Cycle of Fire

by Hal Clement

  The open structure of the outer wall had the advantage of letting in plenty of light, but it also meant that they had seen most of what there was to see from outside. In this case that was very little. A room, or hallway, about fifteen feet wide ran the full length of the building parallel to the street; it was completely devoid of furnishings of any sort. The inner wall of this passage possessed doors similar in size and shape to those leading from the street but not nearly so many of them. Kruger chose one at random and crawled through. Dar followed.

  This room was also long and narrow, but its longer dimension was away from the street rather than parallel to it; the door through which they had entered was in one end. It was much smaller than the outer hall. At the far end was a dais raised about a foot from the floor. At four points, seemingly at random, on the floor itself were dome-shaped structures about two feet high and eighteen inches in diameter with fluted sides that made them look like inverted jelly-molds. They were made of some light-colored stone; Kruger was just barely able to slide one along the floor when he got between it and the wall and used his legs. Their purpose was certainly not obvious. Other furniture seemed easier to explain; there was a rectangular metal affair with sliding drawers and a mirror-smooth surface made of highly polished obsidian set into one of the side walls. The mirror, if that was its intended function, was about the same size and shape as the doors.

  The drawers of the bureau, or filing cabinet, or whatever it was were fastened by simple latches. The top one was empty. The second was nearly full of metal objects, about half of which had no obvious function, while the others might very well have been drawing instruments. There was a pair of dividers, a straight edge marked off as a scale, a semicircular protractor divided into eighteen major parts by deep engraving in the metal, and several tools apparently for both cutting and engraving. One of these, a scalpel-like affair with a double-edged blade and a handle about three inches long, he pointed out to Dar with the suggestion that he take it along; he had been using Kruger’s knife on his meat ever since he had discovered the advantages of a metal blade. The handle was not of a shape to fit his hand very closely, but neither was that of Kruger’s knife, and this at least was nearer to the proper size.

  Further examination of the room disclosed a small pipe emerging from one wall, with what appeared to be a burner nozzle at the tip. Kruger deduced a gas lighting fixture, with the corollary that the builders of the city possessed eyes.

  The dais at the rear of the room contained two shallow, bowl-shaped depressions a little under four feet in diameter which might have been flower pots or bathtubs for all Kruger could guess. Approaching it, however, he seemed to feel an increase in temperature. Since he was always soaked with perspiration anyway, he wasn’t sure at first, but when he touched the wall he jerked his hand away again with a startled exclamation; the surface was burning hot.

  Dar preserved himself from hysterics only by a major exercise of will. He wanted nothing to do with sources of heat, artificial or not, and he withdrew to the door while Kruger finished his investigations alone. These took some time, for just as he had decided that there was nothing more to see, his eye caught a metal plate set flush with the floor. This was only about an inch square, and almost featureless, but careful examination disclosed a pair of tiny perforations near each of its sides.

  Kruger went back to the drawer that held the drawing instruments, secured the dividers, and by inserting their points in two of the holes finally managed to pry up the plate. Its metal took no visible damage from what was presumably unorthodox treatment. This fact, however, did not hold Kruger’s attention at the time.

  What caught his eye was simple enough — merely a dull-colored surface with two small holes. After regarding these silently for several seconds Kruger went to work once more with his improvised pry-bar, and in a few minutes the dull plate came out beside its cover. Underneath it was exactly what the boy had expected to see — two silvery wires surrounded and separated by a black, flexible coating and leading to metal cups. With all due respect to the possibilities inherent in different culture backgrounds Kruger felt safe in concluding that he had been dissecting a plug receptacle designed to deliver current to whatever the inhabitant of the room chose. In short, an electric socket.

  He looked at the wires, and up to the pipe and jet on the wall, and back to the wires, whistling tunelessly. Then he replaced the covers and relieved Dar’s mind by leaving the room.

  Kruger was not frightened but was sorely puzzled by what he had seen. A city, still in good repair although without any present inhabitants, presumably abandoned not long ago — yet running down into the ocean for a distance that implied centuries of land sinking, equipped with gas-lighting and electric wiring in the same building.

  Dar was not able to throw light on the question. He recognized the weight of his friend’s arguments in all matters except the gas-electricity question and was willing to accept a qualified opinion there. Kruger explained that situation as well as he could while they rested in the shade of the building’s entrance hall. Theer was practically at his closest, and travel was impractical anyway. Dar understood without any trouble that a gas light was a form of fire and led the conversation hastily on to the question of electricity. Kruger did not expect to get much of this concept across and was pleasantly surprised to discover that Dar appeared to be following quite well. The explanation was long, of course, but by the time Theer had dropped once more behind the hills the boy was as sure as he ever became that he was understood.

  The question then arose of just what they should do about it all. Kruger thought it would be best for them to examine at least one or two more buildings to make sure that the one they had seen was typical; then they would have some more or less organized information, which Dar could give to his people. Kruger’s chance to report it to his people seemed a good deal more remote, but perhaps he could use the knowledge himself.

