Drowning World (5 page)

Molavil-isi was the last to arrive. An old and wizened Hata, he had come all the way from distant Hiokavaru. Before the advent of the Commonwealth, distance and dangers would have rendered such a journey impossible. Now, with the aid of a skimmer, it could be accomplished in a matter of days. Wonderful things, skimmers, Naneci-tok felt. Her ancestors would have been astonished to see her traveling freely above the treetops, without the aid of branches or walkways. All thanks to the arrival of the humans and thranx and their grand interstellar civilization. Unfortunately, along with skimmers and energy weapons and communicators they had brought the Deyzara. How to deal with the latter without losing the former was the great question this meeting had been organized to try to settle.

The Hata-tanasua served as shaman-advisers to multiple clans. Cherished by all who had enjoyed the good fortune to know him and to experience his wise ministrations, the sage Manarapi-vea formally convened the gathering by intoning the opening to the katola ritual. Holding the first carved bowl of katola at eye level, he kept his tongue twice wrapped around it as he paced deliberately around the central column of falling rain. Conversation quieted immediately. Seats grew still. The katola ceremony was among the most revered of Sakuntala customs. Also among the most anticipated, as good katola was treated by the Sakuntala much as fine wine was by the humans. That in sufficient doses it was also a powerful hallucinogen only served to enhance its appeal.

There would be none of that during the debate, she knew. The ceremony would be carried out in moderation. Everyone would need their wits about them. Indulgences such as agreeable hallucinations could come afterward, during the informal gatherings that were sure to follow.

Halting not far from her, Manarapi-vea inclined both ears and head slightly forward and offered the bowl. Naneci-tok was only mildly surprised. Though there were others present who were senior to her, this was her territory. Manarapi-vea was not only being polite; he was also being politically correct.

Making sure her tongue was tucked well off to one side in an empty cheek, she accepted the bowl in both hands, grasping it firmly with all twelve fingers. As the Hata-tanasua chanted the appropriate phrases, she took a single long swallow. Ceremonial, katola drinking might be—but it was also a fine treat. The tepid liquid slid readily down her throat. Even as she handed the bowl back, she felt her stomach start to grow numb. A distinctive tingling began in her toes and fingers. The woven strappings that covered her midsection and upper torso seemed suddenly looser than usual.

Around the circle Manarapi-vea went, circling the column of rain that continued to pour through the corresponding openings in ceiling and floor, offering katola to Hata, Yuiqueru, and Hata-niu alike. There were no Hata-naus present. The matters to be discussed were too important to allow the lowest-ranking chiefs a say in the outcome. Only when everyone had sipped of the venerable liquid made from the sap of the Oli'wiu did Manarapi-vea raise his voice. Everyone seated around the falling rain that drowned the land and gave life and protection to the Sakuntala from marauding predators joined the Hata-tanasua in reciting the ancient verses of understanding. It was said:

“We come here today to make a Talking. Today and here, we are all of one clan. Today and here, every Hata may say what they will, as they will, without fear of being slain by a neighbor.”

There was more. Naneci-tok knew it by heart and recited it from memory, but her thoughts were already on the debate to come. One that without question was going to have a profound impact not only on the future of the Sakuntala but also on their present.

It was expected that Cecolou-tiu, as the eldest in attendance, would speak first. She did not disappoint. With the aid of the pair of Hata-nius flanking her, she eased out of her chair. Once erect, she stood without assistance. Her fur was almost entirely gray, with only the barest hints of the dark black and green pattern that had once identified its owner.

Gazing around the expectant circle, she had to squint hard through the column of rain to make out those chiefs sitting in chairs directly opposite her. But even aged, weak Sakuntala eyes were remarkably acute. When she finally spoke, her words rang out through the meeting room clear and strong.

“You all here know me. You know I not speak without first thinking. Not easy, thinking at my age. But this significant what we talk here today. Very important not make wrong decision. I think hard and harder about what to do about loutish, tawdry, thieving Deyzara. Must for sure do something.” A chorus of supportive murmurs arose from many of the assembled. “So believe when I say I think hardest that this talk of trying drive all Deyzara off Fluva is talk-making of idiot people.”

More supportive muttering echoed her statement as she slowly resumed her seat, but Naneci-tok noted an equal number of confused mumblings as well as unmistakable indications of outright dissent. As both began to quiet down, a singular presence slipped forward out of his chair. Unusually tall even for one of his kind, Aniolo-jat was a Yuiqueru with a growing reputation among the more radical elements of the Sakuntala. He had drawn considerable attention not only for his military prowess, demonstrated in the usual interclan battles, but also for a wiliness not usually attributed to mid-status chiefs who specialized in combat.

Ears and eyes alert, he gazed silently around the assembly until he was satisfied that he had everyone's attention—or at least that of the nonsenile. He spoke softly and carefully, without any of the ground-scraping gestures or traditional howls that usually accompanied the assertions of a war chief. Naneci-tok was as intent on his words as any of her colleagues. Here was a kin brave and thoughtful. One any female would be glad to mate with and any warrior proud to follow.

Without hearing a word, she had already come to the conclusion that he was very, very dangerous.

His initial comments only reinforced her preliminary opinion: they were completely unexpected.

“I agree with knowledgeable and wise Cecolou-tiu. Is folly to think we can kill some Deyzara and just push rest off our world.” Wide eyes and astonished murmurings from his supporters showed this was not what they had expected to hear from one of their most admired and aggressive colleagues. But such was the commanding power of Aniolo-jat's presence that none rose from their chairs to try to channel him. There was some violent swinging, however.

