More Than Fire

by Philip José Farmer

  He walked up to Manathu Vorcyon. And then, despite his determination never to bow to any man or woman, he dropped to one knee. He could not help himself; he was overwhelmed with the feeling that she did shed the radiance of a goddess. Never mind that his brain knew that she was no more divinely born than he. His knee bent as if he had been conditioned to do so since childhood.

  Now that he was closer to her, he saw that her necklace was made of living fireflylike insects tied together.

  He started. Lingwallan’s voice had sounded loudly behind him.

  “Manathu Vorcyon! The Great Mother! Our Lady! The Grandmother of All! I present to you Kickaha!”

  “Rise, Kickaha, the many-angled man, the man of countless wiles, the man who is never at a loss!” Manathu Vorcyon said. Her voice was so melodious and powerful that it rippled his skin with cold. “Enter this house as my guest.”

  There were many things to note when he entered the great room just behind the entrance. The tree, though still flourishing, had been cut into to make rooms and winding staircases. Following just behind Lingwallan, he climbed one of the staircases. The lighting was only from the sun, in the daytime anyway, but what devices transmitted it, Kickaha did not know. The furniture in the rooms he saw as he passed the doorless entrances was carved from the tree and was not removable. There were thick carpets and paintings and statuary and fountains in every room.

  But he was too eager to know why he had been whisked here by Manathu Vorcyon to take time to inspect the artifacts. After being shown into his own room, he showered by standing in a waterfall that ran alongside the outer wall and disappeared down many small holes in the floor. When he stepped out, he was toweled dry by a young woman who could win any Miss America contest on Earth. After drying him off, she handed him a pair of sandals. Thus dressed, making him think that sandals were probably formal wear here, he went down a polished staircase. Lingwallan met him and conducted him into the feasting room. It was large but unfurnished except for a very thick carpet. The ruler of this world sat crosslegged on it with her guest and two large but very good-looking men and two large and beautiful women. Manathu Vorcyon introduced them and then said, “They are my bedmates.”

  All at one time? Kickaha thought.

  She added, “They are also my lovers. There is, as you know or should know, a widely separated difference in meaning between bedmate and lover.”

  The food was brought by servants, including Lingwallan, who seemed to be a sort of head butler. The dishes held a variety of fruit and vegetables, some unfamiliar to Kickaha, and roasted pig, venison, and wild bird. The buttered bread was thickly coated with a jam that made his eyes roll and his body quiver with ecstasy.

  The goblets were formed from some sort of seashell and held four different kinds of liquors. One contained water; one, a light and delicious wine; one, a watered-down whiskey; one, a liquor that he had never before tasted.

  He ate and drank just enough to satisfy his belly, though he went easy on the meat so that he could have another slice of bread with jam. Manathu Vorcyon nodded approvingly at his restraint. The truth was that he would have liked to get a big buzz on, not stuff himself. But this was not the time or place for that.

  What would be appropriate, he thought, would be to stop the small talk and get answers to his questions. The Great Mother seemed to be in no hurry, which could be expected from a woman who had lived more than thirty thousand years.

  After dinner, they went outside to watch a ceremony in honor of the guest. The dances were colorful and noisy, and the songs were full of references to myths and legends about which Kickaha knew nothing. Lingwallan, standing by his side, tried to explain what these were but gave up because he could not be heard above the din. Kickaha did not care about any of them. He wanted to get the inside information about his predicament from the one who should know, Our Lady, Manathu Vorcyon.

  Tired and bored though somewhat agitated, he went to bed in his room. After an hour of sighing, yawning, and turning to both sides on the thickly padded blankets on the floor, he managed to get to sleep. But he was awakened by a vivid dream in which he saw Anana’s face, looking very distressed, appear out of gray and menacing clouds.

  The next morning, after he had showered and done all those things that are necessary but time-consuming, he went down the staircase and out of the tree to breakfast, served near the entrance. The giantess did not show up until after Lingwallan had conducted Kickaha through the hamlet and shown him all the sights and spoken of their history and meaning. Kickaha was disgusted. No matter what the universe, a guest had to go through a visiting fireman’s tour.

