Текст книги "A Woman of the Iron People"

Автор книги: Eleanor Arnason

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Ulzai

After a while Ulzai said, “You are beginning to falter. Give the paddle to the man without hair. I’ll watch him and tell him what he’s doing wrong. You watch the river for logs.”

Derek took the paddle. I rubbed my injured shoulder and looked around.

We were in the main channel: a broad expanse of water, empty except for an occasional bit of floating debris—a branch, a leaf, a mat of vegetation, a tree.

On my left was the eastern shore, covered with forest. The valley wall rose in the distance. It had not changed: a row of bluffs, made of soft rock and deeply eroded, pale yellow in the sunlight.

On my right were islands and sandbars and patches of marsh. Most of the islands were covered with trees. I couldn’t make out the shoreline. There was no neat line between solid ground and water, no way to tell a large island from the riverbank.

Beyond the marsh and forest rose another line of cliffs, marking the western side of the valley. A lot of water must have run through here at some time in the past. Was this evidence for glaciation? A question for the planetologists. I wondered if they’d ever get down here, ever get to see this valley.

Midway through the afternoon Nia opened the food sack and handed out pieces of bread. We drank sour beer.

“There’s our storm,” Derek said.

I looked west. Clouds billowed above the cliffs: cumulonimbus, tall and grayish white. Other clouds—high and thin—extended to the middle of the sky. The sun shone through them, its brilliance barely dimmed.

Ulzai said, “You take the paddle back, o hairless woman. We are going to need whatever skill you have.”

I followed orders. A wind began to blow, and the river grew choppy. Ulzai said, “Turn in.”

“Where?” I asked.

“The island ahead. The big one.”

We paddled toward it. Driftwood was piled on the upriver side: gray branches and roots, trunks worn smooth by water. We skirted the driftwood and came to shore on a little sandy beach. I climbed out. There was a low rumble of thunder in the west.

“Get the boat up on land,” said Ulzai.

We unloaded the boat and pulled it out of the water, then carried it to the edge of the forest.

By this time the sky was dark. Ulzai made the gesture that meant “come along.” We gathered our supplies and followed him into the forest. A path wound among the trees. Above us foliage rustled in the wind. The air smelled of damp earth and the approaching rain.

We reached a clearing. There was a pool in the middle, three meters across, clear and shallow. I could see leaves on the bottom. Last year’s, maybe. They were dull yellow and gray. A dark blue mossy plant grew at the edges of the pool, and orange bugs skittered over the surface.

At the edge of the clearing was an awning, large and made of leather, stretched between four trees. All the debris of the forest floor had been cleared out from under it, and a pile of driftwood lay in the middle of the bare ground.

“That is my home,” Ulzai said.

“Spartan,” said Derek in English.

There was a crack of thunder. I jumped. Raindrops splattered down through the forest canopy.

Ulzai made a gesture.

We crowded under the awning, and the rain began in earnest. It drummed on the awning, dripped off the edges of the leather and fell into the clearing like—what? A gray curtain. A mountain torrent. I huddled, my arms around my knees. Wind blew water in on me. Lightning flashed. There was more thunder.

“This won’t last,” said Derek.

“I hope not,” I said.

Again lightning. Again thunder. There was no pause between them. The lightning was close. I shivered, not from fear. The air was cold, and I was getting wet. Nia was closer to the edge of the awning than I was. Already her tunic clung to her body. Her fur was matted down, and she had a look of grim endurance.

“There has been a lot of rain this summer,” the oracle said. “I wonder who is responsible.”

Ulzai said, “One thing I have learned since I came up the river. The weather here is never reliable. To me it looks as if there are a lot of different spirits who take a hand in making the weather. They don’t get along. They refuse to work together, and that explains why there are so many kinds of weather here and why the weather is always changing.”

I looked at Nia. She was frowning. “You grew up on the plain, Nia. Is he right about the weather?”

“I do not know what causes the weather here, but in the country of my people—” She paused.

Hail fell with the rain. The hailstones bounced and rolled. A few ended under the awning. They were the size of gumballs.

“Everything comes from the Mother of Mothers,” Nia said. “All the spirits are her children, and she has mated with a lot of them. This kind of behavior would be absolutely wrong, if people did it. If a man encounters his mother in the time for mating, they ride away from each other as fast as possible. But spirits are different. And who else did she have to mate with, the Great One? Every spirit came out of her body.” Nia wiped the fur on her forehead, getting rid of some of the water.

