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Paul heard the drums from within the room that was his andDorothy's--merely a section of the thatched lean-to inside thefortress wall, but Dorothy had given it the reality of a living place.There were no chairs: one sat on a rug which was a cured uskaran pelt,a gift from Abro Brodaa, whose people had hunted down the tigerishbeast after it raided her village. The bed was only a clumsy frameworkwith an asonis hide stretched across it. But the shelter had becomedear with use, and Dorothy had hung a few of Paul's paintings on thewalls--a portrait of Mijok, one of Christopher Wright which had caughtsomething of the old man's brooding alertness. The red jungle flowerswere too cloyingly rich to be kept here, but Dorothy had found a bluemeadow shrub, and a white bloom that hid in shady ground and recalledthe scent of jonquils....
It was too dark to see her plainly; Paul knew her eyes were open onhim. Barely audible against his shoulder, she said, "I thought I'd beinsatiable. I only want to be near and not think." Neverthelessthought goaded her. "Ten thousand--ten thousand--What can you _do_?"
All he could say was rehearsed, mechanical, and she had heard itbefore. "Frontal attack first, because the pygmies couldn't be ledinto anything else. But I shall turn it into an ordered retreat--tothe island. Drive south, skirt the southern end of the hills, thenstraight for the coast. We'll be at the island in--oh, soon--"
"But the range--the coastal mountains opposite the island--you can'tcross them--they rise so sheer--"
"Remember the river that flows almost due west from these littlehills? It comes to the sea north of the range. We'll make rafts to getdown that, I think. There aren't any falls. At the coast we'llcontrive something--dugouts with outriggers. I've already shown oldRak how to make one; he may be working on it now."
Dorothy pressed a hand over his mouth. She stammered, "Make thismoment last." But even during the fine sharp agony there were words:"I shall keep--a bonfire on that beach--night and day...." and whenhis hand was slack in her hair and she seemed to be hardly breathing,Paul heard the drums.
They were far off and everywhere. Only the remembering brain insisted theywere on the lake. They were not sound at all, at first. A pressure pain inthe back of the skull, a rasping of nerve endings. Nothing but drums.Hollow logs with a hide membrane, rubbed and pounded by tiny paintedsavages. "You must go tonight after all." Dorothy could not speak. He putHelen in her fumbling arms; he hurried out to the open space, saw the eyeof the lifeboat returning. The drums took on a rhythm, a throbbing in 5/8time, rapid, venomous. But far away. Still not quitesound--_Ah_-ah-ah-ah-ah, _ah_-ah-ah-ah-ah--growing no nearer, no louder,but gaining in vicious urgency, relentless as a waterfall, a runawaymachine. _Ah_-ah-ah-ah-ah....
Paul hoped that Wright and Sears might be sleeping. It would be anhour yet before Pakriaa could return with the other leaders, if indeedshe ever did. Elis and Abara were on sentry duty. The three giantchildren still at the camp--would they be sleepless, keyed up to vividfantasies of the island, like Charin children before a great journey?
Kamon sat alone by the gate. A small figure drooped at the other endof the enclosure. Since there was no immediate task for her, Paul hadtold Abroshin Nisana to rest, but he knew her little bald head turnedto follow him. "Kamon--I'm going to have the third flight madetonight. There would be room for you too in the boat. Will you go?"
Black lips and ancient white face smiled up at him. "If you wish."
"I do. Stay close to Dorothy. That will leave four of you giant womenhere. I wish they could all go. Tejron's sober and wise--she'll keepthem together. You're more needed on the island. Don't let Dorothy bemuch alone."
The old woman mused: "This Charin love is a strange thing. It isn'tour natures for two persons to come so close. But I see something goodin it, I think...." Paul struggled to hear her over the almostsubsonic yammer of the drums. _Ah_-ah-ah-ah-ah--it seemed not totrouble Kamon much, though she would be hearing it even more plainly."I will stay with her, Paul," she said, and watched the long glide asSpearman brought the boat in.
On the drawbridge Spearman cocked his head at the drums. "That's it."He read Paul's thought: "The rest tonight, huh? Better, I'd think."
"Yes. Get something to eat, why don't you? Kamon is going too."
Spearman nodded, unsurprised. "Not hungry.... Wonder how long theykeep it up...."
Wright came from his room with sleepless eyes. "Till they attack,probably. All night, maybe all tomorrow. To soften us up. Damnthem...."