  However, he did learn what kind of Lord the giantess was. She was a benevolent despot. That is, she had determined what kind of environment the leblabbiys would live in and also what kind of society they would have. Jungles and forests and many rivers and lakes occupied most of the landmass. There were no deserts, though there were many low mountain ranges.

  Through the dense vegetation wandered small families or somewhat larger tribes. Hunting, fishing, and food-gathering occupied a few hours a day. Agriculture was limited to small gardens. Their leisure time was spent in conversation (the leblabbiys were very gabby), raising the young, council meetings, arts, athletic contests, and copulation. The latter was sometimes a public game, which was why male winners wore penis-ribbons and female winners had painted deltas on their stomachs. Those sporting blue, green, and orange awards had won first, second, and third places in the very popular competition.

  Women and men had equal rights. Instead of warring against other groups, the men and women engaged in intense and sometimes very rough athletic games with neighboring tribes.

  If Kickaha was to believe Lingwallan, Manathu Vorcyon’s subjects were as happy as human beings could be.

  Kickaha, who had lived among many preliterate tribes, knew that the closeness and security of tribal life demanded a rigid conformity. A rebe threatened cultural unity and was usually treated harshly. If he did not submit after harsh censure and then the silent treatment, he was exiled or killed. The rebel usually preferred being slain. Being ousted from the tribe was unendurable to the members.

  He asked Lingwallan about this.

  “Our Lady has decreed that innovators in the arts and technology are not to be discouraged. But explosive powder and firearms will not be tolerated, nor will engines needing fuels be made. She says that things of iron, except as art objects, breed poisons in the land, air, and water. She has told us of what is happening to your native planet, Earth One.”

  He paused, shuddered, then said, “We do not want that, and if we did, She would not permit it.”

  “But there’s no chance for overpopulation here,” Kickaha said. “All Thoan maintain a limit on the number of births in every universe except those of Earth One and Two. For instance, Jadawin, once Lord of the World of Tiers, reduced the rate of births among his subjects by making sure of an ample supply of an antifertility chemical in the waters.”

  “I know nothing of him or the other Lords,” Lingwallan said. “But Our Lady wisely made our bodies so that we are fertile only after long intervals.”

  “You don’t have murders or theft or hatred of neighbors or sex crimes?”

  Lingwallan shrugged and said, “Oh, yes. The Great Mother says that that is unavoidable since we are human beings. But the tribal councils settle arguments, from which there is no appeal except to Manathu Vorcyon. It’s very difficult to escape detection if you murder someone. It is rare, anyway. As for sex crime, that too is rare. The punishment for sex with a child under the age of twelve is death. After that age, the couple who mate must do so only by a mutual agreement.”

  He thought for a moment, then said, “Treating a child brutally, physically, mentally, or emotionally, is punished with death or exile. But I have never heard of such a thing in any tribes I know. Children are our most precious possessions, if, that is, a child can be owned.”

  Kickaha did not ask him if he re
sented being dictated to by the Great Mother. He would have wondered about Kickaha’s sanity if the question had been uttered.

  “Everybody’s happy, in ecstasy?” Kickaha said. “It’s all advantage and no disadvantage?”

  Lingwallan shrugged, then said, “Where in this world or any others are there not disadvantages?”

  Kickaha knew that he would be bored if he stayed long here. Manathu Vorcyon greeted him at the main entrance to the tree and said, “We will talk now about Red Orc, you, and me. About many things.” She led him up the central staircase to the sixth story and through a doorless entrance into a large room. Against one wall was a twelve-foot-high mirror. On the only table was a silver pitcher and three silver goblets, all with figures of humans and beasts in alto-relief. One of these caught his eye. It was an image of the scaly man.

  Manathu Vorcyon told him to sit down on one of the two chairs in the room.

  “This place is taboo, except for me and my guests, of course. We won’t be interrupted.”

  After she sat down, she filled two goblets with a greenish liquor. She said, “Among other questions, you want to ask me just why and how you were transported from Red Orc’s place to here.”

