Killbird

by Zach Hughes

  his head to the rear. I didn't like it at all. I continued to the top of the hill on the south side of the ravine and saw, ahead, the white bones of death. A bit of careful scouting found a line of dragons extending along the top of the ridge, and, before night fell and forced me to return to a worried Mar, I had determined that on all the hills surrounding my valley there was a line of the footless dragons, all facing outward, as if to protect the valley. Another day's scouting made me realize how lucky we were to have approached the valley through the dragon's hole in the mountain, for everywhere else the approaches were guarded by dragons which had, this proved by testing, an ample store of teeth to spit. It was a puzzle, but the abundance of game proved to me that the dragons did not spit teeth into the valley. «It is not all for the bad,» I told Mar. «We will be assured of our privacy. It is unlikely that anyone will be dropping in unexpectedly over the hills.» «But why are there so many?» she asked. «Who knows, with dragons?» I asked. «What do they eat?» «Dragons slay for malice or sport or for some dragon reason unknown to man,» I said, «not for food, for when they kill, the food is wasted.» «We must go and find a place without dragons,» she said. «Soon it will be winter and soon you will be very large. I like this valley and it is safe.» «Perhaps they are only toying with us,» she said, «and will turn their deadly mouths on us without warning.» «I have examined them closely. They seem to be rooted to the ground like large trees. I dug half my body length beside one and found only more hide hidden below the ground. No, they cannot turn.» So the hidehouse took shape. And soon the cold came with the nights, and Mar was growing larger. We ate of the plenty of the hunt and of the dried meats and nuts and spent the last summer nights with our fire vented through the roof of our hidehouse talking of what we would teach our son. Mar was restless and liked to walk about. She liked the stream, and we spent lovely days exploring it, wading in the rapidly cooling water, lying in hiding to observe the swimmers at their task of storing branches for their winter food. Their dam had created a sizable but shallow lake near the valley's center, and there was thick growth along the margins of the lake. We penetrated the bogs looking for frogs one day and made another discovery. There, hidden from view by the dense growth encouraged by the shallow water, was an island. We gained the dry ground and walked through a lovely glade shaded by tall trees, and suddenly there was something ahead. I pushed Mar into cover behind a tree and waited for movement. Then I went forward, crawling from tree to tree, and saw a low mound of strange material, with no eyes and no mouths on the side from which I approached. Now if there was so huge a dragon in the center of my valley that was something entirely different. I crawled closer and saw that creepers and underbrush concealed a thing much like the shape of the dragons on the hills around the valley, but as I circled it I still saw no eyes or mouths. Not until I was all the way to the other side did anything come into view, and then it was a plate much like the plates on dragons or on the dragon's cave far to the east where the small dragons ate grass, mended broken eyes and put out fires. I had often thought of that wondrous cave and the treasures therein and my greed sent me forward to examine the plate close up. It was sunken into the skin of the thing. I threw stones at it and nothing happened. I went back for Mar. Mar did not feel adventurous and wanted to leave. I reminded her of the treasures—I still used the dragonskin knives—we'd left in the dragon's cave to the east. I stood before the plate and nothing happened. I felt it with my hands. It was cold and bloodstained. When I touched a place, a sort of pimple at the height of my head, there was a hum and I leaped away. The plate swung inward slowly, making a creaking noise like a moving dragon, letting dirt and roots tumble inward as it opened. We watched for a long time, and the plate began to close, but was prevented from closing entirely by the dirt and roots which blocked it at the bottom. I ventured forward and peered within. It was black inside. I touched the pimple again and the plate swung open and the sun came out inside. I was startled, but remembered the same magic in the dragon's cave to the east. I peered in. Inside was a cave, round, clean, the air smelling fresh, well lighted. I stuck my head in farther, looking for treasures, and saw disappointingly little. The floor was smooth and warm to my feet, but the room was without treasures, barren. The walls were of the same material as the floor and felt warm to the touch. In fact, the entire cave was pleasantly warm with the temperature of a fine day at the start of the growing season. I tried to get Mar to join me, but she refused. I stepped inside. The plate closed behind me, but I was not concerned, for the dirt and roots blocking it left enough space for me to escape. The sun stayed out, lighting the cave. I put my hands on a pimple on the inside of the plate and it swung open. Since there were no treasures, we left the place, but it remained in my thoughts as the days grew chill and Mar's belly swelled. We awoke one morning to find a covering of snow. «I will see the warm cave again,» I told Mar. She went with me. The place was the same, the plate still blocked by dirt and debris. A breath of pleasantly warm air came from the opening. Inside it was the same, and the temperature was delightful, a pleasant warmth after the cold of the outdoors. I cleared away the dirt and roots from the plate and experimented with it repeatedly. It always opened to the pressure of my hand from within or without. «I will sleep here,» I said. «No,» she said. «Just me, at first, to be sure that it is safe in the night.» «If you will be so foolish I will come with you,» she said, and I could not convince her to spend the night in our hidehouse. We slept. An amazing thing happened. The sun shown brightly until we were cuddled in our sleepskins and our eyes closed, and then it dimmed until there was only a glow, as on a night of the full moon, but if we arose the sun came out again. After a while we tired of testing the magic and slept, warm and comfortable. Not even Mar, after that night, protested when we moved into the cave on the island in the middle of the swimmer's lake. I left the hidehouse, flap closed, in case of future need, but moved our food supplies and possessions into the cave. The first big snow of the winter came, and we had no need for fire, except in the outdoors, where I built a lean-to against the side of our cave for cooking. We did not make the mistake of building a fire in the cave, remembering the white rain which fell and clung to us in the other cave far to the east. Soon Mar was coming and going with confidence, the plate always opening when a hand was placed on the pimple inside or out. With no need to gather firewood for warmth, only for cooking. I had little to do except hunt in the snow for fresh meat, which remained plentiful. Inside it was cozy and we were never wet and we played the game of feeling baby kick. I would place my ear on Mar's belly and my son would oblige by punching a knee or an elbow against the skin, and I'd find myself laughing in delight. I had only one concern, and that was the lack of a woman to aid when the time came. Mar said not to worry. She had aided in the delivery of many babies and would tell me what to do, doing most of it herself. I wanted to journey out the dragon's hole and find a family and borrow a midwife for the necessary length of time, and she protested. «It is our valley,» she said. «Ours and ours alone. I don't want others here.» To while away the long winter days I started the construction of wings. In that remote place, flying from the top of one of the hills into the center of the valley, I estimated, could be done without attracting a killbird. Mar had never seen wings and was fascinated but fearful when I told her my plans to celebrate the birth of our son with a praise, a flight dedicated to God and the gods of man. It was a long project. The hollowed wood had to be properly dried. The hides had to be scraped and scraped to a thinness. But there was plenty of room inside our house. (We had come to think of it as ours and were quite at home there.) Snow lay deep in the valley, and I had to chop holes in the ice to get water. I carried it in a pouch made of leather. Mar's time was near. I began to spend more and more time with her inside the house, and thus quite often I became bored as she napped to prepare herself for her trial. One day, out of sheer idleness, I began to measure the distance around the house, using my hands, counting as I palmed my way along the wall
, my hands at the height of my face. It was then that I noticed, for the first time, little protrusions on the wall at a height just above my eyes. They were spaced here and there and were, I decided, much like those which caused our plate to open and close. Of course, Eban the curious had to investigate. I put my palm on a protrusion and pushed, leaping back with a cry of alarm when a plate opened in the seamless hide and left me expecting to see the eyes of a dragon or worse inside. Mar was still sleeping. I lived. I crept back and looked into the hole and saw a curious bowllike thing of some hard material. I felt it and as I extended my hand over it a stream of water gushed and gurgled into the bowl. After I recovered from my shock I tried it again. It was wondrous. The water was warmer than the waters of summer, as warm as the water of the hot spring of the mountains from which the family of Strabo had moved into the Valley of Clean Waters. I tasted the water and it was good, but warm. Not really pleasant for drinking. It was, however, lovely for washing. I dawdled my hands into an accumulation of it in the bowl and when I took my hands out the water drained away with a gurgle and a rash of warm air came, startling me, but drying my hands when I had courage to go back and try again. So. Our house had hidden treasures after all. I moved to the next protrusion, pushed it, watched a plate slide back into the skin, and there was a fountain of clear water jetting into the air and falling back into a bowl. I tested this water and it was icy, like the waters of a mountain stream, and quite delicious. Unable to contain myself any longer, I woke Mar and showed her the wonders, coaxing her into washing and drying her hands at the bowl and tasting the cool water of the fountain. The next plate was much larger, almost as large as the plate which gave access to our house. It opened into a small cave which contained things we did not understand. There was a strangely shaped chair which had a hole in it and contained water, and there was a little cave closed off by eyes which moved as I touched them to reveal a place of hard material. I stepped in and was immediately wet thoroughly by a rain of water which came from above, and before I could leap out there was a rain of some sweet-smelling slick stuff which I could not get off my face, clothing, hands. Since I was wet and since the water still rained in the small cave, I stepped back inside. The water was warm as summer, and after another spraying of the slick, sweet-smelling stuff the water cleansed me and my clothing. The warm air which blew from all around after the water stopped dried me, but not my clothing, so I left off my exploration to put on another skin and then went on to the next protrusion. This was the most wonderful of all. As I pushed the pimple I heard a hum and a section of the wall slid away to reveal a small and lighted cave. Chair things were placed around a flat surface which stood on legs, and when I climbed onto one of the chair things to better see the surface of the flat thing, which was shiny and rather pretty, a delightful aroma filled the cave, a plate opened and out came a thing with steaming bowls atop. The aroma was both meaty and something else. I put my finger into one bowl and licked it. The taste was strange, but when I used one of the eating things, made of dragonskin and shaped much like the spoons which the old men carve for family use out of wood, it was edible and interesting. We went no further that day. After the bowl with the hot and delicious liquid there came from the plate a dish of meat which was so well cooked, so delicious, that I ate much, and Mar overcame her nervousness to join me. The good things which issued from that plate kept us there until my belly protruded almost as much as Mar's and she could eat not another bite, not even the delicious things which were white and light and tasted as sweet as the stickiness of the stinging bees. As long as we sat and waited the magic continued, and when I could eat no more I went outside into the snow, put my finger down my throat, voided my stomach, and went back to begin again. Not since I was a child and ate myself to sickness on finding a bee tree did I do such sinful gluttony, but the supply seemed to be never-ending and the variety was amazing, although some things I could not stomach, mainly the soft and strange-tasting things which I suspected—and checked carefully for the warning tingles—were products of vegetation. Glutted, sated, we slept. We ate the next morning and all that day, and only then did I move to the next and, I found, the last visible protrusion on the wall of our house. I pushed it, not knowing what wonders to expect, and the plate opened, as had all the others, to reveal only a white eye on the wall of the small cave, a hard chair thing, and in front of the chair thing and below the eye, a flat but solid thing which was rooted on the floor. I was disappointed. I explored the remainder of the walls and found nothing of interest. Only then did I come back to the last little cave and push and probe. I could, I thought, break the eye. I tapped it with my hardax, and it was strong. There seemed to be something over the eye, unlike the eyes of, for example, dragons or the cave of the giants to the east. I tried harder, and no matter how hard I hit the eye I could not dent or break the strong, clear material which protected it. To think about it, I climbed up into the chair thing, and immediately there was a hum and the eye came to life and I scrambled for my own life. The eye glowed and there appeared in it a series of little lines, running from one side to the other. When I determined that there was no danger, I went back and sat in the chair, and the lines appeared and faded. On close examination the lines were made up of individual little things, looking somewhat like strange bugs. But they did not move. Only the lines changed from time to time. Then, after a while, the lines went away and a star appeared. The star was in the middle of the eye, and then the flat thing in front of the chair came to life, showing in a glow of color a bunch of things, stars, dots, circles, squares. The star on the eye glowed and faded, as did the star which was one of the things on the flat surface. I reached out and touched the glowing star on the flat surface, and the star on the eye faded to be replaced by a circle, and a circle glowed on the flat surface. I touched the circle there, and the circle went away to be replaced. Mar wanted to try. It was a fun game. A thing would appear in the eye and on the flat surface, and when you touched the thing on the flat surface the thing in the eye would go away and be replaced with another image. We played for a long time, and then the pictures went away. A single line appeared on the eye. I pushed my finger at the single line which matched it on the flat surface, and two lines appeared. I pushed my finger at the two lines, and three, and so on until we'd counted to twenty in this manner. Now one line appeared on the eye again. I pushed one line. But the next thing was not two lines but a thing with curve at the top and a flat line at the bottom. There was nothing like it on the flat surface. However, the two-line picture was glowing, and I pushed it and the curved thing went away to be replaced with a thing with two curves and the three lines glowed on the flat surface. I didn't like that game as well, but played it, finding that it passed the cold winter day, but when the pictures on the eye started switching into random appearances of the things with curves and different shapes I found that I could not remember how many lines to push to cause them to go away until, after a while, the flat surface would glow. Mar, who counted only on her fingers and toes, found the game boring, but as the days passed I found myself returning to it. I came to the realization, at last, that the eye was trying to tell me something. For example, the thing with double curves was a sign for three, only instead of having to make three slash marks you only had to make the one double-curved mark. It was interesting and opened up an entirely new line of thinking to me. As the winter deepened around us and game became scarce and the creek was frozen down to within a couple of hands of the bottom, we played our games with the eye and ate at the magic cave and drank our cool water from the magic fountain and Mar's belly told her it was time. She instructed me and prepared herself, and all through one long night she groaned with the pains, and then it was indeed time, for she was heaving and moaning and telling me how to help, and I saw the bulge of something between her legs, and she cried out, strained. I held the outcoming thing, wet and sticky, gingerly, and then with one great heave it was over and I held a squirming bundle of muck and wetness in my hands, frightened,