Somehow Paul was walking to the boat, carrying the baby for Dorothy.He climbed in with her, adjusted the straps. Helen waked and wasfretful till she found the breast "You bore her alone--without any--"
"Alone!" Dorothy was astonished. "I had you. Doc's a fine medical man,whatever he says. Don't you remember how Mijok held out his arm for meto grab when it got tough? He said, 'I am a tree.'" Now she washolding his look with an indestructible smile until the rest came andPaul had to back out of the cramped cabin to give them room; then hadto stand aside while the bright relic of twenty-first-century man spatits green flame and hot gases at the lake and leaped to soaring andslid into moonless darkness above the hills. The drums wept, raved,obscenely whispered.
Paul did not know Sears Oliphant was with him till he heard the voice:"I think, Paul--the drums defeat their purpose. They make me soreinstead of scared. I think you won't need to worry about me, Paul."
"I never have." He glanced at the fat man's holstered automatic,remembered the cleanness of the rifle hanging in Sears' room. "Myfather used to say most men are good watchdogs, who know they'rescared but stand guard in spite of it; only a few are rabbits andpossums." Paul turned his back on the hills. Nothing was there tosee, nothing at all. "I wish you'd known my father. He was a tall man.Nuts about animals--always brought 'em into the talk--illustration,example. Couldn't stand to see even a wasp beating against the glass;you never knew when a deer mouse would climb out of his pocket and rundown his pants leg." Paul laughed. The drums fretted in 5/8,passionate, soft, cruel.
Sears watched blue fireflies over a lake so peacefully still that thesapphire reflections were as real as their cause. "A teacher, wasn'the?"
"For a while, till he settled in New Hampshire. They wouldn't let himteach nineteenth and twentieth-century history as he saw it. He saw itin terms of ethical conflict, the man versus the state, self-relianceversus the various dreary socialisms, enlightened altruism versusdon't-stick-your-neck-out, and he didn't give a good god-damn whetherthe first atomic submersible was built in 1952 or '53. Doc would haveloved him too: he knew what was meant by a government of laws. He madehis students search out not only theory but the actual dismalconsequences of the doctrine that the end justifies themeans--Alexander, Augustus, Napoleon, Lenin, Hitler. That was regardedas 'wilfully minimizing the significance of technological advance.' Hedidn't minimize it; he just recognized that other matters were vastlymore important, and he didn't care to see the machine built up intoone more mumbo jumbo. So he sent me through college by breedingchildren's riding ponies and selling hatching eggs. Not a bad life, orso he said.... Jocko, will Pakriaa come back?"
"I believe so.... Ah, Chris--nice evening for the month of Charin."
Wright was a paleness in the dark; stern, weary, tall, watching thelake, talking to himself: "The month we named for ourselves--end ofYear One--oh, I do call that a pardonable vanity.... Paul, I waswholly selfish in choosing you. I've given you a burden no one shouldhave to carry."
"We're all carrying it."
"Thank you, son." Wright moved away to stand alone at the rim of thelake, listening to the crawling thunder of the drums. Twice, Paulheard him speak, with an intensity beyond pain: "No one is expendable.No one is expendable...."
Sears exclaimed, "Look!" There were five white cloud-like shapes atthe edge of the woods. "Oh, they've never done this before. Susie!What's the matter? There now, girl, come tell the old man--"
Paul followed him. "It's the drums--don't you think?"
The five had been complaining softly, but that cea
sed as Sears movedamong them, patting their legs, soothing them. "But Paul--theirgrounds are mostly north of here--there now, Mister Smith, you oldbastard--so why didn't they travel away from the sound? Take it easy,Millie, Miss Ponsonby--"
"The wild ones probably did. But these had to come to you."
"Oh.... That detachment of Lantis--the one in the northeast--"
"Don't think so, Jocko. Pakriaa's spies are all around up there--we'llhave warning. Elis is posted half a mile north of us--he'd know--smell'em if he didn't hear 'em. However, I'll go talk with him...."
The depth of forest muted the drums--a little; they were still acumulative torture of anger in the inner darkness of the mind. Paulsaved the fading power of his Earth-made radion flashlight byfollowing his sense of the trail. He had learned to move as softly inthe jungle as any Charin could hope to do--more softly than Spearman,softly enough to steal within spear range of the asonis. There was notmuch danger here, unless it might be from the uskaran, a beast Paulhad glimpsed alive only once and then dimly, a striped thing slippingsnakily out of his vision in a sun-striped afternoon; the rug in hisand Dorothy's room could almost have been a tiger pelt. The blackreptiles were lovers of hot sun and shallow water, never going inland.The squeak and rustle of a kaksma horde, it was said, could be heardfar off except during the rains, when all noises were smothered in thelong rush and whispering of waters. For all his silence, black Eliswas aware of him before Paul knew he had reached the sentry post."Paul--isn't it?" The night vision of the giants was better than theCharins' but not like a cat's; they hunted at night only if the moonwas strong.