  Dar had a more serious problem. His interest had been aroused, of course; he would like, in one way, to bring a group of his people and perhaps some Teachers back to this place so that they could learn more about the electricity that Kruger had described. At the same time there was the fact that he had violated firm and long-standing instructions — not merely orders of the Teachers but written material handed down in books from the time before his people were born — against having anything to do with fire. There could be no doubt that whoever had built this place had never heard of those laws. If Dar made a complete report at the Ice Ramparts would the result be an expedition, or censure? This was his problem, of course; he could not ask Kruger for advice. The human being obviously had never heard of the law either but could hardly be blamed for that; his background was different.

  Still, what he was to do with the information made little difference in what he should do now about acquiring more. He followed Kruger’s lead, therefore, and some hours were spent in going through a number of the structures.

  These were no more identical than the buildings of a terrestrial city would have been, but none of the variations were particularly startling. The gas pipe-electric wiring anomaly seemed to exist everywhere; Dar pointed out that the pipes were only in inner rooms, whereas electrical outlets frequently appeared in entrance halls and even on outer walls. There seemed to be some prejudice on the part of the city dwellers against the use of electricity for lighting. Kruger refused to credit Dar’s suggestion that they might not have invented electric lights. His opinion was that anyone who could construct a dependable current source, sufficient for a city, could at least strike an arc with it. He may have been right.

  Although Theer had not been down very long, several thunder showers had passed over the city while they were investigating. When the two decided that they had seen enough and should probably continue their journey they found that another of the storms was just breaking. It would not have been impossible to travel in the rain — Kruger was usually soaking wet anyway — but visibility was not good and the
y decided to wait.

  Like most of the others the shower did not last too long, and presently the sky began to lighten. Dar replaced his pack on his shoulders and they started out while rain was still hissing down. It struck the pavement loudly enough to make conversation difficult, and rivulets of water gurgled down the slope of the gutterless street toward the sea. Probably this was what kept Dar’s ears from warning them. At any rate that was what he claimed later.

  Whatever the reason, neither of them knew they were not alone until the company showed itself deliberately. The interruption to their journey involved both word and action; the word was “Stop!” and the action took the form of a crossbow bolt which splintered against the street in front of them. Dar and Kruger, realizing that the projectile must have come from above, rapidly covered with their eyes the roof edges in their vicinity, but nothing moved.

  The word had been in Dar’s language, so the pilot took it on himself to answer. He very carefully refrained from raising his own crossbow. “What do you want?”

  “You must come with us.”

  “Why?” Kruger had understood enough of the foregoing conversation to be able to ask this question.

  “You are — — — — — — the city.” The first and last parts of this sentence were all the boy could follow.

  “What’s their trouble?” asked Kruger.

  “The trouble is ours. We are — we did — coming in the city was bad.”

  “Why?”

  “They do not say.” Dar did not mention that he thought he knew; this was no time for lengthy explanations.

  “Do you have any ideas as to who these are?”

  “Ideas, but I don’t know.”

  “What do you think we should do?”

  “What they say.” Dar, standing in the middle of a bare street, was in no mood for a crossbow duel with an unknown number of antagonists, all under excellent cover. Nevertheless there was one question in his mind.

  “What will be done to us for entering your city?”

  “Whatever the Teachers say. It is not for us to decide.”

  “What has happened in the past?”

  “No one has disobeyed a Teacher for many years. At first, when people were young, some did; they suffered, and did not offend again.”

  “But suppose we did not know we were offending?”

  “You must have known; you are a person. The thing with you may be forgiven. The Teachers will decide.”

  “But I never heard of this place; my Teachers never told me of it, and it is not in the books. How could I know?”

  “You must have very stupid Teachers. Maybe you will not be blamed for that.” Dar was sufficiently indignant to make a retort which Kruger would have discouraged, had he been able to follow the conversation at all closely.

  “Am I from your city?”

  “No.”

  “Did your Teachers tell you of my city?”

  “No.”

  “Then there must be two sets of stupid Teachers on Abyormen.” If Kruger had understood this remark he would have confidently expected to see it answered with a volley of crossbow bolts, but nothing of the sort happened. The unseen speaker simply returned to the original question.

  “Will you come with us without fighting?”

  “We will come.” Dar made the answer without any further consultation with Kruger. After all, the boy had already asked Dar what should be done, and presumably had no opinion of his own.

  With Dar Lang Ahn’s words the openings in the surrounding buildings gave forth some fifty beings. Kruger was able to take the revelation without particular surprise, but Dar was shocked beyond measure to find that the attackers were identical physically with himself. He was a well-traveled individual; he had met, on his official trips to the Ice Ramparts and elsewhere, members of his race from several score cities scattered over Abyormen’s globe, and he had never heard of any except the uncaught savages living out of touch with the Teacher-ruled cities. Still, there was no questioning the facts; the beings surrounding him might have come straight from any city he had visited. Even the carrying harness they wore was virtually identical with his own, and the crossbows borne by most of them might have been made by Merr Kra Lar, home in Kwarr.

