really heard me, or if the fear
in her voice was no more than an echo of the dread she must have felt
on seeing the frog-creature go hurtling through the air.
I started shaking her, forcing her to look at me. "They're
poltergeists," I told her. "They can set fires and move objects from a
distance. The power resides in an area of the brain which civilization
seems to blunt. It's an ESP faculty which was part of man's original
survival equipment. Our cavemen ancestors could reach out with their
minds in that way too."
She still seemed not to hear me. In desperation I raised my voice,
continuing to shake her. "They get to our minds first--in a horrible,
primitive sort of way. They strip our minds bare so that we'll feel
isolated--lost. Primitive man could kill off his enemies in the same
way--by paralyzing them with a mental projection of the jungle as a
kind of trap. Paralyzing them with fright, then closing the jaws of the
trap."
"I don't believe it!" she almost sobbed.
"You'll be convinced if you don't do as I say!" I warned.
* * * * *
She drew back from me, as if firmly determined not to be convinced.
"You find out these things by studying primitives in different stages
of development," I went on urgently. "Don't forget--I'm an Earthborn
trader. You of Tragor may scoff, but I've studied dozens of primitive
humanoid groups. I know that they can be won over if you handle them
just right."
"What's just right?"
"Play along with me," I urged. "Follow my cue."
"Play along--"
"An old Earth expression. We've got to play up to them, put on an act."
Before she could protest or cry out I swept her into my arms. I ran my
hands through her hair, raised her chin, and kissed her--very firmly
and determinedly for an instant.
"This is part of the act," I whispered.
Being a woman of Tragor, she could hardly have believed that my
impulsiveness had been prompted solely by a desperate human need for
companionship in a moment of shared danger. She must have known it went
deeper than that, and she would have been right. A giddiness swept me
like a gusty hurricane wind on a tidal estuary bright with a thousand
pulsating tropical blooms.
I released her suddenly, and she leapt back, her eyes startled and
accusing. "You're either a madman or a sick child!" she whispered.
"We'll talk about it later," I said. "Now is not the time."
"I feel sorry for you."
"Later."
The clearing quieted down, and there was silence for a moment. Then out
of the forest they came, walking three abreast. Geipgos, the old tribal
chieftain, and his son Slagoon, and the warriors with their rippling
muscles glinting in the pollen-scented dusk, and their spears held high
in a cautious withholding of wrath.
You couldn't call it a greeting. They were still shaken with anger,
still ready to kill.
I went forward to meet them, with Kallatah in the crook of my arm. I'd
talked and bargained and haggled with them a dozen times, but now I was
seeing them for the first time through her eyes.
I have a curious gift of empathy. I could share her awe and admiration,
and the stunned incredulity which must have made her doubt the evidence
of her eyes.
The natives of Dracona are physically comely and well-proportioned, and
they carry themselves with such an air of easy grace that you have to
look twice to realize that they are not entirely like ourselves.
They have three eyes, but the extra one is so smoothly lidded that when
it remains shut you scarcely notice it. Their three extra, slightly
attenuated arms are not obtrusive, for they carry them pressed closely
to their sides. And the green sheen of their skins looks more bronze
than green in the forest gloom, and is hence far less startling than
might be supposed.
They had such keen, discerning eyes, and mobile features that when they
smiled in friendly greeting it was hard to think of them as primitives
at all.
* * * * *
They were not smiling now.
I tightened my hold on Kallatah's wrist, and looked Geipgos straight in
the eye--the big forehead eye which opened slowly to glow with fierce
reproach and scorn.
"Mukith Mani-Bumini!" I said. That translated out as: "I would know the
reason for your displeasure, old friend!"
It was an excellent beginning and it brought an instant, completely
understandable reply. The fire mountain had been complaining all day.
Now the reason was clear to all. One like myself, only a female, had
taken captive a Servant of the Mountain. Her punishment and death must
follow as a matter of course.
Geipgos' three eyes watched me, as if seeking in the frailties we had
in common some excuse for my defense of such a female monster.
"Tun Huhji Swan," I said. "This woman is more dear to me than life
itself."
I waited for his astonishment to subside, then went on quickly. "She is
my mate. She is the adored one of my heart. The Servant of the Mountain
flew to join us when he saw how deliriously happy we were. He wished to
give us his blessing."
It was a good beginning only if I could convince Geipgos that the
lizard had flown into the net of its own free will, and had its own
peculiar reason for not wanting to leave.