“She mated with the Spirit of the Sky. They had four children in one birth. All were daughters. Each was a different color. When they grew up, they moved away from their mother and became the four directions. The pale yellow daughter settled in the east. The dark orange daughter settled in the west. The black daughter became the north. The last daughter was blue-green like her father. She became the south.”

“This is a story I’ve never heard,” Ulzai said.

The oracle made the gesture of agreement.

The hail piled up, turning the ground white. Nia went on.

“The Spirit of the Sky visited each daughter in turn, and each of the women gave birth to a son. They were the four winds. They grew up to be fierce and quarrelsome. They all laid claim to the land between the four directions. None would back down. They fought for the land, never ceasing, and life became impossible for everyone. Even the demons began to complain. They lived underground, but they liked to come out from time to time and cause trouble. How could they do it now? They had no idea what they’d find. A flood to put out their fires. A deep snow in the middle of summer. Hail like this or a heavy rain.

“At last the Mother of Mothers took a hand. She called the four cousins. They came and stood around her. That must have been a sight! Each one was a different color, and each one was as tall as a thundercloud. The wind from the east was yellow like his mother. The wind from the west was orange-red like fire. The wind from the south was the color of the sky, and the wind from the north was iron-black.

“They towered over their grandmother and glared at one another.

“ ‘You naughty boys,’ she said. ‘Why can’t you stop fighting?’

“The north wind answered her. His voice was deep and rumbling. The breath that came from his mouth was cold. ‘We are all big men. Not one of us is willing to back down. How can we let another man have the land in the middle? Each one of us wants the women. Each one of us wants the animals.’

“ ‘Look around!’ said the Mother of Mothers. ‘You have destroyed everything that you have laid claim to. Your floods have washed away the villages. Your sudden frosts have killed the vegetation. The animals have fled. The demons are talking about leaving. What is left that is worth fighting over?’

“The four cousins looked around. Their grandmother was telling the truth. The plain was brown and black. Nothing lived there. No people. No animals. No vegetation.

“ ‘And let me tell you something else,’ said the old woman, the Great One. ‘While you have been fighting here, other spirits have been visiting your mothers. Now you have sisters that are almost grown.’

“ ‘Is that so? Then I will go home,’ said the wind from the south. His breath was hot and dry. It smelled like the plain in the middle of summer. Aiya! What an aroma! How sweet and pleasant!

“ ‘No,’ said the Mother of Mothers. ‘I will not let you mate with your sisters.’

“ ‘Why not?’ asked the wind from the east.

“ ‘There has been too much of that kind of thing. If it continues, soon the children who are born will look like monsters or demons.’

“ ‘But what are we going to do?’ asked the wind from the west. ‘You don’t expect us to live without sex.’

“ ‘No,’ said the Mother of Mothers. ‘In the time of mating, each of you will leave your home territory and go to another direction—north to south and west to east—until you meet your cousins or other women or even female demons. Mate with them! But remember this! I speak for the land in the middle. It does not belong to any of you. When you cross it, travel carefully. Treat everything with respect. Make no trouble. Cause no harm.’

“The four cousins frowned and glared.

“ ‘What if we do not agree to this?’ asked the northern wind.

“ ‘Then I will deal with you, and don’t think I can’t.’ All at once the old woman increased in size. She rose until her head almost touched the sky. The sun shone over her left shoulder.

“The four cousins looked up. Their mouths hung open. They shaded their eyes. They saw their father, the Spirit of the Sky. He floated above the old woman. The sun was the buckle on his belt. His wings spread from horizon to horizon. He looked down at them. His face was blue-green. His eyes glared angrily.

“They were afraid. ‘All right,’ they said. ‘We will do as you suggest.’

“ ‘Good,’ said the Spirit of the Sky.

“That is the end of the story,” said Nia. “The four winds stopped fighting. The weather became less violent. The people who had left came back to the land in the middle. So did the animals.

“But in the spring, at the time of mating, the four cousins travel across the land looking for women, and that is why the weather is bad in the spring.”

She paused. I looked at the clearing. The hail had stopped. Rain still fell heavily.

“It is not spring now,” said Ulzai. “Your story does not explain this weather.”

“The cousins are restless and unruly,” said Nia. “They prowl around the edges of the land in the middle. They try to be careful, but sometimes they meet one another. Then they shout and gesture. Lightning flashes. There is thunder and hail. But they do not fight the way they used to. Instead they back down and move apart. No real damage is done.”