not knowing what to do in spite of all Mar's careful teachings. She took it from me, cleaned away the muck, hung the little thing by its heels and patted it, and there was a sound which caused me to laugh for joy, the protesting, feeble cry of the newborn. Then I was examining it with a beating heart, looking for the terror, finding only perfect little tiny feet and hands and the shriveled little sign that it was, indeed, a son. Then, suddenly, Mar tensed and moaned and I knew more fear, for I remembered the time she'd helped a woman deliver and one of the babies had been a monster. But the second came quickly, and I cleaned it myself, Mar resting from her labors. I bit the cord which held it to its mother and spanked the little rump, and the little girl baby bawled louder than her brother had. Two perfect and lovely little babies with skulls of a thickness which pleased me and perfectly shaped heads. Gods of man, the joy of it. Chapter Six There was no joy in me, however, when I aborted my flight of praise to God. I had carried my wings to the top of a hill behind the guarding line of dragons. I positioned Mar and the babies near the swimmers lake, where I would conclude my brief flight, having been in air only a short time, not nearly so long as even a ceremonial flight back in my own country with my own people and nothing like as long as Logan and I soared before the killbird came to kill my family. I had too much to live for, you see. I wanted no risk. I had cleared a runway. All was in readiness. Snow lay soft and deep in my valley, but the sun was warm and the day splendid. I waved to Mar, off in the distance, made my run, leaped, my heart soaring as I felt the wings bite air and lift. And I had not been in the air for nine wing lengths—I could see the symbol for nine, a round head on a little curve—before I looked up and saw, coming out of the sky directly above me, the white streak. Never had a killbird been so vigilant. «Oh, God,» I cried, and looked down for a landing spot. I was over the steep side of the hill with nothing below me but trees, and the killbird was streaking, and already, as I dipped my wings and started to circle, I could hear his bellowing roar, and I knew that I was a dead man unless I reached ground quickly. Better to risk a broken head or a twisted limb, which could be healed, than to vanish forever in a roar as had Strabo and my family. I could see the gleam of the killbird's hide as I lowered a wing further and slipped down faster and faster, looking for a minute hole in the solid greenery of the treetops, praying, thinking of Mar alone and my two children, boy and girl. Roar and flash as I glanced up, the nose of the killbird pointed at me and the trees coming up, and then I went down between two tops, the wings caught and ripped, the braces breaking with little snaps and the whole world a roar as the killbird flashed by overhead, arcing, making me think for one horrible moment that he was following me into the trees. Then I had time to think only of myself as I fell away from the broken and crumpled wings. I went down, down, rolled into a knot. I hoped the snow was deep and there were no rocks and then I hit and was still conscious, but rolling down the steep slope with the harness tangled around me until I fetched up against a tree with a bang which made me see white spots in front of my eyes, and I could hear the roar of the killbird diminishing as he climbed, and then I saw his streak, climbing high, back into the sun from where he had come. I was alive. I was bruised and my right leg was sore, but I was alive. I walked through the snow to find Mar coming, carrying little Egan and Margan on her back in their carry pouches. She threw herself on me and we fell into the snow, and Egan started crying. «You must never fly again,» she wailed. «I think not,» I said. «Not with alert killbirds like that one.» I grew lazy. With food there for the asking, all we had to do was sit at the flat surface in the eating cave. What need to hunt? We had food for dozens. We could have fed an entire family, and I found myself thinking wistfully of my old family, wondering about Yuree and Yorerie the Butcher and all the rest. It is funny how, when you've been away for a long time, you find yourself wondering about people whom you didn't even particularly like. Logan, for example. Was he a good hunter? Had he become pairmate to Yuree? One day I used one of the dragonskin knives, honed to sharpness, to scrape away my hair on face and skull, and Mar laughed at me. I did not dare tell her that I was thinking of paying a visit to the people, perhaps not my own, but one of the families allied with Stoneskull. There was a problem, but it was not an immediate one. I would have two young ones for pairmating in the future. That, I told myself, was my reason for thinking of people. The life of ease and plenty was making me soft, and I grew irritable and restless. After the nights started getting shorter, but winter still held the mountains under a fine snow accumulation, I told Mar that I would hunt. She, too, was spoiled, by having me with her at all times. I told her that it was the duty of a man to hunt and that the hunt, especially in the winter, meant that I would be gone for more than one day. She wailed, but I was firm. I have to admit that I was ready, after spending one night in the open, in the cold, shivering in my sleepskin with a fire to cheer me, to go back to the comfort of the always-warm cave. I did not yield to the temptation, however. I made one trip around my valley and saw that all was well. The deer were wintering as well as could be expected. There were no large predators in my valley, so the only enemy the deer had to survive was winter itself. I determined to make a scout outside the valley and spent several days making a wide circle around, up hill and down valley, always on the alert, once or twice coming up on my valley's protective hills merely to test the alertness of the guardian dragons. They never failed to show me that they were eternally watchful. I found a bear's den on a mountainside, smelling it out by the escape of air from a vent, and toyed with the idea of making Mar a gift of a bearskin. However, I knew from folklore that sometimes bears sleep two in a cave, and I didn't feel it wise to try to take on two angry bears. Bears are very ill-natured, when they're awakened in the midst of their winter's sleep. I was pleased by the beauty and the plenty of our mountains. The dragons of my hills had kept man far away, so that for at least two or three days' march on any side of my valley there was nothing but the wild and unpeopled forest, streams frozen under their winter blankets, swimmer dams, the signs of many deer, the winter nests of climbers and the tracks of more than one lion. There were no dragons save those which guarded my valley, and they were no danger as long as one did not try to enter the valley over the hills but came in and out through the dragon's hole. My loneliness was emphasized by the quiet of winter, the vastness of the mountains, and the total absence of my fellow man. And I thought ahead to the time when Egan and Margan would come of age. I dreamed of having four, even five fine premen asking for my daughter. From where would they come? Here around my valley was an ideal range for an entire family, several families, and there were no men and would be none when my children came of age. As I lay in my sleepskins with a cheery fire going I saw an ugly vision, my two children inbreeding to produce the footless horror I had seen, so long ago, on the plains of the inbreeders. With new determination, I marched quickly back to the valley, where I was greeted with joy by Mar. I told her my decision. I would venture forth into the lands of man and tell of the wonders of our mountains. I would sing the praises of that unspoiled and unhunted country. When man came, with me as guide, we would be friends, but not a part of the family, and then when the children were of age there would be pairmates for them. I would set out immediately and return with the spring thaws. «You will not leave me alone,» she said. «I will go with you.» «And carry two infants through the winter snows?» «Then we will wait for the thaw and go together,» she said. At first I thought to strike her for defying me, but we had a special relationship, Mar and I, engendered by our having none other save ourselves. We were alone in a vast and deserted range by ourselves, and I concluded that it was not female arrogance for her to dispute my plans, merely a dependence upon me as I depended upon her. Had she women to keep her company I would have gone. So I went back to the game. It was fascinating in a way. I was quite good at it. I knew the symbols for all the numbers, and on one cold and stormy day with a norther blowing outside and a blizzard of snow making visibility less than the length
of my arms, I mastered a concept which the eye had been pressing on me for a long time. I learned that the symbols did not halt and become senseless after reaching the number of fingers on two hands, but that the double slash mark meant ten and one and not two and that by adding a symbol after the slash mark denoting one, the value of the symbol became ten and two, ten and three and on up. Then, just as I felt smug at having mastered that part of the game, the eye came with a new concept which puzzled me. By the addition of a small symbol, +, between two symbols the numbers took on a new meaning, and when I learned, finally, that 2 + 2 is 4, the game took on a complexity which bored Mar and left her playing with our babies while I spent more and more time sitting in the chair pushing symbols on the flat surface to get the eye to react. Then the game was almost ruined when, without warning, the eye made a strange noise. I had been playing happily, using the + symbol and doing well, and suddenly the eye changed, a color glowed in it, and there appeared a picture on the eye much like a picture drawn by a child in the sand with a stick, the straight-line representation of a man with arms out-flung, five fingers on each hand. And as I mused and wondered what form the game was now taking, the eye made noise. I leaped back and could not make any sense out of the sound. It was strangely human but grating to my ears, low, full. I stayed away from the chair for a while, and then, hoping that the numbers game would be played, went back. The stick man appeared and the sound came. I pushed at the flat surface and nothing happened, and then I noticed that there was a series of pictures now on my flat surface. A man. A tree, other things, and under each picture there were little lines much like the symbols for numbers, but different. And then there appeared on the eye the little lines under the picture of the man and the sound came again. I listened carefully. The sound repeated. I called Mar. «Listen,» I said. «I do not like the game,» she said. «Just listen.» «Man, man, man"—the eye was making sound, in a deep, full, resonating sound which was vaguely human but not like the pleasantly high voices of our people. «It is saying 'man,' « I said. «And there is the picture of a man.» I looked at the flat surface. The picture of the man was glowing, and I pushed it. The picture on the eye changed. There was a tree, and the deep voice was saying, « 'Tree, tree, tree.' « Yes, as my ears grew accustomed to it and my fright faded, it was speaking, the eye. I pushed the tree symbol, and a new game was born. There seemed to be an endless supply of pictures. Cloud. Rain. Bear. Tree. Stream. Woman. Child. And the voice of the eye repeated each endlessly until I silenced it by pushing the picture on the flat surface, and after days of this, with winter clinging even though spring was near, the game changed slightly, going over the familiar pictures but not showing me the picture on the flat surface but, instead, giving me only the little symbols, which I concluded, meant the object just as the symbols could mean numbers. I had trouble remembering, but the eye repeated and repeated, and then we were doing games like Man + Woman = Child. I liked the one which went Tree + Rain + Sun = Fruit. As the days lengthened and the snow melted in our valley and the stream was swollen with the melt runoff, I deserted the game, save for periods at night, and watched my valley come to life. There was still snow on the heights, and the nights were quite chill. My son, Egan, named for my father, had shown signs of being ill. It was an illness for which I could see no reason. He ate well, taking milk from Mar's full breasts and, in addition, eating food which Mar chewed for him, but he was not growing as rapidly as Margan, the girl. And he cried often, a weak and protesting cry which tore at my heart, for nothing I could do, nothing I could bring down by my prayers, seemed to help him. Thus, my journey into the range of man was delayed. Thinking that the food from the magic cave might not be good for my son, I hunted and Mar chewed freshly cooked meat for my son and fed him. There seemed to be a slight improvement, and so our lives went back to almost normal, except that we could not bring ourselves to desert the comforts of our cave, for as the days warmed, there was a pleasant coolness inside. In the evenings I would play the game, and there was always something new. We started a new kind of game, the eye and I, and I laughed, for I knew more than the eye. The eye showed, in pictures like the pictures drawn in the sand by a child, how to make a stone ax. I had made stone axes when I was a child, so I laughed. Then the eye showed how to make a longbow, one step at a time, and I nodded in agreement. How to make fire by the spinning stick and the thong of leather? Ha. Any child knew that. But a house built of logs? Very interesting. I saw immediately the advantages of that. Thick walls to keep out the cold. A roof formed of saplings and sod. Yes. I could see that. I punched the symbol for the log house again and again until I had the process learned, and I practiced, cutting trees and notching them and putting them together into a square. How much I could teach my fellow men had I the chance. I became interested in the eye's showing of how to make pottery and was intrigued when the eye added something new. By forming a small cave of stone and chinking the holes with clay and building a fire inside to burn to glowing embers, the clay pots were made harder. I forced Mar to watch, and we tried, and the pots we made were almost as hard as dragonskin and much prettier than those which were hardened merely by putting them into the embers of a campfire. With so much knowledge, I was bursting to tell it. In spite of Egan's continued weakness, we packed and left our valley through the dragon hole. I was still undecided. Mar favored a trip to the nearest range of a family, there to try to form an alliance, but I kept thinking of my home, of the Valley of Clean Waters, and wondering if any of my old—friends—were alive. And although it was far, I set my trail to the northeastward. To Mar's disgust, I kept our hair scraped. She wailed and complained that the sun burned her bare scalp, but I could see, as we began to encounter families, that it was wise, for we were welcomed. I submitted my son to the eyes of the wise old women of each family as we journeyed, had many prayers, fed him many potions, but he was still weak and frail, while Margan seemed to thrive on travel. I found man to be much the same everywhere in the mountains. Although a family would guard its range, there was no malice to strangers, such as we, and we were welcomed everywhere, especially as I began to become known as Eban the Teller of Tales. We dawdled away a summer going northward. Margan began to crawl. Poor Egan was runted and weak, wanting only to sleep on his mother's breast. It was a Seer of the family of Welo the Wise who thought to submit the boy to her bare belly, there to feel the faint but unmistakable tingle of warning from deep within his bones. «The boy has the sickness,» the old woman said. «How can that be?» I asked. «You tell of your travels to the east,» she said. «Perhaps you brought it.» «Would I not feel it in myself?» I asked. I wondered why I had not thought to test carefully both my children, and that night, in the privacy of a hidehouse furnished us as guests, I held both the children to my belly and to my sadness felt the warning tingle in both. However, the spirit was in Mar, and she lived. And Margan was as healthy as a little girl could be. It was not that. No, it was something else, and I knew not what. It was with a heavy heart that I quickened our journey to the north and the east, and when at last I recognized landmarks, knowing the country in which I was born, the country from which Strabo of the Strongarm had led the family, I made long marches and crossed three ridges, and there, below, was the Lake of Clean Water and the hidehouses of a family nearby. I went into the valley with a mixture of emotions. The young ones saw us coming and came out to meet us as we approached the hidehouse along the shore of the lake. They danced and sang and stared. Women stood near their houses, watching our approach. I looked eagerly for a familiar face and saw an old woman who looked familiar. I went closer. They were making signs of welcome. A man came from a hidehouse, the place of the family head, and I recognized Logan, son of Logman. And then the old woman was speaking. «Stranger, you are welcome.» «My thanks,» I said. «We have come far.» She looked very familiar. «Are you not Bla the widow?» I asked. She looked at me strangely. «I was once known by that name. I am, and have been for many moons now, the Seer of Things Unseen.» «Welcome,» said Logan, son o