"The Servant of the Mountain is free to go," I said. "He waits only to
rejoice in the complete consummation of our happiness."
"He waits to rejoice?" said Geipgos.
"In the glorious fulfillment of our happiness, yes."
It was the wisest thing I could have said, for primitives everywhere
are natural-born feast makers. Rejoicing in the happiness of the
newly-wed is second nature to them.
I could see that Geipgos was impressed. He raised his arm, and gestured
to the warriors. Still scowling, but without hesitation, they strode
past us, grouped themselves about the net and started prodding the
lizard with their spears. Gently, firmly, and with great deference.
Suddenly the startled creature gave a shrill scream, swung about, and
began untangling itself. The warriors leapt back in awe, lowered their
spears, and waited to see what the Servant of the Mountain would do
next.
It went right on screaming.
It was still screaming when it left the net like a bat out of a well.
Straight across the clearing it soared and into the trees, missing
Geipgos by a scant twelve inches.
What it did was perfectly natural under the circumstances, but its
effect on Geipgos was tantamount to the lightning conversion of a
miracle enacted for his benefit alone. He swung toward me, utter
self-castigation in his eyes.
The Servant of the Mountain had been wiser than Geipgos. It had stayed
until prodded, indicating a desire to stay. Amends must be made for
the doubting of a friend. The female, my mate, must be the guest of
Geipgos.
Kallatah stared at me with a wild surmise. "What did you tell him?" she
asked. "What did he _say_ to you?"
"We're to go to their village," I told her. "We're to go as honored
guests."
At a command from Geipgos a litter sixteen feet square was set down
before us, and we got into it. Four tall warriors grouped themselves
with prideful eagerness about the conveyance, and lifted it to their
shoulders, Geipgos and his son fell back with gestures of deep respect,
and a procession formed behind us, and we were borne forward across the
clearing like the idols of some primitive fertility cult whose wrath
could shrivel crops and cause a blight to descend upon the land.
Amidst shouts of jubilation and an incredible bowing and scraping we
were borne swiftly along a jungle trail between towering walls of
vegetation. And then out on a sloping mountainside which overlooked a
valley swimming in a deep, golden haze.
The trail descended the mountain in a corkscrew curve, with many
evil-looking twists and turns. To be carried on a litter down a steep
trail is always hazardous and I would have preferred to remain silent.
But when I saw how alarmed Kallatah looked I thought it best to keep
right on talking.
Across the valley loomed the largest volcano on Dracona and as I
gestured toward it I did my best to sound cheerful.
"That mountain has our friends worried," I said. "It's been rumbling
off and on for weeks. You've got to remember that to a primitive a fire
mountain is just about the most terrifying object in nature. Why do you
think those lizards are taboo animals?"
* * * * *
I laid my hand on her arm. "An accident of nature, nothing more. The
lizards live just inside the crater, high up where the heat can't harm
them. Naturally they've become identified with the volcano. To Geipgos
and his warriors the ugly-looking beasts are Servants of the Mountain
who can stay its wrath. Capture them, abuse them, and the wrath of the
mountain will be unleashed in all its fury. The pattern is a primitive
one, but completely logical from their point of view."
Kallatah looked at me steadily for a moment. "It almost became a
pattern of death for us," she said.
"I know," I said. "But don't forget it's an ugly pattern for them too.
A pattern of never-ceasing terror, of semi-starvation."
One of the warriors thrust his face close to us to ask if we were all
right. I nodded, and he fell back with a gratified grin to resume his
position in the procession.
"It's tragic how one little taboo can hold a race back," I went on.
"You've seen how keenly intelligent they are. If that taboo hadn't
plagued them for hundreds of years they'd be truly civilized by now."
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Kallatah said. "What do you mean by a
pattern of starvation."
"Those lizards eat the natives out of house and home," I told her.
"Literally--and it's horrible. When we come to the village you'll see
what emaciated skeletons the women and children are. The lizards are so
sacred they can't be killed off without angering the mountain."
It was then that Kallatah surprised me. She gave a low whistle.
"You mean that tribal law has decreed that?"
"Precisely. They breed fast and eat voraciously. You can't have
agriculture and the storage of fruits and grains--any kind of stable
handicraft culture even--with vicious tyrants like that on every patch
of cultivated land. By rough estimate those beasts consume millions of
tons of food a year. Even the small animal life is vanishing."
