Текст книги "A Woman of the Iron People"

Автор книги: Eleanor Arnason

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I decided to stop talking. Eddie was getting angry, and I didn’t want any part of one of his rages.

“I’m going to turn this thing off. I want to do my exercises.”

“Okay. Tell Derek to call in. No. On second thought don’t bother. He always remembers.”

I turned off the radio and did my exercises. After that I meditated, fixing my gaze on the eastern horizon. The sky there was a transparent deep blue with a tinge of green. Farther up—where the blue grew lighter and a bit more green—a point of light shone. A planet. I concentrated on my breathing. In. Out. So. Hum.

Behind me Derek spoke. “Achieving oneness with the universe?”

I twitched, then looked around. He was standing about a meter away. He had come up soundlessly. He grinned. “Do you want any peyote? I brought some down.”

“It seems to me we agreed, no narcotics on the surface of the planet. Unless, of course, they were provided by the natives.”

“First of all, peyote is a hallucinogen. And second, it is necessary for the practice of my religion.”

“The committee agreed with you?”

“Which one? The ship is full of committees.”

I opened my mouth. He raised a hand. “You’re right. I didn’t get permission.”

“What is this? Some kind of infantile rebellion?”

“I get tired of rules. I take it you don’t want any peyote.”

“No.”

“How about sex? I’ve been noticing, you look very good down here. I think it’s something to do with the sunlight. Nothing looks right on the ship. But here.” He waved a hand at the darkening sky.

I thought for a moment. “Okay.”

He sat down next to me, putting an arm around me.

He was, as I had remembered, very good. Not fast. Derek came from a hunting and gathering society. He knew the value of patience and slow, careful work. He knew how to use his hands. He knew what to say and when. Is there any pleasure equal to seeing—or hearing—or feeling—a really good craftsperson at work?

We ended naked in the prickly pseudo-grass. He was on top of me and in me.

Nia said, “What are you doing? Don’t you realize it is the middle of summer? No one mates this time of year.”

Derek said, “Go away, Nia. We’ll explain later.”

“Very well. But you people are strange.”

Derek lifted his head. “She’s gone. Now, where was I?”

I laughed.

Afterward we lay awhile in the vegetation. I felt wonderful. I had been alone too long. How many days? Forty-seven? Forty-eight? I would have to ask Eddie. I had lost count.

Derek got up and started dressing. I followed his example. A meteor fell. We walked to the camp. Nia sat next to the fire, which was dim and had a peculiar aroma. Dung did not burn the same way as wood. She looked up. “Are you through with your mating?”

“Yes.”

“You are perverted.”

“That may be.” Derek sat down.

Nia looked at the fire. “I am unlucky. Everywhere I go, I meet people who do things the wrong way.”

Derek grinned. “What do you mean by that? What is the wrong way? Is it what the old women say is wrong? You told us you did not care about their opinions.”

“That is true. But everyone knows people feel lust in the spring. Only sick people feel lust at any other time.”

“We are not ordinary people, Nia. You must understand that. We are stranger than you can know. But we are not bad. And there is nothing wrong with our health.”

“You make me uneasy. I am going to take a walk.” She got up and limped away. In a minute she was gone, out of sight in the darkness.

I sat down. He frowned. “How upset is she?”

I made the gesture of uncertainty.

“That’s a lot of help.”

We waited up for an hour or so. Nia did not return. At last I went to sleep. I woke at dawn. Nia was close to me, lying down, her cloak around her, snoring softly.

We rose at sunrise and continued west. The weather stayed the same: hot and bright. The land continued rolling. To the north of us was a range of low, round hills. Clouds floated above them.

“That is the land of smoke,” Nia told us. “It is a holy place. The water there bubbles like the water in a cooking pot. Smoke rises out of cracks in the rock.”

“Oh, yes?”

Nia made the gesture of affirmation.

A little past noon Derek stopped. He was on top of a rise. We rode up to him.

“There is someone behind us,” he said.

“A man,” said Nia. “No woman travels alone.” She barked. “No. I do not tell the truth. I have traveled alone. But usually women go together.” She glanced back. “I do not see him. You must have good eyes.”

“Yes.”

Nia shaded her eyes and looked again. “I will believe you. Someone will have to stay awake at night. If the man has decided to come close, he will do it then.”

We kept on. By this time there were clouds all across the sky. They were small and fluffy, arranged in rows. The land was dappled with shadows. Here and there I saw outcroppings of dark rock. Basalt? I wondered. According to the planetologists, the rocks here were virtually identical to those on Earth.

