Cloud Walker, All Fools' Day, Far Sunset (65 page)

Whether the legend of the coming and Nemo’s dreams amounted to anything did not really matter. Whether there were any spectacular discoveries to be made at the Temple of the White Darkness did not really matter. What did matter was that he had managed to break through the centuries old Bayani mood of insularity. For so long, they had cultivated the habit of not wanting to know. They had been content with their tiny static society in a small corner of the forests of Altair Five.

But now things were different; and whatever happened there could be no permanent return to the
status quo
. The hunters, he realized, were not coming with him for the ring money alone. Nor were they coming because of blind faith in Poul Mer Lo. They were coming basically because their curiosity had been aroused – because they, too, wished to find out what was in the next valley or over the next mountain.

They did not know it, but they were the first genuine Bayani explorers for centuries … All that I have done, thought Poul Mer Lo, and perhaps the most important thing that I have done, is to help make such a mental climate possible.

Which turned his mind automatically to Enka Ne. For hundreds of years the god-kings of Baya Nor had – consciously or otherwise – maintained their absolute authority and absolute power by inhibiting curiosity. This Shah Shan had realized. He had had the wisdom to encourage Poul Mer Lo, whom the councillors and the priests of the blind order regarded as an instrument of chaos because he asked questions that had not previously been asked, and did things that had not previously been done.

But the Enka Ne who came after Shah Shan was of a different temperament altogether. For one thing he was old. Perhaps in his youth, he, too, had possessed an enquiring mind. But if so, it had been crushed by his elders and by the ritualistic Bayani approach to life. Now that he was old, he stood clearly and decisively for orthodoxy.

As the barge left the kappa fields and the cleared land behind, passing under the great green umbra of the forest, Poul Mer Lo wondered idly if Enka Ne knew of his expedition. It was highly probable; for though Zu Shan had been very cautious in his recruitment of hunters, he had talked to several who had rejected the invitation. They, in turn, must have talked to others; and it was quite likely that an embroidered description of the expedition had now reached the ears of the god-king.

But now, thought Poul Mer Lo comfortably, it was too late to prevent the journey; and, in any case, if the god-king were as clever – despite his orthodoxy – as Poul Mer Lo suspected, he would not wish to prevent it. He would be somewhat relieved that the stranger had chosen to seek the bosom of Oruri far from Baya Nor.

Presently the barge passed the forest temple of Baya Sur without incident. There was no one at the landing place to witness its passing, since no one knew of its coming. And so the small craft sped on, deep into the forest to where the Canal of Life joined the Watering of Oruri.

The sun had passed its zenith before the hunters were ready to abandon their poles and take food and rest. They pulled in to the bank of the canal where there was a very small clearing and threw the anchor stone overboard.

Poul Mer Lo was glad of the opportunity to stretch his legs. He had offered to take turns with the poles, as Zu Shan had done; but the hunters had rejected his offer with great politeness. He was Poul Mer Lo, the stranger, unaccustomed to the ways and rhythms of watermen. He was also their employer and captain; and therefore it would be unthinkable to let him do menial tasks except
in extremis
.

When they had eaten, Poul Mer Lo, Zu Shan and two of the hunters dozed. Nemo and the remaining two kept watch against wild animals, for there were many carnivorous beasts that hunted by night and by day in the forest.

As he fell asleep, Poul Mer Lo was transformed once more into Paul Marlowe – the Paul Marlowe who lived and slept and endured suspended animation aboard the
Gloria Mundi
. He was on watch with Ann, and he had just saved the occupants of the star ship from death by explosive decompression after the hull of the ship had been penetrated by small meteors. He tasted champagne once more –
Moet et Chandon ’11
, a very fine year. Then there was some vague discussion on the nature of God …

The dream disintegrated as Nemo shook him. For a terrible moment or two Paul did not know where he was or recognize the wizened face of the child.

‘Lord,’ said Nemo in Bayani, ‘a barge follows us. I think it is no more than ten flights of the dart away. I ride the pole-men’s thoughts. They are seeking us. They have been offered many rings to overtake us. Enka Ne has sent soldiers. Lord, I do not think we can escape.’