"And they don't dare kill one," Kallatah said. "It sounds insane."
"All primitive fear taboos are insane," I told her. "They're symptoms
of the stark lunacy which possesses the human mind before it gets hold
of the tools it needs to grasp the real nature of the physical world.
Even when it gets such tools," I qualified, "a society can be psychotic
in a more complex way. All societies are probably psychotic in one way
or the other, but that's another story entirely."
"But the adult males seem well fed," Kallatah said, her eyes on
the trail ahead. "How could starved children grow up into such
robust-looking adults?"
"Deprivation has left its marks," I told her. "You've got to remember
that only the strongest survive where the infant mortality skyrockets
the way it does here. And those that do reach manhood have bad teeth,
poor digestion--all kinds of psychosomatic ills. What you are seeing
here is the warrior caste strutting its might. A warrior caste will
_always_ find a way to eat."
She didn't speak again until we were at the base of the mountain, and
the village was coming swiftly toward us through the haze.
"You still haven't told me how you managed to turn aside their wrath,"
she complained. "Just what did you say to them? Why are they bringing
us here? Did you expect me to understand the gibberish you used?"
Dared I be completely honest? I decided it would be tempting fate
to tell her exactly what I had said to Geipgos. She'd find out soon
enough. Meanwhile, I needed time to plan my strategy and come up with
something workable that wouldn't make her hate me too much.
The sudden appearance of the children saved the moment for me, sparing
me the necessity of further evasion. They were playing on the plain
directly in front of the village, racing to and fro with the eager
abandonment of all children everywhere.
They used their five arms to good advantage, tossing mud cakes at
one another, blinking and grimacing with a demoniac expressiveness,
pretending to be dead from famine one instant, and then, in the
twinkling of an eye, coming exuberantly to life again.
For an instant Kallatah's face radiated only maternal solicitude, a
gentle sweetness untouched by rancor. Then, all at once, she seemed to
realize how emaciated they were, how completely different from ordinary
children. Her head came up, and her eyes blazed with indignation.
The blaze grew hotter as the lizards added fuel to it. The revolting
creatures were everywhere--on slanting mud banks lush with berry-laden
vegetation, on fields that sloped away to mist-filled hollows, even
within easy pouncing distance of the children.
They ignored us as we were borne past, their carrion-repulsive heads
bobbing to and fro. They were devouring everything edible within reach
of their forepaws, swaying back and forth and cramming the food into
their mouths with a voracity which was sickening to watch.
Miraculously the children ignored them, and went right on playing.
The procession moved on in silence, straight toward a picture of human
misery so tragic and pitiful that no man of good will could have
contemplated it without a shudder.
The village consisted of twenty-five or thirty huts, each with its
central supporting pole, and spreading straw roof. The women sat about
listless and sullen in doorways, apparently not caring at all how
unattractive they looked, or what a disillusioning impression their
complete lack of amorous allure must have made on the returning,
better-nourished warriors.
But there is something about the imminent prospect of a nuptial
ceremony that infuses joy into even the most dispirited, and the
instant they saw us they leapt up with one accord and came flocking
around us. Old and young, tall and short, comely and ugly.
The warriors carried us to the central hut and set the litter down with
prideful flourishes of their long arms and broad, straight shoulders.
Instantly shouts of jubilation echoed through the village. There were
no brass bands, but the brass band spirit was tremendously in evidence.
A child of ten came up, bearing garlands, and a girl with skeleton
ribs, and vermilion-painted cheekbones presented Kallatah with a
beautiful shell bracelet mottled yellow and black, slipping it on her
wrist before she could recoil in protest.
She was still protesting when we were ushered into the hut, Geipgos
grinning and bowing and his son standing straight and still and with a
smirk of anticipatory amorousness in the midst of the women.
"Geega Drun Fra Hul," Geipgos said. That translated out as: "We will
leave you now. Later we will rejoice together in the great joy which
has overtaken you. Ah, that I could be as young as you are on such a
night as this."
The din outside continued for a moment and then gradually subsided.
We looked at each other.
Night was already descending over the clearing. It falls fast on
Dracona--a blanket of impenetrable darkness settling down. Just by
craning our necks we could look out into the clearing and see the last
glimmer of dusk departing. A star appeared in the sky as if by magic,
but we just sat there exchanging meaningful glances, Kallatah's face
shadowed and curiously withdrawn.