Enemy Papers

by Barry B. Longyear

  Shizumaat drew forth a third point from its pouch and held it up. “This was taken from a child’s play spear. It was fashioned by Akkar, the child of Soam.” Shizumaat walked between the fires and handed the spear point to Haruda. “Judge this.”

  The chief of the hunt studied the point, tested it with its fingers, then handed it back Shizumaat. “It is made well enough, but it is too short and too narrow. It would not allow the shaft to penetrate to the deep heart of a darghat.”

  Shizumaat handed Haruda another point. “And this one?”

  The chief of the hunt laughed as it took it. “This stone has a heavy, loose grain, and watch.” Haruda pressed the point between a thumb and finger. The point crumbled. “I doubt if this point could penetrate water.”

  As the laughter in the lodge waned, Shizumaat retrieved the pieces from Haruda. By the time the laughter had died, Shizumaat had resumed its place before the two fires.

  “The fourth point was made by Pelard.” There was more laughter, for all knew old Pelard had gone dark in its mind years ago. When the lodge was again quiet, Shizumaat held out its hands.

  “The goal was to tip a shaft with a point sharp enough, strong enough, and true enough to bring down the big game. But to achieve this same goal, four different ways were used.” Shizumaat held up Kijnya’s point. “Kijnya’s way achieves the goal well, but slowly.” U line’s point was held up next. “Uline’s way achieves the goal quickly, but not as well.” Shizumaat then held up Akkar’s point. “The child Akkar’s point achieves the goal poorly.” Shizumaat dropped the pieces of Petard’s point upon the ground. “And poor Pelard’s point achieves the goal not at all.”

  Mantar, chief of the Kuvedah, held out its hand. “And Shizumaat, what do you see in these things? What great truth have you gleaned from your spear points?”

  Shizumaat faced the chief. “Mantar, in all that we try to achieve we use ways. These points prove that some ways are superior to others. The ways of Kijnya and Uline are obviously superior to the ways of Akkar and Pelard.”

  Mantar nodded its agreement. “But Shizumaat, what of Kijnya and Uline? Which of their ways is the superior?”

  “Mantar, if the goal is to tip one spear in the best manner, Kijnya’s way is superior. But if the goal is to tip many spears in the best manner, Uline’s way is the superior.” Shizumaat turned from the chief and looked at those seated around the lodge fires. “But is there a way superior to Kijnya’s and Uline’s?”

  Mantar shook its head. “It is well known they are the best point makers in the Kuvedah. How can there be a way superior to theirs?”

  “There may be no better way now, but cannot we imagine one?”

  Haruda, chief of the hunt, thought upon the question, then looked at Shizumaat. “In my mind it would be a way that would produce points as quickly as Uline does, but of the same quality of points as those fashioned by Kijnya. But as to specifics, I know not.”

  Shizumaat motioned toward the back of the lodge, and two strong Sindie carried out a large tan stone, while a third Sindie carried smaller stones of different sizes and several lengths of bone. They placed the large stone before Shizumaat, and the smaller stones and bones upon the large stone.

  Shizumaat squatted before the large stone and picked up one of the smaller stones in its left hand. Twice it hit the edge of the large stone, causing a long splinter of rock to be broken free. Quickly Shizumaat picked up the splinter and began shaping it with one of the smaller rocks. With the point in the shape the teacher-one desired, it then picked up a bone and tapped it rapidly along the edges of the point, causing tiny chips to fly away, leaving the edges sharp. It was finished almost before anyone realized it. Shizumaat stood and handed the point to Haruda. “Judge that.”

  The chief of the hunt studied the point, tested its edge for sharpness, hefted it for weight, then nodded at Shizumaat. “It is as fine as anything Kijnya has fashioned.”

  Kijnya stood up in its place at the back of the lodge. “Shizumaat, I would see the spear point you made.” The point was passed back to the point maker. Kijnya studied the point, then looked up and around at those seated in the meeting lodge. “Shizumaat came to study my way of making points, and this is a fine piece of work. But even I cannot make one that rapidly.”

