The Fall of the Families

by Phillip Mann

  Odin toiled up the ramp leading from the largest of the shallow domes. “The accommodation is excellent. Finer than on Sanctum. Only the Hooded Parasol may have need of greater room.”

  Pawl watched Odin with veiled concern: the creature was aging before his eyes. Not only was the voice different but Odin’s movement had lost its springiness. Where once he had swayed and flowed, he now trudged.

  The cargo shuttle landed, dropping the last few inches, and sending up a cloud of dust. The rough iron doors opened and the descent ramp flopped down.

  Revealed, cramped, its high red legs pressed against the sides of its body like a crab in a rock pool, was Trader. The Hammer’s head stretched and the wide-slung eyes blinked. It edged forward and the scales which protected its sting rasped against the metal roof of the shuttle. Free from its trap, it stretched, and then reared to full height.

  Pawl had been warned by Odin not to move or speak when the Hammer emerged. They were skittish creatures and their aggressive instincts were hardly tempered by reason when they found themselves trapped.

  The Hammer lowered back to the ground and its sting arched over its head, extended, and nodded its beak to Pawl. There was a brief spatter of drumming and Lake came running from the depths of the shuttle where he had been hiding.

  “Trader says your Homeworld has clean smell. Trader needs to run. Are there eyes here?”

  “There are no eyes here. Trader, you may run where you like. There are no people on the mainland, only animals and trees, though you will find nothing as big as yourself.”

  Again a furious drumming. “Trader say sorry. Fight like feed like running. All good.”

  The Hammer departed. Its claws tore the earth, showering Odin and Pawl. Its sting was advanced and open like the beak of a hawk.

  It was evening, now. After a clear day the rays of the late sun lay on the horizon. A band of blue shadow slowly climbed the faces of the hills. Again the shuttle had landed.

  The main party from Sanctum had arrived. Down below, the Hammer was immersed in a stream of icy water which bubbled up at the base of the hills. It drummed along the whole length of its body and beat the clear water to lather.

  Pawl did not know what to expect. The descriptions he had elicited from Odin had helped little.

  First to emerge was a Hooded Parasol. Pawl saw a giant red trumpeted flower with petals that spread and convulsed. Four eyes which lay bedded in the petals suddenly lifted like pseudopodia and strained towards him. The flower floated gracefully from the shuttle, its petals fanning. The musk of the creature hit Pawl like something thrown. Its astringency made him gasp. Seemingly oblivious of the pain it had caused, the Parasol rose into the evening sky and opened in the sun like an orchid. Below it trailed fronds, like hairs of glass. “Do not touch those,” warned Odin. “Don’t even come close to them. Fully charged a Parasol could make a Hammer pause.”

  Following the Hooded Parasol came a creature that Pawl recognized, a Spideret. Pawl paid particular attention to it. It was a Spideret, he remembered, that had been with his brother when he died out on Auster. How long ago that seemed. The Spideret made complicated movements with its feelers in front of its clustered eyes, and then nimbly climbed up the wall of the shuttle and settled to watch, its legs tucked beneath it.

  In the darkness of the shuttle there moved something that sparkled with bright liquid energy. A Diphilus rolled down the ramp like a sack of jelly. Pawl thought of the sharp-edged stones which littered the ground outside the shuttle and wondered if they would puncture the fine membrane. Suddenly the air about him was filled with a raw laughter like the sound of trees falling or stones cracking. Then he saw, or seemed to see, the tip of a bright knife which jabbed at the Diphilus and which was blunted after the first thrust. The message was clear: nothing could puncture the Diphilus. In the same moment Pawl learned that the Diphilus lived in the crevices on airless mountain sides, that its skin rippled with energy, and that the only thing it feared was heat. Pawl knew he had been spoken to in his mind. He compared this communication with the way that Odin spoke to him. How different! Odin was lodged in his brain, almost a part of himself. But this, other, had been outside. Like something that wrapped him, something that took charge of the space about him. He wondered how he sounded to it and immediately knew. The Diphilus saw Pawl as just a creature and his voice was squeaky and scratchy. Pawl was the vulnerable bag of skin; the likely-to-be-punctured; the fine flower of creation that had low tolerance, could not face the hardness of space and so had bent creation to suit its mode of living.

