And All Between (3 page)

That day, Teera wandered down many miles of deserted Erdling tunnels, and through long stretches of natural grottos and caverns. She climbed dozens of air shafts, to the place where each ended at the Root, and once or twice her climb was rewarded. She found two small tarbo roots, and once even a sizable earth mushroom. She drank often from springs and rivulets that trickled from the grotto’s walls, trying to ease the pain of her empty stomach by filling it with water. As the time passed, she stopped to rest more and more often, and at last, she again fell into a deep sleep.

She awoke some hours later, hungry and cold and very much afraid. Sitting in the cold darkness, she cuddled her pet in her arms and tried to bring back the fierce strength of her anger and grief. But it was gone. Deep inside where anger had throbbed and pulsed like the flames of a furnace, there now seemed to be nothing but cold, damp ashes. Under her hands the lapan’s small round head was warm and soft, and he sniffed trustingly at Teera’s caressing fingers; but her sadness for his fate was cold and stale, as she told him what she would have to do.

“We’re going to have to go back, Haba,” she said. “I can’t find enough for us to eat, and it’s too lonely and I’m afraid. I’m sorry, but we must go back.”

It was not until then that Teera, having decided to retrace her steps, began to realize just how difficult it would be. She had gone only a few yards back down the tunnel in which she had fallen asleep, when she came to an intersection and stopped, realizing that she could not remember which way she had come. She began to hurry, frantically plunging down one passageway after another, looking for familiar landmarks of any kind. But there was nothing, no outcropping of rock, no trickling stream, nor pile of fallen stone that seemed in any way familiar or recognizable. At last Teera’s pace slackened and she began to cry.

Some time later, her eyes blinded by tears, she stumbled into the entrance of a large air tunnel. Wider than most, the tunnel led upward at an easy pitch and, drawn by the possibility that it might lead to a mushroom or tarbo root, Teera continued up it. The passageway ended in a small chamber so shallow that it was impossible to stand upright. On her knees, Teera reached out through the opening, an almost circular gap in the network of Root, and probed blindly in the soft earth of the forest floor. Her groping fingers encountered no root or mushroom, but there were several small clumps of grass. These she picked carefully. Although the grass was bitter and unsatisfying, she ate the first handful herself and dropped the rest into her shoulder pack, which soon brought the sound of eager nibbling. Stretching her arm as far as she could in every direction, Teera braved the gripping cold of the Root on her arm and shoulder and even on her cheek.

It was then, with her face close to the Root, that Teera realized that the gnarled branches of Root were cracked and withered and that the opening was larger than most. Withdrawing her arm, she removed her pack and placed it at her feet, and a moment later her head was through the opening and she was actually looking at the forest floor.

Excitedly, her fear and hunger momentarily forgotten, Teera turned from side to side, staring eagerly at every thing she could see. She could not, in fact, see very much, or for a very great distance. On all sides blocking her view of more distant vistas, large clumps of forest fern rose up and then arched downward. Beneath the arching fronds grew small bushes laden with great clusters of brilliant blossoms, and all around, just beyond her reach, were many patches of the broadleafed grasses that Haba most preferred. It occurred to Teera that although she could not reach the grasses, Haba could harvest them for himself.

A few minutes later, having put the lapan out through the opening, Teera watched her pet as he loped from place to place grazing eagerly on the patches of grass. For a few moments she was happy, delighted that Haba, at least, was satisfying his hunger, but it was not long before a terrible possibility occurred to her. Haba had always been unusually obedient for a lapan, and almost invariably returned to Teera at her whistled summons. However, he was obviously greatly excited by his new and strange surroundings and by the sudden abundance of food. Realizing that he might be reluctant to return to his confined and hungry existence, Teera had almost decided to call him back, when a chance happening brought disaster. Nosing into an unusually large clump of grass, Haba disturbed a nesting plak hen, who, shrieking with anger, began to beat him about the head with her stumpy flightless wings. In an instant Haba had disappeared from view, running in terror. Teera called for a long time without result before she began to cry.