Ulzai made the barking sound. “I have seen black clouds that rose up to the sky. They leaped on the plain like dancers dressed in black tunics. I have seen two and three and four—all at the same time, one in each direction, dancing at the horizon. I think those clouds are able to do harm. And what about the hail that beats the vegetation flat? The winds that tear up trees? The storms of ice? Even the heat of summer can do damage. I have been out in the open and felt the heat like a blow to the head and a blow to the stomach. Those men have not kept their promise. They are still fighting, and this land is still a bad place for people.”

Nia looked angry.

“Why are you here?” asked the oracle.

“The rain is getting lighter,” Ulzai said. “And I am getting edgy. You may be used to being with other people. I am not.” He stood and moved out from under the awning. “Stay here! I’ll come back.” He walked into the forest. His limp seemed worse than before. The weather, most likely.

“He has been in some kind of trouble,” said the oracle. “And so has the woman. Why else would they have left their home?”

“People leave for no other reason?” Derek asked.

“Don’t act as if you are stupid,” Nia said. “You know there are travelers who carry gifts from one village to another. And men who like to wander. And women like Inahooli, who leave home for religious reasons. But the oracle is right. Those two people have done something wrong. I can tell. The rain is stopping.”

She got up and went out into the clearing, stopped and looked at the sky. “It will clear. Hu! I am wet.” She ran her hand down her arm, trying to squeeze the water out of her fur.

Most of the time the natives reminded me of bears, but there was something catlike about Nia at the moment. She grimaced and rubbed her other arm. “Aiya!” She pulled off her tunic and wrung it out, standing naked in the clearing. “I’m not going to stay in this place. It’s too wet. Let the man find me, if he thinks it is important.” She walked off, carrying her tunic.

Ulzai had headed inland. Nia went back toward the shore.

“Off in all directions, like the four spirits,” Derek said.

The oracle opened the bag that Tanajin had given us. “I am going nowhere.” He took out a piece of yellow fruit about the size of a z-gee ball. I was pretty certain it was a fruit. He bit in. Juice squirted. The oracle wiped his chin and licked his fingers, chewing all the while.

Derek got out his radio. “Nia is right. There ought to be a wind by the river and sunlight, if the clouds clear. I think I’ll have a talk with Eddie. And when I’m done with that, I’ll think about fishing.”

He left. The oracle kept eating. A ray of sunlight touched the pool. It gleamed.

“It will get hot again,” said the oracle.

I made the gesture of agreement. The air was humid. Clouds of tiny bugs appeared. In the sunlight over the pond they shone like motes of dust. In the forest shadow they were invisible. But I felt them hitting my face. I snorted and waved.

The oracle said, “Go. I can see you are getting angry. If the man comes back and wants to know where everyone is, I will tell him.”

“Okay.” I walked toward the river, moving slowly and looking around. The trees were tall, their trunks straight and narrow, their bark gray. The foliage, high above me, was blue. Here and there a few leaves shone, touched by sunlight, like pieces of blue glass in a window.

There must have been more than one path. The one I followed led me to a place I did not remember. A few dead trees stood among stands of a plant without leaves. Knobby green stalks moved stiffly in the wind.

I could go back and try to find the path I should have taken, but how would I recognize it? I looked down. My shadow pointed along the path. I was heading east. We had landed on the eastern shore of the island. Better to go forward.

The path grew mucky. The plants grew tall: a meter and a half, two meters. Water gleamed amid the vegetation. I was in a mire. It was time to give up. I turned.

There was a lizard on the path ten meters away. Not a really big one. I estimated it to be two meters long, tail and all. The animal lifted its head, turned it, and regarded me with a bright black eye.

Oh, hell.

The mouth opened. I saw ragged teeth. A tongue came out, thick and black.

I kept still.

The animal’s skin was brown with only a few wrinkles, and the spines along the back were in good condition. This fellow was comparatively young. He hadn’t suffered from time and violence. Was he dangerous?

The mouth opened wider. The tongue extended farther. What was it doing? Tasting the air? Tasting my aroma? Finding out if I were edible?

I didn’t want to go toward the animal. I didn’t want to turn my back on it, either. There was marsh on either side of me. I began to sweat.

The long body whipped around. A moment later the animal was gone—off the path and out of sight among the reeds.

I let out my breath. Ulzai came into view, limping down the muddy trail, a spear in one hand. “I told you people to stay put. I got back, and no one was there except the little man. I went to find you. What did I discover? Your trail going off in the wrong direction! Are you crazy? Or merely a fool?”