  Across the lodge from Kijnya, Uline stood. “I would see it. Pass me the spear point.” The point was passed to Uline. It studied the point, then looked at Shizumaat. “You made this point as quickly as any that I have fashioned, but it is truly of finer quality.” Uline looked at Kijnya. “Shizumaat studied my way of point making as well.”

  The point was passed around the lodge until it came to Mantar. The chief studied it, then passed it to Shizumaat. “And your great truth is a better way of point making?”

  Shizumaat took the point. “No, Mantar. My truth is this. In all things that we do, some ways are better than others. Of all of the better ways, some are the best. Of the best that exist, still better ways wait to be discovered and invented.”

  Shizumaat held up the spear point that it had fashioned. “At this moment, my way of making points is the best, and I will show anyone who wants to learn how it is done. I can imagine, though, the requirements of a better way—a host of better ways. If they could be made even faster, even sharper, or of strong metal, these would be better ways. If the spear could be replaced by a quicker, lighter, more efficient weapon, then that would be a better way. If weapons and the hunt could be eliminated, freeing us to improve our lands and make homes, this too would be a better way. This is true, as well, for every goal we seek to achieve, from feeding our children, learning, and living an honorable life, to worshipping the gods.”

  Shizumaat stood between the fires and studied those seated around the walls of the lodge. “The Kuvedah must search for these ways, in our minds, and among each other; for there is always a talma, a superior path. Make the talma your quest in life for all things, and your life will become talma. This is the great truth I reveal this night.”

  Mantar stood and addressed those seated in the meeting lodge. “Namndas has told us a very old and very valuable truth, and has earned its post as a teacher-one to the Kuvedah.”

  I bowed toward Mantar, and the chief nodded at me in return. Mantar then faced Shizumaat. “You have earned your post as teacher-one to the Kuvedah, as well. Your truth will require much thought. Therefore, Shizumaat, I command you to teach this truth to the Kuvedah. Further, I command the Kuvedah to learn this truth, and to live by it. Finally, from this night forward, each new child born shall learn this talma before it may enter the rites of adulthood.”

  We taught Shizumaat’s truth the length and breadth of the Kudah, following the tribe as it followed the hunt. When the last of them had learned the truth, new students of Varrah’s came to the Kuvedah to replace us. Shizumaat and I bid farewell to Buna, Mantar, Haruda and the rest, then aimed our feet for the north, the Dirudah, the city of Butaan, and the Temple of Uhe.

  We had learned many things with the Kuvedah, and we talked of all of the ways to apply talma to the things we do and wish to do, and again we played with burning brands beneath Aakva’s Children. As the rains began we entered Butaan and walked the streets and ways of the city, our eyes drinking in all of the changes that had been made since we had left for the Kudah. When we reached the temple, we washed the road from our feet, and found our class at its place within the next row of columns. Our fellow students greeted us with embraces and we hastily begged for their stories and what they had learned through their adventures. Before anyone could reply, though, Ebneh approached and took its place in the center of our class. I looked to Shizumaat, and Shizumaat looked to Ebneh. The old servant who had caused Shizumaat to be beaten looked up at us and wearily shook its head. “Varrah is dead, its pyre cold these twenty days.” Ebneh lifted its hand toward Shizumaat, and let it fall to its lap. “I am terribly sorry, Shizumaat. I know from what Varrah told me how much you loved your teacher. I loved Varrah, too. Perhaps even more
.”

  I could see the tears on Shizumaat’s face, and was not surprised to feel them on my own. My surprise was saved for when I saw tears on Ebneh’s face, and saw Shizumaat go and embrace the old servant. Pity, forgiveness, putting the past to rest, these too are talmas to a better future. I joined in the embrace, and remembering Varrah and the freedom of a thought were the lessons for the day.

  The Story of Shizumaat (Continued)

  Fragment: Namndas

  That night, first I noticed that the temple lights had not all been raised to the proper height. Then I saw young Shizumaat, its face upraised, dancing in slow whorls upon Uhe’s Tomb! I rushed to the center of the temple and came to a stop with my hands upon the stone cover of the vault.

  “Shizumaat! Shizumaat, come down! Come down or I will execute you before the servants can get at you with their rods!”