  Last to emerge was a Lyre Beast. Odin had tried to give Pawl some idea of what it would be like, for Odin found the mind-shapes of the Lyre Beast beautiful. Pawl did not know what to expect.

  The Lyre Beast was beautiful. Pawl watched as the creature, so like skeins of raw silk in appearance, sorted itself out and spread like a canopy of woven threads. It covered a wall and the entire roof of the shuttle. It pulsed like a pool of water into which a stone is dropped. Once or twice its fibres strained and knotted and a rent appeared in its surface which flapped, and then closed again. From this creature came music like the plucking of a thousand strings. Sometimes it was low and clotted. At other times it was sweet and stinging and unpredictable. Pawl found himself held by the music, waiting for the sounds to resolve, but they never did. Or if they did resolve, it was beyond Pawl’s hearing and in a manner which he could not comprehend.

  After a short time the Diphilus, which seemed by common consent to be the leader, called them all together. They gathered in a large chamber under the ground. There was not much room. The Hammer squatted with its legs drawn close and its barbed tail resting along its back. In front of its puffing orifice, the Hooded Parasol hung in the air like a delicately-coloured pansy with its petals rippling. The Lyre Beast had selected a corner and it billowed like a sail. The Spideret hunkered down beneath it and the Diphilus rolled and spread round the floor, sending ripples of light round the walls. Pawl stood, and close to him was Odin.

  Since its arrival, the Diphilus had taken over the task of translating the alien thought-patterns for Pawl. The Diphilus treated Odin as though he didn’t exist. Pawl thought of Odin’s red flukes weaving in the air and immediately felt a drowsy response in his mind. “Are you not able to translate for me?” asked Pawl, shielding his thought.

  “My work is almost finished. I am content to listen now,” answered Odin, in his hoarse, choked voice.

  Any further questions that Pawl might have had were forestalled by the Diphilus which suddenly brought their minds together. To Pawl it was as though a wind had blown through him, driving scattered thought like dead leaves before it. And when the wind had died away there was only the Diphilus and a ringing silence.

  Here is what Pawl understood the Diphilus to say.

  WE ARE HERE BECAUSE OF THE ANGER OF PAWL PAXWAX. WE ARE HERE TO HELP HIM DESTROY THE ORDER OF THE FAMILIES, NOT IN HATRED, BUT UNDERSTANDING THAT THE TIME OF THEIR RULE IS ENDED. AN AGE IS PASSING AWAY. A NEW AGE IS DAWNING. IS IT AGREED?

  Pawl heard himself agree.

  The images of the Diphilus rolled on.

  MANY OF US HAVE SUFFERED AT THE HANDS OF THE FAMILIES, JUST AS PAWL HAS. MANY OF US HAVE SUFFERED AT THE HANDS OF THE PAXWAX … BUT WE WILL LEAVE THAT.

  A sound like boulders being cracked together grew and out of this came the clear organ and harp notes of the Lyre Beast.

  I HAVE ONE QUESTION FOR PAWL. DOES HE REALIZE THAT HIS FAMILY WILL NOT SURVIVE THE FALL OF THE FAMILIES? OR IS HE HOPING TO ENLIST THE HELP OF THE INNER CIRCLE SO THAT HE CAN BECOME FIRST FAMILY?

  That seemed funny to Pawl. It had never occurred to him to think that his family could become First, replacing the Proctor. “We Paxwax have no desire to become First. And we know that our family will not survive the fall. I want to see the day when the Proctor First tries to sell his fine teeth to buy bread. I want the Bogdanovich and Shell to boil….” Pawl stopped breathless. He stood bemused before his anger, am
azed at how easily he was stirred and how completely. “I want to see the end.”