f Logman, coming up to us and looking at us with his head cocked. «Gods of man,» he said. «Yes, Logan,» I said. «It cannot be. The killbird got you, along with Strabo and the others.» «No, I fell beyond his death,» I said. Logan's face was grim. «Eban the Hunter,» he said. «Yes. I have done penance. I have traveled far, and the gods of man have seen fit to forgive and give me an opportunity to repay my debt to my people.» «How can that be?» Logan asked. «For you are the bringer of death.» «Honorable father,» I said, giving him his due as family head, «did you not tempt the gods of man as I did?» «You were chosen,» he said. «And then you dived straight toward the dome where the family waited.» «I was merely exercising the right to take evasive action.» «I retract my words of welcome,» Logan said. «Go from us, bringer of death.» «I ask a hearing, and I bring gifts,» I said. I looked over Logan's shoulder, and there stood Yuree, more beautiful than I could remember, her body grown into adulthood, thick, short, desirable. She carried an infant on her hip. «It is his right,» said Bla the widow, now Seer of Things Unseen. «So be it,» Logan said. Before the family, which had not, of course, had time to grow to its former size, I stood. I looked and saw the faces of Yorerie the Butcher and by his side a young woman who, when I left, had not been of age. There were Cree and Young Pallas and all of them, but half the family was missing, and the remaining ones looked glum and unhappy, and there were, in their bodies, in their faces, the looks of hunger and winter sickness. «Speak, haired one,» Logan said. I drew a knife of dragonskin from my clothing where I had hidden it and presented it to Logan. «For you, honorable father,» I said. He examined it and reluctantly let the others hold it. There was much excitement. I saw that some of the younger males had stone axes. Had they looted the dragon which I had slain? From the stock which I had carried—I was rich in dragonskin, with the dragon of the hole to loot at will—I presented each male who had none the material from which to fashion a hardax. «Now speaks Eban the Hunter,» I said, when the gifts had been examined. «I have traveled far and I have prayed to the gods of man and they have told me to come, to share my good fortune with my people, for I have found a land of plenty, and there are dragons, some which I have slain, for looting, for hardax and other treasures. There is game so fat that a man can live well, and there is magic which I, Eban the Hunter, would share with my people to repay a little what I, in my youth, brought down upon the heads of my own family. I have suffered and I have paid penance, and now it is time for me to atone. I beg of you to come with me to this land of plenty and share, with me and my pairmate the gifts of God.» «We be of the Valley of Clean Waters,» Logan said. «We have not always been of the Valley of Clean Waters,» I said. «Had we hunters enough, the game is gone,» said Yorerie, his speech not much improved. «In the land beyond the mountains to the south there are deer so numerous that a chance arrow slays,» I said. «The family of Logan, son of Logman, does not follow a haired one,» Logan said. «The family of Logan the son of Logman hungered during the winter,» Yorerie said. «I, for one, will listen to the tales of Eban the Hunter.» I told of my land, of the sweet valley. I did not tell of the magic of our cave, but hinted that I had magic to feed a family in time of need or in the dead of winter. I could see that some were interested. Yorerie, for certain. Cree the Kite. Young Pallas was obviously tempted, but Logan's old running mate, Teetom, was sneering. We ate. The fare was meager. «It was a young deer,» Yorerie said, «small and of little meat, and I was lucky to find him.» I told them that we could, by leaving soon, arrive in my land of plenty with time to build, to set up camp before the snows. «And we would be without food for the winter, with no time to hunt, to kill, to have the butcher do his work, to dry the meat,» Logan said. «We kill and dry along the way,» I said. «And I have ample stores to feed all the family for the winter should we not accumulate enough.» «I hear promises,» Logan said. «You hear the word of Eban,» I said. «For I have never lied.» «We will speak, each to his own,» Logan said. «Teetom, how say you?» «I stay,» Teetom said, with a scowl at me. «Cree?» «I would hear more.» «Yorerie?» «I will go with the Hunter,» Yorerie said. «You will do as the family decides,» Logan said. And he went around the fire. Young Pallas would go. But of all the rest of the sadly diminished family, no one spoke in my favor. «So be it,» Logan said. «All but Yorerie and Young Pallas vote to stay in our homeland, in the Valley of Clean Water. Thus, we all stay.» «I beg to have a hearing and a decision by the elders,» Yorerie said, «for that is my right. Every man has the right to leave and start his own family.» «Every man has a duty to his family,» Logan said, «and you are the last of the Butchers. I ask the elders to consider this and order you to stay and do your duty.» «I, too, would have a hearing,» Young Pallas said. «The family's in great need of hunters,» Logan said, «To lose one hunter is more than the family can bear, since many of our great hunters were slain by the killbird which Eban the Hunter brought down to us.» The elders withdrew from the group around the fire and talked among themselves. The new Seer was the spokesman. «It is sad,» she said, «to take a man's freedom which is his right by custom, but the family head is right. To lose the strong arm of Young Pallas and the skills of Yorerie would not be in the best interest of the family.» I stood. «I beg you,» I said. «I did not come to plant the seeds of division among my family but to lead all to a land of ease and plenty. Logan, I offer you my services. I am no mean hunter. Come with me. All of you. You will see.» «If you are willing to serve, you may build a hidehouse near us—» «But not as a member of the family?» I asked, my face burning. «And earn your way back into the family by serving,» Logan said. «Not even a great hunter could serve well in this place,» I said, «for it is as Yorerie says. The game is hunted out, as is often the case when a family stays in one place too long. You will have to move on soon, so why not follow me to the best hunting range of all the mountains?» «It is for the family head to decide when it is time to move a family,» Logan said firmly. «And I say that the game is not hunted out, that the Valley of Clean Waters is our home.» «So be it, then,» I said. «I will seek elsewhere, among the families to the south, who will listen and who will follow me to the land of plenty. I grieve for you.» There was only one more incident before we withdrew from the family to camp far away along the lake. I went to Yuree and, prostrating myself at her feet, said, «Yuree, honorable mother I beg, before I leave forever to have your forgiveness.» She took a long time to answer. I looked up. She was weeping silently. She spoke at last. «If it were only me I would forgive, and gladly. You were the bravest of the brave, Eban, and you did not willingly bring death to my father and mother and the others, but…» «Cannot you say it? I care not for the others now. But I would like your blessing, your forgiveness.» «I cannot,» she said. «So be it,» I said. We slept apart and traveled with the sun, leaving as we had come, alone, just our little group of four. Now we were both eager to be back in our sweet valley as soon as possible, so we did not dawdle, and thus it was several days before I heard, as we made camp, the sound of approach and a voice crying, «Ho, the campfire.» «Come near, friend,» I said, standing with my longbow at the ready, expecting to see a stranger, for we were crossing the range of a family with whom we had visited on the trip to the north. Instead it was Yorerie the Butcher who came into the glow of my fire. «Ha, Eban, you travel swiftly,» he panted. «Welcome, Yorerie, my friend,» I said. «What brings you?» «I have exercised my freedom,» he said. «My pairmate and my child are on the trail behind us, along with the group of Cree the Kite. We will join you, Eban, if you will still have us.» «Gladly,» I said. «But did the elders reconsider their decision?» «No,» he said, looking somewhat shamed. «To go against the wishes of the family is a serious matter,» I said. «Have you considered the whole of it? You can never go back, Yorerie.» «Logan is a bad family head,» Yorerie said. «He takes the best portions of the meat for himself, unlike the old days when Strabo the Strongarm shared and shared alike with the entire family. And he is lazy and frightened, scared to move the family to
new range lest he be wrong and be challenged for his position by one of the men in the family.» I was saddened to see my family, what was left of it, punished further because of me. Better if I had stayed in my valley. And yet there were Yorerie and Cree and their pairmates and children to consider, for life was obviously not good in the Valley of Clean Waters. I made my decision. «You and all the others are welcome and will have my support and help,» I said. We slept, and on the morning I went back along the trail and, after a full day's march, found the small group trudging along. They were heavily laden, even the young ones, the oldest of which could scarce walk, carrying a share. And in addition to Cree the Kite, his pairmate and his two children, there were two others. «Seer,» I said, bowing to the woman who had become the Seer of Things Unseen, «it is a surprise.» «I ask your blessings,» the Seer said. «And for my daughter.» She motioned, and a tall, thin girl well past the coming of age came forward, her thin shoulders bowed under a heavy pack. «My daughter, Ouree,» Seer said. «It is because of her that I desert my family and cast my fortunes with you, Eban the Hunter, for the stars and the ashes of the ceremonial fire have spoken to me and they say that Eban is a man of greatness and generosity and will help my daughter.» «Your words make me blush,» I said. «I will do all that I can. What is it you wish?» «For you to erase the shame which came to us, my daughter and myself, when she came of age and no preman spoke for her,» Seer said sadly. «That is a problem,» I said, «for in my land there are no men.» «You have a son,» Seer said. «Yorerie has a son. They will come of age. I ask only that when they do, one of them, at the pleasure of the family head, give Ouree a child to comfort her in her last years.» «So be it,» I said. It is a thing which I had never seen, the temporary pairing of an unclaimed woman solely for the purpose of giving child, and I was shamed for both Seer and for the girl, Ouree. And, indeed, I did not understand why she had gone unclaimed. True, she was not beautiful. She was, I realized with a shock, much like me, without the short, thick and beautiful limbs of the people. But she was strong, as witness the load she bore without complaint. I led them, slowly because of the young ones and the women, to join my pairmate and Yorerie, who rested after his run to catch us, and then we traveled as a group, and it was good, so good. Yorerie and Cree were good hunters. As the new family unit marched, they went into the hills and returned with game, and thus our carry loads increased with the hides of the deer and our pace was slowed. We were thirteen—three hunters, two pairmates, five children, the Seer and her unclaimed daughter. Of the children, two were boys. My Egan and Yorerie's boy, named Boulee. Three hunters to provide for ten others. But in my range it would be easy, especially with our magic cave of the food. I had no worries and, in fact, was happier than I'd ever been, for there was no close blood claim between the families of Cree, Yorerie and myself, so mating could be accomplished among our children. We reached our home without incident, and before we entered the valley through the dragon hole I carefully showed Yorerie and Cree the dangers of the dragons of the hilltops, warning them never to make approach to the valley save through the dragon hole. I took them all into my valley, discarding my former plans to place them outside the valley in the unclaimed and rich range there. Mar, who had been doubtful at first, was happy, too, and became great friends with the females, especially the unclaimed Ouree. The first few days were spent in hunting. Then I led Cree and Yorerie in the making of log houses, after the instructions of my magic eye. They were astounded. I told them I had seen log houses in my travels, not willing as yet to share my magic, knowing the superstitions of my people. I feared that they would consider my magic tainted and turn against me. It was but the work of a half moon to build housing for the family, three houses of logs on high ground near the creek and outside the marshy growth which hid our magic cave. Our days were spent together, and at night Mar and I left them to their houses to retreat to our cool cave. One night after the log houses were finished and meat was drying in the sun and the women were working hides to warm them during the coming winter, Yorerie the Butcher reminded us that it was time for the rite of the changing year, the family celebration of the end of summer and the beginning of the time of colored leaves. With Seer of Things Unseen at her post on the hollowed logdrum, the females danced. I could not help but notice that Ouree the Unclaimed was unusually graceful. Indeed, Ouree was, in my opinion, a rare and valuable female, for she worked harder than any of us and, to the amusement of Yorerie and Cree, fashioned a longbow for herself and spent long hours in practice until, in the last of summer, she went forth alone and came home, a deer carcass dwarfing her as it was slung over her shoulders. In addition, she was our best cook, our best fashioner of hide garments, a tireless chewer of skin to prepare it, always willing to relieve one of the mothers of the care of the young. She was wonderful with our poor Egan, who walked now, but weakly, tiring quickly. It was Yorerie who put a part of my thoughts into words that night of the end of summer rites when he leaned close and said, «We were all blind, Eban, to let that one go unclaimed.» «She is different,» I said. «As you are,» he said. «But look how she sways. Look how gracefully she dances.» «I see,» I said. I grinned at him. «I do see, my friend.» When the dancing ended, it was the Seer who spoke. «We have been led into a land of plenty,» she said. «We have been shown new and wonderful things. We have homes which are warmer and stouter than the hidehouses, and we owe it to one man, to Eban the Hunter.» Cree the Kite stood. «We have spoken, the rest of us, in your absence, Eban the Hunter, and it is our wish that you serve us as family head.» «Ha, Eban,» Yorerie said. «I am honored,» I said. «But we are as one, are we not? Why do we need a family head? Later, perhaps, when our family is large. In the meantime, we have the wisdom of the Seer to guide us in traditional things, and we work equally.» «Honorable father,» Cree said, «my pairmate is with child. You cannot help but notice.» We all laughed, for Roden, mate of Cree, was, indeed, far with child, her belly round and plump. «I notice it now and then when he kicks,» Roden said. «Who, then, will bless my child when it is born?» Cree asked. I nodded. A child needed the blessing of a family head, true. Still, I was selfish. I wanted to live in my cozy cave and have the companionship of my family when I wanted it. However, I could see my duty. «Would it be good if I suggested either Cree the Kite or Yorerie the Butcher for the honor?» «You honor us,» Yorerie said, «but we have spoken. Honor us truly, Eban.» «I honor you,» I sighed, «as I am honored.» «Honorable father,» they all said, and then we danced until the moon was low and the fires burned to embers. I was happy. And then the dragons spoke, on a chill end of summer morning. Chapter Seven We were gathered as a family that morning. The sun was over the hills trying to dispel the night's chill, and the skies were blue and we ate of the ripe nuts and the dried fruit of the harvest from the wild trees and lazed about, a family well prepared for the winter. The sound of the dragon spitting came. A short burst of sound which set my hair to rise, and then, a bit later, more, and then a whole chaos of sound as half a dozen of the dragons to the north of the dragon hole began to spit. At first, when one dragon spoke, I thought of a poor unfortunate deer having wandered into the range of one of the hill dragons. Then with the others, so many of them, I felt a cold chill of dread. «Yorerie, Cree,» I said. «We go.» I led them at a trot to the dragon's hole and through, and then, having moved past the dead dragon of the hole out of range of the hill dragons, northward toward the point of the spitting sounds, which had long since died. My heart stopped when we heard, from a hollow between two ridges ahead, the wails of women in mourning. You see, I knew, as surely as I was Eban the Hunter, I knew. None of the families in the south would have been so foolhardy as to walk into the face of the hill dragons. I knew, and when we topped a ridge and saw the people gathered below I recognized, first, the form of Yuree. We ran down the hill recklessly, I tumbling and rolling to fetch up against a tree. Then, head ringing, I ran into the clearing beside a stream where the family was camped and saw Logan lying in his gore, on a blooded s
