‘Bees,’ Forb said.
‘But they were huge,’ Manolin said. ‘A foot long, at least, and I lost count of how many there were. They can’t be bees-they’re too big to be able to fly. I mean, their wings wouldn’t be able to lift them.’
‘Ah, but according to theory, the ordinary bee shouldn’t be able to fly anyway,’ Forb said. He wrapped up the blanket, placed it in his pack.
Manolin and Santiago looked at each other before staring back at the group. Everyone regarded the darker forest. ‘Don’t worry,’ Forb said. ‘They’ll not be back. They’re not normally out this late in the year.’ ‘Where’s the nest, and the queen?’ Santiago asked. ‘Surely they should have a nest and a queen. Where is it?’
The doctor stood under a shaft of light and waved the others over. Then he pointed upwards, through the trees, at the volcano that stood silent and large over the island. With the gentlest of smiles, he said, ‘Seen the queen once, only once. Not sure I’ll try again.’
‘By Arrahd’s balls,’ Jefry said.
‘I’ll second that,’ Arth said.
‘I’ll third it,’ Santiago said. ‘What flowers do they use?’
‘Some of the other islands have larger flowers. A foot long petals in places. The bees live here though. It must be safer for them.’
Manolin took a notebook out of his pocket, began writing scribbling notes. The doctor patted Manolin on the shoulder. ‘You remind me of me when I was younger,’ he said. Then he walked further into the forest.
The doctor stopped the group, who were now walking in a single line along the shaded path. Manolin had noticed that the trail had become well-trodden and wide. Vegetation had been cut away, and in the distance there was a wide patch of light. He could hear clicks, too, and looked around the canopy to find what he assumed to be a bird. He waved Arth forward. ‘Hey, Arth. What bird do you make that to be?’
Arth bounded keenly towards Manolin, stood beside him, glancing, wide-eyed, from tree to tree. ‘That’s no bird, Manny. At least, not one that I’ve heard.’
Manolin said, ‘You sure?’ ‘Pretty positive. It’s too guttural for a bird.’ Arth’s black tail moved from side to side.
‘Arth’s right,’ Forb said, with a smile. ‘That isn’t a bird. It’s what you’ve all been waiting for. From here on, I’ll have to take you two at a time. Manolin, Santiago, shall we?’
The men nodded. Mr Calyban and Soul grunted disproval.
‘Good,’ Forb said with a glance towards the government agents. ‘I suggest the rest of you sit down for a few minutes, relax, enjoy the forest. There’s fruit from those trees-’ He indicated a cluster of dark leaved trees behind them, with small, yellow globes hanging in bunches. ‘We have to go in twos so the tribe will accept you. Don’t move from here, I’ll come and find you.’
He ushered Manolin and Santiago forward along the path.
The rest sat down, one by one, grunting as they hit the dry forest floor. The wind was stronger, some way up the volcano, and the refreshing breeze filtered though the forest sounding like the tide.
‘I don’t see why we can’t go first,’ Mr Soul said to his colleague.
‘Hey, we’ll all get to go at some point,’ Arth said. ‘Let’s just calm it down and stay cool.’ ‘Yeah, so just relax,’ Jefry said. ‘I really don’t think you should talk to us like that,’ Mr Calyban said. His eyes rested on Jefry, casually, as if he was a tree.
‘There’s not enough room on this island for your attitude,’ Jefry said. He brushed his mop of white hair away from his forehead. ‘We’re all here for a job, so let’s do it.’
‘We’re here to watch you people, not any ridiculous tribe,’ Mr Soul said.
That maybe so,’ Jefry said. ‘But I wouldn’t be so rude all-’
‘Jef, they’re not going to shut up so let’s just keep it quiet, okay. I’m not feeling too good,’ Yana said. She slid back against a tree. Then she reclined, reached in her pack for some water, poured a few cool drops over her scalp.
Jefry said, ‘Sorry, Yana.’ ‘That’s okay. I just want to relax a bit, that’s all.’ She smiled before closing her eyes as she poured more water on her face. Jefry was relieved when he saw her smile. He watched Becq move in a little closer, place her hand on Yana’s shoulder. ‘Are you sure you’re okay,’ Becq asked, crouching. ‘It’s not the food is it? I had the same thing and I’m fine.’ ‘Sure, just a little sick that’s all. I’ll be fine. Probably not used to all this walking.’