  AND WHAT WILL BECOME OF YOU?

  “I shall become a traveller.”

  AH. WE WERE GREAT TRAVELLERS ONCE. It was the Hooded Parasol speaking for the first time. Brilliant colours rippled across its petals and their texture changed from the gloss of holly to the velvet of pansy. WE HOPE TO BE TRAVELLERS AGAIN.

  The chase of colours was followed by a sudden increase in the plant’s odour and Pawl gagged and sat down. Away to Pawl’s left the giant Hammer drummed and Pawl knew that it was laughing.

  so. It was the Diphilus again, its sparkling colours swirling like beads of oil. WE NEED NOW TO PLAN. THE SPIDERET WILL SPEAK.

  The Spideret stretched its hairy legs and its mandibles opened and closed. It seemed intent on cleaning its front feelers, drawing them through its mouth until they were sticky. And then advancing its eyes and shifting and flexing its legs.

  ONLY THE PROCTOR, THE WONG, THE SHELL-BOGDANOVICH AND THE XERXES NEED FALL. THE PAXWAX ARE DISCOUNTED. THE REST WILL TOPPLE, FOR WHERE THERE IS NO CENTRE THERE IS NO PERIPHERY. SIMPLE PLANS ARE BEST. THOSE SPECIES MOST OFFENDED WILL TAKE THEIR VENGEANCE FIRST. TO THE DIPHILUS AND THE HOODED PARASOL ARE ASSIGNED THE PROCTOR. TO THE LINK WORM FALL THE SHELL-BOGDANOVICH. TO THE HAMMER AND THE….

  The giant Hammer drummed interrupting the Spideret.

  WE ALONE WILL TAKE AN.

  THE LYRE BEAST AND THE SPIDERET WILL TAKE THE XERXES. ALL THE FIGHTING CAN BE LEFT TO US. WE ARE READY. YOU – and here the twin feelers of the Spideret pointed straight at Pawl – MUST GAIN ACCESS FOR US.

  And that was the essence of the plan. Pawl was to gain access to the closed Homeworlds. His position as a senior member, head of the Paxwax, was the passport for the aliens.

  “How will I get a Hammer down on to An? The Wong are the most closed of all the Families.”

  A WAY WILL BE FOUND.

  “What shall I do?”

  YOU MUST STRENGTHEN YOUR POSITION. YOU MUST NOT ALLOW ANY SUGGESTION THAT YOU ARE OTHER THAN A DEDICATED MEMBER OF THE FAMILIES. YOU MUST WATCH YOURSELF AND BE CRITICAL. WE WILL TELL YOU WHEN YOU NEED TO ACT. WE WILL TELL YOU WHAT WE NEED.

  And there the meeting ended, much to Pawl’s astonishment. He was used to meetings of humans which dragged on until only the hardiest were still thinking on their feet. At the same time, he was aware that much had been decided before this meeting and that all that had really been required was his formal acquiescence. The Spideret had made that plain.

  The Hooded Parasol was the first to rise, hovering in the domed underground chamber.

  “It needs the sun,” whispered the voice of Odin in Pawl’s mind. Colours pulsed from the centre of the Parasol’s flower out to the edges of its petals. “It is asking to explore your planet.”

  “It can. It is a guest,” said Pawl, and immediately the Hooded Parasol suffused a full and bloody red, the colour of liver. It rose, drifted up the wide grey access ramp, and began to spread its petals as it found the sun.

  “How can something like that kill?” asked Pawl. “It stinks, at least to me it stinks, and I know it can sting … but those are defences only. How will the Hooded Parasol kill the Proctor?”

  Odin replied, “Pawl, you are entering a new world of knowledge. You know so little about the nature of life. The will, the intention and sympathy are all. Even the Hammer treats the Hooded Parasol with respect. If the Parasol thinks death, then its odour becomes an agent of death. I am told it smells sweet. Even its colours can destroy, for they can lock with your spirit. We Gerbes are safe from the Parasol for we can neither see nor smell, but still we respect it. It has a clear mind. It thinks only one thought at a time and that with the whole of its being.”

