“I am interested in gratitude, too,” said Cohen-Davies. “I see no point in bargaining with a group of people who are willing to admit us into their community. We are not in the dome. I see no reason why our old structure of rule should still hold.”
“Perhaps you can settle that among yourselves sometime,” said Jestak. “But for the time being, so we can get underway, let us assume that Eolyn is correct. She is the one who seems to need an agreement.”
“We are not even sure you are genuinely of our species,” Eolyn returned. “That one, Stel, showed he was able to reject radiation. So has this whole biological community. We are unsure what shielding we will need to survive.”
“Radiation? Celeste spoke of radiation. It makes people sick when they go to the empty places. I don’t believe there is any right here.”
“More likely,” said Royal, “it is some sort of poisoning in these empty places, perhaps involving plutonium and radiation. We would have to run an analysis. But we are unsure of why the radiation monitor always showed heavy radiation. Always. It was no malfunction.”
“You mean the rod?”
“Yes, the wand we sent up from the dome.”
“Perhaps it received this radiation at the time of fire and retained it. The top looked burned and fused.”
“It was installed much later, our history assures us, by people several generations into our stay there.”
“Impossible,” said Stel. “Just before you shot me, I looked at it from inside the dome. The whole structure had been made as a unit with the dome at the beginning. I can recall the bracing and the concrete matrix.”
Eolyn and Royal looked at each other. “That isn’t what our history said,” she replied.
“Nonetheless, that is the fact,” said Stel. “But it doesn’t matter. You are talking nonsense anyway. There is no radiation here. People live to be old. And Celeste is as human a person as I know. She lives with us. She laughs, sweats, cries, grows angry, loves. Everything is the same. Don’t try to fob yourselves off as superior creatures. You are just more people. A pretty surly bunch, by and large, I might say.”
“Surly? Surely, Stel, you just jest. Bunch? Please at least describe us as an organization, a group; if not a hierarchy, at least a lowarchy,” said Butto.
Eolyn shook her head. “Butto at least is merely confused. But the point is that no matter how you describe us, we have knowledge. Knowledge otherwise lost, and precious.”
“And some incredible ignorance, too. Celeste is slowly learning to communicate with ease, but she still works better with her growing supply of devices than with people. She—”
“She is a freak. She underwent an accident that left her speechless.”
“Until she was with Tris and Tor awhile. She talks freely enough. I think you are all a bunch of freaks.”
“Stel,” said Ahroe. “Let Jestak talk for us. You resent their mistreatment. Bad as it was, you must forgive them.”
“Forgive them? I forgive them enough, though I would probably be dead if Butto hadn’t come along. I am intensely disappointed, that’s all. I spent an entire sweating summer trying to warn these louts that their whole structure was going to fall apart and dump them down the gully, and they act like a gang of damned goatherders. I—”
“Stel,” said Jestak. “Enough. Be generous. You haven’t been shut up all your life. We can give them all they require.”
“All I require is something to keep these tiny beasts off me,” said Cohen-Davies. “I should be glad to get to Pelbarigan if they could be deterred.”
Still Eolyn wouldn’t yield any gratitude or concessions. It was clear that Royal looked to her lead and backed her. Finally the decision was made to agree to all of Eolyn’s terms except anything to do with a rate of exchange. That would await discussion between Eolyn and the Protector. By noon the party was ready to leave. Six of Blu’s men would go along, but Blu and the rest would remain with Tor. Ruthan insisted on remaining as well, and no arguments could dissuade her, even though her body was, like those of the other dome people, showing the distress of the food of the outside world. Blu stayed because Ruthan did, or so he said. He not only had oddly conventional proprieties, but he was genuinely worried about Tor.
The party set out, hoping to reach the slow-flowing Raimac by nightfall. Blu and Ruthan watched them go, as Dailith and Stel had watched the guardsmen take Susan on her litter earlier. Blu put his arm around Ruthan’s shoulder. She looked at him, startled.