kin, his chest heaving, his blood still oozing from wounds on his chest and arms. Three old men, several widows, children, the pairmates of the few remaining hunters of my old family, all wailed and mourned as Yuree knelt beside Logan. Logan had led them directly into the teeth of the dragons. I ran to kneel beside Yuree, full of remorse. Why had I not stayed with them? Why had I not insisted on leading them? «Why did you change your mind, Logan?» I wailed. «Why did you lead them into the teeth?» But he was far gone. I watched him die, his blood pumping out of a torn artery. «How many?» I asked. «All of the hunters,» Yuree said, looking at me with cold eyes. «Oh, God,» I prayed. «Why me? Why do you choose me to continue to bring death to my own family?» Yorerie put his hand on my shoulder. «Honorable father,» he said. «It is not your fault.» «It is mine,» I said. «I told him of the place of plenty, and they came at my invitation.» «No.» Yorerie said pointing. I followed his finger and at Logan's blooded neck I saw the claws of war. I had never seen them before and there was a certain irony in it, since, in all probability, the bear claws which Logan wore to proclaim his intentions were probably from the bears killed by me or by my father. For never in the memory of the living had a tribe donned the bear claws and gone in search of an enemy with intent to kill. So precious was life that the last war between families had taken place in my father's father's lifetime. «No,» I said. «It cannot be.» An old man came forward. He prostrated himself at my feet. «We are yours, honorable father,» he said, tears in his eyes. «No, no, you are my family.» «Logan led a war party,» Yorerie said, pointing to the bear claws. «Have them explain.» «Yes, please,» I said, looking at Yuree. She had a sullen look on her face and would not meet my eyes. «Old man,» I said, «why did Logan come in war?» «Because you stole the hunters Yorerie and Cree,» the old man said. «Because you brought death to the family in the killbird and then took two of our few remaining hunters and left us to starve during the winter.» «And now all the hunters are dead,» I said. «Even some of the old men. Are only these left, then?» «We have not gone forward,» the old man said. «For we fear the dragons. But from a distance I see bodies lying on the slopes. Only Logan crawled back.» «Fools,» I said. «Oh, fools. And now what are we to do?» «By the rules of the people they have warred on you,» Cree said. «They are now your slaves.» «Slaves?» I wept. «They are my people.» «No longer,» Yorerie said. «They have sworn to kill you and your family and to take what was yours.» He sighed. «You are bound by the customs.» «I will not enslave my own,» I said. «I give you your freedom. Go, what is left of you. Go and leave us in peace.» «Without hunters we will surely die,» the old man said. «True,» Cree said. «Then there is but one answer,» I said, suffering, wondering how many more punishments the gods of man had in store for me. «You will become of us.» Yuree looked at me, her eyes blazing. «Never,» she spat. «Killer of my mother and father, killer of my pairmate, I will never join you.» «Logan's death and the death of the hunters is on his own head,» Cree said heatedly. «You others,» I said, standing looking around at the mourning people. «Will you come into my valley? We will share. There is game for the taking. Will you come?» «Gladly,» said the old man, and all of the older ones agreed. Only two of the young widows who had so recently lost pairmates demurred, along with Yuree. «So be it,» I said. «But Eban the Hunter will not leave widows and children to starve in the cold of winter, and so I command you, Yuree, and all the others, to come. Come in freedom or come as slaves.» With a cry, Yuree launched herself at me, the sharp knife of dragonskin seeking my chest. I caught her arm. I had given the knife to Logan, and now his pairmate used it to try to kill me. I wrenched the knife away. «Tie her hands,» I said. «And the others.» People leaped to obey me, their loyalties changing swiftly. It was soon obvious to me that Yuree and the other two would be troublesome. We took all of the remaining members of my old family into the valley, where we men began to work to make log houses for the winter. There was food in plenty, and it was not too late to hunt. We fed them well and then considered the problem of Yuree and the two others, who tried, the first night, to escape. «Honorable father,» said Ouree the Unclaimed, «our men are few and are needed. And yet the slaves must be managed. May I offer myself?» «A thankless job, Ouree,» I said, «but it is yours, and my thanks to you. Treat them kindly. Perhaps they will relent, and should they do so, they can become of us.» And thus the unclaimed one spent her days managing the three slaves, slaves by choice, seeing to it that they did their share of work, guarding them against escape, for she was free, under the customs, to use the longbow which she had learned to wield so well should one of the slaves try to escape or offer threat to any member of the family. At first they were resentful, Yuree most of all, but gradually, as we treated them kindly, the other two relented and, with bodies flat to the ground, begged me, as family head, to release them from slavery. They promised to be good family members, and I granted it, and they took their place, sharing a log house between them with their several young ones. Only Yuree remained a slave. We had serious problems. Logan the Unwise, as he had come to be called after his death, had even armed the premen nearing coming of age and had led them to their deaths, moving as a body directly into an area where several dragons could spit at once. The family's males were decimated, leaving only boys. Three old men beyond the age of mating, half a dozen old women, seven widows, counting Yuree, an even dozen children. Three hunters—myself, Yorerie, Cree. And yet there was plenty, and the family was settled in well when the snows came and I, at last, could find some peace in my cave with Mar and our two children. I went back to my game. There was a name for it, I found. The voice of the eye called it a word and the symbols were four. The game was called read. I read symbols for many things. I read about a man, a woman and a child building a log house. They were happy. I read many things. I read about the deer and the bear and things I did not understand, and I got the idea as the winter began to close in that I was reading about a race of giants, for the pictures on the eye were becoming more and more clear and the size of the chair in which I sat was like that of the chair things and couch things in the house of the giants far to the east, and I had much to wonder about. On evenings I sometimes joined the family, there to tell tales. I told them about a race of giants who lived on our land in the time of the first dragons, and they were awed and interested. I told them of the travels of Eban the Hunter and his pairmate, of the sick and starving inbreeders of the low slopes, the monsters of the east. And things were good. Only two things concerned me. One, of deadly concern, was the health of our child, Egan. He was pale and weak, and there were times when, as he learned to speak words, he would cry and say, «It hurts, it hurts,» and rub his tiny little limbs with a look of pain so intense that I hurt as well. The second was Yuree, who continued to be a slave under the management of Ouree the Unclaimed. Both problems were to come to a crisis during that winter. Egan worsened. He had no urge for food. We forced him to eat but he did not gain weight or grow. Our girl was fat and healthy and always moving with that endless energy of the very young. Poor Egan lay on his couch and cried with his pain. Before the shortest night of the year, he was in constant pain, and finally, a mere bag of bones, white as if all his blood had left him, he died in great pain and left his father and his mother to grieve. My poor son. My only son. The family ate a feast of mourning, and we dug through snow and chipped away at frozen ground to place my Egan in his grave. «I will retire for a period of mourning,» I told the gathered family. «In my absence it is Yorerie to whom you will come, with the Seer as his adviser.» And for days I did not leave our cave. The only joy in my life was my daughter and my pairmate, and we clung to each other, the antics of the little girl sometimes making us forget, for a moment, our grief. My own grief was compounded by Mar's failure to get with child. Cree's pairmate had delivered a fine son, and I envied him so. I spent much time playing read, learning stories of the giants. Pictures showed giants riding animals of a strange form, four legs, long necks. There were no such animals in ou
r land. It was a puzzle. And I longed to know more, spending more and more time at the game until, one night when both Mar and Margan were sleeping, the eye spoke to me. «You are man,» said the low and strange voice of the eye. I had come to understand it. «I am man,» I said in my pleasingly high voice. «Man learns,» the voice said. «I learn,» I agreed. Could the eye hear me? Yes, I thought so, for some of the games included voice. I could not make a picture change until I spoke the words desired by the eye. «Man has duty to man,» the eye said. «Man has his duty,» I agreed, nodding my head vigorously. «And now it is time for your duty to begin,» the eye said. «You are ready.» And before me the eye moved, an entire plate moving, sliding, opening a hole in the wall of the eye cave, and, curious, I looked to see step stones leading downward into a sunlit long cave which went down and down—I went without waking Mar—into a large and heated and sunlit cave which, at the center, had a chair and a tall thing of lights and other wonders. I walked near and examined. The tall thing extended to the top of the cave and was alive with lights, which, as I watched, began to blink in a pattern that was interesting. I took my place in the chair, and the flat surface in front of me came alive. It was, I discovered, another form of the game. «Man,» said the voice of the eye. «Now learn.» «I learn,» I said. A light came on on the tall part. I looked at my flat surface and saw a light. I pushed. There was a click and another light came on and there was a wait after I pushed the light which matched it and on my flat surface there were protruding things. I played the game until I was tired and left it to sleep. The new game was more complicated than anything I had done and required an exactness which sometimes bored me. Often there was a waiting period as I pushed lights and protrusions and moved little things from one position to the other. When I made a mistake the tall thing lit up and made a sound like a lion wailing. Then the game had to be begun all over again. After days of this I was bored, for there were no pictures. «I will go back to the other game,» I said, «the read game.» But the eye was not alive, and each time I entered the small cave of the eye the plate opened and there was nothing to do but go into the lower cave and push lights and move little things which clicked. I tired. «Man has duty,» the voice told me. «I am tired of this.» «Man has duty. Man must do duty. Man will be rewarded with good things to eat and other wonders.» This was new. I listened. It was repeated. I followed the lights and pushed things and after a long day of it the voice said, «It is good. You are ready.» «I sleep,» I said. «I am ready for that.» But there was not to be sleep. It was early evening, and when I went into the sleep cave above Yorerie was there, looking uneasy as he always did when he was in our cave. I had allowed him to visit us only after I had named him acting family head during my period of mourning. He did not like our cave. «Honorable father,» he said. «There is a problem.» «You are family head. If you need advice, ask the Seer.» «The Seer advised me to come to you, honorable father.» «Speak, then,» I said. «I suppose it is time I ended my mourning.» «It is the young widows,» Yorerie said. «They have spoken with the Seer of Things Unseen and they claim the right of family disaster.» «You will have to tell me,» I said. «I am not as wise as the Seer and do not know all about our ancient customs.» «Indeed, the Seer herself had to search her memory, for she had never experienced disaster,» Yorerie said. «Speak,» I told him. «When disaster, as in war or disease, strikes the men of a family, leaving many widows, it is the right of the widows under our ancient laws to use the remaining hunters for the purpose of getting with child, thus to rebuild the strength of the family.» «Gods of man,» I sighed. «Are we to become like the inbreeders?» «Seer tells me it is true,» Yorerie said. «Sensible, if you ask me,» said my Mar. «Would you lend me, then, to the widows to make babies?» I asked her in amazement. «Would you cease to love me if you did?» she asked. «Would it change you? Would you still not be Eban the Hunter?» «Gods of man,» I said. I resolved to speak with the family. I gathered them on a clear and starry night before a huge and ceremonial campfire. «I will hear the thoughts of all,» I said. «Seer of Things Unseen, tell us the law.» «The family needs hunters,» Seer said. «For soon all will be old and there are only five young ones who are male and they will have to feed and protect all. It is the right of widows, when males number fewer than females, to be serviced for the purpose of making child. So says the law. So says the Seer, for this family has, indeed, come to disaster.» «And the dangers?» I asked. «Are the laws of blood then repealed in time of disaster?» «I have made a study,» the Seer said. «The law, as I can remember it…» Would that we had all our laws written on the eye, I thought to myself, there to be permanent and not to be trusted to the frail memory of a Seer. «… allows no coupling of sister and brother, parent and child, nor the coupling of sons and daughters of brothers and sisters. Thus, Cree the Kite would be banned from servicing two widows, who are daughters of his mother and father's sisters and brothers, Yorerie of two. Of the family, you alone, Eban, are not so close by blood, your father having no brothers or sisters and your mother coming from another family by capture. Since there are but three hunters, thus, you