Isle of Woman (Geodyssey)

by Piers Anthony

  This mystified Ember. “Why?” she asked Clamshell in a whisper.

  “Tired?”

  Ember doubted it. Neither looked tired. Now the headman himself was lying down and lifting his forearm to the visitor. They went at it again, and Tusk seemed to be prevailing. Then, slowly, he gave way, and then his arm went down and he lost.

  But the headman wasn’t as strong as Logroller! He governed by common sense and the regard of the tribesmen, not by physical strength. How could he have prevailed?

  The two men got up and dusted off sand. Both were smiling. Tusk was acceptable to the tribe; he had proven himself in two ways.

  Suddenly Ember understood: Tusk could have won, but had chosen to lose. Because he wanted to join the tribe, and he wanted to get along. He had shown that he was strong—and then that he deferred to the headman of this tribe. He would not use his strength to make trouble.

  “Why?” Clamshell asked in return, realizing that something was going on.

  “Nice,” Ember said. “Strong. Good.”

  “Oh.” Clamshell was not the brightest girl, but she could appreciate this. A strong man who was nice made a better mate than one who was brutal. Some of the tribe’s couples were happier than others.

  Now it was Scorch’s turn. He was slender and did not have much muscle. “Fire,” he said.

  That was interesting. Blaze tended the village fire, but one day he would depart. Then who would do it? There was an art to fire tending, and no one wanted a clumsy or careless fire tender. If Scorch was good, he would be welcome.

  The main threat to fire was water. A good fire man knew how to protect his fire from rain. Scorch would be tested.

  Now Blaze got involved. He took burning sticks from his fire and made a new fire some distance to the side. Scorch took this fire and built it up into a better one. Then he dug down into the dirt and sand, making a hole, and put some of the fire down in that. He made a deeper channel away from it. Then he arranged some wider sticks in a crisscross pattern over the center of the smaller flame. This had the effect of stifling the fire somewhat, and it sent up lots of smoke. A number of villagers were mystified. But Ember saw Blaze nodding, and she too knew what Scorch was doing. He was preparing for rain.

  Then the headman signaled to the six girls. “Water,” he said.

  The oldest girl understood. She went to get a large water-carrying shell. The others followed. They dipped their shells in the sea and brought them up brimming. Then they ran in a line toward the new fire, where Scorch stood protectively astride it. It must have been hot for his legs, but he didn’t move.

  The first girl passed the fire, and dashed her water at the man. It splashed all over him, but didn’t douse the fire. The next one came, aiming at the fire, but Scorch moved his body and intercepted most of it, again saving the fire. He was agile, and though the next two girls wet him down farther, the fire still blazed. Finally Clamshell and Ember came up. Clamshell aimed her water at his face, but Ember aimed hers down between his legs, to get at the fire. Because he was distracted by Clamshell’s water, he couldn’t stop Ember’s, and she scored directly on it. There was a tremendous hissing, and smoke and steam billowed up.

  But Scorch got down and blew into the hole he had made—and in a moment a flame showed. The fire still burned, down in the protected hole. The water drained away along the channel, unable to reach the fire. He had survived the “rain.” He was an adequate fire keeper.

  Now it was time for the men to choose. The six girls lined up again. Tusk approached the line, and indicated the oldest and prettiest of them. Ember heard Clamshell’s intake of breath; she had hoped he would choose her. Ember was surprised he hadn’t, for he had certainly looked closely.

  The chosen girl stepped forward, accepting the suit. She put her arms around Tusk and kissed him. Then she led him toward her section of the main shelter. They would consummate their union and henceforth be a couple.

  Now it was Scorch’s turn. He walked along the line of five girls, and chose Clamshell. But she, seeing the awful ugly burn on his arm, hesitated, then demurred. She would not step forward. Ember knew that this was a difficult decision for her, but Clamshell was so well endowed that she could probably get a man who suited her better.

  Scorch was evidently disappointed, but he could not force her to accept his suit. The girl had to agree. After a moment he moved to the side and selected the next plumpest girl. But she, too, demurred. That scar was just too ugly, and Scorch was neither large nor muscular. He had saved his fire, but he just wasn’t impressive enough in other respects. Not to the girls. Ember saw the headman and headwoman grimace at the turndowns; they knew the value of fire, and wanted Scorch in the tribe. But they were not going to demand that one of the girls accept the suit.

  Ember’s heart was beating violently. Was he going to choose her next? She didn’t want to turn him down too. It wasn’t that the scar bothered her; that was a problem with fire tending. It was that she didn’t want to lose Blaze, even though she knew that her love for him was hopeless.

  Scorch bowed his head. He turned away. He was not interested in any of the three remaining girls. He would go on to another tribe, one that perhaps had a greater need for a fire tender.

  Ember’s relief at not being chosen shifted within her. This tribe would need a new fire man, and Scorch was competent. Whoever took him would always have access to the fire. She knew she couldn’t have Blaze. Wouldn’t it make sense to take Scorch?

  But he hadn’t chosen her. She was too thin, and she didn’t have full breasts, and she wasn’t eager to mate yet anyway. So she was out, and it might be a year before another man came looking for a woman, by which time she might be ready. But it was unlikely to be a fire man, and in any event one of the other girls would probably take him first.