  Shizumaat stopped its dance and looked down at me. “Namndas, come up here and join me. I have the most wonderful thing to show you.”

  “You would have me dance upon Uhe’s grave?”

  “Come up here, Namndas.”

  Shizumaat returned to its whirling, and I grabbed the edge of the cover and pulled myself up, swearing to break Shizumaat into three hundred pieces. Once I stood, Shizumaat pointed toward the ceiling. “Look up, Namndas.”

  The force in its words compelled me to look up, and what I saw was the disarray of temple lights. Their heights were arranged so that the lights were equally distant from a point just above the tomb, forming a hemisphere. And not all of the lamps were lit.

  “Shizumaat, we will both be driven from the temple for this night’s work.”

  “Don’t you see it? Look up, Namndas! Don’t you see it?”

  “See what?”

  “Dance, Namndas. Dance. Turn to your right.”

  I turned, saw the lights whirl about me, then I stopped and faced my charge. “Shizumaat, this only makes my head swim. We must climb down from here before we are discovered!”

  “Aaah!” cried the youth in disgust. Shizumaat jumped from the tomb and hit the stone floor running toward the eastern wall. I jumped and ran after it. When I reached the top of the great stairs, still stained with Shizumaat’s blood, Shizumaat itself was standing far into the dark center of the city square.

  I ran down the stairs, across the square, and stopped in the center as I angrily grabbed Shizumaat’s left arm. “I shall gladly take a rod and do the servants’ work for them, you fool!”

  “Look up, Namndas! Curse your thick skull! Look up!”

  Still holding onto its arm, I looked up. What I saw were Aakva’s children arranged in a pattern similar to the pattern of the temple’s lights but tilted toward the blue light of The Child Who Never Moves. “You have reproduced the arrangement of the night sky with the lamps.”

  “Yes!”

  “But this will not save your skin, Shizumaat.”

  Shizumaat pointed toward that speck of blue light. “Turn your face toward The Child Who Never Moves. Then, Namndas, turn slowly to your right.”

  I did so. The implications of what I saw turned my legs to water. I sat with a thump upon the stones of the square. I put out my hands and touched the unyielding, motionless stone. “It cannot be!”

  Shizumaat squatted next to me. “Then you have seen it, too!”

  I nodded. “Yes, I have seen it.”

  With the morning’s light, the servants of Aakva found both of us dancing upon Uhe’s tomb…

  We stood there on the crest of the Akkujah, the mortar drying upon our hands, and Shizumaat pointed at the column of rocks we had built. “You shall wait for me here, Namndas, at this mark. Guard it, allow none of the servants to move it or tear it down.” Shizumaat pointed one hand toward the west. “I leave for the Madah, ever to follow Aakva’s dying path. If I am correct, I shall meet you again, and at this place.” It held up its other arm toward the Morning Mountains. “I will come to you, though, from there.”

  I looked from the Akkujah out over the parched lands of the Madah, then back at Shizumaat. “If you do not return? What then, Shizumaat?”

  “Then either I am wrong about the shape of this world, or I did not have the wit and strength to prove myself correct.”

  “If you fail, Shizumaat, what should I do?”

  Shizumaat placed a hand upon my arm. “Poor Namndas. As always, it is your choice. You can forget me; you can forget the things we have learned; or you can attempt to prove that which I am attempting to prove.”

  Fragment: Mistaan

  You are young, Mistaan. To brave this wall of hate and warriors’ iron that surrounds me shows me your youth. When you are older you shall call this youth foolishness.

  The brute is unpredictable.

  If the brute were predictable, though, it would no longer be fearsome. Have the warriors caged you in my pen to die with me? Or would they have you do for them the task that they fear to do? It would please the brute to have Mistaan, the student of Vehya, murder Vehya’s teacher.

  I answered Shizumaat by saying: Shizumaat, Aakva’s servants would have you condemn yourself from your own mouth. This is why they let me record your words.

  The brute listens, does it? Perhaps the brute can learn. It is possible. This trial might be a talma to such learning.