service the widows not serviceable by Cree and Yorerie.» «Gods of man,» I said. «We beg our rights,» said one of the widows, prostrating herself in the cleared area beside the campfire. «Arise,» I said. «And how say the pairmates of Yorerie and Cree?» I asked. Roden, pairmate of Cree, stood. «We like it not,» she said, «but we abide by the law, provided that it is over when the widows are with child.» «That is the law,» the Seer said. «When the widows are with child the family returns to normal until the new children are walkers, and then—» «Again?» I asked, awed by the idea of fathering so many children. «Until the balance is repaired and the boys of the family begin to reach age,» the Seer said. «This is for the family,» I said. «A vote.» The widows voted, save Yuree, who was silent. The old voted and then the pairmates, Mar grinning at me with mischief in her eyes. That left only the hunters. Yorerie, clearly red-faced, said he would do his duty, his eyes on the pleasing form of one of his appointed widows. Cree said yes. «So be it,» said I. «Honorable father,» Yuree the Slave said, prostrating herself. «You may speak,» I said. «I beg forgiveness,» she said. «If it is still your will to give me another chance to be a member of your family, I beg your blessing.» «Gladly,» I said. «Slave Yuree, arise.» She stood. «Welcome, sister,» I said. «As family head, I make Yuree the widow a member, and all are to treat her as such.» «Honorable father,» Yuree said, a little smile on her face. «Am I not a full member?» «I have granted it.» «I claim my right,» she said. «As a family member you have all rights,» I said. «Both Yorerie and Cree are sons of sisters of my mother,» Yuree said, with that funny little smile. I realized the import and looked quickly at Mar. She was no longer smiling. «The family has spoken,» I said. «So be it.» «Honorable father,» the Seer of Things Unseen said, «here are the widows to be honored by your seed. Young Til, who was childless, having only this summer come of age; Fanan the widow of Bloc; now that she is no longer a slave, Yuree widow of Logan; and, lastly, the daughter of Bla, Ouree the Unclaimed.» «Does the Unclaimed have the right of disaster?» «Clearly,» the Seer said. «So be it,» I muttered, looking at Yuree with a strange feeling of anticipation surging in my blood. Thus it was that the winter passed. I will not speak much of the events, for such things are private and, except in times of disaster, kept within the hidehouse of pairmates. Let me say only that Young Til was shy and sent me away quickly when my duty was done, she being the first of my duties, the times chosen by the moon as interpreted by the Seer, and that Fanan was easily pleased, begged me to stay—I did, on two occasions until the sun was a redness, Fanan pleasing as well as being pleased; and that Ouree the Unclaimed was so grateful for my attentions that it made me feel ashamed. I found her to be untouched, of course, and it was the work of two nights to penetrate her tightness, and then she was tender, loving, grateful, and brought gifts of pretty red berries to Mar to thank her for allowing me to present her with child, for she
was the first to miss her moon period. It was Yuree who was a puzzle. I went into her house with sinful anticipation, feeling very much as if I had, in my mind, joined the honorless inbreeders, to be so able to find joy in thinking of coupling with her. She was ready for me, allowed no preliminary play, but guided me to her quickly and was quickly done with me. However, of the four to whom I gave service, she was the last to miss her moon period, and thus after all the other three were finished with me I was still visiting the house of Yuree after two winter moons, much to Mar's disgust. So. It was, I must admit, an interesting winter, one which saw me out of my cave many nights, leaving me no time for the game. When I went back to it, having only Yuree left to service, I was slow to follow the lights, and we had to begin all over again. In view of later events I must depart from my honor and speak of my last night with Yuree. I went to her house, as was my duty, prepared for a joyless coupling quickly done and quickly finished, wondering if I was fated to spend my virile years servicing two women who could not, apparently, conceive. She awaited me. The fire was stacked with green wood, the house was warm, and she was in her couch, covered by her sleephides. I removed my clothing and joined her. I lay beside her, not speaking, waiting for the heat of her desirable body to prepare me. She touched me. It was something she had not done before. Her hand was warm and soft, and I responded immediately and started to mount her, to do my duty quickly. She would not open for me; instead, she began to use her lips on mine, to cling and love as the others had loved, and as she had not done. And it was good. I allowed her. «There is a change,» I sighed, as she kissed and clung and fondled. «That is because this is the last night,» she said. «How can you say?» «I know. I feel it,» she said. «Tonight I will conceive, and your duty will be finished, and I wish to make it memorable.» «Yes,» I said. For foolish moments I dreamed that the killbird had slept, leaving me to win Yuree, and that this was our first time and I was warm, and then I felt a pang of disloyalty. «I want to show you, Eban, what a woman can be,» she whispered, and continued to do things to me until, with a roar of need, I mounted her and she was alive and responsive and loving, and then it was ended. «Was it good?» she whispered. «Very good,» I said. «I wanted it to be good, so that you would remember,» she said. «There will be other times,» I said. «When your child is a walker there will be other times.» «No,» she said. «You will never touch me again.» There was something in her voice. I withdrew my slackness from her and cleaned myself, wondering. «But,» she said, «when you are with your skinny and ugly hag of an inbreeder, you will remember and lust for Yuree.» So much malice? I was stunned. But I spoke. «Mar is neither skinny nor ugly,» I said. «She is my pairmate by choice, Yuree. And although you were sweet, until this malice which I did not suspect came out in you, you are not the woman Mar is, for she knows delights which you have not imagined.» Her face darkened. «The art of love is hers,» I said, «and she uses her lips and her hot tongue in such ways as to make other women seem passive. So, Yuree, you have not hurt me. I will not lust for you.» «Killer,» she spat. «Know, then, that I have already missed my moon period and am with your child and that it is so for one reason and one alone. I will bear a boy. He will live and grow to kill you, killer, and be family head.» «Yuree, your hate has poisoned you. If it be a son, he will be a family member and have as much chance to win family head as the others. But do not poison his mind against me or I will try you for disloyalty.» «I hate you,» she said. «I'm glad your sickly infant son died.» I struck her across the face heavily, sending her head back against the couch, and then I left her to her own hate, much disturbed. Chapter Eight During our long periods of being alone, having no one in the world save ourselves, Mar and I had developed the habit of sharing every thought. Indeed, she questioned me closely when I returned from each of my duty periods with the four women I serviced and often laughed at my accounts. After my last visit to Yuree I was troubled and waited a day to speak with Mar. «The sickness of hate is in her,» Mar said. «Perhaps a child will change it.'» «She has right to hate me,» I said. «For I brought death to father, mother, family, pairmate.» «I'm sick of your blaming yourself for all of that,» Mar said. «Think of the good you've done for these people. Look at the love which is given you, with honor, by all save the soured one. Do you actually think she hates you?» «Are you saying she doesn't, when she told me she did, and promised to rear her son to kill me?» «She loved you, fool,» Mar said. «She has always loved you. She sent you to get the dragon guts. But she loved you. She thought you dead and took a weak man, and this has soured her, for she sees you with me and thinks it is her right to be at your side in your sleep couch.» «Wrong, wrong,» I said. «She hates me because of the death I brought into her life.» «Ha,» Mar said. «Go to her, then, tell her you are tired of the inbreeder and will be her pairmate, and see how quickly her frown changes.» «Mar,» I said, shocked. «Oh, I know you wouldn't,» she said. «You're much too honorable. But it is true, what I speak.» «Mar, have you ever doubted my love for you?» She smiled, came to me, pushed me back and put her sweet weight atop me. «Never,» she said. «My only regret is that I cannot give you babies.» «We have Margan.» «With the sickness, as you tell me, in her bones. Promise me one thing, Eban.» «Of course.» «Keep that our secret.» «The sickness?» «Yes.» «So be it.» «You will have children. Sons and daughters by all of them. The four.» «They will not be ours, but theirs.» «No,» she said. «We will make them ours, even the offspring of Yuree. You are family head. You can speak. You can demand the right of the father.» «All would give it gladly, save Yuree.» «And you will force it on her, or you will raise the thing you fear, a killer, in your bosom,» Mar said. «You are wise, as always,» I said. So we watched with interest as the spring came and a summer of joy began, the family happy, well fed, eager, industrious, together. Even Yuree seemed resigned. Bellies fattened with summer. We had come to share food, especially the sweets which came from our magic cave, with all. Huge and noisy gatherings took place in front of our cave, and Mar served the sweets and all grew fat and the looted wealth from the dragon of the hole kept us in arrow heads and hard axes. Rich in food, clad in the finest skins, swimmers for the harvesting, fruit on the trees, we prospered and swam together in the cool waters of the stream, and we hunters began to teach the boys and the women taught the females and suddenly summer was over and bellies were huge, all seven of the widows with child and all to be delivered within two moons. The time of the color of leaves came, and young Til was the first of my widows to birth, a girl. Now the village was a place of groans and scurrying women as child after child was born, not only to the seven widows but to the pairmates of Yorerie and Cree. Fanan give birth to a boy. Ouree the Unclaimed presented the family with a fine girl. Yuree, the last, birthed a girl. Ouree was weak, after the birth, and Mar moved her into our cave so that she could tend child and mother. Ouree was so gentle, so eager to please. She recovered, and the little girl was fat and healthy, sucking milk from Ouree with an eagerness which set us all laughing. Our daughter, Margan, fell in love with the baby. When Ouree was recovered and made preparation to move into her own house, Margan cried and protested. «Come stay with me, then,» Ouree said. «You stay us,» Margan lisped. «Why not?» Mar asked. «You are welcome. There is room.» «But you are pairmates and need your privacy,» Ouree said. «When we want privacy we will go into the cave of the games below,» Mar said. «Stay. Your daughter is our daughter, and our house is your house.» She stayed. I saw Yuree, baby on back, as I walked along the stream. «Why does the Unclaimed one live with you?» Yuree asked without greeting. «She and Mar are friends,» I said. «And she, being skinny and ugly like the inbreeder, appeals to you. Do you service them both at once?» «You have the tongue of an evil demon,» I said. «You failed me,» Yuree said. «How?» «It is a girl,» she said, speaking of her baby. «A very pretty little girl. She will have her mother's eyes and body.» «Eban…» «Yes, Yuree.» «A blessing.» «Gladly.» «Come lie with me. Make me with child now. I must have a son
to care for me in my old age.» «I was never to touch you again,» I said, unable to resist. «I was angry. Come. I will make it nice for you.» «You know the custom,» I said. «Only when the baby walks.» «God curse the custom,» she said. It was only nights later when the women heard a wail from Yuree's tent and ran to find her holding the lifeless baby. When I arrived the women were already wailing. «It is God's curse,» Yuree said. «The baby died in her sleep.» My little girl. I had not known her, for Yuree had not even presented her for my inspection, and I was too concerned about Yuree's feelings to go to her. I grieved, inside, and walked away to let the women mourn and prepare the small body for burial. The Seer of Things Unseen caught me, took my arm. «I must speak,» she said. I nodded. «God did not come in the night,» she said. «The baby was smothered in her own bed, by her own sleepskins.» «How can this be?» «Ask Yuree,» she said. «Only a careless mother allows her baby to smother. Careless, or…» «Can you even suggest it?» I asked, shocked. «She wanted a boy. Already, even as you walked out the door, while she should have been mourning, she told me she demanded the right of the widow, and that means you to service her, now.» «If it is her right—» «But what did she do to earn that right before the baby walked?» Seer asked. «Seer,» I said, «you are a wise woman, but you are wrong. I have never told this. Only Mar knows. But in defense of my own life I have taken life, inbreeder life, and it is a horrible and saddening thing. No. You must not suggest it. Carelessness? Perhaps. Intent? No mother could do such.» «Women have done strange things for love,» Seer said. «And Yuree has had more than her share of grief. Perhaps it has sickened her mind.» «No, no,» I said. I could not even think it. But, gods of man, how many times I have wished that I had listened to the old Seer that night of the death of Yuree's girl baby. I went to Yuree's house to do my duty, and she wept and clung to me and begged me to stay the night, which I did, and then other nights, as the Seer decreed, judging Yuree's fertile period by the moon, and I, myself, took note of the time of Yuree's blooding, and when, going there on her request, I knew that she was not blooding at the time, I said to her, «Yuree, if you are missing your moon period my duty is finished.» «I confess,» she said. «I am missing it, but I am not sure. A few more nights to make certain, Eban.» «I cannot. I will go.» «Eban, please, for me. I am so lonely. I want your body so.» «No, Yuree,» I said. «A family head, of all people, must observe the customs.» «If you go I will kill myself,» she said. I went pale. «That is the sin of all sins,» I said. «Do not speak such evil.» «Go, then,» she said. «I hope you enjoy your rutting with your inbreeder.» Man, I suppose, is an imperfect creature and must live in an imperfect world. In my life there was only one unhappiness. Yuree. She was with child. Winter came. She would seek me out and beg me to come to her, to sneak into her house in the night. She said things like, «The inbreeder won't care.» Finally I had enough and I told her, «Yuree, I warn you, and it is a warning from the family head. Remember your honor. Observe our customs. Do your work and be happy or I will call the council of the entire family to punish you.» I spoke sternly and thought the matter settled, for she ceased to seek me out. Snow came, and the young were doing well. Ouree was like a member of our own family and her young one was a joy to me and to Mar. The two females fussed over the baby endlessly, aided by my daughter, Margan. I went back to my game, which was the same and boring, but I was getting some satisfaction out of doing it almost right every time. The thing came suddenly. We watched Margan play with the baby one night. There was a knocking on the plate and I opened it. Yuree was there. She had a longbow in her hands and a dragonskin arrow was in place, the bow stretched. It was pointed at me. «I give you one last chance,» Yuree said. «Leave them and come with me.» My impulse was to strike the bow from her hands, but there was a madness in her eyes. «Yuree,» I said gently. «Put aside the bow. Come. We will talk. All of us.» «Yes or no, killer,» she said. «Come with me or I will repay you in kind for the death you have given me.» «Yuree, Yuree,» I said soothingly, moving forward, seeing that she was maddened. I would knock the bow aside and the arrow would fly, if she released it, into one of the hard walls, doing no damage, but she saw my intent and with a wild cry loosed the arrow, which made a zipping sound as it passed my very cheek, and a cry of pain came from behind me even as I hit Yuree with my closed hand and sent her sprawling into the snow. I turned then and screamed. Mar was on her knees, and the arrow, so wickedly tipped with jagged dragonskin, was lodged deeply in her breast. I screamed my rage and pain and leaped to catch her as she fell