  The other aliens were beginning to move. The Hammer puffed, its wrinkled orifice opening and closing like a diaphragm. Then its legs worked like pistons, lifting it. Its mouth tentacles picked up Lake and cradled him and then it advanced towards Pawl, drumming.

  “Trader challenges,” said Lake. “Trader will play when he returns. Now Trader will run again.”

  There was no discussing this. Carefully the Hammer stepped high over the Spideret, which scuttled to one side; then it lowered so that its abdominal scales scratched on the floor as it moved under the Lyre Beast. With a loud scratching of claws on the stone floor it accelerated and ran up the ramp.

  Again Pawl wondered how he would get a creature like that through all the defences of An. The chamber filled with spiralling and cascading notes and the Lyre Beast delicately began to explore the ceiling.

  And here the Diphilus spoke, wrapping Pawl in the power of its thought. THE LYRE BEAST IS TELLING YOU NOT TO WORRY.

  “Can it read my mind?”

  NOT AS YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND IT. BUT IT CAN HEAR EVERY PART OF YOU, WHICH IS PERHAPS AS GOOD. IT CAN HEAR THE HAIRS ON YOUR BODY MOVE. IT CAN FEEL YOUR ELECTRICITY. IT DOES NOT NEED TO READ YOUR MIND.

  Again the music.

  AH, NOW IT IS QUOTING TO YOU. ONE OF THEIR PROVERBS. HOW CAN I TRANSLATE THAT FOR YOU? TRY THIS. In his mind Pawl saw hundreds of bodies tumbling in the air. Arms and legs became detached. Strange fish with big jaws swam among them snapping up the trifles. All the bodies were Pawl. And of a sudden they all came together into a single baby, a foetus with its thumb in its mouth and a working placenta. And Pawl could see the blood flow like little red fish, and everything moved together. Then the vision faded.

  THERE. ANY GOOD?

  “I … I think so.”

  MMM. YOU HAVE A PHRASE IN YOUR LANGUAGE, “A PLACE IN THE SUN”. LET ME EXTEND IT TO SAY, “HAPPINESS IS A PLACE IN THE SUN BEYOND TIME”. THERE, THAT IS IT, THOUGH TO A ONE LIKE ME, A DIPHILUS AS YOU CALL ME, A PLACE IN THE SUN WOULD BE HELL.

  Pawl looked at the Diphilus, which suddenly swirled and pulsed like liquid that has just been stirred.

  The enormity of what he was about was suddenly borne in on him. Here he was, Pawl Paxwax, son of Toby Paxwax, head of the Paxwax Family, plotting the downfall of his own race. And there was now no going back.

  “Will you talk with me?” asked Pawl.

  The Diphilus laughed its huge, boulder-crushing laugh. YOU HAVE MANY QUESTIONS, I CAN SEE THAT. DOUBTS TOO. WE CAN TALK. THE SPIDERET WILL JOIN US, AND THE SMALL SAD GERBES. WISDOM IS LIKE A RIVER THAT FLOWS THROUGH MANY CHANNELS.

  The place chosen by the Diphilus was high on a hill in the shadow of a dense stand of Rout trees, whose large fleshy leaves followed the sun. Why it chose this particular spot Pawl did not know, but its method of reaching it intrigued him. The Diphilus flowed and yet it never lost its unity. It flowed upwards like golden oil, and when it found the shallow depression in the rocks, it settled into a pool in the shade. Though the wind blew, the surface did not pucker. The Diphilus became a mirror, like a chip of the sky.

  The Spideret accompanied them, scampering and jumping up the rocks. Once it caught a rabbit and Pawl watched as it wrapped the small carcase in sputum which hardened, and then carried it attached to its back.

  Odin toiled in his steady way, reading the hillside and then choosing the easiest path.

  The jovial presence of the Diphilus made itself felt.

