Cloud Walker, All Fools' Day, Far Sunset (64 page)

‘There are those who have seen the mountain and returned.’

She gave him a look of sad resignation. ‘Lord, I know there is much about you that I cannot understand and much that I will never understand. I am proud to have lain with you, and I am proud to have received at last the gift of your loins. If it pleases my lord to seek Oruri before Oruri does the seeking, then I will endeavour to accept this thing … But stay, my lord, stay long enough to look upon the face of your son.’

He took her hands. ‘Mylai Tui, I know it is hard for you to understand. But my head is sorely troubled by many questions. This thing will not wait. I must go as soon as I may, and I must see what can be seen. But I will return. I will return because I greatly desire to lie with you, as I will lie with you this night. And I will return because I desire greatly to gaze upon the harvest of the joining of our flesh … Now let there be an end. The decision is made. Zu Shan seeks the hunters, and I doubt not that they will be found.’

Suddenly, she brightened. ‘It is possible, is it not, that Enka Ne may learn of this madness and prevent it?’

Paul gave her a penetrating look. ‘I respect the power of Enka Ne. Let the god-king respect mine. Otherwise, many in Baya Nor may have cause to grieve.’

Three days later, in the early evening, when the nine moons rode high and swiftly through a cloudless sky, Zu Shan brought four hunters to the house of Poul Mer Lo. The usual courtesies were exchanged, and the men squatted in a semi-circle on the verandah while Mylai Tui supplied them with kappa spirit.

‘Paul,’ said Zu Shan in English, so that the Bayani would not understand, ‘there are the men we should take. There were others attracted by the payment you offered. But these are the best. Two of them I already knew, and the others are known to them. They are among the best hunters in Baya Nor. But more than that, they have much faith in Poul Mer Lo, the teacher. And one of
them, Shon Hu, has even seen the mountain. He has hunted very far, and he says he knows the way.’

‘Are they afraid?’

Zu Shan gave a thin smile. ‘Yes, Paul, they are afraid – as I am.’

‘Good. Men who are afraid live longer. You have done very well, Zu Shan – better than I thought.’

He turned to the Bayani, who were politely sipping their kappa spirit as though no one had spoken.

‘Hunters,’ said Poul Mer Lo in Bayani, ‘I journey far. It may be that there will be danger on this journey, for I am told that the Temple of the White Darkness is not a place where men go who wish to count the great number of their grandchildren.’

The hunters laughed, a little self-consciously.

‘But I think,’ went on Poul Mer Lo, ‘that we shall be among those who return; for if men desire something greatly, they can often accomplish it. Also, we shall carry a terrible weapon which I have brought with me for this purpose from the land beyond the sky.’

‘Lord,’ said the man who had been identified as Shon Hu, ‘the journey is one thing but the Lokhali is another.’

Poul Mer Lo rose, went into the house and returned with his sweeper rifle.

‘Your darts and blow-pipes, your tridents and clubs are excellent weapons,’ he said. ‘But how many Lokhali can you stop with them if we are attacked?’

Shon Hu looked at his companions. ‘Lord, we are only men – good men, perhaps, but no more than men. Perhaps,
if
Oruri smiled, we would carry three times our own number of Lokhali with us into his bosom.’

Poul Mer Lo pushed the breeder button of his atomic rifle. About two hundred metres away there was a small group of trees looming in the twilight.

‘Observe!’ said Poul Mer Lo. He sighted, pressed the trigger and swept the tops of the trees with the rifle. After two or three passes, smoke began to rise. After five passes, the trees burst into flame – a noisy, crackling bonfire.

‘Lord,’ said Shon Hu at length, ‘you have shown us a fearful thing.’

‘It is,’ agreed Poul Mer Lo, ‘a most fearful thing. Your job, Shon Hu, will be to protect me. My job will be to use this weapon. If we are attacked by the Lokhali, many of them will need to explain to Oruri why they wished to obstruct the passing of Poul Mer Lo and his companions …’ He gazed round the semi-circle. ‘Nevertheless, I know our journey is still a difficult and dangerous one. If any of you feels that he has spoken rashly, let him now stand and go forth. We who remain will pray for the good fortune of his children and his children’s children.’

No one moved.

Silently and sadly, Mylai Tui brought more kappa spirit.

