Lord Tyger (15 page)

"Yet, if I'd stayed that way, I'd never have known what it feels like to be in a woman."

He remembered the day that Yusufu and Mariyam greeted him at the shore as he swam out.

"O son, you are no longer an innocent child. You must clothe your nakedness," Mariyam had said. She had held out a leopardskin loin-covering.

"He has not been so innocent for a long time," Yusufu had growled. "I have seen him thrusting into a gorilla female--that one he calls Keyy--from behind, as a beast."

Mariyam had given a little scream.

"O wicked one! Sodomy! Surely you were hidden from the eyes of Igziyabher when you committed this hideous deed! Otherwise, He would have burned you like that roast duckling your foster father ruined the other day when he was sleeping drunkenly instead of watching the little bird!"

Yusufu had been trying to maintain his scowl. Now, grinning slightly, he said, "Moreover, I saw him and his chimpanzee friend--that mocking son of Satan--jacking each other off."

Mariyam's scream was louder, and she shook the leopardskin at Ras. "You are evil, a perverted child of a clapridden buggerer! At least the gorilla was female; but this chimpanzee is a male! O Igziyabher!"

"I am getting sick of hearing that name," Ras had said. "Must I wait until the old liar sends me the beautiful white woman you say He has promised me? I can't wait. Does the leopard wait for permission from Igziyabher before he mounts his female?"

"Put on the loin-covering," Yusufu had said sharply. "Your
dong is enormous, truly like a bull elephant's. Your hairs are sprouting like grass after a rain. You are a man now and must clothe your nakedness. Otherwise, you will offend and anger Igziyabher."

Ras had not felt like taking a beating or arguing, so he had put the leopardskin on. Though he had not admitted it to his parents, he had felt a thrill in doing so. This marked an important day in his life.

Later, he wore the loincloth only when he felt like it, which was not often.

But he had not been able to resist asking them why he had to wear clothing and they went as naked as apes, more naked, because they had no hair to cover their sex.

"Because we are apes," Yusufu had said.

It had been then that Ras had had a thought that shocked him. His parents were
not
apes. They did not look like apes, and they
talked.
No ape could talk. Only he and his parents, and the Wantsos, who also were not apes, could talk.

His parents were lying to him. Why? Or did they really believe they were apes? The Wantso children believed they were descended from two creatures made from mud and spider webs by Mutsungo. Maybe they were the children of two mud people. Ras did not think so. Then he had looked at the black stone that pillared from the center of the lake. It was about a quarter mile wide and thrust up to at least a thousand feet. It was smooth at the base but not so smooth that he could not, somehow, if he were determined enough, climb up it. This pillar was the only unhappy, dreaded thing about the lake. Since he had first understood words, he had been warned by his parents to stay
away from it. It was horrible and dangerous. It meant certain death for anyone to try to climb it.

"The original people, those whom Igziyabher first created in this world, built that," Mariyam had said. "They built a tower to reach the skies. At that time, there was no lake there; the land was as dry as that which you now stand on. The people built a tower to reach to the skies. And when Igziyabher saw this, he said, 'If they can do this, what next? They will be climbing from the top of the tower to Heaven, and we will be thrown out of our palace in Heaven.'"

"We?" Ras said. "Igziyabher is
we?"

"That's the way the story--a true one--is told. Don't interrupt, child," Mariyam had said. "So Igziyabher became angry, and He sent down a flood, and it drowned all the builders of the tower.

"That is why the lake is there. Once the land was dry, but now it is a valley filled up with water. And the skulls of the proud builders look up from the mud and see you as you swim above them."

Ras had shivered and said, "But the pillar. How can people build a solid pillar of rock? A tower, you say?"

"Igziyabher turned the tower to solid rock so that it would stand forever as a reminder to people, and especially to mocking, big-mouthed, empty-headed boys, to bear themselves humbly and fearfully before Him."

Now Ras was thinking about this story, told so many years ago but now sounding in his ears as if just told and seen inside his eyes, as if it had just taken place. He heard the chop-chop-chop
of the Bird of God's wings, and looked up. It was rising from its hidden nest on top of the pillar of rock, the one-time tower built by the men who would storm Heaven.