“Please come back! Please come back, Haba,” she sobbed. “I’ll let you go again if you want me to, as soon as I find my way back. But I’m lost now and alone, and I need you. Please don’t leave me all alone.”

The deep green light of the forest floor faded slowly while Teera alternately cried and called, and it was almost dark when she suddenly realized that in her desperation she had pushed her way up until both her arms and even her shoulders were above the Root. Through the soft fur of her tunic she could feel the strange numbing cold of its touch spreading deep into her body. In panic she struggled frantically, first trying to pull her shoulders back through the opening and then attempting to force her way upward. She was still struggling sporadically, between fits of helpless sobbing, when the night rains began. Raindrops mingled with her tears and soaked through her long, thick hair. Her fur tunic grew wet and clammy. Suddenly, after one more convulsive spasm of almost hopeless struggle, Teera found herself free and lying at full length on the forest floor. She was above the Root.

W
HEN TEERA’S MOTHER AND
father realized that she was neither in her chamber nor in the cavern common room, they were not immediately greatly concerned. It was to be expected that children, with their fresh, free strength of feeling, would not easily sacrifice treasures of Spirit and feeling to the cold hard necessities of reason. In assessing her feelings about Teera’s behavior, the mother, Kanna, recognized that she was even a little proud. Annoyed, yes, at the necessity of searching for Teera before she could leave for her day of service, and still anguished over the Spirit pain that Teera must be suffering, but proud, too, of the depth and strength of Love that gave one so young and small the courage to defy parents and Council alike in the defense of a beloved pet.

The search began casually when Kanna and Herd set forth to visit the caverns of neighboring clans to ask if a small, rebellious girl child had, by any chance, taken refuge there. When it had been determined that Teera was not hiding in the chambers of any of her friends in neighboring clans, Kanna and Herd returned to their own cavern and considered what was to be done next.

Fortunately, it so happened that it was Herd’s day to remain in the cavern watching over the clan’s troupe of children, and therefore he was not expected at his place of service at the Council of Health. Kanna, however, was already overdue at the storage caves, where she served as an allocator of supplies of food and clothing to each of the many clans of Erda. So it was decided that Kanna should, for the time being, leave the search to Herd, and hasten on to the Center and the storage caves. Her bond-partner would then, after attending to the needs of the youngest children of the clan, go on with the search, leaving the cavern in charge of the eldest.

Thus it was that Teera’s father was soon hurrying away from his home cavern in the direction of the orchard.

As he hastened along the ascending tunnels, Herd told himself that he would surely find Teera hiding in one of the passageways that underlay the huge orchards of the Kindar. These passageways, running as they did directly below the Root between each row of orchard trees, were of great importance to the Erdlings. Here where the giant grunds and rooftrees of the forest had been cleared away, and only the much smaller produce trees grew in wide straight rows, the hot, bright sun of Green-sky shone down unfiltered to the surface of the earth, and even below the surface, and into the Erdling tunnels, through the narrow gaps in the Root. Here, with only the network of enchanted Root between them and the sun and sky, those fortunate Erdlings scheduled to visit the orchard, lay naked on fur nids soaking up the vital sunlight, and watching for the occasional fruit or nut that might, in falling, roll down into the tunnel. Free from their daily duties, warmed by the sun and by the company of others in carefree orchard-mood, and always alert to the possibility of a sudden windfall of precious food, it was no wonder that all Erdlings looked on the orchard tunnels as a kind of paradise. And it was surely here that a child would flee who had decided to live outside the bonds of family and clan.

Herd was quite confident that, in spite of the fact that the gates to the orchard passageways were, in these days of hunger, watched by wardens, it would not be difficult for Teera to gain entrance. Wardens, like all Erdlings, were first of all human, and as humans they were given to lapses in the strict observation of duty. Once the incoming rush of Erdlings assigned to the orchard for the day was checked and admitted, it was much more pleasant to mingle, sharing the combined warmth of sun and communion, than to sit in lonely attention at the gates. Herd, on his own orchard days, had seen many of the wardens lounging among the crowd, chatting and sunning. It was quite likely that Teera had slipped past an untended gateway. And, since the scheduling was changed constantly, the others whom she encountered would not be aware that she was not a legal visitor.