After much hard bargaining, Shon Hu had obtained a barge for the very reasonable sum of nine rings. Poul Mer Lo, impatient to get the expedition under way now that he had made his decision, would have paid the sixteen rings demanded by the barge builder without question. But, as Shon Hu explained, to have paid such a price without haggling would have excited much interest. The barge builder would have boasted of his achievement, enquiries might then have been made about Shon Hu, the actual purchaser, and the ring money might then have been traced back to Poul Mer Lo. That in itself might well have been sufficient to bring the transaction to the notice of one of the officers of the god-king; and, quite possibly, the whole expedition would have been frustrated before it had begun. For, after the burning of the school, it was obvious that Enka Ne was not so oblivious of the activities of the stranger as Poul Mer Lo had formerly supposed.

So he had to wait patiently for two full days while Shon Hu and a phenomenal quantity of kappa spirit brought the price down to nine rings.

The time was not wholly wasted, however, for there was much to be done. Supplies of fresh water had to be stored in skins, as had quantities of dried kappa and smoked strips of meat; for though the expedition included four hunters, Poul Mer Lo did not propose to waste much time hunting for food. Of his personal possessions, he proposed to take only the transceiver and the sweeper rifle. The atomic grenades that Shah Shan had presented to him at the temple of Baya Lys were not suitable weapons for close range fighting – if, indeed, any close range fighting should occur. To call them weapons was not completely accurate, either, for they were far more use to engineers than soldiers – except, perhaps, where a very long fuse could be used as during a retreat, or for very long range work.

Poul Mer Lo did not really know why he was taking the transceiver. It was in excellent order; and its miniature ‘hot’ battery would remain efficient for a long time to come. But he well knew that there was no other working transmitter on Altair Five. During the last few months, many times at dead of night he had put the transceiver on full power and swept carefully through the medium and short wave bands. All he could raise was the usual random crackle.

The sweeper rifle gave him some cause for anxiety. There was a visual indicator showing its charge level, and this was now registering well below the
half-charge mark; indicating that the rifle was now not good for more than half a dozen full strength discharges. Somehow, it had leaked; and as he did not possess a geiger counter there was no means of telling if the micropile were still intact. For all he knew, thought Poul Mer Lo, both he and the rifle might now be dangerously radioactive – a menace to all and sundry. But there was nothing to be done about it. If such were the will of Oruri … He was amused at himself for letting the expression creep into his train of thought.

Shon Hu said that it would be possible to travel by barge for two and a half days – one day along the Canal of Life and one and a half days upstream on the great river, which was known, picturesquely enough, as the Watering of Oruri. After that there would be perhaps three days in the forest and a further day, or perhaps two days, on the uplands. Shon Hu was vague about this latter stretch of the journey. All that he seemed certain about was that once the forest was left behind, the Temple of the White Darkness would be clearly visible. How it was to be approached was a matter upon which Oruri would doubtless provide guidance when the time came.

The expedition was to depart from Baya Nor at the first sign of light so that much poling could be done before the sun rose high in the sky. Also, such an early departure would be unlikely to attract the attention of anyone but hunters; for few Bayani cared to move before the sun was clear of the horizon.

The barge was ready, laden with food, water, the blow pipes, darts and tridents of the hunters, the sweeper rifle and the transceiver, and a pile of skins for the use as bedding and then as clothing when the warm forest was left behind. Besides the four hunters, Poul Mer Lo was taking Zu Shan and Nemo with him. Tsong Tsong was to be left behind as company for Mylai Tui, and Poul Mer Lo had given her sufficient money to purchase a girl servant to help in the house if the baby should arrive before he returned from the Temple of the White Darkness.

Nemo was the real problem. With his grotesquely deformed legs he could not possibly walk. Yet Poul Mer Lo did not wish to leave him behind – not only because the oddly ancient child desperately wanted to go with him but because Nemo’s telepathic powers might prove useful. It was Nemo, with his visions of a god bringing forth children from his belly, who had triggered the whole thing off. Just possibly there might be something on the slopes of the white mountain. Just possibly Nemo might sense where and what that something was. Yes, he would have to go. And so a sling was made for him so that he could ride on the back of each of the hunters in turn.