  Scorch was probably the closest she could come to the fire, without mating with Blaze. She would be glad to wait for Blaze, but couldn’t; they were of one tribe, and had to separate. So she came to a frightening decision, and acted on it before she could lose her flash of courage.

  “Scorch!” she cried.

  Surprised, he turned and looked back. Ember stepped forward.

  There was a general murmur of surprise and dismay. This was not the way it was done. He had not chosen her. Worse, she saw Blaze, appalled; he did not want to lose her any more than she wanted to lose him.

  Scorch was staring blankly at her. She knew he was seeing what the others saw: nothing much. But there were ways. She could not choose him, but she might be able to make him choose her.

  “Ember,” she said, tapping her breastbone. “Fire.” She gestured to the village hearth, to indicate that she related to it.

  There was a flicker of interest in his face. She encouraged it. She performed the Woman Show. She did not have the body for it that some did, but she was limber and she knew the motions, having practiced them many times with other girls. She skipped on the sand, and whirled, and jumped, trying to make the motions lithe, demonstrating her health. She unbound her hair, letting the seaweed tie drop, so that her brown tresses swirled around her. She thrust out one hip, and then the other, using the positions to make her lower form seem more ample than it was. She took her two modest breasts in her hands and squeezed them up and together, making them seem larger. The Woman Show, accentuating desirability. Then she spread her knees and thrust her pelvis forward, indicating readiness for copulation. She turned around and lifted and parted her buttocks, showing that she could handle a penis from either side. The Woman Show, getting specific. She raised her arms and waved them, emulating the leaping tongues of a fire: a man who tended a fire should like a woman who related well to it. The activity warmed her and made her feel more confident. Then, breathing hard, she stopped, and stood in front of Scorch. She fixed him with a direct stare, half-smiling. She could not have made her interest more plain.

  Scorch was studying her closely now, reconsidering. Behind him and peripherally, she saw the expressions of the v
illagers: satisfyingly awestruck. They had not known she could do the Woman Show so well. They thought of her as a child, despite her technical eligibility. No more!

  Still he hesitated. He raised his scarred arm, as if inviting her to be repulsed by it.

  “Fire,” she repeated. “Burn.” She showed a smaller burn on her left hand, from the time she had misjudged a hot coal. She showed another on her arm, a scar she had always tried to conceal before, because burns were not pretty.

  That did it. Scorch smiled. He gestured, indicating Ember as his choice.

  Relieved, she stepped into him, embracing and kissing him, fulfilling the ritual. She pressed against his midsection, feeling his penis hard behind the fold of the cloak. Yes, she had made an impression! Then she led him to the shelter.

  In a kind of daze she saw the others of the tribe, their faces showing their mixed feelings. The four remaining girls were surprised, relieved, envious and appalled. The mated women were disapproving. But a number of the men were nodding appreciatively. That gladdened her. She had played at being a woman, and had succeeded in becoming one. Best of all, the headman was grinning; now the tribe would have a good new fire man.

  But Blaze’s face was frozen in numb horror. He had had foolish dreams, as she had; now they were gone. What would he do? She hurt for him, and for herself; but she had done what she knew was best.

  They entered the shelter. Tusk and his mate had already completed their first mergence, and were lying relaxed. Both their jaws dropped when they saw Scorch and Ember. Then they got up and left the shelter, so that the new couple could be alone. Privacy was not essential for the act, but it was considered helpful for the first time.

  But they paused a moment before stepping out, turning full face toward Scorch and Ember. Tusk’s penis was hanging low. Then he donned his shawl, covering it.

  This was part of the ritual. That penis had obviously been used. The first mating had been accomplished.

  Ember’s place was a mat of dry grass and leaves, comfortable enough for one but not for two. But surely comfort was not on Scorch’s mind at the moment. Ember had heard that the first time was usually uncomfortable, but that it was always better subsequently. She was prepared; it surely would not be worse than the burns she had suffered.

  She looked at him, standing there. He looked at her. She saw that he wasn’t much older than she, perhaps only two years. He was not experienced, of course. Maybe he had believed that none of the girls would accept him, and was as surprised by her action as she was herself.

  She knew how it was done, having seen it many times. The mechanics were simple enough. Indeed, it could be taken as an amplification of the Woman Show.

  Still Scorch did not act. He seemed not to know what to do. That gave Ember confidence. She put her hands to his wet shawl and drew it off. Still he stood, still bemused. His penis had lost its strength. It was as if the notion excited him, but the reality frightened him.

  Ember knew exactly how that was, for she was experiencing it herself. Her cheek was quivering. But his weakness gave her strength. She knew that it would be a phenomenal humiliation for them both if they did not mate now. She became bolder. She embraced him, squeezing her slender body against his, and kissed him. She made some of the motions of the Woman Show, in miniature.