Paul Marlowe pulled himself together. He stood up and looked at the barge. There did not seem to be any way of camouflaging it or hiding it in time. But he refused to accept defeat without doing something. The only hope was to get out into the canal and pull like mad.

‘Let us go quickly, then,’ he said to the hunters, who were gazing at him anxiously. ‘It is said that he who waits for trouble will be found by it most easily.’

Within seconds the anchor stone was hauled up, the barge was in mid-stream and everyone – including Paul – was poling strenuously. Even Nemo, perched on the end of the barge, had a short pole with which, in the squatting position, he could provide a few extra pounds of thrust.

Unfortunately, the Canal of Life had few bends; and it was not long before the pursuers could see the pursued. Glancing over his shoulder, Paul saw that the following barge was a large one with sixteen pole-men and at least twice that number of warriors. It was gaining rapidly. In less than a minute it would be only the flight of a dart away – and if darts then began to fly, that would be the end of the matter.

‘Stop poling!’ he commanded, and picked up his sweeper rifle.

‘Lord,’ said Shon Hu, ‘it seems that Oruri does not favour this enterprise. But speak the word and we will fight if we must.’

‘There will be no fighting,’ said Paul positively. ‘Take heart, Shon Hu. Oruri does but test us.’

The pursuers, seeing that the men ahead of them had stopped poling, lifted their own poles and allowed the two craft to drift slowly towards each other.

Paul recognized the Bayani warrior standing in the bows of the following barge. It was the captain who had been sent to execute Bai Lut and burn down the school.

‘Oruri greets you!’ called the captain.

‘The greeting is a blessing,’ responded Paul.

‘I am the voice and hand of Enka Ne. The god-king commands you to return to Baya Nor, there to give account of this journey.’

‘I am grieved that the god-king commands my presence, for this journey is most urgent and cannot wait.’

The captain seemed amused. ‘Lord, I am commanded to enforce the command of Enka Ne, and that I will do most willingly.’

Paul rested the sweeper rifle casually on his hip, his finger on the trigger. He had previously pushed the breeder button to full power discharge.

‘Captain, listen to me for a moment. I wish you to return to Enka Ne and present my humble greetings, saying that I would that I could return to do his bidding, but that this matter cannot be delayed. If you return thus and in peace, the anger of Oruri will be withheld. I have spoken.’

The captain laughed, his warriors laughed. Even the pole-men permitted themselves to grin.

‘Brave words, my lord. But where is the strength behind the courage? You are few, we are many. As you will not come, then we must take you.’

‘So be it,’ said Paul. He pressed the trigger. The sweeper rifle whined, vibrating imperceptibly. The water immediately ahead of the following barge, which was still drifting slowly onwards, began to hiss and bubble to boiling point. It became turbulent, giving off great clouds of steam, then suddenly it was resolved into a great water spout. The barge, full of petrified soldiers and pole-men, drifted helplessly into the water spout. Immediately the wooden bows burst into flame, and the pressure of the water and steam capsized the heavily laden craft.

With cries of terror men and soldiers floundered in the Canal of Life. Paul had released the trigger as soon as the barge caught fire; but the patch of water continued to hiss and bubble for some moments. One poor wretch drifted near to it and was badly scalded.

‘Thus,’ said Paul looking down at the captain struggling in the water, ‘the anger of Oruri comes to pass. Return now to Enka Ne and report this thing, giving him the words I have spoken.’ He turned to his own pole-men: ‘Let us continue, then. It seems that the warriors of the god-king will not hinder our passing.’

Mechanically, and with looks of awe on their faces, the hunters took up their poles and got the small barge under way.

Shon Hu wiped the sweat from his face and glanced at the sweeper rifle. ‘Lord, with such power in his hands it seems that a man may become as a god.’

Paul smiled. ‘No, Shon Hu. With such power in his hands, a man may only become a more powerful man.’

The forest was ancient, overwhelming and oppressive in its great green luxuriance. Amid all the noisy chatter of the wild things it contained, there were strange pockets of silence where it seemed to Paul Marlowe – never a connoisseur of forests, even on Earth – something intangible lay, lurking and brooding.