forward. The arrow was deep. The head was jagged. And yet, it had to come out. «Eban,» she whispered. «Oh, Eban. Hold me.» «Yes, yes,» I said. I held her. «We must remove the arrow.» «No,» she said. «It hurts so.» «It must come out, and then we will fix it and you will be well again soon.» «No,» she whispered. «Eban…» And the dull look of death came to her eyes, which had been so alive and so loving, and I sat there, rocking her as the last of her breath went in a shudder and her legs did a violent little dance, and Margan was screaming and Ouree weeping and the baby crying, and maddened Yuree came, dragonskin knife in hand, screaming. My hardax is never far from my side and it was at my side, and with one arm supporting Mar's dead body I heaved the ax, and it took the killer in the stomach, burying itself. Yet still she came, the knife aimed at me. I rolled aside to dodge it and hit her with my closed hand, and she fell to the floor, bleeding, screaming now, and her blood mingled with Mar's and then she was dead. Gods of man. Gods of man. You are cruel and evil and endlessly inventive in the miseries you can imagine to heap upon your creatures. Chapter Nine Eban the Accursed. Has any man ever had so much death? A man buries his parents when they die peacefully in their old age. Now and again a man sees death. A hunter misses the vital point and the bear reaches him. In my father's case death was distant, for he died by a dragon far from home, and his bones, I suppose, whiten on some hillside near a dragon's lair. My mother died slowly and quietly. And then it came. Blast of killbird. Slash of ax at the inbreeders. The sickness claiming my son. Rattle of dragon's teeth as more members of my family died. My child by Yuree, and, I came to suspect, at Yuree's hands, for she was mad. And me, once again dealing death with my ax, and to a woman whom I had once loved, a woman I had serviced, whose arms I had known, whose belly had fertilized my seed and developed it. Blood and death and— Mar. Mar. Mar. I drove Ouree away. Then I tossed Yuree's body into the snow and closed the plate. Margan, not really knowing what was going on, had been snatched up by Ouree, along with Ouree's own baby. I cradled Mar's body in my arms and sang the song of mourning until I fell into a stupor and woke, limbs stiff and crying done. Outside, as I carried Mar's body, the family greeted me with a wail of mourning, and we sang the song of death and sadness as Mar joined the body of our unlucky son in the frozen ground. I spoke to them. «I am Eban the Sad, Eban the Accursed, Eban the Dead, for I live not from this day.» «Speak not so, honorable father,» Ouree said, weeping. «I mourn alone. Do not come to me. And hear this. From this day I banish death from our valley. I will not allow it near. I have had enough death. I have seen sacred life after sacred life ended before the appointed time. I will have no more of it. I will slay neither animal nor man, and I will eat only of the magic, for flesh, even if it is animal, is death.» Someone had entered my cave during the burial and washed away the blood of both Mar and the mad Yuree. I closed myself away. I ate nothing, drank only water. I became lightheaded. I went to the game cave, unable, since I had not been into the light outside, to know whether it was night or day, but I felt the passage of nights, how many I knew not. The game cave welcomed me with the usual display of lights, and I lost myself in following instructions, pushing and moving things until I was able to blank out everything from my mind but the flashing lights, the instructions of the deep and unnatural voice. How long? I know not. I pushed and thought of nothing and followed the instructions and hardly realized it when the voice said: «Well done. You are ready.» And now still another plate opened, and there w
as a cave of wonders. I took the chair, very small in it, having to stand on my knees to see the flat surface with its things to push and move and the eyes were spread all across the thing in front of me, blank and white. However, they came to life, and I saw wonders which were a puzzle. Some eyes showed, gods of man it is true, killbirds. They sat, did the killbirds, on their tails and were dead or sleeping in caves of dragonskin. The voice of the eye said strange things I did not understand. As best I can repeat the strangeness, it sounded like «See whence one.» I pushed and moved and the eyes showed the killbirds and I wondered, but it was still a game. I was good at the game. I did not miss a move. Not once did the game make that wail like a dying lion and force me to begin again. It was a long game and there were times when, in a voice of deep and unnatural quality, I was told, «Hold.» And in those times I sat and looked at the eyes and was amazed for they were constantly changing. There would be sort of a blink and the killbird shown there would be viewed from another angle. There was one eye which interested me more than the others. I know not what it was, for it was a fanciful thing. It was as if an eye had been taken aloft on the wings of man or a killbird and looked down from a height not attainable by man, even if he could fly without the danger of being punished by the gods of man. But it was not real, I knew, for the ever-extending earth, if man could see it from so great a height, up with the gods, would be as it is, flat, and this fanciful thing showed a falling away, and there were mountains below which were tiny and the entire scene was lovely, with white clouds drifting and the earth below green with a dot of blue showing now and then. I know not how long I played the game, but it served to take my mind away from my unbearable sadness. And it was follow the lights and the voice and push and punch and wait and then I knew from our former games that we were nearing the end. Only a few more moves and then I would push down on a little thing which was as red as blood—and that thought put my mind back into its sadness and I almost failed to see the light which told me my next move. I mused about my edict banning death from my valley and I felt foolish, knowing how God laughed, for death comes to all things. However, I could abolish death in my own life. It came to me as a revelation. I could block the plate leading to the outside. There was food and water, and I could live the rest of my days in my cave, never seeing death, not so much as an insect, for there was something about the place which kept insects out. Ah, to know no more sorrow. But then a curiosity came. What of my children? My own Margan. Ouree's sweet little one. My sons and daughters by the other widows and my sons and daughters to come as I did my duty and serviced—and what of a pairmate? Oh, Mar. Mar. I will never have another. No one could replace you, my loved one, my all, my Mar. Yes, I would have to go out. I would be family head. I would tell the evil of death and, in times of plenty, I would journey into the ranges of other families and make alliances and preach the evils of death, which in violent form save from dragons or animals is rare. I would preach so that no man in my mountains would ever have to know my sorrow, for death is the most useless of all gifts which a man can give another. It solves nothing which could not be solved by peaceful means. Take Yuree the Mad. What gained she by death? Only her own. Thus she did not live to enjoy the pain she gave me, if that was her plan. I would speak with all family heads. I planned my speech as the voice said «Hold» and the lights were still and there was a quietness in my cave of games. «My people,» I would say. «I know the horrors of war. For Logan the Unwise donned the bearclaws and came to raid my family and gained death, and I do not rejoice in his death, but know a deep sadness that the hills are depeopled and a family is in disaster. So heed my words. I ask all to toss the bear claws of war into the campfire and dance joy while they burn and thus banish the thought of war, of man killing man, from our customs forever and forever.» With my pain, I felt, I could make them see. But now I was playing the game and coming to the end, and the eyes were blinking and showing picture after picture of tall and silent killbirds, and there came to me a feeling of goodness. I thought that I had begun to divine a meaning to this game. It was, after all, a gift from God and not something left by a mythical race of giants, and God was telling me something by showing me images of so many of his messengers. He was saying, the earth is for man, Eban the Hunter. It is for man to live upon and feed well and bear and rear his children, and in the end there is purpose, for if there were not would I, your God, be showing you my power in the form of the killbirds? And so God spoke to me and I played the game and prayed, and miracle of miracles I knew and understood. God was sending me messages. The last of the game came, and with a sigh I pressed the little blood-red thing and there was a click and the voice began to wail like a dozen dying lions and on the eyes there was movement. The eyes blinked wildly and in image after image the sleek and deadly killbirds began to move. Fire swirled from their tails and the movement was upward, slowly, so slowly, as the eyes blinked and switched and killbird after killbird lifted. And I looked at the fanciful eye which looked down upon a fanciful earth and lo, there were lances of fire reaching upward. It all happened with a swiftness which stunned me and left me in awe. There were so many things to see. Eyes showed my valley as if I were flying over it and the valley was falling away, and one eye which caught my notice showed a white streak in the sky, and I shouted, for there was a killbird of the type I knew, and it came with the speed of an evil thought, and other eyes showed the white streak, which became a gleaming and fatal killbird closing on one of the killbirds which I'd been watching, and they came together and there was a flash of fire and, oh, there was so much to watch. I could not see it all. I had views of my valley falling away, views of a sky which soon began to go black, and I could see on some eyes the huge array of killbirds climbing on lances of fire straight up and the action was so swift that my head was jerking from side to side as I tried to take it all in, tried to see all the eyes at once. What was the message? It came to me in a flash. God had heard Eban the Hunter and, although he had chosen to punish his servant by taking away the woman he loved most, was now rewarding his servant with a gift. God would not give man wings unless he intended man to use them! God was sending his giant killbirds to destroy the gods of man, the sleek and small killbirds who lurked in the clean skies lying in wait to blast man on his wings. «Thank you, thank you,» I prayed, still watching. «Would it be too much to ask you, to beg you, God of all, to pull the teeth of all the dragons?» I could not then count the vast number of huge killbirds which went aloft to do battle with the gods of man. I estimated sixty, seventy. The battle was a great one, God's killbirds smashing and destroying each other there high in the skies, and although I knew that it was not real, that it was a fanciful creation for my benefit on the eyes of the game thing, there was a feeling of joy in me, for it was God's way of telling me that now the skies, as the earth, were man's to enjoy. I longed to leave, to join my family and to tell Yorerie and Cree to start building wings. We would fly! Oh, how we would soar and not fear the swift and deadly dart of a killbird, for God was destroying them. So many died at the meeting with God's giant killer killbirds that there could be none left to harass man in his feeble attempts to fly. And now the view on the eyes was of a great blackness and a few stars and a funny ball below with mantles of stuff which seemed somewhat like clouds and a vast blueness. Another sign from God. He was showing me an image of the field of endless waters which his spirit warnings had prevented me from seeing during our travels in the far east. Of course it was not the real thing, for it was so far below and so tiny and curved on that funny ball. Things remained the same for a period, and I stayed with my eyes on the many eyes. Then the views started to change and the ball below began to fill the eyes until the field of endless waters was lost from view and there were, below, mountains and plains, and they came toward me on the eyes, and then I looked at the eye which, throughout it all, had remained static and saw streaks moving downward, as if seeing the flight of killbirds from out in the heavens where God lives. And other eyes showed the killbirds as t
heir noses grew red with anger and then split and out came dozens of little killbirds which left little tails of white as they flew. Had I been wrong? God's giants were giving birth to little killbirds? Had his message been misunderstood? But no. God gave me still another sign. The small killbirds flew down, down, and then the fanciful land shown on the one eye which did not change bloomed with light and perfectly formed clouds swelled up from the earth in a blossoming of such beauty that my eyes stung with it and I wept tears of joy as I saw God's sign that all was well. He was creating chaos, which He loves, to show me that I had understood His message. And then I watched as one by one the eyes went blank, leaving only the unchanging eye which showed the clouds climbing, climbing, and then God spoke to me. His voice was deep, and sometimes I could not be sure I was understanding, for a mere man is not expected to, nor can he hope to understand everything God says. Afterward, I tried to use what I had learned in the read game to record the words of God in the symbols, but I was unsure, and so I depend mostly on memory. God said something like this. «Now it is truly ended,» God said. Ah, I thought, I was right. «Now we have won.» God and I, fighting the killbirds? «Your presence here, man, your ability to follow instructions, shows that we have won, but your actions now have assured it. If you survived, some of them could have survived, and now your actions, well done, have made it possible to strike the final blow. Now the earth is yours, man. Now you must go forth, leave this place, for it has served its purpose. Go forth and populate the earth and tell your children of this time when you struck the final blow which gave victory, for if they did survive, they cannot come back, not in ten thousand years, from this final and devastating blow. And now, from the past, I wish you well, man. Remember us, your ancestors, and do not repeat our mistakes.» I waited. There was nothing more. I puzzled. God was my ancestor? I didn't know. I knew only that God had spoken and had left us one fine gift, the gift of the skies. I watched and the final eye went dead and the game things went to sleep and I left the room. The plate closed behind me, never to open again. I went into the valley to find my family still in mourning, but there was an air of excitement, and, indeed, great fear. They ran to me. «Killbirds, killbirds,» Yorerie yelled. «By the countless numbers.» It took me a long time to calm them down. And as they told me their stories I began to realize that it had not all been a creation of the eyes, but that God had actually come to earth and moved and that the death of the killbirds was not fanciful but real. «I was walking,» said Roden, pairmate of Cree, «with my children and the ground suddenly shook beneath my feet. Trees began to lean, and I ran. I looked back and the trees fell and the earth opened in a giant mouth.» It was no lie. We found the hole, and it was huge, lined with dragonskin, empty. There were, as we counted over the days which followed, an even one hundred of those holes, spread around our valley. (As time went on the rains and snows filled the killbird holes with water and they made fine swimming places for our young, although we discouraged it, since the water therein was so frightfully deep.) «And then,» Roden said, «there was a roar as of endless summer thunder, and as I feared for my life a giant killbird rose on a tail of fire, and I looked around—» «They came from everywhere,» Cree the Kite said excitedly, «so many we could not count, and the air was filled with their thunder, and—» «I was so close,» said Ouree, «that I could feel the heat of the tail of fire, and the force of his passing upward sent me sprawling to the ground.» «Thank God you were not hurt,» I said. «The air was filled with them,» Yorerie said. «As many as the birds of the end of the summer, flying upward, and then the gods of man came and did battle with them and sent many of them from the sky.» (Pieces of dragonskin fell into the village of Stoneskull, but hurt no one, giving Stoneskull's people material for many arrow