The night before departure, the hunters, Nemo and Zu Shan slept on skins on the flat bottom of the barge. Poul Mer Lo did not sleep. Neither did Mylai Tui. They lay close to each other and remote from each other in the small house that, over the months, had begun to acquire for Poul Mer Lo the sweetly subtle smell of home.

Mylai Tui was certain it was the last time they would hold each other.

‘Lord,’ she said in Bayani, ‘I am fat, now, and can no longer pretend to possess some beauty. It is not fitting that a woman should speak thus – but I greatly desire that you should lie with me and try to remember how it once was.’

He kissed her and fondled her. ‘Mylai Tui,’ he said, also speaking in the high Bayani that he knew she preferred, ‘to be with child does not diminish beauty, but changes the shape of beauty. I will remember how it once was. But how it now is is dear to me also. And this, too, I will remember.’

They made love, but though there was great tenderness there was little passion. It had seemed strangely, thought Poul Mer Lo when it was over, more like a solemn ritual, dignifying or celebrating some unique event that had not happened before and would not happen again. He was puzzled and, for the first time, he was afraid.

‘Lord,’ said Mylai Tui simply, ‘the fire is kindled, flourishes and dies. We shall not come to each other again. I wish to humbly thank you, for you have given me much joy … I do not have the gift of leaping thoughts like Shah Shan, whom I think you loved, and like some others whom, perhaps, you love in a lesser way. But if my thoughts could not leap, lord, my flesh leaped joyously. I am sad now that it will leap no more.’

He held her very close. ‘I shall return from the Temple of the White Darkness,’ he whispered. ‘This I swear.’

‘If it is the will of Oruri,’ said Mylai Tui, dully. ‘My lord has the gift of greatness and can accomplish much.’

‘I shall return,’ he repeated fiercely.

Mylai Tui sighed. ‘But we shall come together no more. This I know. It is written on the water. It is written in the wind … Lay your hand on my belly, lord.’

He did so, and was rewarded with a kick.

‘Is not your son vigorous and mighty of limb like him that presented the seed?’

‘Truly, he will be a fine child.’

‘Then go now, for the first light is with us. And remember, lord. Such as I am, I gave what I could. I will remember with pride that I carry the child of one who has ridden upon a silver bird. But go now, for the waters sting in my eyes, and I would not have you remember me thus … Oruri be with you – at the end as at the beginning.’

‘Oruri be with you always,’ responded Poul Mer Lo. He touched her forehead with his lips. Then he got up and quickly went from the house.

In the pre-dawn light, the world seemed very quiet and very lonely. He walked briskly down to the Canal of Life without looking back, and trying not to think of anything at all. But there was a taste of salt upon his lips, and he was amazed that non-existent tears could hurt so much.

It was going to be a hot day. The Canal of Life lay placid and steaming with a light mist that held close to its surface, drifting and swirling lazily in the still air. Voices carried. From many paces away, Poul Mer Lo could hear the low murmurings of the hunters and the boys as they made ready for the journey.

Excitement was in the tight atmosphere. Poul Mer Lo felt almost that he could reach out his hands and touch it as he stepped aboard the rough but sturdy barge that was to carry them on the journey. He pushed regret and doubt out of his mind. He locked his last memories of Mylai Tui – knowing now that they were indeed his last memories of her – into some deep compartment of his brain where they would be safe until he needed to take them out and dwell upon them.

‘Lord,’ said Shon Hu, ‘we have eaten and are ready. Speak only the word.’

Poul Mer Lo glanced round the small craft and saw six faces gazing at him expectantly. ‘As this journey begins,’ he said formally, ‘though it be long or short, easy or most hard, let all here know that they are as brothers to help each other in difficulty and to rejoice or suffer with each other according to the will of Oruri … Let us go, then.’

The hunters turned to the sides of the barge and urinated into the Canal of Life. Then they took up their poles and pushed away from the bank. Presently the barge was gliding smoothly over the still, mist-covered water; and as the sun rose above the edge of the forest, bringing with it new textures and forms, and intensifying colours, Poul Mer Lo began to feel for the first time since his arrival on Altair Five an odd lightness of heart. So far, he thought, he had been chiefly a spectator – despite his introduction of the wheel into the Bayani culture and despite his sporadic efforts to fulfil the prediction of the oracle that he would be a great teacher. But now, he felt, he was really doing something.