  Kickaha nodded and then sipped the liquor. It tasted … only one way for him to describe it-like layers of sunlight, moonlight, and starlight liquefied. His heart beat faster; his head seemed to expand slightly; his body became pleasantly warm.

  “Don’t drink it swiftly,” she said.

  Kickaha was used to nudity, but those huge, round, and unsagging breasts across the table from him aroused a strange feeling. It was partly sexual and partly … what? It evoked an image of himself as an enwombed fetus and the sloshing of the amniotic sea rocking him back and forth while he slept and dreamed dreams without words. No, without any knowledge of words. He just thought. And he thought not only without language. He thought without images. He was without words, and his brain was equally empty of images. He was floating and rocking in pure emotion. He was safe and well-fed and quite cozy and never wanted to leave this place. Here was heaven, and outside it was hell.

  Quickly, the feeling slipped away. The amniotic ocean receded with a low roar as if there were a hole in the sac and it was pouring out in a waterfall. Panic shot through him, and then he was again the man he had been a second ago.

  He shook his head slightly and swore silently that he would drink no more of the green liquor. Not in this room and not when she was present, anyway.

  Manathu Vorcyon smiled as if she knew of his moment of transport. She said, “I have been aware for a very long time of Red Orc and his plans. For a much shorter time, I have also been aware of you. And I know somewhat what has been happening in many of the worlds.”

  Not looking behind her, she stabbed a backward-pointing thumb at the silvery mirror on the wall. “Through that, I hear and see people and events in other worlds. It’s hooked up to gates made by others and to gates that I’ve made in the weak places in the walls among the universes. The transmission is not always good, and I often have trouble maintaining the frequency lock on the gates. But I can keep watch on certain key places.

  You could say that I have my finger on the pulsebeat of many worlds. My people believe it’s a magic mirror.”

  Kickaha wanted to ask her if the device was an ancient one she had inherited or if she had made it herself. Anana had told him stories about her. One was that she was the only scientist, with the possible exception of Red Orc, among the Lords. But, true or not, she did have the device, and that was all that mattered now.

  “I have heard about you, and now and then seen you,” she said. “But until recently, when you were detected by the glindglassa”-she indicated the seeming mirror again-“I had set no traps to gate you through to me. I had no strong reason then to do so. As soon as I had a reason, I set up more traps-no easy thing to do by remote control-hoping to catch you someday. I also connected alarms to the gates to sound when you and you alone were in one.”

  “How did the detectors know me?” Kickaha said.

  “The skin of every person has unique patterns in its electric field. The glindglassa detects these and also registers the individual’s mass. It employs a visual detector, which I don’t use very often because it’s so difficult to keep a lock on it. But I had put your physical description, which I got from other sources, into the computer. It stores a display of every person caught in its field. When you were finally detected, it emitted an audio and visual notice along with your image and frequency field.

  “From then on, the traps were set to detect you when you were in the range of the glindglassa and to shunt you here. The probability that you would be caught was very low because there are thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of gates, and I could lock into only a thousand.”

  “Why don’t you also trap Red Orc?”

  “I doubt that he knows that I would like to do that. But he probably knows that such a device as the glindglassa exists. I believe that he carries a frequency-emitter canceler.”

  Kickaha said, “Wouldn’t the absence of a frequency field at the same time that a mass is detected identify Red Orc? And what about the visual detector?”

  She smiled. “You’re not just a tricky but simple killer of Lords. For, one thing, the visual-detection field often drifts away from the transmission-reception lock. For another, Red Orc has never entered any of my traps not to my knowledge, anyway. He may have a visual-detector damper and a false-mass emitter. You’re not the only wily one.”

  “Why did you gate me through into the forest instead of directly to your tree?”

  “You needed time to adjust and to be peacefully greeted by Lingwallan. Who knows what might have happened if you had appeared among strangers? You’re very quick. You might have used your beamer before you understood the situation.”

  “Not me.”

  “You don’t lack self-confidence. That’s beneficial for a person, up to a point.”