‘Me neither,’ Becq said. ‘Just so long as you’re all right.’
‘Hey, I said I’m fine,’ Yana said. Then, ‘But thanks for worrying.’
Jefry stared his wife as if he were at school, watching a girl, one he had a crush on but could never talk to. That was no way to look at his wife. He couldn’t put his finger on the point when he’d begun to view her from such a distance. Two years, maybe three. He knew of several couples his own age, and some of the husbands had even confided in him that they, themselves, had not made love to their wives for months. That made him feel better. He knew the problems of a human-rumel marriage, too. He knew the only children he would have would be infertile, just like a mule. Maybe that was what was wrong, that she wanted a long family tradition. Then he remembered her dedication to work.
She was a geologist at heart, and it was something she would complete her life. She had said it herself-and that was a reason he fell in love with her. It didn’t help her being more intellectual than him. She was the bright one, and she certainly made sure he knew it. He was a chemist, and helped the others when they needed his skills. The others did all the glorious work, bringing new species back, finding new gemstones and other precious finds. He played with test tubes, measuring liquids, telling them combinations of this and that. It wasn’t glamorous. It certainly wasn’t alluring. He was useful, but not exciting in both his marriage and his work.
He sighed, again, looking at her hair blow in the breeze. Her face tilted back, the moisture from the water she had poured glistened. He still thought her beautiful.
Manolin shaded his eyes from the sun, as they stepped near the clearing, so he could take in the scene. Arranged in a layered circle were numerous huts, about fifty, he guessed, and the soil was light, dry, almost a sand. Charred leaves indicated the vegetation had been burned back. Then he shook his head in disbelief, he saw what they had been looking for: ichthyocentaur, and dozens off them. His mouth fell open to say something, then decided against it. Forb stepped aside, allowing Manolin and Santiago the full view. The ichthyocentaurs were as tall as a man, and as grey as some rumel were, but they possessed stubby tails, such as on dolphins. Their faces were strange, broad, although eerily human.
A large group of them turned simultaneously to face the newcomers.
Manolin looked towards Santiago as each man sought to find any words to describe what they were seeing. They could hear staccato clicking. Forb stepped forward, moving his arms and hands through the air. To Manolin and Santiago’s surprise, the ichthyocentaur began doing the same, and just as they did, the clicking ceased. Forb turned and waved an arm to beckon the strangers forward. ‘Come on, Santiago, Manolin. Come over.’
They walked towards the doctor, out of the shaded forest, out into the intense sun that beat the clearing as if someone had opened a furnace. Manolin looked around, counted dozens of these creatures, naked, staring, clicking. He could see the doctor signalling with his hands as they approached and two tall ichthyocentaur came towards him.
‘Well I’ll be,’ Santiago whispered to Manolin. ‘Look, he’s signing to them.’
‘Really? Thanks for that,’ Manolin said.
Santiago looked at Manolin for a moment, then nodded.
Forb broke the silence. ‘I’ve introduced you to them. I’ve told them you’re from other shores and that they have no need to fear you. That you’re hear to help.’ ‘Splendid,’ Santiago said. ‘They’re interesting creatures, aren’t they?’
‘Forb, how do I
sign “hello” to them?’ Manolin said.
‘I’m glad you asked. Look -’ Forb indicated a circular motion with his right hand, whilst keeping his left palm facing upwards.
Manolin repeated the gesture, making eye contact with one of the two ichthyocentaur, and smiled. He thought if all else failed, the smile should break down barriers. He noticed that they possessed small, gill-like flaps on their sides. His vision drifted down, and noticed the penis that gave away their sex, and that their legs he would have normally expected to find on a horse, or a lion.
The two creatures repeated the sign back, his smile widened. He turned in a circle, repeating the gesture to all the tribe collectively. Some of them replied. Forb laughed, patting Manolin on the shoulder. Then, he signed to the two creatures standing next to him and they turned, allowing Manolin and Santiago to see the full torso from behind. There was a tiny fin on each of their backs. They did not walk at all awkwardly, which Manolin thought they would.