  NOT AN IDEAL RESTING PLACE. TOO HOT BY FAR. BUT I DID NOT COME HERE TO REST. YOU HAVE QUESTIONS, MASTER PAWL?

  Pawl sat with his back to the trunk of one of the Rout trees and stared out across the crimson sea. His island was a dark smudge on the horizon. “So many thoughts … I was a lonely man intent on revenge. Now I feel that I am part of a conspiracy. Am I right?”

  YOU ARE RIGHT. WE HAVE WAITED FOR MANY CENTURIES FOR ONE SUCH AS YOU. YOU HAVE YOUR OWN VENGEANCE, BUT IT FLOWS WITH OURS.

  “Were you hurt … I mean were your entities hurt by one of the Families?”

  OH YES. OUR WORLDS WERE DESTROYED BY THE PROCTOR AND WE WERE BURNED. WE ARE STRANGE ONES, WE DIPHILUS. DO YOU KNOW MASTER PAWL, WE ARE ONE OF THE OLDEST SPECIES. WE KNEW THE CRAINT IN THEIR GREATNESS AND THEY WERE AMONG THE FIRST OF LIFE IN TH
IS … THIS … (Pawl’s mind was filled with a vision of stars). YOU KNOW, THE NAME WE HAVE FOR OURSELVES MEANS FILLED WITH LIGHT. WE ARE LIVING LIGHT MIXED WITH LIVING EARTH. WE HAVE BEEN THE SPARK THAT QUICKENED MANY A WORLD TO START THE LONG SLOG TO AWARENESS. PERHAPS IT WAS A DIPHILUS THAT DRIFTED DOWN ON TO YOUR WORLD WHEN IT COOLED AND FOUND LODGINGS ON THE HIGH MOUNTAINS. THINK ABOUT THAT, MASTER PAWL. PERHAPS YOU ARE DESCENDED FROM US. (The Diphilus’s laughter buffeted Pawl.) BUT DURING THE GREAT PUSH WE WERE HUNTED BECAUSE WHEN WE BURN WE BURN FOR CENTURIES. WE WERE PRESSED IN A GRAVITY VICE AND IGNITED TO DRIVE THE EARLY PROCTOR FLEETS. (Pawl saw one of the old rockets of a type he had only seen in Elliott’s Pocket, blazing through space close to a red star.) NOW ALL THAT IS FORGOTTEN. WE DIPHILUS WERE FORTUNATE. WE WERE SPREAD THROUGH THE GREAT LIGHT. OTHERS WERE NOT SO FORTUNATE. (Pawl saw a Gerbes broiling, a Hammer writhing with its sinews turned to mush, a Land Whale crashing to the ground as explosive darts tore holes in its dark flesh, a Lyre Beast dried and ready for powdering, a Spideret chained and hauling steel cables up to a derrick, a Hooded Parasol blinded and gelded, and being crushed for its dyes.) AND THAT IS BUT A BEGINNING. HAVE I ANSWERED YOUR QUESTION?

  The Spideret, which had held close, seeming to follow this conversation, now stepped delicately towards Pawl. Its feelers moved and its dull eyes rose from their nests. One feeler reached out and touched Pawl on the arm. It was like being nuzzled by a horse. Then the feelers moved in a quick pattern and the Diphilus sighed and began to translate. AH, IT WANTS TO TELL YOU ABOUT LAPIS. ONE OF ITS SISTERS WAS THERE WHEN HE DIED. IT WANTS YOU TO KNOW THAT. HONOUR WAS GIVEN TO LAPIS. HE WAS TREATED AS THE SPIDERETS TREAT THEIR OWN.

  Pawl nodded. The Spideret became still and then delicately withdrew. It spun a ball of white mucus which it spat high into the Rout tree. The mucus became a thread as thick as Pawl’s finger and the Spideret climbed.

  The day was well advanced. Clouds had come, and with them a chill wind from the south. The Diphilus was more comfortable. For some time Pawl had sat in silence, aware of his own thoughts and the clouds that were mirrored in the creature beside him.