"Yes. Everything quiet?"
"Quieter than my heart."
Paul still could not see him. "Saving my flashlight. Where are you?"Elis chuckled and slipped an invisible hand around Paul's. "Theolifants came to the meadow. We wondered what disturbed them."
"Drums. Nothing in the northeast yet. But a great many of the pygmiesare moving from the upper villages. I heard, and smelled the redflowers." The people of Lantis, Pakriaa said, never wore thoseflowers, and it would not be the nature of Elis to exaggerate hispowers of smell and hearing.
"I think the animals wanted Sears. Could that be, Elis?"
"Alojna--" Elis murmured the old word for them: it meant "whitecloud." "Two things nobody knows--the thoughts of Alojna and thejourneys of the red moon and the white moon when we cannot see them.So we used to say. You give us a hint of knowledge of both things, andmore than a hint of much greater mysteries." Elis had always beentireless in questioning Wright; more than Mijok, he was haunted by aneed to grope after intangibles, push outward the uneasy borderbetween known and unknown. "So there's never an end of mystery?"
"Never." The hand was warm. "What is the nature of courage?"
The giant's breathing was too quiet to be heard. "To go out, away froma world, in a little shell--that must have needed courage."
"Perhaps only a response to a drive of uncomprehended forces. But Ithink courage is a known thing, Elis, an achievement of flesh andblood--to hear the drums in the dark and stay at the post as you aredoing, as I hope I can do myself. I must go back. Lisson will come andrelieve you soon...."
Pakriaa had returned, with her five equals. Wright had lit one of theclay lamps. It burned pleasantly with an oil from the carcasses of thesame reptile that had once nearly destroyed Mijok, a thing whichpleased Mijok, for he liked to think that a creeping danger could alsobe a source of light; and the use of this oil had been taught them bythe pygmies, who made almost monthly expeditions to marshy regions andbutchered the beasts by the dozens for the oil alone.
Pakriaa was almost meek. Her smile for Paul could have been a Charinsmile; there was a tremor in her hands, and once they flew up to coverher ears. The drums, he thought, might be a worse pain for her thanfor his own breed. There was unconscious pathos in the precision ofher English: "I did not make clear that I will obey you. I may havebeen angry; for that I am sorry--it is past. My sisters have agreed."
Squat Abro Samiraa; lame, thin Abro Kamisiaa; sober Abro Brodaa--thesethree Paul had met before. Abro Duriaa and Abro Tamisraa were from thefarthest villages, and shy; Duriaa was fat, with a foolish giggle;Tamisraa had a feral furtiveness--the painted bones of her necklacelooked like human vertebrae. In Abro Samiraa Paul saw competence aswell as smoldering violence: the green of her eyes was dark jade; shewas a flat pillar of muscle from shoulder to hip. Paul guessed her tobe a devil of bravery, good in the front line and intelligent. LameKamisiaa's bravery would be shrewd, vicious, and careful. In fatDuriaa he thought he saw a politician, not a fighter; in AbroBrodaa--there might be a thinker, even a dreamer, in Abro Brodaa.
The princesses had brought news. A scout from Brodaa's village hadsucceeded in locating the northeastern detachment of Lantis' army; itwas camped twelve miles to the northeast, on the far side of a deepbut narrow stream. The scout had shown the kind of nerve the pygmiestook for granted: she had crossed the creek to listen in the reeds andhad drifted downstream the entire length of the encampment. TheVestoians were careless, overconfident, their dialect enough like herown so that she could grasp the essentials; their unit was six hundredstrong, with no bowmen. The scout had heard discontented soldiers'talk: the spearwomen missed their subject males, who were campfollowers as well as second-line fighters. Returning, the scout hadlocated and stalked a Vestoian sentry, stunned and gagged her, andbrought her to Brodaa's camp, where she was made to talk. Brodaa hadbeen about to describe this when Pakriaa glanced at Sears andinterrupted: "They plan to cross the stream before daylight, movestraight west, and try to push us down into the open ground, where therest of the army will roll over us."