Then it was flying across the lake toward him. Presently it was high above him, then past him, and its shadow flitted across the water a few yards from him. Squinting against the sun, Ras turned to watch it. It continued at the same height until it disappeared behind the trees. He estimated that it had descended to a place about three miles from where he stood.

For a moment, he thought of paddling back to shore and running through the forest to find it. What was it doing so near? Why had it come down so close? Or had it? Perhaps it was just hovering near the ground, as it sometimes did, apparently so that the angel in its belly could observe more closely whatever it was interested in.

Probably it would be as futile now to try to get close to the Bird as it had always been. Every time he had sneaked through the brush to spy on it, the Bird had risen high before he could get near to it. So why make another attempt?

Besides, now that the Bird was off on its mysterious errand, its nest was unguarded.

Ras paddled to the base of the pillar and circled it. The rock was black and shiny and smooth when seen from a distance, but when he was close, he could see many little holes in the blackness. Its surface was like the armor of a giant black beetle when seen through the magnifying glass Mariyam had given him on his tenth birthday.

Ras went around and around the base. On the east side, the leeward, about seven feet above the water, the rock bulged.
The bulge was slight, but its upper part did form a slanting ledge. There was enough extension for Ras to pull himself up onto it if he gripped the stone edge very tightly, and he could then stand on the ledge if he pressed closely against the rock. He had tried it many times; most of his attempts to get on it had resulted in his slipping and a fall backward into the lake. If he did not get onto the ledge at the first try, he had an even more difficult time thereafter, because his hands were wet. After every fall, he had to get into the dugout without tipping it over. Then he had to wait until his hands were dry before leaping up from the pitching boat again. But once he was on the ledge and upright, he could find other minute gripping-places. Once, he had gotten forty feet before he had slipped and fallen off. That time, though he had twisted to enter the water vertically, his hands before him, he had just missed hitting the edge of the dugout.

Yusufu and Mariyam had known about his fall. He had never found out how they knew. They had not left the house beneath the tree house, and they could not see him from it. But they lectured him savagely about his climb, and Yusufu had whipped him. Apparently, Igziyabher had notified them in His mysterious way.

Now he considered trying again at the same place. He was stronger than when he had tried a year before, although he was also heavier. But he felt more confident, and the Bird was not around. Why not try again?

The only trouble was that the Bird might come back while he was part way up. He would wait until it went westward, and then take a chance that it had gone to report to Igziyabher and so would not return for some time.

There was one drawback to the plan. He had made up his mind to find Igziyabher, Who was God and also his Father. Igziyabher alone could answer his questions. There was no reason why His son should wait until Igziyabher decided to come down from the skies to talk to him. Ras was tired of waiting for answers. Why eat darkness when a banquet of light was on Igziyabher's table?

If only he could build a trap for the Bird and catch it! Then he would force it to answer his questions. He would force the angel in its belly to talk to him, as he had forced Gilluk, the Sharrikt king, when he had imprisoned him for six months after rescuing him from the Wantsos. Perhaps, instead of wandering westward through the world, he could ride in the Bird's belly to the house of Igziyabher.

Deciding that the climb of the pillar would have to come later, he paddled the dugout back to the eastern shore. He had just beached the boat when he heard the chopping of wings and the muted roaring again, and the Bird appeared above him. It was at least five hundred feet high and rising swiftly toward the top of the pillar. He was glad that he had decided not to climb that day.

Ras walked slowly homeward. He dreaded the pleas and threats when he told Yusufu and Mariyam that he was really leaving. This time, he would not argue. He would inform them of his determination, pick them up and kiss them good-bye, and then walk out. They must understand that he was a man now. He could no longer tolerate being treated as a child.

Then there was Wilida. If it had not been for the appearance of the strange, stiff-winged bird, he would have stolen her from
the cage on the islet. She would have gone with him to live in the house he would have built for her on the plateau. And, in time, he would have introduced her to Mariyam and Yusufu. They would have screamed and cursed, but they would have had to accept her. If they loved him, and they did, they would have to love her, too.