“A fool,” I said.

He barked. “It is good that you know what you are. Many people do not. This path leads into a marsh. There are lizards.”

“I know. I saw one just before you came. On the path where you are standing.”

He looked down at the mud in front of him. “I see. It wasn’t big. An animal that size will not attack a full-grown person. You were in no danger. Come on.”

By the time we reached the river, the western half of the sky was clear. The sun shone brilliantly. Nia had spread her tunic on the canoe. She lay on the sand on her back, one arm over her eyes. Derek sat close by. “I’ve been watching the river. There are big fish out there. I think I’ll make a fishing pole.”

“A what?” asked Ulzai.

The word that Derek had used meant—in common usage—a tent pole or the pole of a standard.

“What do you think I said?” asked Derek.

“That you wanted to make a tent for fishes. Or else—” Ulzai frowned. “That you wanted to set up a standard with a fish on top. Is that the animal of your lineage?”

“My animal lives in salt water,” Derek said. “It looks like a fish, but it isn’t one. The name for it is ‘whale.’ ”

Ulzai grunted.

“What I meant to say is—I want to go fishing. I use a pole.”

Nia said, “He does. I have seen him.”

Ulzai looked interested. “In the marshes the women use nets to catch fish. The men use spears. And when I came up the river, I met people who use baskets and walls made of woven branches. The walls guide the fish into a trap. The baskets are the trap. But I have never heard of anyone using a tent pole.”

Derek got up. “I need a branch. It has to be long and straight and flexible. Can you find me anything like that?”

Ulzai made the gesture of affirmation.

“Take care of the radio, will you?” Derek said.

“Yes. What did Eddie say?”

“The plane is coming down the day after tomorrow. Eddie expects us to be at the lake in three days. He’s been able to stall the big discussion till then. He wants us to participate—not in the flesh, of course. We’ll be in quarantine. But we can address the multitudes via holovision. He assumes that we are going to back him. We are going to have to make a choice, Lixia. Which side are we on?”

I made the gesture of uncertainty.

“You talk too much,” Ulzai said. “And too many of the words you use are strange. Come on.”

“Ulzai certainly likes to tell people what to do,” said Nia. She yawned. “Aiya! It is comfortable in the sun. I think I will sleep.”

I looked at the river. Nia began to snore. The clouds kept moving east until most of the sky was clear.

The two men came back. Derek had his branch and a coil of fishing line.

“How is the oracle?” I asked.

“Tired. His arm hurts. He’s eaten all the fruit.”

“Hu!”

“Uh-huh.” Derek tied the line to the pole, then tied on a hook. He bit off the extra piece of poly and spat it out, then bent and picked it up. “We can’t leave souvenirs of a higher culture.” He stuck the poly into a pocket of his shirt and reached into the other pocket, pulling out a grub. It was fat and yellow. He slid the hook into the animal. It wriggled. I looked away.

Ulzai, I noticed, watched everything with interest. Nia continued to snore.

Derek reached into his pocket again and pulled out a lead weight, which he pressed into place on the line. “Fortunately, this is a metal-rich planet. If I lose the weight, it isn’t likely to influence the course of history. But I’d better not lose the line. The Unity knows what would happen if these savages discovered polypropylene.”

Ulzai frowned. “I can understand only half of what you are saying.”

“They always talk like this,” said Nia. She sat up. Her fur was dry. It shone copper-red-brown. “It makes me angry. I have told them. They keep on the same way as before.”

“I’m going down the beach,” said Derek. “There’s an eddy that looks interesting close to shore. In reach of this damn rig, I think. I wish I’d brought a folding rod with me, and a good spinning reel. I could have figured out a way to smuggle them down.” He looked at Ulzai. “I may have to wade in the water. Is that going to be dangerous?”

“No. The lizards do not come to this side of the island. Not often, anyway. They like slow water. The river bottom goes down steeply here and the current is swift. Be careful. If you catch anything with your tent pole, bury the guts on land. Never put anything bloody in the water. The lizards will taste the blood and come.”

“Okay,” said Derek.

“What about my lizard?” I asked. “The one I saw? It was on this side of the island.”

“It was on land,” said Ulzai. “When it goes back into the water, it will find a place where the bottom is shallow and the current barely moves. I know these animals. They do not have the courage of the umazi.”

