The point of the remark was too sharp to miss, and Hoom piped up in his changing voice, “She asked him to teach her. He didn’t want to, but she pestered him until he did.”
“Nevertheless,” Aven pontificated, “if Jason had meant for human beings to swim, he’d have given us scales and fins.”
Hoom’s eyes flashed with anger, and he said sarcastically, “And if God had meant for men to plow, he’d have given you blades for feet.”
Aven grew furious immediately, and a crisis was averted by the arrival of the bacon and
Noyock’s loud laughter. “My son and my grandson, both prizes for their wit!” The desire for a quarrel passed quickly, and overzealous mouths were soon filled with dripping fat. “I say that even if hogs are disgusting creatures,” Aven commented with his mouth full, “they’re certainly good once they’re dead!”
And Noyock answered, his mouth even fuller, “And let us say the same for fat men, too!” and everyone laughed, for they had nothing but contempt for the tailors and weavers and woodcarvers who sat all day at their tasks, while Noyock and Aven and all their family, keepers of cattle and tillers of fields, considered loose skin at their waist to be a sign that they’d been slacking.
The breakfast over, they gathered cloaks against the wind and headed out of the house, down the dirt road, and joined the crowd trickling along the new road that was generally called Noyock’s Road. Noyock was justly proud of itfor though Cooter the wagonmaster had suggested the idea to two other Wardens, only Noyock had caught the vision of it, and found a way to do it.
The trouble had been that no one wanted to donate time just to spread small rocks over the surface of the road. So Noyock had assessed, not time, but goods from the older, wealthier people, and had paid those goods to younger men whose farms were not yet producing, or who were still learning the trade. That way the older men didn’t have to waste their time on a public job, while the younger men could work for the general good and not starve in the process.
The result was good. A summer of frequent rain had proved it: while every other road in Heaven City was a morass of mud, Noyock’s Road, which led from the Main Town, past Noyock’s Town, over the crest of the hill, and down to Linkeree’s Baythe water ran right off or soaked right through, and not a wagon was stuck all summer. And now, with the evidence before their eyes, there’d been no trouble persuading the people to spread the small stones on all the streets of Main Town, and much of Wienway Roadclear to the forge. Jason would be pleased.
Firstfield was full already. The census last winter had brought a total of 1,394 people in Heaven City. Twenty had been taken into the Star Tower. Eight had died in all the history of Heaven City, of accidents or, in the case of a few of the Ice People, of the strange, inexplicable maladies of old age. Noyock had no hope of counting how many babies had been born since winterthese days it seemed that every woman was pregnant, and Linkeree’s son Torrel had told Noyock, “Every third person wants a cradle these days.”
Noyock came and stood on the Warden’s place, and watched to see when the rising sun would be completely hidden behind the slender shaft that stuck out from the front of the Star Towerthe place where Jason lived. It was only a few minutes’ wait, and then the citizens of Heaven City sighed with pleasure and fulfilled expectation when the dark place appeared at the front of the Star Tower, and the slender line descended slowly to the ground.
But Noyock’s pleasure turned quickly to dismay. Jason was not alone. And the only time he ever brought an adult from the Star Tower was to put one of the sleepers into office as Warden. Have I done so badly this year, Noyock wondered, that Jason is already replacing me? But that would be unfairhe hasn’t even inspected my work! And I did very well the first time I was Wardennot fair!
But as the line descended more and came closer, Noyock realized that the man with Jason was a stranger. Blond and pale, he had obviously never been in the sun; but he looked strong enough, and intelligentbut who was he? Noyock knew all the Ice People, and recognized by sight everybody over ten years of age in the whole city. This one was new.
Jason and the stranger touched the ground, and Jason strode from the chair he rode in, holding out his arms, greeting all his people. They leaped to their feet. They cheered. They cried out. They wept and laughed and some sang. And, representing all of them, Noyock came forward to embrace Jason. But Noyock couldn’t conceal his uneasiness, and Jason, as always, saw into his heart. As they embraced, Jason whispered, “Noyock, my friend, this man isn’t here to replace you. You’re doing well, and you are still Warden with all my confidence.”