_The sentry is probably dead. I don't want to know, not now...._ Themachine in Paul took charge of the council of war, rejectingcompassion, rejecting everything beyond immediate need. "AbroSamiraa--take the soldiers of your village and of Abro Duriaa's. AbroDuriaa, you will be in command of your own people, but accept AbroSamiraa's orders as if they were mine." Pakriaa intervened totranslate for the fat woman, who showed no hostility but ratherrelief, and placed her hands formally under the spread fingers of AbroSamiraa in token of subordination. "Abro Samiraa, take those threehundred and the bowmen to the stream as quickly as you can withsilence, and attack. The important thing is to scatter them beforethey are ready to move. If they retreat, follow them only enough toconfuse them and then return here at once. If you can take prisoners,bring them here, unharmed. But do not be drawn into any long pursuit.There are still eleven hours of darkness. I hope to see you returnlong before sunrise."
"Good!" Pakriaa exclaimed, and Samiraa grunted with pleasure. Brodaasaid, "Take my scout, sister. I have given her the purple skirt; sheis Abroshin now, and my friend." Duriaa waddled behind, and Paul sentAbroshin Nisana to relieve Abara from sentry duty. Nisana was glad togo, for Pakriaa still sent her sour glances, remembering the election.
Sears was fretting: "My pets. Damn it, Paul, I dunno--they're huddledout there in the meadow--just get in the way, get hurt."
"Would they follow Abara?"
"I think so...." Abara slipped in and puffed with pride when helearned what was wanted. "Certainly they will follow Mister Johnson,and Mister Johnson will follow me."
Pakriaa laughed. She caught him by a prominent ear and hugged him toher leanness, grinning at Brodaa over his head. "So ugly!" Pakriaanibbled his neck. "And he leads olifants! Don't be afraid, littlehusband--I was never angry with you. Look at him!" She spun himaround for the lewd admiration of the other royalty. "I couldn't dowithout him. When the war is over I'll have him back in my bed. Butnow he leads olifants. Hurry, Abara--and don't hurt yourself." And shesent him off with a pinch.
"Keep them in the woods," Paul told him. "And stay with them."
"Good." Pakriaa sobered. "He could do nothing. He never learned thebow.... Ah, look!" The red dot of the lifeboat had caught her eye."Look, Abro Tamisraa--you never saw it fly at night." It moved withapparent slowness, like a mad star, not toward them but towa
rd thelake, perhaps ten miles away; it was still high when the searchlightbeam stabbed down, probing from northeast to southwest, and vanished."It's all right," Paul said, "I suggested he scout the lake on the wayback...." The red eye silently tumbled; Wright gasped. "Still allright," said Paul. "A dive. He can make it talk." But the momentdragged out into an ugliness of waiting.
Then orange fury glared against the underside of clouds and the clamorof drums abruptly ceased. Paul said loudly, mechanically, "I think hegave 'em the jet--set a few boats afire. I didn't order it, Doc. Andwouldn't try it myself...." Now the red dot was shooting upward,disappearing as the boat circled once, then growing larger. Brieflythe searchlight illuminated the meadow, and Spearman came in,overshooting slightly, driving almost to the moat before he checked.He swaggered in, satisfied. "See it?"
"Uh-huh. What did you learn?"
"Those were drum boats. Why, my God, they opened out like littleorange flowers...! Well--the main fleet is 'way behind them, saythirty miles down the lake, coming slow. Couldn't spot the landarmy--no campfires."
"All right. Sit in on this, Ed...." And the plan was drawn up, so faras there could be a plan when the odds were ten to one in a world thatnever asked for them.
Paul, with Mijok and Pakriaa, would lead three hundred spearwomen anda hundred bowmen south before daylight, in the hope of disorganizingthe advance with surprise and gunfire, but unless the Vestoians weredemoralized beyond expectation, this could be only a skirmish. Theywould fall back, try to avoid losses. The remainder of the army wouldstay at the edge of the woods until Lantis was in sight: Wright at thefortress with the giant women, now only four, who could handle rifles;Abro Kamisiaa and Abro Brodaa in the center; Sears and Abro Tamisraaon the right flank in the west, with Elis and Surok. Spearman in thelifeboat would follow the advance party at first-light. Paul saidnothing of the second drive, to the southeast, the retreat that wouldseem like attack. When the time came for that, he must have in oneunit all that remained after the first wrath had spent itself--andeven then the pygmies would have to believe that they were attackingsingle-heartedly, or they could not reach the southern end of therange, but would probably be driven into the trap of the kaksma hills.