The hills to the north were closer than before. Nia kept glancing at them. “I do not like the land of smoke. There are demons there.”

“Oh.”

In the evening we made camp near the top of a hill, under a huge mass of rock. It was black and rough. Volcanic. Below us was a valley full of bushes. Their leaves were yellowish green. We went down and found dry wood. Nia built a fire. It lit the dark face of the rock and the bodies of my companions: Derek—lean and smooth and brown, Nia—broad and furry.

We ate. Derek stood. “I’ll take the first watch.” He glanced around. “There ought to be a good view up there.” He walked to the rock and began to climb, going up quickly with no hesitation.

Nia watched him. “Can he do everything well?”

“There are times when I think so.”

“You do not like him.”

“Not much.”

“Why not?”

“Because he does everything well. For me nothing is easy. I envy him.”

Nia frowned and looked at the fire. “I had a brother like that. Anasu. He did everything that was expected, and he did it better than most. By this time he is a big man. I am sure of it. He wasn’t the kind to stay in the hills with the young men, with the men like Enshi. By this time he must have a territory close to the village and many women in the season for mating.” Nia scratched her nose. “There was another one. Angai. A friend of mine. She was hard to get along with when she was young. People didn’t like her. But she turned out well. She is the shamaness in my village. She has my children.” She looked up. I was staring right into her orange eyes. “I do not understand what has happened to me. But I know this. It is wrong to feel envy. Hakht did. It burned in her like fire under the ground. It made her into something disgusting. I will not envy other people.” She got up and went to get her cloak. “Now I am going to sleep.”

She lay down. I stayed up. The big moon was visible in the west: high up and half-full, a bright lemon yellow. It lit new clouds. They were large and billowing. A new weather system? I grew drowsy. My mind wandered from subject to subject: envy, then Nia’s brother. What was he like? What was it like to have a brother in her culture? I remembered the junior members of my family. Leon. Clarissa. Charlie. Maia. Mark. Fumiko.

Fumiko was the youngest by far. At the time I left she had been finishing college, getting ready for her wander year or years. I had gone early, at the age of twenty. I’d quit school and gone to the Big Island to cut sugarcane. Then I’d worked my way to Asia on one of the new freighters. I cooked and learned to operate the computer that controlled the sails. That was easy. The computer damn near ran itself. But I nearly went crazy, trying to cook in the tiny galley while everything around me moved.

Well, that was long ago and on another planet. I got my poncho and settled down to sleep.

I was awakened by an ululating scream: high-pitched, eerie, inhuman. A moment later I was upright. I didn’t remember how I’d gotten into that position. On the other side of the fire was Nia. She was standing, too. Her eyes were wide open, and her knife was in her hand.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

I realized I knew and that I had been wrong. The sound wasn’t inhuman. It was the battle cry of a California aborigine. I looked around. “Derek?”

Out of the darkness came another sound, a cry of fear in the language of gifts. “Help! Help! A demon!”

I turned and ran downhill. Nia followed. We scrambled through the pseudo-grass. Below us the voice repeated, “Help! Help!”

Derek shouted, “Stop fighting me!”

I saw them, a thrashing mass, barely visible in the moonlight. I stopped. Two bodies rolled back and forth. Derek was on top. I saw his blond hair flipping. The person on the bottom cried, “Help me!”

Nia said, “If you are peaceful, stop struggling. The other person will not harm you. He is not a demon.”

“No?” The body on the bottom stopped moving. “Are you sure?”

Derek climbed off the other person and pulled him or her up.

“Aiya! What a thing to happen! Are you absolutely certain that this being is not a demon?”

“Yes,” said Nia. “Who are you?”

“I am the Voice of the Waterfall.”

“You cannot be! I know about him. He spends his whole life next to the waterfall. When he dies and the people find his body, they throw it into the river. His bones lie among the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall.”

“That is true. Can’t we talk by the fire? I am afraid to be out here in the dark. And can’t this being with the strong hands let go of me?”

“Lixia?” asked Derek.

“It’s okay. Let go of him.”

We walked up the hill. When we got close to the fire I looked at the oracle. This time he had clothing on: a ragged kilt. I couldn’t make out the color. Gray or brown. Around his neck was a necklace: gold beads and big, uneven lumps of turquoise. The turquoise was blue and blue-green. The necklace was magnificent. The man rubbed his arms. “Hu! What a grip that being has!” He looked at Derek. “Another hairless one! What is happening to the world?”

“Why are you here?” asked Derek.