  One who seemed to be in charge spoke as soon as he came up to them.

  “You used a word that I never heard a little while ago. What is a book?” This question was not understood by Kruger; Dar had never told him what was in the pack he kept so carefully by him. Dar might not have been surprised at his human companion’s ignorance of such matters, but that a member of his own species should never have heard of a book was quite unthinkable. Life could not go on without a record of the life that had gone before!

  When he recovered from the astonishment that the question had caused him he tried to explain, but his listener seemed unable to digest the concept of writing. In an effort to clarify the point Dar removed one of the books from his pack and held it open before him while he tried to explain the significance of the marks, but this produced a result he had not foreseen.

  “I do not quite understand why you need such a thing when you can ask Teachers for what you need to know, but perhaps our Teachers can tell why you do. We will show them your books; give them to me.”

  V. CONFISCATION

  THERE WAS NOTHING else to do; one crossbow can do nothing against two-score. For an instant Dar thought of making a wild break through the surrounding group to the shelter of the nearest building, but he abandoned the idea. Alive, he might recover the books.

  “I would prefer to carry them and show them to your Teachers myself,” he suggested.

  “There is no need to bring you to them at all unless they order it,” was the reply, “but they will certainly want to see your books. I will go to them and show them the books and ask what is to be done to you.”

  “But I want to see them, to explain why I did not know I was breaking their law.”

  “I will tell them that. Since you have broken it what you want is not important.”

  “But won’t they want to see my companion? You have already said he was different from people.”

  “Yes, I will take him.”

  “Then you will need me. He knows very little proper speech, and I know some of his words.”

  “If the Teachers wish to speak as well as look, and find that they need your aid, you will be sent for.” The speaker held out a hand and Dar reluctantly handed over his priceless pack.

  Marching orders were given and the group headed back the way Dar and Kruger had come. However, instead of turning inland when they reached the avenue the pair had followed to the sea, they crossed it and headed toward the seaward side of one of the volcanoes — the one that had been on the left as the wanderers approached the city.

  For the first time Dar regretted that he had not insisted on learning more of Kruger’s language. The problem was to get the books back and get out of reach of these people, the sooner the better; failing that, to get out himself and get a report to the Ice Ramparts telling of their location. That had to be done in less than twenty years; no alternative was thinkable. With luck, Nils Kruger would help. Just now it would hardly be advisable to discuss the matter with him; too many of the words they would have to use would be understood by those surrounding them. Later, perhaps they would be left alone; if not, Dar would simply have to make use of the little English he had mastered. In that connection an idea struck him and he spoke to Kruger, using his English vocabulary to the utmost.

  “Nils, talk while going. Your tongue. About anything.” He could not be more explicit; he wanted Kruger to discuss what they saw as they went along, in the hope that an occasional word would bear a sufficiently obvious meaning, when considered in connection with the words Dar already knew, for the native to grasp it. Kruger did not understand this, but he could see that Dar had something definite in mind, and endeavored to please. Since the most obvious subject for speech was just what Dar wanted, things did not go too b
adly.

  It was a method which would not have been very practical, used by most human beings, but with the sort of memory Dar possessed it was not completely unreasonable. Even so, the little pilot’s vocabulary increased very, very slowly indeed and frequently had to be corrected.

  While this was going on the group passed the volcano, following the narrow beach of pulverized ash between it and the sea. On the other side the jungle came down practically to the shore in scattered tufts of vegetation, separated by piles of ejecta and occasional small sheets of lava. For a couple of hours they threaded their way through these patches of jungle, gradually working away from the sea. The ground did not rise again; they remained about at sea level and Kruger would not have been surprised to encounter another swamp. Instead they finally ran into a region of fog.

  This was the first time in his months on Abyormen that Kruger had encountered this phenomenon and he was more than a little surprised. It did not seem to go with the air temperature. Nevertheless the drifting wisps of water vapor were there and as the group advanced they grew larger and more frequent. The boy had a sufficiently good background of physics to attribute the whole thing to one of two causes — either something cooling the nearly saturated air, or a body of water whose temperature was higher than that of the air above it. He was not too startled, therefore, when the second of these situations materialized. Pools of water appeared on both sides of their path, and presently the way led into a clearing two or three hundred yards across, dotted with more bodies of water which were giving off thick plumes of vapor. Some were bubbling violently, others lying quiet in the sunlight, but all seemed to be hot. Dar was visibly nervous — visibly to their captors, that is; Kruger still did not recognize the symptoms. The being who carried the pack was moved to inquire about it.