And so Noyock was free to be curious rather than concerned about the stranger. Until it occurred to him that this man must be
“The hundred eleventh Ice Person!” Noyock called out in realization.
“What?” Jason asked. But Noyock had already turned around to face the crowd. “Jason has brought with him the hundred eleventh Ice Person. The last of the Ice People! As Kapock prophesied in the History! The last of the Ice People has come!”
The people were awestruck, and Noyock barely noticed the helpless expression on Jason’s face as he beckoned the stranger to come forward. “You see?” Noyock heard Jason say, but he didn’t understand why. Jason stepped forward, bringing the stranger with him, and he raised his hand for silence.
“Your Warden is right,” Jason said. “This is the last of the Ice People. And he is uniquely gifted! Of all the Ice People, only Stipock has come from the Star Tower with the power of speech. He is a wise man in many thingsbut he is like an infant in other things, and you must be patient with him!”
(Did I see the stranger glare at Jason? Noyock wondered. Why should he be angry?)
“His name is Stipock. Will you build him a house?”
Of course the people shouted, “Yes,” and the meeting broke up immediatelyit had lasted longer than any other Greeting in the History, and because of the stranger it seemed that the tumult afterward lasted longer, too. Everyone had to touch Jason, talk to him, see if he remembered them, show him the new children, ask him a question, tell him how well things were going. And then the more curiousand the majority were very curioushad to come meet the new Ice Person.
“Stipock,” they all said, trying out the name. “Welcome to Heaven City.”
Noyock watched as Wix (the problem! The thorn in everyone’s side!) came to Stipock and fixed him with that cold, painful stare, and asked, “Why are you able to talk, when all the others who came from the Star Tower were like babies?”
Stipock glanced at Jason (Why do I keep thinking they’re adversaries? Noyock asked himself), saw that he wasn’t looking, and said, “Because my memory tape was the only one that survived the wreck of the ship in space.”
Dead silence fell over the group. Someone muttered, “He makes words, too, just like Jason.” But Wix only sneered and said to everyone and to no one, “Anyone can make up words.” And then to prove his point, the fifteen-year-old man said, “Because my memory glibbit was the only one that survived the wreck of the mumblebunk in tiddiewart.” Though Wix was irritating to practically everyone, they couldn’t keep from laughing.
And Noyock wondered why the stranger was turning red. Embarrassment? Anger? Ah well. He’d need a place to stay until the new house could be builtso Noyock went to him and said, “I’m Noyock, the Warden. Would you be willing to live with me until we can build you a house?”
“I don’t want to put you out,” said Stipock.
“We won’t leave,” Noyock said hurriedly. “We’d stay there, too. It’s a big house.”
Stipock seemed as if he wanted to explain something, then thought better of it, and followed as Noyock led him out of the crowd.
Several people followed them up Noyock’s Road toward Noyock’s Town, the cluster of houses mostly belonging to Noyock’s children and grandchildren that fringed the road near the crest of the hill. They wanted to hear Stipock speakhe had a different way of sa
ying things that was very amusing, and no one was sure what to make of Jason’s latest miracle.
The farther they walked up the hill toward Noyock’s house, the stronger the smell of the cattle pens became. To Noyock it was the smell of home; the smell of prosperity. But Stipock wrinkled up his nose and said, “Can’t you do something with the smell?”
Noyock was startled, then laughed. “And what can you do with a smell, when no one knows what it looks like, or how to take hold of it?”
Stipock didn’t answer, and Noyock wondered if the man had a sense of humor. A person who can’t laugh is only half a human, Noyock firmly believed. Why had Jason created this halfman, and brought him here?
Stipock stepped in a pile of fresh cow manure that was sitting in the middle of the road. He lifted his foot and asked, “What’s that?” He sounded irritated.