“Can’t we sit down? I’m tired. I have walked for days. My feet hurt, and I am so thirsty that I can barely talk.”

Nia got her water bag. He drank and then sat down. “Aiya! That is better. Do you have anything to eat?”

Nia gave him a piece of bread. He ate it.

Derek asked, “Why have you been following us?”

“That is a long story. Sit down. All of you. But not too close. I am not used to people.”

We sat down. The man took another drink of water. Then he stared at me. “You are the one I met.”

“Yes.”

“You went to the village. After that my mother came with other women. She—my mother—brought food and a new blanket, a fine, thick, soft one. She told me I wasn’t taking care of myself. I would freeze in the winter. I told her, ‘Old woman, you are as crazy as I am. Don’t worry about me. I belong to the waterfall. The waterfall will take care of me.’ She gave me a medicine that is good for a sore throat and for a feeling of thickness in the chest. Then she went on. She came back with that one.” He pointed at Nia. “After everyone was gone I had a dream. The Spirit of the Waterfall came to me. It was like a person, except that it was gray like silver, and I couldn’t tell if it was male or female. It told me, ‘Something important is going on, and it concerns the person without hair. Follow that person. Watch that person. Listen to what that person says.’

“I tried to argue. ‘I belong here. The Voice of the Waterfall never leaves this place.’ The spirit began to look angry. ‘You are myvoice. Don’t talk back to me.’ Then I began to shake. The spirit went on. ‘I do not belong to any one place, though I like this canyon and this waterfall. As for you, you belong where I tell you to be. Now go! And don’t argue. Remember whose voice you are.’

“I woke up. What could I do? Only what the spirit told me. I went to the village. You”—he pointed at me—“were inside. I waited. I ate whatever I could find. When people came near I hid in the bushes. Finally you came out, and I followed you onto the plain.

“What a journey! It took—how many days? Five or six. I wasn’t able to keep you in sight. But I knew you would follow the trail. After a day or so one of my sandals broke. I threw both of them away. My feet began to hurt and I was hungry. I dug up the root of the spiny rukhaplant. It gave me food and water, but I stung my fingers on the spines.

“After four days I came to a river. Hu! What a pleasure! I drank water and gathered bugs. I made a fire and roasted them. How sweet! How delicious! I ate until I was sick, then rested and then crossed the river.

“The next night was terrible.” He stopped for a moment and shivered. “I was lying on the plain—alone, with no cloak to cover me. An animal came. I heard the sound of its breath. Oo-ha! Oo-ha! I could smell it. It stank of rotten meat. It prowled around me. It sniffed and made a humming noise. I thought, I know what this is. A killer of the plain, and it is going to eat me. I didn’t move. I was too frightened.

“The creature went around me a second time, humming all the while. I felt it. Aiya!” He shivered and blinked. “I felt it take one of my legs between its teeth. It lifted up my leg, then it let go. I let my leg fall as if I were dead already. The spirit must have guided me. The spirit must have told me what to do.”

Nia leaned forward. “I have heard of this. They attack if you move. Or if they smell blood. But if a person remains motionless, they will leave her alone.”

The oracle frowned. “This is my story. Let me finish it.”

“Okay,” said Nia.

“What?”

“Go on.”

“After that the animal went away. I stayed where I was and thanked the spirit. In the morning I looked at my leg. There was no blood. The animal hadn’t broken the skin. Aiya! What luck!”

Derek made the gesture of agreement.

“I got up and went on. What else could I do? I hurried. I was afraid of spending another night alone on the plain. The sun went down. I saw your fire shining in the darkness. I came near and that person”—he pointed at Derek—“jumped on me. I thought, I have met up with a demon. I am going to die, and I only hope the Spirit of the Waterfall is happy with this turn of events.

“But I didn’t die and here I am. This is the end of my story.”

Derek spoke in English. “Who is this?”

“He’s an oracle. I met him after Nia was injured. His mother is the shamaness of the Copper People of the Plain. I think he’s a little crazy, though I’m not sure. How does one judge insanity in an alien culture?”

“And how does one tell the difference between craziness and holiness?” Derek changed to the language of gifts. “What next? Do you want to travel with us?”

“Yes. Of course. That is the will of the spirit. I am going to sleep now. You can discuss whether or not you want me as a companion. But I warn you—no matter what you decide, I will follow you.” He got up and moved away from the fire to the edge of the darkness. He lay down, his back to the plain, and curled up in a fetal position. After a moment he moved one arm, so it covered his face.