Perhaps it was the Life Force; for if a Life Force existed, surely the forest – a place teeming with crawly living things – must be its home. Of the large wild creatures, Paul did not see a great deal but he saw enough to make him feel that, in evolutionary terms, Altair Five must be at least a million years behind Earth.

Here and there, on the banks of the far reaches of the Canal of Life, were colonies of large iguana-like animals – spiked, scaly, twice the length of a man and, so the hunters told him, virtually harmless. They were vegetarians. The only time they ever displayed ferocity was during a short mating season – and then only to others of their kind. On the other hand, there were small, delicate crab-like creatures – bright red and remarkably attractive, no larger than a man’s fist. These the hunters pointed out with respect as being among the most deadly killers in the forest.

Only once did Paul see a really massive creature during the daytime. It was a creature that the hunters called an ontholyn. It was furry, and fearsome, with tremendous clawed forepaws and a cavernous mouth. Paul watched it rear up on its hind legs to pick carefully of some fruit hanging at the top of a tall tree. It made a strange sound, half roaring and half trumpeting, then it sat back on its haunches to nibble the fruit. The sound, which had reverberated through the forest was, so the hunters said, merely an expression of pleasure. They claimed that the ontholyn was so slow that it was possible for a nimble man to run up to one, climb up its furry sides, tweak its nose and climb down again before the creature realized what was happening.

As the barge sped farther away from Baya Nor along the Canal of Life, it seemed to Paul that he and his companions were making a journey back in time. The clusters of giant ferns, the bright orchidaceous flowers, the stringy lianas that now laced overhead from bank to bank of the canal, the tall, sad and utterly lethal Weeping Trees which leaked a tough, quick bonding and poisonous glue down their trunks to trap and kill small animals that would
then putrefy and feed the exposed roots of the tree – all these conspired to make him feel that he was riding down a green tunnel into pre-history.

And, in fact, he was now riding through a green tunnel; for the banks of the Canal of Life had narrowed considerably. The foliage had closed in overhead, and sunlight was visible only as a dazzling maze of thin gold bars through which the barge seemed to cut its way with miraculous and hypnotic ease.

As the light died, and the green gloom deepened, Shon Hu inspected the banks for a suitable place to moor the barge for the night.

‘Lord,’ he said, ‘we have made good travelling. We are very near now to the Watering of Oruri.’

‘Would it not be good to journey on to the great river while we can still see?’

Shon Hu shrugged. ‘Who can say, lord? But my comrades like to see where they can plant their poles.’

‘That is very wise, Shon Hu. Therefore let us rest.’

They found a small patch of ground near a group of the Weeping Trees. Shon Hu explained that most animals could smell the trees – particularly at night – and took great trouble to avoid them. That was why he had chosen the place. Nevertheless, he advised that everyone should sleep in the barge.

The first night passed without incident. After their evening meal the hunters began to exchange stories, as was their custom. Paul listened drowsily for a while, half drugged by the heavy night scents of the forest and the vapours rising from the water. The next thing he knew, it was daybreak – and a smiling Zu Shan was trying to tempt him with a handful of kappa and a strip of smoked meat that tasted like scorched rubber.

‘You slept very soundly, Paul. We did not think you would take to the forest so well. How do your bones feel?’ Zu Shan spoke in English, proud of the one distinction over the hunters that he possessed.

Paul groaned and tried to stretch. He groaned again – this time with much feeling. ‘I feel like an old man,’ he complained. ‘I feel as if the glue from the Weeping Trees had penetrated all my joints.’

‘It is the vapours from the water of the Canal of Life,’ explained Zu Shan. ‘They cause the bones to ache, but the pain passes away with vigorous movement. Poor Nemo feels it worst, I think, because his bones do not have their natural shape.’

Little Nemo was crying like a baby. Paul picked him up and began to gently massage the twisted limbs. ‘Lord,’ gasped Nemo in Bayani, ‘you shame me. I beg of you, put me down.’

Paul ruffled his hair affectionately and set him down in the stern of the barge. ‘It shall be as my son commands,’ he said gravely, ‘for I acknowledge before all present that you are truly my son.’

‘Lord,’ said Shon Hu, ‘there is much poling to be done. Will you speak the word?’