The clearing was on a slope that he suspected was the gentlest section up to the volcano, which he could see large and clear to his left. There was forest surrounding the settlement, and the huts were made of bamboo, of woven palm leaves. It was achingly hot. Ferns littered the floor near his feet. Butterflies flipped behind huts whilst bright birds examined him from above. Everyone was silent for sometime, although it was not uncomfortable, as if each of the men knew that they were simply taking in details.
Manolin watched the tribe at work. They were still building their new settlement, after being relocated from the shore. They moved with precise, graceful motions. They were communal, too, gathering in large groups, generating those audible clicks, which he had discovered were their own form of communication. On one side of the settlement, women were hauling large quantities of plant matter. ‘Forb, what’s over there?’
‘Keen eye, I see,’ the doctor said. ‘Well, that’s where they store plants.’
‘Can I have a look?’
‘Yes,’ Santiago said. ‘That’d be good to see what they’re storing.’
‘Okay,’ Forb said. ‘But be careful there. They’re extremely protective about plants here.’
They approached a large building that was made from the same bamboo and palm leaves as nearly everything else. It was twenty feet long and dwarfed the other buildings in the settlement. The three men approached a female ichthyocentaur, who signed a greeting to Forb. Manolin signed hello to her and she returned the greeting, with a look of puzzlement on her face.
Forb signed something which he translated to the others as, They have come to help with the deaths. They have come to try and stop the deaths. I am touring them here. Okay to enter?
Yes, she signed back.
Manolin looked at her legs, which were horse-like too. She had small breasts, long black hair that was tied back. Her skin was grey.
‘We’re all right to go in now,’ Forb said.
They stepped into the darkness of the hut and Manolin noticed the immediate musky smell. Once their eyes became accustomed to the change in light, they could see the hundreds of bundles of plants, shelves on one side, with short, sealed bamboo tubes, and on them were etchings that he did not recognise. In another corner were large bundles of leaves in netting, and everything was organised in neat rows. The female ichthyocentaur cast a shadow in the doorway as she looked in. Manolin turned to her and smiled. She stepped inside. Santiago walked around the room, cautiously, being careful not to tread on any of the bundles. He knelt quickly by a sack of bulbs and one of bark chippings.
‘Everything here is categorised by usage,’ Forb said, wiping his head of sweat. ‘Each of the bamboo samples on the shelves contains relief from all sorts of medical problems, from headache to depression, anaesthetic to hallucinogenic powders. Very potent of an evening, I assure you. They even have plant extracts to test for pregnancy.’
‘By Arrahd,’ Manolin said. The female ichthyocentaur came up close to him and stared intensely at him. He grinned at her again and she stepped back. He noticed that there were several ichthyocentaurs gathered outside of the hut, and he could hear their clicking noises as they chatted amongst themselves.
‘Pregnancy?’ Santiago asked. ‘Well I never. How does it work?’
‘Simple,’ Forb said. ‘Take the powder in the tube, and a sprinkle to the urine sample, shake it around. Then, heat it and add a little more of another extract, and do the same. There’s some light-coloured bark chippings in ajar next to it and dip it in. When the back soaks it up, if it contains red streaks, there you have it-she’ll be dropping children.’
‘Amazing,’ Santiago said. ‘I’d like to see it in action.’
‘Unless you know of a likely lady, there’s not much point’
‘Still, I’d like to see the processes. Could we borrow some? I’d like to see some of the other things in action, too. Something with a bit of a kick in it.’ Manolin said, ‘We can’t take their stuff without permission. It’s pretty rude.’ Santiago glanced at Manolin, then the doctor. ‘I’m sure it will be all right, won’t it, Forb?,
Forb said, ‘Well, I’ll ask them.’
‘Splendid,’ Santiago said.
‘Anyway, we should be bringing some of the others in now. We’ve already been here ten minutes.’ Forb turned away and left the hut, the female ichthyocentaur trotting after him.
Manolin saw another of the creatures run up to the doctor, and it was carrying a cluster of some herb. It was too far away to see properly. Then they went out of sight.