When Herd reached the first orchard gateway, he had no difficulty gaining entry, himself. The warden, although still at his post, turned out to be an old friend, the father of a childhood playmate. After listening with great interest and sympathy to Herd’s story, he allowed his friend to enter. But although Herd walked up and down every orchard tunnel, carefully scrutinizing every group of chatting, sunning Erdlings, he did not find Teera. He walked swiftly, greeting acquaintances briefly and stopping only long enough to ask if they had seen his daughter, Teera, but with no success. At last, he left the orchard and returned to the clancavern, tired and bewildered, and for the first time, tormented by twinges of fear for the safety of his only child.

The next morning, instead of reporting to their places of service both Kanna and Herd went very early to the chambers of the High Council off the great assembly cavern of the East Center. When the Councilors had begun to assemble, Kanna and Herd were admitted to the audience gallery of the chamber to await their turn before the High Council. As the proceedings of the day began, Kanna and Herd, in spite of their now growing anxiety, were intrigued to find that the person waiting with them to address the Council was none other than Hiro D’anhk, a Verban and a teacher and academician of great learning and wisdom. Neither Kanna nor Herd had met Hiro D’anhk before, although they had heard of him and had seen him from a distance. Indeed, all of Erda had heard of Hiro who, as a Kindar, had been a person of high rank and honor. Since his arrival in Erda, he had served as an instructor at the highest levels of the Academy and also worked on special projects of a scientific nature. He was today reporting on an attempt to provide the people of Erda with a means of limiting the number of their offspring.

Kanna and Herd listened intently as the tall, gracefully built man, whose dark eyes seemed almost hypnotic in their strange inner brilliance, spoke at length in his high, crisp Kindar voice. He was describing attempts that had been made in his laboratory to duplicate a drug that had long been in use in Green-sky, which, when consumed daily, prevented conception. In Green-sky, one essential ingredient was distilled from the mashed and fermented leaves of a parasitic shrub that grew only in the heights of the forest. The experimenters had, as yet, been unsuccessful in duplicating it.

Pensing her husband’s intense interest, Kanna looked at him and smiled. Herd Eld worked as a Health Councilor, and as such had had to deal daily in recent years with illness that arose from hunger and malnutrition. And for many years he had spoken freely to all who would listen concerning the need to reduce the population of Erda, but with little effect. Not that he met with disagreement or opposition to his views. It was simply that the warm and emotional Erdling temperament, along with their traditional admiration of children, made it hard for his counselees to remember and abide by the good advice of the Health Councilor, Herd Eld. Kanna’s smile spoke of the many times she had heard her bond-partner speaking impassionedly concerning the need for something very much on the order of the drug that the tall Verban was describing.

When Hiro D’anhk came to the end of his report, Kanna and Herd were summoned to take their place before the Council. Herd spoke first, describing his daughter’s reaction to the decision of the Council that her lapan must be turned over to the food-wardens, of her disappearance, and of the attempts that had already been made to find her. The men and women of the Council listened intently and, with the warm involvement typical of Erdlings, many of them were moved to smiles and tears—smiles for their appreciation of the beauty of the full, free emotions of childhood, and tears for the grief of the child, Teera.

Kanna spoke next, telling of their fear that Teera might be lost in the dangerous labyrinth of deserted mine tunnels, and also of her imaging that Teera was still alive.

“I imaged it strongly, only this morning,” she told the Council. “I feel certain she is still alive.”

“Are you then, still able to image clearly?” It was the Councilor, Traalya Harp, a large, big-boned woman with a kindly handsome face, who asked the question.

“No, Councilor, not often, and certainly not as children do, and this image was more felt than seen, but it came to me suddenly and strongly, as if I were trancing. I am not a Gystig, and I have small faith in such practices, but I have heard that spontaneous trancing does happen in rare cases, at times of great crisis.”