Nia said, “Truly, the world is changing. I meet people who mate in summer, and a holy man now appears, who is willing to leave his holy location and travel with ordinary folk. No.” She looked at me and Derek. “I don’t mean ordinary folk. I mean, people who aren’t holy.”

“Well,” said Derek in English. “Does he travel with us?”

“Why not?” I looked at Nia and spoke in the language of gifts. “What do you think about him?”

“We can’t leave him alone on the plain. He’s as helpless as a child or an old woman. Moreover, he is holy. If we abandon him, the spirits will be angry. There is no question about it. He must come with us.”

Derek nodded and got up. “I’m going back up to watch. Get some sleep, Lixia. I’ll wake you later.”

He woke me after midnight, and I kept watch. It was cool and still except for the noise the bugs made in the pseudo-grass. Toward morning I woke Nia. She got up, and I went back to sleep.

In the morning we went on. Nia and the oracle rode. I joined Derek on the ground. The trail wound among hills. There was plenty of rock here: cliffs and outcroppings and boulders, all black and rough. The valleys were grassy. Now and then we saw a flock of bipeds: the pseudo-dinosaurs. Most were about a meter tall and bright turquoise-blue.

“It’s a beautiful planet,” Derek said as he walked next to me.

“Yes.”

“What’s the line from Donne? ‘O my America, my newfound land!’ Of course, he was talking about a woman. A new mistress.

 
“License my roving hands, and let them go,
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America! My newfound land,
My kingdom, safest when with one man manned.
My mine of precious stones, my empirie.
How blest am I in thus discovering thee.”
 

“Derek, how do you manage to be so literate?”

He glanced over, grinning. “Hard work, my love. And a very high intelligence.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He laughed. “Anyway, I feel the way Columbus must have. Or stout Cortez, silent on his peak in Darien. What a discovery! What a planet!” He swept out one hand, waving at the hills and the blue-green sky. A pseudo-dinosaur screamed and ran away.

Nia looked back. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Derek likes this country.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

She stopped and glanced around. “I don’t remember it. I have taken a wrong turn somewhere. This isn’t the trail I wanted.”

The oracle made the gesture that meant “don’t worry.” “The spirit will guide us.”

“That may be.”

In the afternoon the sky got cloudy. Toward evening rain began to fall: a light drizzle. We made camp in a grove of trees. Derek shot a pseudo-dinosaur. Nia cleaned it. The Voice of the Waterfall and I went looking for wood.

After dinner I called the ship. A computer answered. It had a cool, pleasant female voice with a very slight Russian accent.

“No humans are available at present,” it said. “You may report to me.”

I did.

The computer thanked me and said the information would be relayed to the appropriate people. “I am a level-six program,” it explained. “My intelligence is a construct and—do I mean or?—an illusion. I am therefore not a person, according to the current definition of the term.”

“Do you mind?” I asked.

“That is not a meaningful question, at least when addressed to me. I neither think nor feel. I do what I am told to do.”

I thought I heard sarcasm in the courteous even voice. But that was hardly likely. Why would anyone write sarcasm into a level-six program?

I turned the radio off, lay down, and listened to the rain pattering on the leaves above me.

The morning was overcast. Nia said, “You ride today, Li-sa. I want to find out how my ankle is doing.”

“My feet still hurt,” the oracle said. “They are covered with blisters.”

Derek laughed. “Don’t worry. You can have the other bowhorn.”

Rain began to fall, and mist hid the distances. We traveled through grayness, up a long slope. Sometime around noon we reached the top. There was a level area, then a drop-off. We were on the rim of a valley. I reined my animal. The valley floor was visible in spite of the mist. The ground was bare and bright orange.

Derek sniffed. “Rotten eggs or sulfur. I think we can assume geothermal activity.” He spoke a mixture of English and the language of gifts. I could understand everything, but our companions looked puzzled.

After a moment Nia said, “I don’t know what kind of activity you are talking about. But I don’t like the look of this valley. Or the smell for that matter.”

Derek glanced to the side. “Don’t worry. We aren’t going down. The trail goes along the rim.”

We followed the trail. The rain stopped. The clouds lifted. I could see the valley clearly. It was shallow and more or less circular. The entire floor was brightly colored: orange, orange-red, and yellow. Here and there plumes of white rose. Steam. The plumes moved, blown by the wind. In the middle of the valley was a lake: round and dark. Derek kept looking at it.

“Something isn’t right. The lake is peculiar.”