“Come to the top of the rocks,” he said. “We need to talk awhile.”
She felt hesitant, a little frightened. But he smiled slightly. She felt she had no real choice. As they went, climbing a path south of the overhang, she grew more and more assured. She even began to ask him about the plants, but found his knowledge to be either unsystematic or selective. He knew the habits and uses of plants he had no names for. Some he knew intimately. Eventually they reached the rim of the hill. Looking westward, they could see faint, dark smoke still rising from the ruined dome.
“Ruthan,” Blu began. “Is that your only name? Ruthan?”
“I have another I never use. Ruthan Tromtrager. But I have no family. None of us does. We—we were born . . . well, in a laboratory.”
Blu looked at her, puzzled and shocked. “What do you mean?”
“I had no mother, quite literally. I was the product of the joining of biological materials in a special genetic laboratory.”
“I don’t understand. It doesn’t matter. You look all right.”
“What do you want with me?”
“Simply that you mustn’t fall in love with Tor.”
She turned. “What? What do you mean by that? I—”
“Sit down.”
“I don’t—”
“Just sit down. Please?” She did. “We will have to get you some decent clothes,” said Blu.
“Did you bring me up here to tell me that? Just tell me what you want to. I will take care of my clothes. I may—” She stopped.
Blu looked over, quizzically. “Well, it is this. It is one thing to care for Tor in remorse for hurting him. It is another to—”
“To love him?”
Blu swallowed. “Perhaps it is futile. I don’t know. Tor is a rare man. He was taken by the Tusco as a child, and sold by them to the Alats, far to the south. Somehow he survived all that, escaped, and grew to be an unusual axeman. But even before he reached his full maturity, the fight took place at Northwall—one of the Pelbar cities. And that ended the hostilities between Shumai and Pelbar. And even the Sentani. Jestak—you just met him—he was more responsible for it than anyone else. He has begun making one people out of us. All the Shumai seem to be settling down. I admit the old way of life is a hard one. But it is hard for us to give it up. Yet even this summer two of the bands have dropped out to join a cattle farm up on the Isso River. I feel the restlessness of the others. Tor didn’t lead the band this summer. I did. But I am not Tor. He is pure axeman.”
“Pure axeman?”
“They are married to the country, usually having nothing to do with women. They are often curiously quiet and abstracted, like Tor. They often seem idle. But they have a way of knowing things, like the tanwolves, as if by instinct. They are often orators of considerable skill. They are capable of great physical acts.”
“And you are afraid I might spoil all that?”
“In a sense. But that isn’t the problem. You would be brought to grief as well. Tor has been brooding about the vanishing of the running bands. You can see it. He knows he will never be a farmer or live in a settlement. Now his life will be triply hard with the loss of his arm. But I am sure he will remain an axeman at heart, no matter what. Tristal has been sick, but now that he is better, and Celeste is more on her own—”
“Celeste? What has she to do with this?”
“Tristal and Raran—his dog—found Celeste wandering on the hill. They took her to Tor, and then they all went to Pelbarigan. She grew very sick. Tor wat
ched over her like a father. She grew dependent on him. She—”
“You mean Celeste fell in love with him?” Ruthan began to laugh.
Blu frowned at her. “It may seem funny, but Tor wouldn’t simply abandon her. She had no one else. She is beginning to be a woman now, so Stel says. She is more balanced, now that she is well and in a city. Tor did it, you know. The cost, I fear, was the integrity of the band, because I am not Tor. But perhaps he is seeing ahead even now. But he has lost himself, really. He has no idea what to do. This will be redoubled now that—”
“Don’t say it again.”
“Oh.”
“So you are asking me to let him alone, then? You fear he may waste himself on me?” Again she began to laugh in a fluttering high tone. Blu stared at her. “It is too much. New worlds coming and going. Good God, why can’t I die?”
“Die? There is no need to die. You have just been released. Your life will knit together.” He reached out an arm to touch her.