“Cow manure,” Noyock said, puzzled that the man wouldn’t know.
Stipock walked from the road to the thick grass and hurriedly rubbed it off his shoes.
“If you didn’t want it on your feet,” Noyock asked, genuinely confused at the man’s actions, “why did you step in it?” Stipock only shook his head, and wiped his feet some more.
Late that night, Noyock retreated to the room where he worked on the History. But tonight he couldn’t bring himself to write anything. He just stared at the paper, and at last passed the time by drawing maps of his farm as it was, and as it should be within a year, five years, ten. Meaningless. He was tiredhe had only managed a twohour nap in the afternoon. But he couldn’t sleep.
All day Jason had been going through Heaven City, visiting with people, talking to them, asking what they thought about this, what they felt about that. As always the Warden was forbidden to come along. So instead, Noyock had had the increasingly odious task of dealing with this creature Stipock. He wasn’t sure how he was going to broach the subject with Jason, but he certainly wished Jason would take the man back into the Star Tower with him.
Questions. “Why do you do this? Why do you do that?” When Stipock asked Aven, “Why do you let your wife do all this cooking while you just come in and sit at the table, expecting to be fed?” Noyock didn’t even try to stem the outburst. Aven was at his furious best. “Because, by damn, I spend the day from an hour before dawn until an hour after dark tending cattle, hoeing fields, reaping, plowing, sowing and every other damn thing that keeps this family alive, including producing every damn thing you’ve put in your damn mouth today, Stipock! And if I expect my wife to cook the damn food and clean up the dishes after it seems only fair considering that there’d be no food and be no dishes and be no house and be no table if I didn’t work to get them!”
Stipock had turned very, very red, and Noyock couldn’t help ithe laughed outright. Now, drawing maps on the paper, he wondered what Jason intended to do with Stipock. Please, Noyock wished fervently, please explain at least what the fellow is for.
A knock on the door, and Noyock got up, startled. Everyone knew that after dark Noyock was not to be disturbed in this room. He opened the doorand it was the hundred-eleventh Ice Person. “What do you want?” Noyock asked.
“I just want to ask some questions,” Stipock answered. And because Jason had, after all, said that he should be treated as carefully as an infant, Noyock invited him to come in and sit down. He did not, however, say to Stipock, “Be welcome.” There were limits.
“Questions?” Noyock asked.
“I’ve been talking to Hoom,” Stipock said. “Your grandson, right?”
Noyock nodded.
“He tells me that as Warden you tell everybody what to do.”
Noyock shrugged. “When it needs telling, I tell it. Mostly people do what they want.”
“But there are laws?”
Noyock nodded, wondering what Stipock was getting at. “Of course. Jason gave us those laws.”
“And according to those laws a man has a right to beat his son?”
Ah. Another criticism. Noyock suddenly felt very tired and wanted to go to bed. “Within reason,” Noyock said, “a man has power over his children.”
Stipock laughed and shook his head. “I just can’t believe how crude it all is.”
Noyock stood up and stepped to the door. “Good night, Stipock. Let’s talk in the morning, if you wish.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Stipock hurriedly said. “I didn’t meanI just meant that everything is so primitive.” The word meant nothing to Noyock. Stipock went on: “I just wondered if you ever voted on anything. If you voted about the laws.”
“We vote,” Noyock said, “when there is no law. When Jason has given us a law, why should we vote?”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“Because if Jason says it, only a fool would disagree.”
“It might as well be the Empire all over again,” Stipock said, more to himself than to Noyock. “It hasn’t occurred to anyone that the laws ought to come from the people, not from a man who comes out of the starship once every few years?”
“People are often very stupid,” Noyock said.
“Including Jason, just like anyone else,” Stipock said.
Noyock fixed a cold glare on him. “Good night, Stipock,” Noyock said. “Sleep well.”
Stipock shrugged, said, “Thanks for answering my questions,” and left. Noyock closed the door after him, but his shaking fingers could hardly control the string to loop it on the bolt. He walked back to the table, sat down, and put his hands to his face.