“I can believe that,” Nia said. “This land is peculiar.” She used the same word Derek had. It meant “unusual,” “unexpected,” “wrong.” After a moment she went on. “I don’t remember any of this. I am certain we’re on the wrong trail, though I don’t know how that is possible. I have a good memory and a good sense of direction. I never get lost.”

I twisted in the saddle. She was trudging next to me. Her feet were muddy, and her fur was wet. Her tunic clung to her body. “What shall we do?”

Nia made the gesture of uncertainty.

“Keep going,” the oracle said from behind me. “The Spirit of the Waterfall will see to it that we arrive in the right place.”

“What a comfort!” Derek said.

We came finally to a place where the valley wall was low. A slope led down toward the orange and yellow floor. At the top the slope was covered with vegetation: little bushes and a lot of pseudo-grass. Farther down the ground was bare. A dark line wound across it: another trail, narrower than ours, less well used, going into the valley.

Derek stopped. I reined my animal.

The oracle rode up beside me. “What is it?” he asked.

“I think we ought to make camp.”

“Here?” I asked.

Derek made the gesture of affirmation.

I looked around. On one side of me was the slope. On the other side was an outcropping of rock, black and massive. The trail—the main trail—led past it. There was nothing else. No wood except the little bushes and no evidence of water. “Why?” I asked.

“We aren’t going to make it down off the rim before night, and I haven’t seen any places that are better than this.”

“He’s right,” said Nia. “That rock has an overhang. It ought to protect us, if it rains, and there is forage for the animals. I admit I would like some fresh water. The water in our bags is getting stale. But when a person travels without her village, she must take what she can get.”

“And be grateful for it,” said the oracle.

Nia made the gesture of agreement.

I dismounted. The oracle did the same. I stretched up as high as I was able, then bent over. I could barely touch the ground. I brushed it with my fingertips and straightened up, breathing in at the same time. More exercise! This expedition was no excuse for getting lazy.

The oracle said, “He wants to go into the valley.”

I looked at Derek. He was staring at the view. The sky was clearing. Sunlight edged the clouds, and the colors of the valley were even more brilliant than before. “Why?” I asked.

He turned. I knew that expression, the lifted eyebrows and the twisted grin. Derek was planning something that was either frivolous or dangerous. And he wanted my approval. The charm had gone on. I had no idea how he did it, but it was as dramatic as a light rod beginning to glow. His smile widened.

“Derek, stop it! Turn it off!”

“What?”

“The masculine beauty, the charm, the sexiness.” I had switched to English. Nia began to frown.

“I want to take a look at that lake,” Derek said. He was speaking the language of gifts. His voice was low and even. A reasonable voice. The voice of sanity. “I think I can make it there and back before the light is entirely gone.”

“I doubt it, and I think you’re crazy to try. That is a very active area down there. The ground is probably hot, and it may not be reliable. It may be a crust over something ugly. You could go through. You could end up in the soup, and I am being more literal than metaphoric.”

“Speak our language,” Nia said. “I am interested in this argument.”

“Okay. I’m telling Derek not to go into the valley.”

“You won’t change his mind,” the oracle said.

Derek laughed. “He’s right. Give in, Lixia. There is no point in talking. I’m going to go.”

I made the gesture that meant “so be it.” “Take your boots.”

“Why? I move more quickly with bare feet.”

“I told you. I think the ground is hot.” I bent to the side, raising one arm. With the other arm I reached down toward my ankle, then closed my eyes, concentrating on my breathing. In. Out. So. Hum.O jewel of the lotus.

I straightened up and opened my eyes. Derek was on his way: a small dark figure scrambling through the pseudo-grass, a good distance off already. Beyond him and below him was the valley.

Nia unsaddled the bowhorns. We built a fire under the overhang. Dinner was the last of the pseudo-dinosaur.

“Why did he go?” Nia asked.

“I have no idea. He does these things. Not often.” I paused. I wanted to say, most of the time he plays by the rules. But I didn’t know the native word for “play.” I said, “Most of the time, he does what is expected.”

Nia finished a piece of meat. She tossed the bone into the fire. “All men are crazy in one way or another.”

The oracle made the gesture of agreement.

I stared out at the evening sky. The Great Moon was up. It was more than half-full now, and it looked to be—what?—three quarters the size of Luna when Luna was seen from the Skyline Drive in Duluth on a midsummer night.

Why didn’t I know the word for “play”? I looked at Nia. “What is the word for what children do when they throw a ball?”

