West Of The Sun

by Edgar Pangborn

  6

  Mijok released the hands of his deity and sat back on his haunches,foggy-eyed. Wright stroked the great furry head, troubled and amazed."It won't do," Wright said. "We'll have no gods on this planet. Unlesshuman nature can make itself a little godlike. And no finalArmageddon--for that's within too, and always was. Well, he'll learnlanguage fast. As he does, the first thing he must discover is thatwe're all one flesh." But Mijok was gazing up in adoration at thesound of the voice, trembling, not in fear, smiling when he saw Wrightsmile. "I believe he never had a god before--hadn't reached the stageof personalizing the forces of nature. They're just forces, andhimself a bundle of perception, not even realizing that he's moreknowing and sensitive than other animals. Not arrogant yet, notsophisticated enough to be cruel, or mean, or even ambitious...."

  Dorothy pushed her fists into her cheeks, brown eyes upturned to studythe old man: a way she had, carrying Paul back eleven years to the dayhe had come aboard the ship and seen her for the first time and lovedthe woman who was, even then, manifest in the leggy, awkward child."Doc, why did you do that, out there in the meadow?"

  "Why, Dorothy, we must make contact with those pygmies too. Theyare--advanced. It'll be more difficult. They'll have traditions--maybesome very ancient ones. But we must make contact."

  "Mijok hates them though. If they come here--"

  Wright grinned. "Temporary advantage of being little tin deities. Ithink Mijok will do whatever we indicate--until we're able to teachhim independence."

  Paul said, "Don't think for a minute I'm not with you. But Doc, withthe others helpless we're only three--"

  "Four."

  "Yes, four. There's our own survival to think of. It's a big planet.Seems to me you're taking it on all at once."

  Wright slouched, loose-limbed, at the barrier, where he could watchthe meadow, and Mijok stayed close to him. "I think we must, Paul. Ifwe start right perhaps we can go on right. A mistake at this pointcould go on burning for a thousand years.... Why do you think he brokeout into worship when he did? Our superior achievements--lifeboat,guns, the rescue from that reptile? The fact that I wasn't afraid of apoor pygmy's bones? All that, sure, but something else. Ed would say Iwas daydreaming--but I think Mijok's heart knows what his brain can'tyet interpret. Sears would agree, I think--his own heart's bigger thanLucifer. Mijok hasn't the least conscious idea why I invited thosepygmies to come and get their dead. Down deeper, in the part of himthat made him bring the moss and the meat and take care of us, I thinkhe knows very well."

  "You're proposing," Dorothy said, "to take a chance on love?"

  Wright was tranquil, watching the meadow. "Whenever men put theirchips on the other thing they always lost, didn't they? Repeatedly,for twenty or thirty thousand years? Did they ever create anythinggood except in a milieu of co-operation, friendship, forbearance? Oneof the oldest of commonplaces--the teachers all knew it.Lao-tse--Buddha--or stated negatively: 'He who lives by the sword....'And so on. Good is not the mere absence of evil, but the most positiveof human forces. The instruments of good are charity, patience,courage, effort and self-knowledge, each unavailing without theothers; remember that. And that's all the basic ethics I know. Therest is detail, solution of immediate problems as they arise. Even onEarth the good tended to win out in the long run: at least it diduntil the mechanical toys got out of hand. Then there was a century ofliving under a question mark. There was also the Collectivist Party.Yes, as a prime example of a part of my own philosophy totallyperverted, I give you the Collectivist Party." Wright was talking tohimself again, the bitterness of Earth's history goading him intosoft-spoken monotone, drawling and dark, on a planet nearly fivelight-years distant from the ancient confusions. "The CollectivistParty, which turns 'co-operation' into the same sort of word fetishthat 'democracy' was less than a hundred years ago--co-operation_without_ charity, without patience, without courage and always,always, without self-knowledge."

  Dorothy still watched him with sober upturned eyes. "Ed told me oncehis father was a pilot in the Collectivist Army during the Civil War."

  "I know." Wright smiled at her in bashful half apology. "Some of theold wounds still bleed too, I guess. I generally manage to keep mypolitical mouth shut when he's listening, if I can. Not that Ed couldbe accused of still fighting the war that ended before he was born....Relax: I think they're coming."

  Paul joined Wright and the giant at the barrier, but Dorothy stayed amoment with the sick, feeling their wrists, murmuring something closeto Ann's ear, although the girl could not respond. "Past the feverstage, I believe," she said. "They're all breathing well. No chancethey'll be out of it before night, I suppose...."

  The pygmies were still some distance away, slipping along the edge ofthe woods in plain sight. There were only three--the two women and onebowman; perhaps the others were paralleling their course inside theforest--perhaps a hundred others were. Wright whispered, "Have weanything that would make a respectable gift?"

  Mijok was rumbling in misery and fright. Dorothy came over holding alocket. "This--you remember, Doc--a matron at the Orphanage gave it tome. I used to imagine it could be a portrait of my mother--"

  "But my dear--"

  The brown girl shook her head. "This ship-metal wedding ring Paulhammered out for me--that's the only Earth jewelry I want to keep.This face that might be like my mother's--Oh, Doc, I'm getting to be abig girl now. Besides, Lucifer will have plenty of pretties for uslater on. And Doc--let me do this, will you? They've got a womanleading 'em, so--wouldn't she be less afraid of another woman? I'lluncover, so she--" Dorothy shrugged out of her jacket. "Please, Doc?I'm scared, but--"

  Wright glanced helplessly at Paul. "We--"

  Dorothy said quickly, "_My_ decision." Holding the locket up for thesun to gleam on it, she walked into the meadow and waited in thebrightness. Paul's hand sweated on the rifle stock. He saw Wrightpatting Mijok's arm, heard his restraining murmur: "Quiet, Mijok--keepyour shirt on, Mijok, old man--man...." Mijok searched the face of hisgod with a mute desperation and remained as he was.