It is very clear now what Jason wants, Noyock told himself. Stipock is here to test us, to try us. Jason has created an enemy, so that our love for him and our obedience to law will have its trial.
But we will overcome, Noyock vowed. We can and will be strong.
And then he remembered that Stipock had spoken with Hoom. With young, restless, easily influenced Hoom. And the spectre of the stranger stealing away the hearts of the children came up before Noyock’s eyes for the first time, and he was afraid.
11
HOOM SAT at the table, the tallow lamp casting a circle of light that included the paper and the pen. Except for the scratching of the point on the paper, the room was silent, until Hoom laid down the pen, sat up straight, and stretched, sighing softly.
He got up and walked to the window, which was barred. His fingers played along the bar, but he didn’t lift it. He was confined to his room for a week, except for labor with his father on the farm. And Aven had gone so far, this time, as to insist that the window remain closed. Of course Aven would never know, this late at night, whether he was obeyed or notbut Hoom suspected that his father was so angry, this time, that he’d at least consider watching one night outside Hoom’s room, just to see if he was obeyed.
Not worth a chance, Hoom decided. His back was still stiff from the last beatingthe tenth in as many months. I will be fourteen next month, he reminded himself. Then I can move out of here and never see my father again.
Today his oldest brother, Grannit, at the age of thirty-two already a grandfather, had talked to him. “Why build a fire between father and yourself, so that neither of you can ever cross?” he had said, and Hoom had no answer. Except the silent one: “I’m not building the fire.” He couldn’t say that, though, because all the old people in Heaven City seemed to be on his father’s side. They all distrusted Stipock, even though not a house in Heaven City lacked at least one of the tallow lamps Stipock had taught them to make. They all resented Wix, even though Jason himself had commended Wix for finding ways to travel on the watereven though Noyock (thank Jason for grandfather, Hoom thought) had ridden in the newest boat, which Stipock had helped Wix design. And they all had nothing but contempt for Hoom, who was “a disobedient child,” as the phrase had so often been said. Hoom sat down and tried to write again. But the words were hard to come by. And would Jason even care to read what a thirteen-year-old boy had written? No, it was pointless. Noyock wouldn’t change the law to set him free; Stipock hadn’t the power; and
Aven was determined that until the last moment that his authority lasted, Hoom would obey.
“I’ll do all in my power to make him a decent man,” Aven had said, loudly, when the cattlekeepers’ council met tonight, “so that when he turns to rubbish next year, no man can say it was Aven’s fault.”
And while I rot this year, Hoom thought bitterly, no man says any fault to Aven, either.,
A loud knock. Hoom got up, guiltily, as if his thoughts could be heard and he was going to be held to account. He turned the paper over, so the writing couldn’t be read, and went to the door. No one was there. He wonderedwho could be walking the halls tonight? And then the knock came again, louder, and Hoom realized that someone was knocking at the window. At a second-story window? No mattersomeone was there, as a third knock testified. Hoom rushed to the window, opened it, and Wix tumbled into the room.
Surprise turned to dismay. Hoom quickly closed the window again, then rushed and closed the door. Returning to Wix, who was now lying on his back on the floor, flexing his arms, Hoom whispered, “What are you doing, coming here when I’m confined? Are you trying to get me killed?”
“You killed!” Wix whispered back, laughing silently. “And there I was hanging by my elbows, trying to butt my head against the window loud enough that you’d hear me! Were you asleep?”
Hoom shook his head. “I was writing. As Stipock said to do.”
“Writing‘11 never do any damn good,” Wix said.
“I think Stipock’s right,” Hoom said. “Why should the Wardens be the only ones to write the History? Then it’s all written down the way they think it happened.
“Well, it’s your grandfather,” Wix said.
“Why did you come here? I’ve been beaten too much already!”
“I came because you’d’ve killed me if I hadn’t. We finished the new boat today, and Stipock says we’re to try it out tonight.”
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