“It is called ‘fooling around.’ ”

Well, yes. That made sense. That was one meaning of “play.” But it had other meanings, too. I thought of Hamletand the triple play, though I wasn’t entirely sure what the triple play was. And swordplay. Hamlet and Laertes, for example. And musicians playing their instruments. What I needed was the O.E.D. Eddie had access to the language computers. I reached for the radio, turning it on.

I got a computer again. The same program as before. I recognized the accent and the tone of distant courtesy. There was more static than usual. The cool voice came through a constant faint crackling, like fire.

I asked for a definition of “play.”

“Just a moment,” the computer said.

I heard the usual noises that computers made when working: a beep, followed by a series of chirps, and then by a bell-like tone. A new voice—another program—told me what “play” meant in English.

This voice was male and had a Chinese accent.

When it finished I thanked it and turned the radio off.

“What is that thing?” asked the oracle.

Nia leaned forward. “Li-sa told me about it. It is a way to talk to people who are beyond the horizon.”

“Oh. I thought it might be a musical instrument. It makes a lot of different kinds of noise, and some of them are pleasant.”

“What do you do with a musical instrument?” I asked.

The oracle frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What is the word for using it. For making it make a noise.”

“Oh. Nakhtu.”

“That is in his language,” said Nia. “In the language of gifts, it is nahu.”

“Is that like fooling around?” I asked.

“No. Of course not. Children fool around. Grown-up people are sensible. Or—if they are not sensible—they are crazy, which is different from being a fool.”

“Oh.” I looked at the fire, then at the moon. The aliens had musical instruments. They had ceremonies. They danced. I knew they were capable of competition. Think of Hakht and Nahusai. But did they play as we did? Ritual aggression and competition were absolutely central to the Western cultures. The East Asians had opera and kabuki and all the martial arts. Everyone had soccer. Did these people need to play as much as we did? There was so much tension in human society, so much frustrated aggression. Even now, when the old society—the society of greed and deprivation—was gone.

Wait a minute. Not every human society was full of tension. I remembered the California aborigines. They were mellow, consciously and deliberately. Mellowness was central to their religion. It was a sign of enlightenment. The ideal aborigine was mellow and in touch. He or she kept a low profile, close to Mother Earth.

I thought about Derek. He could be mellow, but it was an act. Under the surface he was like a bull walrus. He knew what he wanted, and he would fight to get it. Had he known what he was like as a kid? Was that why he’d left his people? He would have been a failure, frustrated and angry, among people who could sit for hours watching a condor in the sky and be happy.

“That’s where it’s at,” one of them told me, a witch wearing a loincloth and a lot of tattoos. “Mother Earth and Father Sky, the things that live—the plants and animals. All the old mysteries that the prophets spoke about. Black Elk and the Buddha. Jesus and Mother Charity. They all tell us the same thing. No matter how much you struggle and strive, you’ll never get out of this world alive. So why struggle? And why strive? Do what you have to. Take what you need. Be thankful and be mellow.”

Okay, I told that old memory. I closed my eyes and saw her: lined face and long flat breasts. There was—there had been—a crescent moon on her forehead. Between her breasts was a pendant, a double axe carved out of shell. A wise old lady. Had Derek known her? Not likely. Her tribe was different. They were mountain people, the Bernadinos.

I ate another piece of meat, then went to sleep, waking in the middle of the night. The moon was gone. The sky was full of stars. I sat up. The fire was a heap of coals that still glowed a little. I looked around. Nia was next to me, snoring. Farther off I saw another body. That must be the oracle.

On the far side of the fire was a third person standing upright, tall and pale. “Derek?”

“I just got back.” His voice was low. “You were right. The ground is hot. I could feel it through the boots.”

“Any trouble?”

“No. Except, a funny thing. When I was coming back, the moon was setting. Just as it went out of sight, I saw a flare. I think the moon is erupting.”

I thought for a moment. “That’s possible, isn’t it? The planetologists said there was evidence that it had been active recently.”

“The eruption has to be huge,” Derek said. “Really huge, if I can see it.”

“You’re right.” I thought for a moment. Could that be why I hadn’t reached Eddie? No one in their right mind would want to miss seeing a major eruption. “More trouble for the planetologists.”

“Uh-huh.” He laughed. “The poor fools. It serves ’em right. They worked out all their theories on the basis of one system.”

“They used what they had, Derek.”

He said, “I want to go to sleep. I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I lay back down. The wind had shifted. It blew out of the valley, bringing the smell of sulfur. I thought about the moon, which had an atmosphere. There was a lot of sulfur in it, as I remembered. It must really stink up there now.