  Kickaha did not believe her explanation. The probable truth was that she was very cautious. She just did not want anyone she had gated through to be close to her when they came through. The gatee might carry a very powerful bomb or some other very destructive weapon. The trees around him when he came through doubtless held hidden detectors. They would notify her if he carried any such weapons.

  She said, “This is not the time for minor questions. But I will answer one you must have. Why did I not shunt to here all persons in my traps? One of them might have been Red Orc. I did try that method for a long time, five hundred years to be exact. I quit doing that when I learned that he was somehow able to avoid being caught.

  “Now. Hold your tongue until I tell you that you may loose it.”

  10

  MANATHU VORCYON HAD LONG AGO KNOWN ABOUT RED ORC, his wars against his father, Los, and against other Lords after he had slain his father.

  “I also have heard about you, Kickaha. Many Lords fear you. They identify you with the leblabbiy, who, an ancient prophecy says, will destroy all Lords. Prophecies are nonsense, of course, unless they’re self-fulfilling. Despite their mighty powers, the Lords are not only decadent, but superstitious.”

  So far, Red Orc had not tried to invade her universe. She had too many weapons of the ancients for him to attack her even if he brought about the death of all other Lords.

  “That is,” she said, “I thought so until recently. But he now has the Horn of Shambarimen. That may give him the courage to try to invade my world. And I have heard through my spies that he is again striving to get into Zazel’s World, though he had ceased doing that several millennia ago. The Horn may enable him to enter it. It is said that he knows that the last of the ancient creation-destruction machines is buried in there. My spies have told me that Red Orc has often said that he would destroy all universes except one if he could get his hands on the creation-destruction engine.”

  Ah! Kickaha thought. So that’s it! Red Orc would tell me only that he wanted “certain da
ta” in the Caverned World. That data was this creation destruction engine, whatever that is.

  “Your pardon for interrupting, Great Mother,” Kickaha said. “Hearing you say that, I just can’t keep quiet. That is not accurate information. The machine is not there. However, the data to build it is. I know, because Red Orc himself told me so. I mean, he might just as well have told me that he wanted to find the data, plans, schematics, I don’t know. But from what you said, I’m sure the engine itself isn’t there.”

  She raised her thick and glossy-black eyebrows. “That is so? He is the Lord of all liars and may not have told you the truth.”

  “He thought I was unable to escape him and that I was certain to return to him. Thus he revealed much that he would not otherwise have told. He is indeed a great liar. I don’t hold that against him since I’ve indulged in a few untruths myself. In this case, however, he had no reason to lie.”

  Manathu Vorcyon was silent for a half-minute. Then she said, “It may be best that you do speak now. First, tell me how you, an Earthman, came to the World of Tiers. I have heard parts of your story. These may or may not be true. Tell me your story from the beginning until now, but do not make an epic of it. I need only a swiftly told outline.”

  Kickaha did as she commanded. But when he described the scaly man, he heard her gasp.

  Her eyes opened very wide, and she cried, “The Thokina!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Just go on. I’ll tell you later. What happened after you first saw him?”

  Kickaha told her how the scaly man, whom they had thought dead, had begun to move just as he and Anana gated out of the tomb.

  She got to her feet and began pacing back and forth while vigorously swinging her arms. She looked disturbed.

  He thought: Even goddesses can lose their composure.

  “The Thokina! The Thokina!” she muttered. “It can’t be!”

  “Why not?”

  She swung around to face him. “Because they are only creatures of folklore and legend born of primitive fears and imagination! When I was a child, my parents and the house slaves told me stories about them. In some of these, the Thokina were a nonhuman species who were the predecessors of the Thoan. In other tales, they made the first Thoan and enslaved them. Then the Thoan revolted and killed all but one. That sole survivor fled to some unknown universe, according to the story, and put himself into a sort of suspended animation. But the tale, which was a very spooky one for a child, told of how he would rise one day when the time was ripe and would join the greatest enemy of the Thoan and help him slay all of them. That greatest enemy would be a leblabbiy.