“How long will it continue to knit together when it keeps being torn apart?” She looked at him, mocking. “Your life will knit together,” she said, imitating his voice. “You sanctimonious animal!” She stood and kicked him, hurting her foot, then pounded on him with her fists. He seemed not to notice, but finally took her wrists and held them. She bit at his hands, but he simply spread them, staring at her. Finally, she went limp, and he lowered her to the ground. She lay crying for a time, then sat up. Blu sat on his heels, watching her.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked.
He spread his hands. “What would you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. How would I know? Are you crazy?”
“Perhaps. What we ought to do is wait for Tor to get better, then go to Pelbarigan. You know about plants, you say. You could teach them what you know, and they you.”
“I am sorry.”
“No need. I can see that you and I will be friends yet. You aren’t like that Eolyn ghost. Was she made without a mother, too? No offense. But they left out her feelings.”
“I have too many.”
“No. You have just enough.” They laughed nervously.
Blu stood, hearing a sound on the path. It was Dard, who said, “Blu, Tor is up. He wants to go to Pelbarigan.”
“Up? Already? How can that be? How does he look?”
“Awful. Weak. But he wants to go.”
“Are you ready?”
“The men are about packed. We have made the boots for this woman.”
“Then it is time to go. Are you ready, Ruthan Tromtrager?”
“He should not be moved.”
“He says so. Come on down. We will see if your running boots fit. Sark has made them. This is Dard, Sark’s son.”
“Yes. Hello. Running? I will have to walk.”
“So will Tor, for now. Come on.”
Because of Ruthan and Tor, they moved slowly, Tor almost dreamily, Ruthan constantly questioning Blu and Dard. Bill strove manfully to keep up on his short legs, but finally Sark swept him up and put him on his shoulders. At first Bill thought to object, but the ease and the new height so charmed him that he simply held on and looked. The tall late-summer prairie grass topped even Sark’s head, but Bill could see out over the high, turkey-foot seed heads.
“You, Bill,” said Sark.
“Yes?”
“Watch for smoke. The grass is drying again. Prairie fire. If there is one, we have to run.”
“Fire? Out here? What stops it?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all sometimes, but a river or a rain.”
Bill shuddered. But he would not be back in the dome for anything, though his eyes were dazzled and his white skin began to burn in the sun. Ahead, as they walked, Skall, another older man, pulled stems and wove them, finally turning and placing a crude straw hat on Bill.
Eventually Ruthan tired so she couldn’t walk further. Blu set her up on his shoulders and they continued, but slowly.
Finally, Tor said, “Who wants to carry me? No one? I suggest we stop at the stream ahead. I’m sorry. I need some rest and meat.”
The other group did make it to the Raimac, though it was only at sunset, and the dome people were tired to the core. Most of the way the Shumai and Dailith carried the comps, switching off, and even Royal rode on the Pelbar guardsman for a time. Eolyn insisted on walking the whole way. Cohen-Davies showed a surprising stamina, owing to his private daily exercises, and Butto struggled along on grit.
The Shumai gave their light summercloths to the dome people, dirty as they were, for the hunters used them for towels, holders for hot objects, sun hoods, and blankets. They were not long in shooting several fish to mix in with the dried meat and herbs in the skin pot they threw rocks into, hot from the fire, for cooking. Eolyn looked on the process with enormous distaste, but she was hungry enough not to care. She relied on her panimmune to protect her.
After they ate, sitting near the firelight, Dailith sought her out. “We could rest a day. There is no hurry,” he said.
“I am all right. Royal may need a rest, but we should move on. I am oppressed by all this openness. And those roads. We crossed two of them. Wide ones. They are ancient highways. It really is true. The whole land is empty. Where are the ruins?”
“There are ruins. Plenty of them. But the time of fire was a long time ago. How are your legs? The second day is usually worse if you aren’t in good condition. They may be stiff and sore.”
“No doubt. But they are all right. It is my feet.”