  The pygmy woman halted fifty feet away in still-faced musing. As Paulhad seen through the binoculars, she was elaborately tattooed andyoung. The pause was long. Dorothy stepped nearer to the place whereWright had left the bones, displaying the locket, her open left handwaving down at her body to demonstrate that she carried no weapons.For the first time Paul realized she had left her holster belt behind.

  The blue-skirted woman shrilled a word; her two followers fell back.She thrust the blunt end of her spear in the ground and came forwardsteadily until she was only a few feet from the woman of thetwenty-first century; mask-faced, she met Dorothy's smile with a longscrutiny. Now and then the green eyes shifted to study the clearing,the lifeboat, the quiet shapes of Paul and Wright. And Mijok. Perhapsshe stared longest at Mijok, but by some heavy discipline her facerefused to tell of anything but dignity and caution.

  She spoke at last. It was complex, in a tone like the piping of a treefrog. There were pauses, studied inflections, no gestures: herseven-fingered hands hung limp against the blue grass skirt. Theclosing words seemed to have a note of questioning and of sternness;she waited.

  Dorothy's contralto was startlingly deep in contrast: "Darling, Iwould like to know where you picked up that perfectly adorablewrap-around, only I don't think it would suit me. I'm, to put itfrankly, a shade too hippy for such. In case you're wondering, I'm afemale sample of man"--she touched herself and pointed to the pygmylady--"man--"

  "Oh!" Wright whispered. "Good girl, good--"

  "--and it does seem to me us girls ought to stick together,because"--she held out the locket--"well, just because. And anywaylook: I have only ten toes, fastened on to the ends of my feet, and ifI had more, Heaven knows (just count 'em and _see_ how each grows!)I'd have trouble in keeping them neat. Pome. There now, sweetie pie,please take it, huh?" And she opened the locket--Paul remembering inlessening panic how much the unknown portrait did resemble her--andheld it face out to the woman
of Lucifer. A tiny palm came updubiously; Dorothy placed the locket in it. "It won't bite, baby." Thepygmy woman turned it about, puzzling at the hinge. Dorothy stooped todemonstrate the mechanism a few times. "I'm Dorothy, by the way, morewidely known as the Dope, which is a title of uncommon distinctionamong my people, achieved only after long study of the art of sayingthe right thing at the wrong time, burning the bacon, and preservingat all times an air of sweet and addled dignity--Dorothy...." Sheindicated herself plainly and pointed, with questioning eyebrows.

  The tree-frog voice, with no sternness, but a hint of friendliness:"Tor-o-thee...?" She imitated Dorothy's motions. "Abro Pakriaa--"

  "Pakriaa."

  "Abro Pakriaa." There was sternness again in that correction.

  "Abro Pakriaa...."

  Wright muttered, "Royalty, I believe. Don't dare do any coaching.Trust Dot's instinct. Ah, here we go--"

  The pygmy woman had taken off her shell necklace. She crushed thedainty blue and yellow against her upper right breast; she set it fora moment on her shining hairless skull, and then offered it. Wrightsighed, shaken, "It _had_ to work--exchange of gifts--a universal--"

  When Dorothy dropped on one knee to take it, the mask relaxed for thefirst time in a wintry smile. Over the proud bald head went the chainof the locket, and Abro Pakriaa watched Dorothy put the necklaceon--fortunately it was long, even drooping a little below Dorothy'sthroat. A flutter of red hands seemed to mean that Dorothy was tostand back; another motion brought forward the woman who carried thehide, her face a chip of red stone. The hide was unrolled, and thebones placed on it. There was more intricate speech, with touching ofthe locket and graceful, apparently kindly waving of thin arms.Dorothy responded: "Four score and seven years ago...." She went on tothe end without mirth or hesitation, fondling the shell necklace,giving the words the power of music that belongs to them even apartfrom knowledge of their meaning. When she was silent, Abro Pakriaamotioned the woman with the hide to go and held up her two handsclasped together, the Chinese salutation. She waited till Dorothy haddone the same and strode away, recovering her spear without a backwardlook, vanishing under the trees.

  Dorothy collapsed in the shadow of the barrier. Tentatively shegroaned: "How'm I doing?"

  Wright snarled; "Suppose you know that damn bowman had an arrowtrained on you the whole time?"

  She glanced at him, lips quivering. "I was kind of aware of it."

  "Can I," said Paul, "touch the hand that touched the hand--"

  "Oh no. I ain' gonna 'sociate with no common scum no mo'."

  Mijok stared in wonder at their sudden paroxysms of hystericallaughter. He rumbled in doubt. Then the contagion caught him. Whateverhis own interpretation might be, he was bellowing, hammering hischest, rolling over on the moss and scattering handfuls of it while heroared.

  He did not sober until he saw Wright drawing pictures on theearth--three stylized but obvious human figures, one small, onemedium-sized, one large. Only the middle one had five fingers. Wrightgouged a circle around all three. He said, "C'm'on, Mijok--languagelesson."