Derek left us, going along the shore. He stopped and looked at the river, his head tilted, considering something not visible to me—the eddy, and waded into the water, swinging the long pole out. The line dropped in. He lifted the pole a little, then stood motionless. The rest of us watched him. Nothing happened.

“He knows how to keep still,” Ulzai said at last. “All good hunters do.”

Nia made the gesture of agreement, got up, and put on her tunic, the one that had belonged to Inahooli. It was wrinkled and there were stains on it. We were all looking pretty ratty.

“Atcha,” said Ulzai.

The pole was bending. Derek had changed his grip. He was holding on tightly now. The pole bent more. He waded out a little farther.

“Be careful,” called Ulzai.

The fish was going down.

No! It came out of the water in front of Derek: a long, dark body that twisted in midair and fell back into the river. Splat!The pole bent again.

“A good-sized fish,” said Ulzai. “But it isn’t worth catching. That kind is full of bones. And the flavor.” He made the gesture that meant “it could be worse.”

Derek lifted the pole. The fish must be rising. Yes! It jumped again, flashing in the sunlight, and fell. Derek lowered the pole. The fish ran toward the center of the river. The line gleamed, visible for a moment. I saw the tension in it. Derek turned, bringing the fish around in a circle, guiding it back toward shore.

“This is interesting,” said Ulzai. “But I don’t think it’s a good way to catch fish. It takes a lot of time. That much is obvious. And the fish might get away—even now, after all the effort he has put into catching it.”

I said, “Um.”

The fish was in the shallows. Derek grinned. A moment later he said, “Goddammit.”

The line was invisible at the moment. So was the fish. But I could see a zigzag pattern of ripples on the surface of the water, made by the line as it entered the water. The pattern led away from the shore. The fish had turned again.

Derek let it run till it reached the end of the line, then he started to bring it in a second time. He was sweating. His face gleamed, and there were dark patches on his shirt.

“I have seen that on certain animals,” Ulzai said. “Water comes out of their skin in hot weather or when they have made some kind of big effort.”

“Yes,” I said.

“You certainly are unusual people. What does it mean? That he is working?”

“Yes.”

“When a man uses a spear, he knows at once whether or not he has the fish. He may have to wait a long time before he has a chance to strike, but he doesn’t have to work as hard as this man is working.”

I was listening to a natural ice fisherman. What could I say to a person like that? He would never understand the pleasure that Derek took in fighting the fish. Though it didn’t look like pleasure at the moment.

The fish surfaced. The dark back shone. I caught a glimpse of a ragged dorsal fin. It dove and resurfaced again.

“Come on, baby,” said Derek. He lifted the pole and took a step backward. “That’s it. I promise you, I’ll be grateful. I’ll give you praise. You won’t be sorry you came to me.”

The fish thrashed. Derek took another step toward shore. “That’s it,” he said again.

The fish floated just below the surface of the water. I could see it: a long, narrow shape like a cigar or a torpedo. It was almost motionless.

Derek changed his grip, going hand over hand along the pole, until he reached the tip. The butt dropped in the sand in back of him. He took hold of the line. The fish struggled weakly. Derek pulled it in and grabbed it, his fingers going behind the gill cover. He lifted. The animal twisted. It was half a meter long with a tan belly and a dark brown back. The fins were spiny and the mouth was full of teeth. Derek pulled out the hook. He was grinning.

“Another chapter for the book I’m planning to write. Fighting Game Fish of the Galaxy.I think I’ll lie about the weight of the line.”

“Ulzai says that kind isn’t very tasty. And it has a lot of bones.”

“Damn.” He lifted the fish higher. “I promised that I would give it praise.”

“You could throw it back,” I said.

“It’s exhausted. I’ve just done a lot of damage to its gills. If I let it go, it’ll die. I’ll have increased my karmic burden, and I won’t have dinner.” He shook his head. “As long as it isn’t poisonous, I’m going to eat it.”

“It is not poisonous,” Ulzai said.

“Good. Take care of the fishing pole, will you, Lixia? I have to kill this fellow.”

“Okay.”

He walked up the beach. I went to retrieve the pole. By the time I had it, the fish was dead.

We went back to the clearing. Derek roasted the fish. It had more bones than a northern pike and even less flavor. Derek ate most of it. The rest of us made do with bread and dried meat.

When we were done, Derek said, “I told the fish I would praise it. That’s a promise that has to be kept. It was handsome. It fought well. It kept me from hunger. I’ll remember how it looked, leaping out of the water. And in time”—he grinned—“I’ll forget what it tasted like.”