heads and hardaxes.) And so I listened to my family. All had seen and heard. It was a real thing. One hundred killbirds had risen from our valley to do battle with the gods of man. I was right. So many could not help but destroy all, and my knowledge of such things made me believe that killbirds, like dragons, did not breed, so that now the sky must be empty. «My family,» I said. «I have heard the voice of God. He has told me, Eban the Hunter, that the earth is ours and that the sky is ours, for His purpose in this wondrous thing was to kill the killbirds so that man can forever and in safety praise God with the wings which God gave him.» «Can it be true?» Yorerie, who once risked his life with no hope of gain merely to be able to make a long soar, was looking at the sky with a rapt expression. «God has spoken to me,» I said. «Although I still mourn, I will come out of mourning and we will build wings and we will praise Him with a flight…» I looked around and chose the highest hill. «… from that peak to the center of the valley.» «Ha, Eban,» Yorerie yelled in joy. We built in haste, but with care, for wings are not thrown together lightly. A support breaks in midair and a man tumbles to his death. We had an ample store of dragon's veins for tying, and the women worked to scrape the hides to a thinness, and at last they were ready. Then we three hunters, last of the Strabo family, climbed the hill, careful to stay inside the teeth-spitting range of the hill dragons, and cleared a place, making God's chaos in praise. On the morning we lifted after a run and we soared. Our valley made a nice cup for the creation of updrafts, and we went high, I confident yet keeping an eye on the sky to see the first hint of the white streak of a killbird. None came. «Ha, Eban,» Yorerie yelled in joy, swooping past me on a wing. I dived after him, chased him, yelled my joy. Cree came and zoomed past my head and I found an updraft and climbed and forgot that there ever had been such a thing as a killbird. We flew until the updrafts failed, and we landed, one after the other, on the meadow beside the stream to greet our family, who sang in joy. Nothing would do Yorerie but to make a second flight, so we trudged to the hill and ran and soared. There were, needless to say, many flights of praise in the following time, and then a strange thing happened. It was during the period when there was in the very air a strange tingle, a warning, the spirits talking to our bare bellies. It gave me some concern, but it was not strong, not deadly. Still, I knew not why there was warning in land which had always been safe until, consulting the Seer of Things Unseen, I was told that in our legends the old ones spoke of a time when the spirits of evil moved in the air. I doubted God, then. Had He given us one boon only to curse us in the giving? But in days the spirit was so low that one had to concentrate to feel it, and then it faded, and during that time we had no rain. But while our attentions were on the spirits in the air and we were troubled, Ouree the Unclaimed built a pair of wings, copying them from ours, and announced her intentions of flying. «Women do not fly,» I said. «I have consulted the Seer,» Ouree said. She could be the most stubborn woman upon occasion, as I had found, since she tended my daughter, Margan, and the child I had fathered with her, whom she had named Mar. «There is nothing in our custom which says a woman cannot fly.» «But women have never flown,» I said. «We will consult the Seer,» she said, with tight lips. «Women are not strong enough to fight the winds of the sky,» I said. «I am strong enough to carry a deer,» she said. «Can you say more?» Well, a wise family head, indeed, a wise man, knows when he has no argument. I yielded and, to prevent the breaking of frail female bones, gave Ouree flight lessons, sitting on her desire to leap from the high hill and forcing her to take short and quickly ended glides from low places. She did well, damaging her wings on landing only once. The day came when nothing would do but for Ouree to fly from a high hill, though not the highest. I talked with her at length, warning her of the updrafts and the winds and giving her lessons in how to handle them, and then, white-faced, she ran and leaped and soared beautifully, her bare legs gleaming and her graceful form hanging below the wings in the saddle, and I heard her cry out in joy as she caught the updraft and circled. «Do not climb high,» I yelled at her. «Glide slowly toward the meadow.» «Beautiful,» she yelled. «So beautiful.» And she climbed, the silly female. She went into the air and got the wind off the far hills. «Dive, dive,» I yelled at her. She was bei
ng swept slowly toward the rim of hills to the west. «Dive down and get below the hills!» But she was beyond the reach of my voice. I could see the people in the meadow below, and they were waving and shouting and I was shouting, and Ouree was still being swept toward the far rim. She was high. I watched. «All right,» I said, speaking as if she could hear me. «You have gone too far and now you cannot come back into the valley. Stay high, clear the hills. Above all, do not go down within range of the teeth of the dragons. Fly beyond the hills, find a meadow, land, and then fold your wings and walk back, coming all the way around.» Surely, surely, she was wise enough to know her danger. Surely. But she was now realizing her position and was trying to dive back. She was diving for the top of the hill where the dragons were rooted. Then, as I screamed and yelled, unseen and unheard, she came to her senses, soared and disappeared beyond the hills. I made haste down the hill and found the family concerned. «Yorerie,» I said, «you and I. We will go through the dragon's hole and march to meet her. Since we know not where she landed, nor if she will circle to the south or the north, one will go to the south and the other to the north, and we will meet her.» «How will I know when to turn back if I do not meet her?» Yorerie asked. «I have been thinking of extending our range,» I said. «It will be good if you scout all the way around the southern hills to a point directly to the west and then return by another route.» «Yes. You will do the same to the north?» «I will,» I said. «We take note of game signs, of water, of living sites, of fruit and nut trees.» «I will,» Yorerie said. We made preparation. I was worried about Ouree, but she was a solid-minded woman, skilled in the hunt, could be expected to be able to forage on the land for the few days it would take her to walk back around the hills. My only worry was that the land to the north and west had not been explored and there could be more dragons. I thought of Ouree facing a dragon alone, and I was sick inside. Mar had loved her so. She was so gentle and so considerate, and she looked after our children, Margan and Mar, so well. But she would be fine, I told myself. Old Seer would tend the two little girls. I would find Ouree in the wilderness and bring her back. Mar would have wanted that. And thinking of Mar I felt a little surge inside me. Woman. My Mar. Mar, Mar, I said silently, can you understand why I fear so for the safety of Ouree? It is only because you loved her so, my Mar. And as I set out beside the sturdy and dependable Yorerie to fetch back the young woman we'd both loved during the time she lived in the warm cave with us, I could see Mar's face smiling at me with a knowing look in her eyes. Behind us the family waved. Then we were alone, and I heard or felt something, something I'd never heard or felt before, and, fearfully, I looked up. Ref: Z-333-469-123-P-222 X&A Restriction Code Origin: Minutes Board of Determination, Sector Lightning, Headquarters X&A, Mercer. Sub.: III Planet, Life Zone Class Xanthos II sun, sector Sub-Lightning 30-60-97-38. Inhabited Humanoid. Dated: N.Y. 30,500, Month 4, day 24 Pres.: Prof. Anton Bradley Gore. The meeting was called to order by Chairman Prof. Anton Bradley Gore. Prof. Gore announced that the purpose of the Board of Determination was to discuss the discovery of Class 1-A-sub Humanoids, C-Scale primitive, T rating T-1. The purpose of the meeting thus established, the Chairman distributed copies of a report from U.P.X. Old Earth, Capt. T. Willis, Cmmd. A recess was called to allow the board to study the report. Upon reconvening, Chairman Gore called for introductions by the individual board members. The makeup of the board is as follows: Chairman Gore: Some of you may question my being chosen as chairman. If you do, I can't blame you, for this is pretty high terrain for a teacher of literature at Xanthos University. I suppose I was selected since I was called upon, because of my specialty in alien literature, to analyze the hypnoprobe material gathered by members of the crew of the Old Earth. Since I taught the subject, I suppose they decided to use me. You know how those X&A fellows are about aliens. But since my duty is just to preside, I guess I'm as good as anyone, and I won't let any of my uneducated ideas intrude into your thinking. Now if you will stand, beginning with the Admiral, and introduce yourselves. Admiral of Fleet Talltree the Healer: You are overly modest, professor. We've all read your astute theory of the Dead Worlds and your analysis of the Miaree legend. Speaking for myself, I say that I know of no man better qualified to deal with the alien mind. As for myself, I am a Fleet man, entered the Fleet as a mere boy and have served it since, primarily in exploration and alien search. It is quite obvious to all that I am a man of old earth, a healer. I have visited the planet in question and may be able, as this discussion goes along, to give some insight into the inhabitants. Degan the Far Seer: I am here from my post at the observatory on Lightning because I was the only Far Seer willing to leave his job. Moil the Power Giver: I don't know exactly why I'm here, except that such boards are made up, traditionally, of each of the three old earth types and an equal number of you New Ones. Prof. Gore: Moil is being modest in her turn. She was my student, and a brilliant one. She, too, was on the planet. Next, please. Capt. T. Willis: I was in command of the U.P.X. Old Earth when disturbances were noted on a planet of the core star now called Tom Thumb. Prof. Gore: Somewhat facetiously, I must say. And now our U.P. representatives. Ambassador John Zees: I am here because I was on a tour of the Lightning sector planets and was handy. Prof. Gore: Ah, a general modesty seems to be the rule. Let me say that Ambassador Zees is a man who is outstanding in many fields. He is a scholar and a scientist who has worked on the Brett Drive project. He has traveled possibly as much or more than any other living man and knows our United Planets as well as any man. He was a member of the Board of Determination in the Dead Worlds inquiry and his thinking was largely responsible for my theory regarding the events there. Secretary Anne Barker: Well, I won't be modest. I'm Secretary of U.P. Sector Lightning and damned proud of it, being the highest-ranked woman in the U.P. But I will stick to business and won't ask you to vote for me in the coming U.P. Presidential elections. Prof. Gore: Madam Secretary, you already have my vote, so you don't have to ask for it. And now that we're acquainted and you've read the remarkable manuscript which was the result of hypnoprobe on a most curious planet, I'd like to turn teacher for a moment and give you a few of my thoughts. We live in a remarkable time. In just a few hundred years events of singular importance have occurred. First there was the reunion of the two branches of our race with the discovery of our native world and of our remote ancestors, who had changed a bit— Adm. Talltree the Healer: To put it mildly. Prof. Gore: —and for the better: the Healer with his ability to cure cells and improve the health of both branches of the race, the Power Giver with her remarkable gifts of levitation; the Far Seer with his greatly advanced mind which has helped the race to advance and which deals best with pure theory and opens up endless fields for exploration. This reunion, in itself, changed the course of human events. And, for the first time, it gave purpose to a rather neglected branch of the service known as X&A, Exploration and Alien Search. We Old Ones, or mere humans, who left the old earth and forgot our origin, were slightly xenophobic, and with good reason, for before the reunion, we had discovered the grim and terrible destruction of those planets which became known as the Dead Worlds, and we had come face to face with evidence of alien presence, at least in the past, and a power which could gut and kill entire planets. The discovery of true aliens, beings with some pretty impressive psi powers, even though they turned out to be the original race of man mutated following a thermonuclear war on old earth, and the presence of the Dead Worlds, and the return of X&A ships from the colliding galaxies in Cygnus with the remarkable manuscript which has become known as the Legend of Miaree—all served to warn us, and to frighten some of us. We saw the possibility of other life somewhere in our universe, even in our own galaxy, for the size of it is not yet comprehended even by the most astute of us. Until a few months ago, we knew of four races. Ourselves, counting both branches as one; the Dead Worlders, who were indeed deadly, leaving nothing to hint at their nature save their savagery; and the two races of the colliding galaxies. Now all races have shown a remarkable
tendency toward one activity, and that activity is killing each other. The Dead Worlds are indeed dead, and the events of the Dead Worlds Expedition of LaConious of Tigian, which made discoveries still quite puzzling to us, served to reemphasize the threat which still hangs over man. The two remarkable humanoid races of the Cygnus galaxies died in mutual destruction. Old earth was ravaged by war. It is saddening to me to realize that of all known races in our universe—of course, there may be and most probably are others which we have not yet encountered—none to our knowledge has lived in peace with itself. It is this aspect of the new encounter with an alien species which, I feel, must occupy much of our thought. Why are intelligent species warlike? Why do they belie their intelligence and, in the case of the Dead Worlds and the Cygnus civilizations, destroy themselves, or as in the case of old earth, ruin a planet and almost wipe out a race? I hope that each of you has studied the available information, especially the hypnoprobe material dealing with the story of Eban the Hunter. Ha—I find myself addressing you as students. Now, to add to our understanding, I think a description of the planet and its people and an account of events would be instructive. Admiral Talltree? Adm. Talltree the Healer: To keep things in order, I call upon Captain Willis, who was in command of the nearest X&A ship when detection of activity was made on the planet called Tom Thumb. Capt. Willis: We were on a routine probe on the outskirts of Lightning Sector. Detection was made by our Far Seer. He sensed thermonuclear radiation coming from a source which was not a natural star, and I blinked back to headquarters for permission to investigate. We went in after taking all precautions. As you say, Professor Gore, we all remember the Dead Worlds and the old earth, and newks popping off makes my hair stand on edge. We found a life-zone planet circling a Xanthos II type sun, a three planet, as are most life-zone planets, and our instruments measured considerable radiation, concentrated on one landmass. We sent down a Healer and he reported back that it was pretty hot, too hot even for him with his radiation resistance, and that the populace, apparently a stone-age culture living in a devastated land which had once before been reduced by newks, was dying by the hundreds. I say hundreds only because that was the number of people. The landmass was quite thinly populated by nomadic tribes. The salvo of newks—our officer estimated over two hundred hits in the ten-megaton range using high neutron radiation—had blanketed the entire landmass. It seemed strange as hell to us for a salvo of heavy newks to be targeted at a landmass peopled by stone-age men. We started a search for the origin of the salvo and found radiation levels to be much lower on the other large landmass of the planet, but the winds aloft were carrying the residue of the salvo over and it was pretty hot. We sent down Lieutenant Moil to take a look, and she reported back that the landmass was thickly peopled, with concentrations in the mountainous areas. I knew I had something. Those were men down there, even if they were pygmies, or dwarfs. They were about thirty inches in height and they lived in sort of stone age with some tools fashioned of metal