  Then, Mistaan, I stand before them as I stand before you, and as I stand before all of the ages that follow, for they too shall be my magistrates. Let this be my trial.

  Should I plead my innocence? Since no crime has been committed, I cannot be innocent of its commission.

  By that same truth, though, I cannot plead my guilt. There can be no guilt without a crime.

  It is such a puzzle.

  It thrives on puzzles, Shizumaat.

  The brute thrives on puzzles, does it?

  Know this, Mistaan: the brute derives its nourishment by making puzzles; not by solving them. Once the puzzles are solved, the brute’s excuse for existence is lost. Only by continued strife and suffering can the brute justify its existence.

  Let us rise to the challenge of this puzzle, Mistaan. Let us decide how I should plead.

  The stonewood poles surround us. The fire makes the night clouds red. These are preparations for criminal punishment. Perhaps I am being suspicious, but I suspect that the matter of my guilt is already settled.

  Do you hear the death chant?

  They beg their god to turn its hand against this criminal once the flames have left nothing but ash and spirit. Does Aakva listen to such prayers? I ask Uhe’s spirit, is it possible that Aakva is that imperfect a god?

  To some it might appear to be in bad order to prepare for the execution before the trial, and to have the trial before the crime. But the brute rules this insignificant patch of time, and this is the order that the brute calls efficiency.

  We shall follow in kind, then, Mistaan. I shall make my plea at the end of my trial.

  Are you ready with your skin that speaks? Then let us begin.

  Fragment: Shizumaat

  “The first given is existence; its fact, not its form, nor its manner of change, nor the purposes ascribed to its aspects by its creatures.”

  Fragment: Shizumaat

  “Instead believe this: question everything, accept the wholeness of no truth nor the absolute rightness of any path. Make this your creed and in it you will find eventual comfort and security, for in this creed is your right to rule the lower creatures of the Universe, for in this creed is your right to choose your talma, for in this creed stands your right to freedom.”

  Fragment: Shizumaat

  “With neither my agreement or permission, you take your words and place them on my tongue. It is not my belief that talma is The Way, as you put it. There are an infinite number of paths from any existence to any imagined future. The Madah servants had a way. Uhe’s way was superior. There were ways superior to Uhe’s, and further ways superior to those. Some paths we know, some we do not know. Some paths we can imagine and bring into being. Some pa
ths we can imagine we cannot bring into being until other paths have been traveled. Some paths we can imagine but cannot be brought into being because to do so the universe would have to be shattered.

  The Way does not exist; only the ways we use and the ways we invent and choose. Talma is not The Way; talma is a way for finding ways.”

  Fragment: Shizumaat

  “As do all creatures, we seek the comfort and the security of the safe path, its direction to be found through eternal knowns and indestructible verities. But to be creatures of choice, we must necessarily abandon the comfort and security of instinct, for all our knowns are probabilities, and all our truths are doctrines amendable when truer truths are presented.”

  KODA AYVIDA

  The Story of Mistaan

  It was Mistaan who invented writing and who first recorded The Myth of Aakva, The Story of Uhe, and The Story of Shizumaat, as told by Namndas and by Mistaan’s own observations of Shizumaat’s trial and execution. It was Mistaan who heard Shizumaat’s claim of another race existing in a far land; a race different from the Sindie.

  Fragment: Mistaan

  “Talma shows each one its path. But, as beings of choice, we can choose not to see the signs.”

  Fragment: Mistaan

  “There are those who would fit the wanderer into a place in this Universe, and one seeking such a place might accept this. Moreover, one might find such a place already constructed and accept this as one’s own. However, places that are found are not for creatures such as us. To fit a unique being of choice into roles and places fabricated by others or found by chance is to diminish that being’s choices and its individuality. Each being of choice, who would remain so, must forge its own place.”

  KODA SCHADA

  The Story of Ioa and Lurrvanna

  The rule of Kulubansu, the overthrow and destruction of the Servants of Aakva, Ioa and the establishment of the first Talman Kovah. Lurrvanna takes over as master of the Talman Kovah. The first invasion of the Orange Ones. The rule of Rodaak the Barbarian, the Talman Kovah destroyed, the persecution of the Talmani.