  He began to respond, seeming in a daze. She knew how that was, too. She had thought no man would choose her, and he had thought no woman would accept him. She had made him choose her, and now she would make him complete their union. Because it did need to be done, lest they both become the objects of ridicule. There had been a coupling three years back when there had been a suspicion that the man had not adequately performed, and his reputation had suffered until finally he had had to make a fully public demonstration. Ember did not want to experience anything like that, especially since others would think she was the cause, being too young and thin to be sexual. So she brought him down to the mat, and led him through it, playing with him as she had seen other women do with their men, making him react. More important, she smiled as if she thought him wonderful, and kissed him frequently. Men, too, needed to believe they were desirable, she realized. Gradually his response increased, and finally he became hot and hard and shoved into her with vigor. It was uncomfortable, but no more so than she had anticipated, and very soon it was over.

  Then he looked at her with surprise, realizing that he had done it. He had been awkward and nervous, and now was neither. “Ember,” he said. “Good.”

  “Good,” she agreed, though for her it had been an act of achievement rather than pleasure.

  But he argued. “Scorch. Bad. Ember. Good.”

  It was her he was complimenting, rather than the sex! Inordinately pleased, she drew him close and kissed him with special passion. She was, indeed, getting to like him, partly because of his uncertainty.

  At that point another person entered the shelter. The timing could not have been better! It looked as if they had been ferociously passionate throughout.

  Scorch appreciated the coincidence. As the kiss broke, he turned toward the intruder, spreading his legs to show his spent penis. Thus the signal had been made, to the first person they encountered after the mating. The union was complete.

  The intruder was the headwoman. She nodded. Perhaps she had been concerned that Ember would not be able to perform satisfactorily, because of her youth. Such a failure would not have reflected well on the village. That doubt had been abolished.

  They got up and went out. A feast was being prepared. Everyone would have a good time. Two girls had found mates, and the tribe had gained two good men.

  But she saw that Blaze did not join in the festivity. She had hurt him, she knew, and she felt bad about that. She was sure he understood why she had done it, but still she felt the grief of it. She had taken the closest approach to Blaze she could manage: another young fire tender. Yet it was in its way a betrayal of their love.

  The next day Blaze left the tribe. Ember did not see him go. That hurt her worse. She had hoped at least to smile at him, to remind him that she still loved him, for what that might have been worth. Now he was gone, and she felt guilty as well as grieved. She had made what she believed was a good choice, but not the best choice, because it was impossible to have Blaze himself.

  The woman of the Isle made the necessary shifts. She staggered her babies, having one every year or so, the new one nursing as the older one was weaned. To accomplish this she had to become both fertile and sexually appealing while still caring for a child, so that her man would never stray. So nature reversed the ploy. Instead of expanding her breasts only at the time of birthing and nursing, when her infertility formerly made her sexually unappealing, she maintained them from the time of sexual maturity onward, and they became the opposite: a signal of sexual availability. Her mystery of fertility and her continuous sex appeal made it possible to have her man’s constant assistance. Even when she had one or more children with her, and when living in a group containing a number of other nubile women. It was a biologically clever ploy.

  Thus the human life-style as well as appearance was startlingly different from those of other hominids, here on the Isle of Woman, though the genetic changes were minor. From this point on, this would seem a species apart from all other animals. Skin mostly bare, and breasts always full. Physically it had become fully human.

  In time the Isle rejoined the mainland; and modern mankind moved out. The sometime use of crude clothing by Homo erectus became regular use when Homo sapiens was on land, making up for the lack of fur. With that steady covering came the conventions of modesty, further setting the species apart from all others. Where mankind went in Africa, he went now as conqueror, because of his superior organization and ability to plan ahead. When the Sahara desert alleviated, about 120,000 years before the present, the children of the Isle moved out into the larger continent. That ushered in a significant new stage, for there were other advanced hominids who were not about to give up their
territories by default.

  CHAPTER 5

  * * *

  ART

  Africa has touched or come close to the landmass of Eurasia in three places: the Strait of Gibraltar south of Spain, the Sinai Peninsula northeast of Egypt, and near the tip of the Arabian Peninsula. Mankind may have had the opportunity to cross at any of these places, and may have done so. The third is especially tempting, because that’s where the Isle of Woman was. But we have evidence of crossing only in the Sinai region. The fossils indicate that modern man was in the Sinai and the Levant—the Holy Land—90,000 years ago. Herein lie several significant mysteries.

  Europe and western Asia were occupied by Neandertal (Ne-AN-der-tal) man, a center of controversy beginning with the spelling of his name. He seems to have evolved directly from Homo erectus, who had colonized Eurasia on the order of one million years ago, and was specially adapted to cold climate and rough terrain. Central and eastern Asia were occupied by another product of Homo erectus we shall call Archaic man. These varieties of humanity had had several hundred thousand years to settle into their territories, had brains and bodies just as large, and were well established. The Levant and perhaps the Fertile Crescent—modern-day Iraq—became a region of contact among the three variants. So perhaps it is not surprising that modern mankind took a while to proceed farther. But he seems to have waited about 50,000 years, and then abruptly exploded into the territories of the others, sweeping them aside in a relative trifle. Why did he wait so long, and then move so decisively? In addition, he seems to have had no better technology or organization than the others did—and then abruptly improved it dramatically. This could account