from the scraps left by a highly technological culture. But they were men. So I held off and waited for a team headed by Admiral Talltree to arrive. Adm. Talltree the Healer: As is the rule, we did not make overt contact with the aliens. My team, consisting of myself, Moil the Power Giver and Lieutenant Elk the Healer, member of the Old Earth's crew, made observations, and after several days of overflight, using instruments, we found the source of the salvo. There were one hundred launch silos in a small valley in the heart of the mountains. Surprisingly, there was a tribe of the small people living there, and they gave us some surprises. They used hang gliders and flew, and they lived there with those one hundred silos as if they didn't even mind them. And they had to have seen the launch. Our big question was, who fired those missiles? We rigged a protective ship for the Old Earth's Far Seer and took him down into the valley. We picked a time when the entire tribe was gathered so that the Far Seer's mind could control all of them. At the end of Eban's tale you can see where we entered, and the Far Seer's mind took over. After that it was simple. We merely probed all of them. We found that the leader, who called himself Eban the Hunter, knew more than the others, so their stories were not presented to this board. Thus, from Eban, we learned that he himself had launched the strike on the other landmass with no idea of what he had done. It was a diabolical thing, the way those people, who from what we were able to learn must have been humanoid and very much like the Old Ones of our race, reached up from their graves and coaxed Eban into killing more people than he'd ever seen, people he didn't even know existed. Revenge from the grave. Having wiped each other out, returning themselves to a stone age, the dying ones rigged the complex. Their thinking must have been colored by the knowledge that they were dying, that their entire race was wiped out and that only mutants or severely weakened members would survive. And they reached up from the grave to smite the poor mutated remnants of their enemies and, as «God» told Eban, to give the earth to their own mutated descendants. We searched, using the most delicate instruments and all the senses of Power Giver, Far Seer and Healer, to find other hidden missiles, and there were none. Only the people of Eban's landmass had seen into the future and the possibility of one last blow at the enemy. Prof. Gore: Thank you, admiral. I'd like some general observations now. It is my conclusion that Eban's people are basically peaceful. Any comment? Sec. Anne Barker: To me, Eban showed a great potential for violence. He killed two «inbreeders» without qualms— Moil the Power Giver: Pardon me. He did have qualms. He regretted it. Sec. Anne Barker: He was the stronger. He could have overpowered them without killing them. And he could certainly have overpowered the woman, Yuree, rather than kill her with an ax. No. I think he showed primitive tendencies toward violence, and it is my contention that his race is several thousand years away from being developed into civilized beings. Moil the Power Giver: He abolished death. He resolved to preach peace to all his people. I think he is gentle and sensitive and worth contacting. Degan the Far Seer: That brings us to the central issue. Contact or no? At this level of development I am not sure contact would be beneficial to Eban's people. As I understand it they have a certain resistance to the levels of radioactivity on the planet. It is unfortunate that we did not discover them in time to prevent the last salvo of thermonuclear weapons, which killed so many, but we did not. We can in no way hold Eban responsible for that. The question is, is Eban the result, the product, of a race with built-in killer senses? Would he—of course, I speak of his race in general—become a useful part of the U.P., or would the killer come out in him in the future? Together, using the lesson of old earth as an example, we have abolished war, and such is our society that even individual killings are extremely rare. Would Eban's people bring back to our society, as the integration took place and they were advanced to our level of education and technology, the kill syndrome? Amb. John Zees: One question, please. I simply wonder if Eban's people have the intelligence to become part of our society. Prof. Gore: I call your attention to the extent of Eban's vocabulary. Of course, you have all read a translation, but I assure you, as somewhat of an expert on language, that his language is rich, varied and quite expressive. Much was retained—no technological words, of course—from the original language. The race also retained the art of counting, and Eban quickly learned numbers, simple arithmetic and even basic reading. Yes, I think he shows a basic intelligence and an ability to learn. Sec. Anne Barker: So the question is twofold. One, would it be best for Eban's people? Two, would contact be in the best interest of the U.P? Adm. Talltree: I remind myself that man has always felt lonely, has spent much of his energy and his resources in the search for other intelligent beings. Eban's people fit the description. Moil the Power Giver: Eban's people are fairly happy. They live well, by primitive standards. Given a choice, I'm not sure whether they would desert their way of life, their customs. But I think of the others, the ones Eban calls the inbreeders, living in the devastated areas, without Eban's gift of sensing deadly radiation. They could be helped. Degan the Far Seer: True. The lifes
pan of an inbreeder is about twenty-five old years. Only the fact that their reproduction systems seem to have been affected toward multiple births keeps their population static. Over half the births are malformed and are killed without question. There is widespread cancer. But with the residues of radiation firmly planted in their bodies, it would take generations to breed a clean form. Moil the Power Giver: One problem has been solved, probably without your knowledge, Degan. It is now possible to leach the long-lasting radioactives from bone marrow. Indeed, we dosed Eban's daughter, Margan, with the leaching agent while she was under hypno. It would take a massive effort, but many of the inbreeders could be saved, and a generation without radioactives would result. Capt. T. Willis: If we can do that I think we'd be less than human if we didn't help them. Sec. Anne Barker: Such a program would require a life-zone planet, massive removals, huge medical expenses. Should it be decided to move the population without their knowledge, under hypno, the expenses would be staggering. Moil the Power Giver: So we just forget them, let them continue to die of hunger, cancer, radiation sickness? Sec. Anne Barker: I have merely stated the facts. Adm. Talltree: There is one other aspect of the problem. If we should decide to do anything, what would be done with the «monsters» which Eban encountered in the east? We saw those beings. They're mutants. Once man. They're manlike, and they're horrible. Even more horrible in appearance than a Healer or a Far Seer. Prof. Gore: But are they human? Adm. Talltree: I was in the thoughts of one. Low level of intelligence, say like a domestic dog. But human in form. They know pain and hunger and lust. Prof. Gore: Nothing is ever simple. We have three phases of this problem: Eban's people, the inbreeders, the mutants. Sec. Anne Barker: I'm as human as anyone, but I don't see why we have to concern ourselves with the mutants. I'm sure we don't have some magic agent to leach them into being healthy human beings. Degan the Far Seer: I think I am ready to state my opinion. I would classify both Eban's people and the inbreeders as intelligent beings worthy of our help. I am not yet ready to state whether I advise open or covert contact, but I do advise you all that we have a responsibility, as fellow thinking beings with more advantages, to help the people of Tom Thumb. I would advise a further study on the scene, and a decision by a higher authority as to the direction and extent of our help, but it should certainly include medical attentions, however expensive. Prof. Gore: Any further discussion?… There being none, we will hear the opinions, one by one. Admiral Talltree: I endorse Degan's views. Moil the Power Giver: And I, with one request. I request that I be assigned to the study team. Capt. J. Willis: That Eban is quite a guy. Imagine a little runt like him going up against that thing which is translated as bear. That animal makes a Trajan bearcat look small, and he killed one with a spear. I don't think we could lose with people like Eban. I wouldn't mind having men like him in my crew, even if they are runts. I vote for study and help as quickly as possible. Amb. John Zees: While in general I am sympathetic to the view of Degan, I withhold my recommendation for the moment. Sec. Barker: I go along with further study, with a definite limit on spending, and only covert contact. Prof. Gore: Thank you, all of you. A copy of the minutes of this meeting and its recommendations will be forwarded by urgent blinkstat to U.P. headquarters, where final action will be decided upon. I, too, favor the views of Degan the Far Seer. There are many possibilities. The research activities on old earth have taught us much about cleaning up the lingering radiation of a nuclear war. Perhaps the U.P. Council might see fit to covertly lessen the radiation on Tom Thumb. I am not familiar with the costs of such an operation. Perhaps the population of the planet will be moved to another life-zone planet. But I am sure that something will be done. Any further discussion? Meeting adjourned. X&A Code Personal-Personal Blink Priority Urgent-Personal Origin: Tom Thumb, Lightning Sector To: Prof. A. Bradley Gore Dept. of Liberal Education Xanthos University Xanthos, Sector Home L-l From: Lt. Moil the Power Giver Knowing you, my dear and respected teacher, I'm sure that your curiosity is killing you, so I'm going to squander half a week's pay to bring you up to date on the story of Eban the Hunter. First, thank you for your help in having me assigned to the study team. We've been on Tom Thumb for three months now. The radiation from the last salvo has settled, and it's very clean here now, with only traces of bad stuff. We're camped on the hills overlooking Eban's valley. We had to disable some of his «dragons» to move about freely, and we operate, of course, behind a hypnoshield. These are fascinating little people. They're as brave as a Pharos lion. Eban killed a bear last week, but I'm getting ahead of my story. The dragons are interesting. They are all that remains of the vast and complicated technology of the old civilization. This planet must have been a very rich one, for the noncorrosive metals are used heavily, platinum and gold and silver. The heavy armor is an alloy of steel which is interesting. It shows signs of rust— that's Eban's blood—but does not rust away, like ordinary steel or iron. We dismantled one dragon and found the electronics to be unimpressive but efficient. There is heavy use of rather antique resistors and capacitors. (Yes, as you guessed, the dragon's guts were, indeed, color-coded electronic components.) After our study, we moved away from that dragon and left it, split open, for Eban's people to discover, and there was much happiness in the valley and now all of them wear necklaces of dragon's guts. The population is growing rapidly. The widows— and, old dear, you goofed on that word, for I suspect the proper translation is «widow"— have exercised their rights, and to their «walkers» have been added a new crop of babies. It keeps Eban and the other two hunters busy, for after the salvo, the «cave» closed itself down, blew itself up, and buried the entrance, leaving the family to their own provisions. But game is plentiful and the family lives well. The other half of the team, running tests in the low slopes, is having great success in leaching radioactives from the bone marrow of the inbreeders. An investigation of the «monsters» of the east reveals a new possibility—not man at all, but a mutated form of another and lower anthropoid. Their numbers are limited and their range is small, thus we are not faced with a large problem there. It was interesting to me to find that the western half of this landmass is totally devastated. Our archaeological teams are learning a little bit about the old civilization—very human, very tech, very deadly, very sick and now dead. A few art works have been recovered. They were very much like you Old Ones, but had a tendency toward, if you can believe the images, monstrous mammary glands in the female and bald heads in the men. I'm doing this deliberately, old dear, knowing that you're burning to know about Eban, but knowing also that you won't cheat and look ahead. Eban, poor thing, is sure that God brought another miracle, for in his mind just as he started away from the camp bound to search for Ouree, she came walking toward him, carrying her wings. There was, however, some confusion, and I have to report that our team goofed down here before. This year is known to Eban as the Year Which Lost Three Days, for that's how long we kept the family under hypnoprobe, and the time totem, whereon the Seer of Things Unseen strikes off the passing days, does not agree with Ouree's passage of time, for she was walking home during those three days. Moreover, Ouree arrived in the valley in time to see our scout lift off, and she told Eban that she saw God leave as she watched, and that God had been speaking to him. Thus, Eban is now considered a Holy Man, and, as he promised, went preaching peace to the surrounding families. As for Eban himself, although he still grieves for his Mar, he is a man, with man's needs, and he has taken as pairmate the daughter of the Seer, once known as Ouree the Unclaimed and now called Ouree the Flyer, for she loves to hang-glide. She and Eban often climb the hill and fly. Incidentally, we had to destroy a hunter-killer missile. All of them were not used up in the big battle of the salvo; at least one stray was left. We detected it coming, high, one day when the males of the family were soaring, and shot it down before they saw it. We made a probe of near space and found several dead satellites and a few hunter-killers which were malfunctioned and wiped them out, too. During his travels preaching peace, Eban recruited three young ma
les, and they have now pairmated with three of the «widows.» The family prospers. The fame of Eban is spreading, and there have been two delegations from neighboring families come to hear his tales and to see the water-filled silos from which the killbirds flew. The futures of the children are assured, for alliances have been made. Margan is a lovely child and the leaching was successful. She has none of the «sickness» in her bones now and my only fear is that something went wrong in the process, for she shows signs of being near the size of an Old Onechild at her age, which makes her almost as big as her mother, or her stepmother, Ouree. Have we got a mutation back toward the original race of «giants»? The inbreeders showed signs of it, as did Eban, who was considered a freak among his people. In my last report, I said that I have never known a more gentle and more likable people than these. I urge you to throw your support toward full contact, for I think they have the intelligence to accept us without fatal cultural shock. They're very adaptable, these little people. And still, I have, especially alone in my bed at night, some doubts, for I have seen the virulent sickness in the form of those dragons. The old race, in dying, fortified their land, and programmed their weapons to slay anything that moved, friend or foe. And the hunter-killer missiles, heat seekers, were so sensitive that we've found evidence, in the form of wreckage and animal remains, that they would attack large birds. There must have been thousands of them originally, for the large-bird population of the landmass is nonexistent. There are many things to be learned here, and I'm sure studies will go on forever before a decision is made. For example, a scientific team just arrived whose sole mission is to find out how a semblance of technology, in the form of the hang gliders, survived the cataclysm. Experiments are going on in cleaning up radiation, and they're practical, if expensive, for they allow our teams to operate in the highly radioactive areas along the two oceans where the old population was concentrated. I will keep you informed, and I ask the same of you, you being near U.P. center and able to keep up to date with the sometimes-wise and sometimes not so wise action of the politicians. I am out of time and will have to save the story of Eban's bear, killed to give Ouree a warm bed, for the next blinkstat.