He tried not to think about the possibility of her refusing to go with him. She did love him; he knew that. But meeting him secretly in the bush was not the same as leaving her village. Although she could take delight in him, love him, would she go to the Land of the Ghosts with him?

She had said that she would die if she were separated from her people. She would close her eyes, and she would close her heart, too, and she would stop living. Any Wantso would die. Exile was a punishment worse than being thrown to the crocodiles or burned to death.

The other women had said the same thing when he had half-jokingly asked them if they would come to live with him. They desired his love-making, but they did not want anything to do with him beyond that.

He had even considered trying to get accepted as a Wantso. If he could live in the village, be a Wantso, then Wilida could have both him and her people. But that was before he understood how deeply the men hated him. Even if he had not offended them with his uncrippled virility and his seduction of their women, they would not have accepted him. He was forever a stranger. And though he could have erased some of their fear of him as a ghost, he still would always make them uneasy. He would always be a ghost.

No matter, he thought. If Wilida loves me as much as I love
her, she will come with me.

Together, we'll go look for Igziyabher.

At least, I'll ask her if she will.

He walked past a big tree into the clearing where the two houses were. He stopped. A little bird with a green body, black wings, white neck, and red head seemed to be frozen in its flight across the clearing.

There was a thump as his heart began to beat again, slowly, slowly.

The little brown body on the ground at the foot of the steps to the veranda, the body on its back, arms outflung, jaw dropped, eyes open, an arrow sticking from its heart--that body was Mariyam's.

For a long time thereafter, Ras seemed to move slowly and with difficulty, as if he were an insect caught in sap flowing from a wound in a tree. He held Mariyam, still warm, the blood around the wound not yet dried, and rocked her back and forth. Her head lolled with each movement. He hurt, but the hurt was as cold as the water far below the surface of the lake. It was there but had not thawed yet.

Then, when he quit trying to wake her up, he left her to look for Yusufu. He called for him and searched the house on the ground and the house in the tree and then wandered through the forest while loudly speaking Yusufu's name.

Finally, he lurched back to Mariyam and sat down with her in his arms again and rocked back and forth.

The sun began to climb down from the zenith before he quit holding her. He examined the arrow. It was Wantso, made of lemonwood painted black and red and with four feathers from a
green-tailed bird, and the copper head bound with a yellow strip of skin from a golden mouse.

The numbness went away. Guilt filled its place. He yelled and wept with grief and remorse. The Wantso had come here and killed his mother because he had angered them with his seductions and his mocking songs. They had been so furious that they had conquered their fear of the Land of the Ghosts and had come after him into it. They had not found him, but they had found Mariyam. And they must have taken Yusufu with them. They would save him for torture.

Perhaps the Wantso had not yet left. Perhaps they were out in the forest now, hoping to ambush him. Or they might be creeping up on him.

He rose with the arrow in his hand, and he howled, "Come on out, Wantso men! I will kill you all!"

There was no answer. Monkeys chattered. A bird clut-clut-clutted. Far away, a fish-eagle screamed.

He looked for tracks in the hard-packed earth under the tree. There were none except his freshly made prints. The Wantso had used branches to wipe away the imprints in the light dust. The ground around the clearing had been similarly treated. Evidently, the Wantso did not want him to be able to catch up with them while they were in his territory.

The sun was sliding toward the tops of the cliffs now. Ras carried Mariyam into the forest until he found a place where the earth was soft. It was near the foot of a hill where rain had been collected in a pool for a long time but had almost dried away. He dug with his knife and scooped out dirt with his hands until he had a hole two feet deep. Weeping, he placed Mariyam in it, but
kissed her cheek before lowering her. He put her on her side, her knees drawn up against her stomach. Then he threw dirt until she was covered. He held the last handful of dirt for a long time. A small patch of skin was still visible, and it seemed that when that was gone, she would also be gone with no hope of her ever coming back.