Without asking, Dailith took off the running boots the Shumai had quickly sewn together for her.
“Don’t,” she said.
“You have no blisters. Don’t wash. It softens the skin. I will get you some rabbit fur for the red places.” He turned and left, and she watched his broad back with some wonder. It made no sense. What did he want?
Jestak sat by Cohen-Davies as the old man questioned Oro about wood fires. He waited in silence until they were through.
“What did Eolyn say was our location?” he asked.
“Missouri. That was a section of a country called the United States of America. What do you call it now?”
“We seldom call it anything, really, but when we do refer to it, it is Urstadge. That has no real boundaries because few travel to the ends of what we know of it. I have been to the eastern cities, by the ocean to the east.”
“The Atlantic.”
“The Atlantic? No one there called it anything but the Eastern Sea. There are islands in it—the Saltstream Islands. I have been to them, too. I met the Saltstream prophets there. That is the easternmost place anyone knows about.”
“There are no islands in the Atlantic I know of, unless you mean Bermuda, which is quite far south, or the Azores, which are very far off.”
“I think these are new. One had a smoking mountain. I have learned that they are called volcanic. Do you know about that?”
“Quite a bit. I will have to recall it.”
“Don’t worry about it now. We will have to question you at great length at Pelbarigan and get it all written down. We are piecing the world back together. It is an unbelievable task. We have learned much from the Commuters, a small group of herdsmen beyond the western mountains.”
“The Rockies.”
“Yes. That’s it. They called them that. I have been thinking. Would you agree to help establish a school, or as they said in Innanigan, an academy, at Pelbarigan? We need a center for the reassembly of knowledge.”
“You have none?”
“We have always had our schools, of course. But only recently have the various surviving groups begun to talk seriously to one another. We have—” Jestak broke off. Looking over, he had seen that the old man was asleep.
Butto, meanwhile, dug into his third helping of stew, asking Stel about various things in it. Stel was amused. It reminded him of his own son, Garet, several years ago.
“What is this?”
“Thistle root. It get
s tough this time of year, and so it is pounded and cut.”
“And this?”
“Wild potato. They found a small one. Sometimes they are gigantic.”
“Gigantic? A term subject to errors semantic.”
“Don’t be pedantic.”
“I’m too tired to be romantic. Or frantic. What’s this?”
“Milkweed buds. There aren’t many—the reason? It’s late in the season. Buds are decreasin’.”
“You are amazin’. Such elegant phrasin’.”
“Your praisin’ is raisin’ my self-esteem.”
“Surely I dream. I hear a ream of rhyme by this stream, it would seem.”
“Stop or I’ll scream,” said Ahroe. They looked up and laughed.
“What’s this?” Butto resumed.
“Cattail root. The Shumai pulled some up when we passed through the marsh. That is what they were pounding and rinsing.”
“It doesn’t taste very good.”
“It’s food. If you’re in the mood. I wouldn’t exclude it brewed with whatever else we have stewed.”
“The vicissitudes of our fortune preclude that I should exclude it from the amplitude of the dinner I’ve chewed, and, my dear fellow, my remarks mustn’t be so construed.”
“Whew,” said Stel. “You’re beyond me, I see. Vicissi-what? Ampli-what? I can see you will be pressed into service as a linguist.”
“That will be fine, but not tonight,” said Butto, leaning back. Stel took his bark dish and put it in the fire.
“Well, Eolyn,” said Dailith. “It would appear that they are both of the same species.”
“You mean they are both crazy.”
“If Butto is half as effective as Stel, he must be a great asset to you.”
“He’s all emotion and little thought. Would you mind sleeping here with me and the comps? I don’t understand why Ahroe won’t stay near here. I am afraid of those wild men.”
“You are safer with them than without. Ahroe is with Stel because they are married. But I will stay here. The Shumai live a wild life, but they are people of honor.”
“Married? Do you mean it? I thought that was an ancient custom.”
The Dome in the Forest Page 19