Ulzai made the gesture of agreement.

“That was good praise,” said the oracle. “And more than I expected of you. Most of the time you seem lacking in respect.”

“I am an intricate person,” said Derek. He used an adjective that was usually applied to metalwork or embroidery. As far as I could figure out, it had two connotations. It meant either an impressive technical achievement or something that was ornate and overdone.

Nia woke me the next day at dawn. By sunrise we were back on the water.

Derek and Ulzai paddled. I watched the river. We glided past islands and sandbars and a lot of floating debris. Clouds appeared sometime after noon. Cumuli. They loomed through the summer haze.

“Another storm,” said Ulzai. “I know a place on the eastern shore. A stream runs into the river. There is a cave.”

“Aiya!” said the oracle.

“Are there any spirits in the cave?” asked Nia.

“I have never seen any. I have camped there many times.”

“Okay,” said Derek.

The river wound toward the eastern side of the valley, and the main channel ran almost directly under the eastern bluffs. The riverbank was steep here, overgrown with green and yellow bushes. Above the foliage was a high wall of stone.

Ulzai pointed. I saw a notch in the cliff. A stream emerged from the bushes that grew below the notch: a thin sheen of water that ran over yellow rocks, then vanished into the river.

We landed south of the stream, unloaded the canoe, and pulled it up on the bank. Birds wheeled above us, crying.

“What a lot of work,” I said.

Derek made the gesture of assent. “One of the many reasons I am not entirely in love with pre-industrial technology. Though there are plenty of people on Earth who could make a better canoe using traditional methods. Maybe the problem here is a lack of the proper materials. Maybe we should introduce the birch tree.”

“Aluminum,” I said. “Plants scare me more than factories.”

“You are doing it again,” said the oracle. “Using words we don’t know.”

I made the gesture that meant “I’m sorry.”

Ulzai said, “Come on.”

We picked up our bags and followed him up the bank. The stream ran next to us in a ravine full of bushes. I couldn’t see the water. I heard it: a faint gurgle. The birds kept crying. I looked up. A flock was chasing a single bird that was obviously of a different species. The bird that fled was the size of a gull. The members of the flock were—comparatively speaking—tiny.

The big bird fled toward the cliff. The little birds followed, swooping and screaming.

I tripped.

“Watch where you are going,” said Derek in back of me. “Or you’ll end up in that ravine.”

We reached the cliff. Vines grew on it and overhung the entrance to the cave, so I didn’t see it until Ulzai pushed through a patch of greenery and vanished. We followed him into a shallow space, five meters deep at most. I glanced around. There were no dark holes, no signs of an inner cave. I set down the bags I carried.

“We’ll get wood,” said Ulzai. “Before the rain.”

Nia was right. He did like to give orders. A pity he was on this planet where the men had no chance to organize anything. He would have been a natural for disaster relief.

We went out. The sun had vanished behind a wall of clouds. The valley was dark and the sky was darkening rapidly as the clouds spread.

I gathered an armload of wood and returned to the cave. Ulzai was back already. He had a fire going, just inside the entrance. Smoke drifted up through the leaves of the vines. They were fluttering. The wind was rising.

“This will be worse than yesterday,” said Ulzai. “Look at the sky in the west. It is a color between black and green.” He laid another branch on the fire, then looked up, frowning. “The worst weather is in the spring. Nia is right about that. This time of year it is not likely that we’ll see the black dancers. The clouds that hop and spin.”

Tornadoes. I had seen one the first year I lived in Minnesota. I still had nightmares about the damn thing. They scared me more than tidal waves or volcanoes. Maybe because they were unpredictable.

Derek and the oracle came in. They dropped their wood next to mine in the back of the cave. The oracle said, “It looks terrible out there.” He rubbed his neck. “Aiya! I am tired.”

“How is your arm?” I asked.

“That isn’t the problem. Now it is my belly. It was grumbling all night. I could not sleep, and I still feel queasy.”

“The fruit,” said Derek. “I wondered if it would get to you.”

Nia returned. “The rain has begun. Big drops. When they hit the rock, they make a mark as wide as my hand.”

She added her wood to the pile and sat down. “It has been a long time since I’ve been on the plain. And usually this time of year I’d be north of here with the herd and the village. I think—I am not certain—the storms are worse along the river.”

“I don’t think so,” said Ulzai. “But I am not certain, either. I haven’t spent a lot of time on the plain.” He paused. “There is a question I have been wanting to ask.”