Evening came suddenly, as it always did. Most of the travellers sat on the rim of the lagoon, allowing their feet to be refreshed by the cool waters. Manolin was sitting with Forb and Myranda on the edge of the lagoon, which was calm and still, and a breeze came from left to right, rippling the palm leaves behind. Myranda was wearing only a ragged brown skirt, and when she sat cross legged Manolin had to force his eyes away for politeness. She had finished giving another brief art lesson to the children. She seemed in a happy mood.
Manolin talked with Forb about the island, about the ichthyocentaurs. He was keen to learn about their histories, or as much as Forb knew. Forb did not know their origins, only that they had been there for as long as anyone knew. They had catalogued every plant on the island, even some of the other islands in the chain, but they dared not swim anywhere except a lagoon on the south coast of Arya in recent years. They had no political structure to speak of, much like the natives. Just a council of the older ichthyocentaur, and it was they who decided, after discussing some options with Forb, that they should stay away from the coast at night. That was when the deaths occurred. They were allowed to swim at selected times, and some native humans stood guard with blow-darts, bows and arrows, sharpened bamboo spears. They had survived for so long on the island, Forb assumed, because of the way they harvested and utilised plants. This was something Manolin was especially interested in. He told Forb about his keen interest ethnobotany - how tribal communities used plants in culture. That, too, was one of Forb’s reasons for coming to Arya to study. ‘I will show you my notebooks,’ he said. ‘I’ve an immense collection of data.’
Myranda was quiet whilst her partner and Manolin talked. At one point she had walked off, returned with some shells. She handed one to Manolin, who accepted it with overwhelming gratuity. Forb glanced between the two and seemed content, then he told Manolin about her background, steering the subject to what Manolin was concerned he was being too obvious about. Although Forb found her alluring, to say the least, Myranda was considered ugly by Arya’s standards. True beauty on Arya consisted of two things: large thighs and sharp teeth. A large thigh was rare, and showed that the woman was healthy and virile. Sharp teeth were handy for cutting vine and making rope. If a man had the two in a woman, he had much to be proud of. So Myranda, much to Forb’s delight, was not sought after. She was as sleek as a ray, just as graceful. On the mainland she could have found work as a high-class model or escort, and made her fortune in either. Forb kn
ew it, and so did Manolin. Her mother had died during childbirth, her father only two years ago. She had no siblings. Forb found her charming, kind and beautiful. It was a matter of weeks before he had wed her in the local tradition. Forb had also taught her the dialect of the mainland, so her voice was satisfying no matter what she said.
Myranda and Forb’s son, Lewys, approached once again. The young lad wore just a pair of breeches that came to just below his knee, and a shell necklace. His black hair was scruffy, quivered in the wind.
‘Hello, Lewys,’ Forb said.
The boy said, ‘Hello.’
‘You’ve met Manolin, haven’t you?’
‘I haven’t, father. Hello, Manolin.’ Lewys walked up to Manolin. The boy offered his hand in such a gentlemanly manner that Manolin chuckled.
‘Hello, Lewys. Pleased to meet you.’ He shook the boy’s hand.
‘Manolin’s a nice name.’
‘Thanks,’ Manolin said. ‘It’s a lovely home you’ve got here. You’ve the beach and the forests to play with. It’s so calm and peaceful, too.’ Lewys said, ‘It’s okay, I guess. Not many other kids that I like playing with though.’
‘Lewys is quite an independent boy. He likes keeping himself to himself. He reads a lot of my books that I brought with me. I had nearly two hundred, and he’s half way through them.’ Forb ruffled the boy’s hair.
‘A boy after my own heart,’ Manolin said. ‘You remind me of when I was your age. Still, we can play a game of something tomorrow if you want, before the hunt.’
The boy looked at Manolin with keen eyes, nodded, curling up one side of his mouth in a smile that was like his fathers. He also had his mother’s feminine looks.
Manolin said, ‘And maybe you could show me some of your favourite books, too.’
‘Yes, I’d like that,’ Lewys said. ‘I could teach you to surf if you want.’
Manolin frowned. ‘Surf?’
‘Yes, like father. He could teach you with me.’
Forb glanced at Manolin, raising one eyebrow. ‘He’s good,’ he said. ‘Why not,’ Manolin said. He gave a shrug and a laugh. A bright bird came out of the forest and sailed above the beach.
The Reef Page 15