The drums began again. They began after the council was ended andSears had gone to take charge of his command on the right flank, withElis and Surok and shifty Tamisraa. The other small red sovereigns hadgone too, and Wright had stalked into his room--to sleep, he said--andPaul had followed Spearman out to the boat, where Spearman would sleepuntil it was time to go. Spearman tapped his elbow. "You're surprisingme, boy. Better than I could have done, I think. We'll knock 'emover." And the drums began.
Spearman stared off at the lake; after a while he grinned, and thelamp burning in the fortress caught the grimace. "Yeah," he sighed,"well, I knew I only singed 'em." He climbed into the boat and glanceddown with a half salute, which Paul answered mechanically. But as Paulwalked away the thought stirred: _That was like goodbye...._
Paul went along the path at the edge of the woods. It was wide andeasy, broadened during the Year One by much travel between the campand Pakriaa's village. There were occasional small-voiced greetingsfrom the woods: these were Kamisiaa's and Brodaa's people, who knewhim. Brodaa cherished a painting he had made of the singing waterfallabove her village in return for that uskaran pelt. Many of thesesoldiers would be chosen by Pakriaa to bring up the number of theadvance party to four hundred.
There was no red moon tonight. The white moon was half the size of theplanet Earth, so far away that its glow was scarcely more than that ofa star, but Paul knew that by what light it gave the pygmies could seehim smile in response to their greetings. They would be studying him,trying to weigh the tone of his answer. _One of them might save mylife tomorrow; certainly I shall have to see some of them die. Theyare people._
There were two visible planets to follow the wandering of the nolonger alien star that was the sun. One was hidden tonight; the other,red like Mars, hung over the eastern jungle in tranquillity. A littleshape detached itself from the trees to meet him. Abro Pakriaa. "Willyou not sleep tonight, Paul, before we go?" It was a human question,sweetly spoken and meant kindly.
"Later, I think." He stood by her awhile; in the blackness from whichshe had come there was a steady mumbling, and Paul knew what it was:the witches also had their part to play in these heavy hours, althoughlong before battle was joined they would be cowering in the villages.Somewhere in the tree shadows they were squatting, muttering theantique prayers. He wondered whether to go on and visit with Searsawhile. _No: Elis is a rock, better company than I would be at themoment...._ There was much, he thought, that would be good to talkabout with Pakriaa tonight; there ought to be words that would reachher. Perhaps on this night a glimpse of Wright's vision would meetwith something better than amusement and distrust. But in the end heonly said, "We'll always be good friends, you and I."
He thought she might take hold of his hand in the Charin gesture. Shedid not--undignified perhaps. But she said, "Tocwright says we are allone flesh." She said it thoughtfully, without contempt.
"Yes. We are all one flesh." And lest he become a true Charin andspoil a moment of truth with unnecessary words, Paul turned back tothe camp, seeing that she remained there in the open, looking south,the grumbling witches behind her, before her the long night of drumsand no red moon.
Mijok was not asleep. He sat cross-legged by the lamp. "I wanted tothank you. Doc's gone to sleep at last, and before I could find thewords I wanted. It will be difficult to talk in the morning."
Paul sat by him, puzzled. "To thank me?"
"Because I've learned so much. And had so much pleasure in thelearning." Mijok yawned amiably, stretching his arms. "To thank youfor that, in case you or I should be dead tomorrow."
It would have been easy to say: "Oh, we'll be all right--" Somethinglike that. Paul buried the words unspoken, knowing their trivialitywould be a discourtesy, a dismissal of the insight and patience whichmade it possible for Mijok to speak so casually. Mijok loved to bealive; there was no moment of day or night that he did not relish, ifonly for its newness and from his sense that every gift of time is atrue gift. "I thank you for being with us." Mijok accepted the wordswithout embarrassment or second thought.
"Why, you know," he said, "in the old days I never even knew thatplants were alive. But look at this--" He lifted one of Dorothy'swhite flowers from his knee. "It was in your room, Paul. She put itbeside that painting you made of me, before she left." He peered intothe white mouth of the flower, touched the fat stamens, and strokedthe slim stalk. "Everything it needs. Like ourselves. But I never knewthat. We are all one flesh."
Paul glanced over his shoulder. The red planet like Mars was stillhigh over the jungle. He thought: _When that is hidden, it will betime to go._
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