The Yuiqueru's voice rose just enough to be heard over the chorus of creaking wood and quivering supports. “I have no more love for the hairless ones than any of you. But I am realist. I have made some study of politics of our new ‘friends' and benefactors, the Commonwealth. Its history shows it will tolerate some local fighting. But not killing of all one kind of species by another. They have special word for that. So . . . we may kill some Deyzara but not slaughter all.” His mouth twisted into the Sakuntalan equivalent of a sardonic smile. “I contain my unhappiness at this.”

“What then we do, Yuiqueru Aniolo-jat?” asked one of the neutral members of the assembly.

The war chief turned toward the speaker. In replying to her, he continued to address all of them. “We still fight. Planning been ongoing for some time now. Very soon all is readied. We pick careful which Deyzara to kill. Not wealthiest ones. Not technicians. We still need learn from them.” He turned slowly, trying to confront each one of his fellow chiefs individually. “Most Deyzara think they smarter than any Sakuntala. But we know we not stupid. Just some bit behind. We smart enough to learn, even from our enemies. We kill specific Deyzara. Kill some offspring just to show hint of irrationality, strike greater fear. Idea is to put Deyzara in position of permanent scaring. Not eliminate. Just render always inferior. If they always in fear of us, they always be willing accommodate whatever we ask.” Taking a mouthful of rain from the central column, he sprayed his open hands with it, held dripping fingers up for all to see. “Water runs. Fear clings. The Deyzara are naked. We will clothe them in fear.”

Behind him, on the other side of the rain, Yeruna-hua stepped from his chair to speak. Brilliant pupils blazed, and the other Yuiqueru's yellow-and-black fur stood erect.

“Aniolo-jat speaks thoughtful but speaks too much caution. I say forget Commonwealth. Not mind reaction of off-worlders.” He raised an arm high. “Kill every Deyzara! Kill them all!”

The chant rose around the circle. But while spirited, it was far from universal. Aniolo-jat let it run its course before finally interrupting, having to raise his voice only slightly to do so.

“A cubling may not always have what it wish for. In this new, wider world of stars and other beings that live around them, the Sakuntala are still cublings. The wise offspring watches, and learns even from parents it dislikes. It is the foolish one who bravely steps off the branch and into waters of Viisiiviisii, to swim boldly—until is taken by a giimatasa.”

It was an image burned into the memory of every Sakuntala. The wild swirl of water, the helpless cries of the trapped, the inability to do anything but watch until the doomed disappeared into the depths: no one, not even a Hata, was immune to such a possible fate—or the memory of it. When it was quiet again, Aniolo-jat resumed speaking.

“We
could
possible kill most Deyzara and see rest flee into sky. But then what happen?” Wrapping his tongue several times around his face, he briefly covered his eyes. “Commonwealth do one of several things. Punish us.”

“Not afraid of humans!” Yeruna-hua made a challenging cracking sound with his own fully extended tongue, snapping the tip like a whip. “Humans small and weak. They have cubling tongues, and they slip and fall from trees and walkways like legless shumai. My young ones strong enough to rip off their arms.”

“
Heesa,
that is so. But not all strength is in arms and tongues. Humans have better weapons than Sakuntala.”

“Not anymore!” shouted someone Naneci-tok could not identify. “We have them now also. Buy and trade for them. For ‘protection' from Viisiiviisii and for ‘hunting.' ”

“We do have them,” Aniolo-jat readily agreed. “And from our other sources. But still not so many as humans do. And if necessary, they have bigger weapons they can bring to Fluva. I have learned of these things. They have machines that can find person in middle of night, in depths of Viisiiviisii. They can hear sound of talking from ship in sky. We learning of these things and how use them—but we still not have all, or enough. Someday,
heesa
, but not yet.

“Besides, are other punishments humans can use. We do this to all Deyzara, maybe humans just go away.” Listening closely, Naneci-tok admired how the Yuiqueru's shrewdness came into play. “Commonwealth go away, Fluva and Sakuntala revert to living in stick-and-sap houses in trees.” Reaching to his waist, he tapped his small communicator. “How many here want to go back to talking with howler drums? How many like watch vit recordings? How many getting rich trading with and working for humans? No Commonwealth—no wonderful technology toys. No money.”

It hit home, she saw clearly. Anyone could rouse a crowd against the Deyzara. It took a chief with a mastery of both warcraft
and
wordcraft to make the often fractious Sakuntala
listen
. Every chief present in the High House knew that being in the Commonwealth offered advantages too great to abandon.

“What about our culture? What will become of the Sakuntala?” another chief asked, almost plaintively.

“We will keep that which makes us what we are.” Aniolo-jat spoke with conviction. “We will take what we wish from Commonwealth. But to do so we must make sure Deyzara are kept down. They must agree to set of demands. Foremost important, they must agree to limit their breeding. Fluva must stay forever in dominion of the Sakuntala.” A loud chorus of “Hauea!” underlined this declamation. This time, Naneci-tok noted, the response was nearly universal.

“We must do this without bring Commonwealth retribution down on us. Especially on us personally.” His ears flicked out to the sides in an expression of knowingness. “And as you know, we now have friends who have agree to help us.”

No one would disagree with the Yuiqueru's evaluation, she knew. There was too much potential individual wealth at stake. Among the Sakuntala themselves, alliances and treaties and declarations were always shifting. To get the people to do anything in concert was historically difficult. In that, she knew, lay perhaps the more formidable weapon possessed by the Deyzara. The trunked ones knew that the Sakuntala were as likely to fight one another as they were to do battle with any outsiders.

Aniolo-jat seemed to have it all figured out. Of course, if even a few of the Deyzara decided to fight back, using those same Commonwealth weapons that had been spoken of so admiringly, then Sakuntala also would die. And if some of the humans chose to aid their embattled Deyzara associates, that would mean more death still. But death in combat was no stranger to the Sakuntala. It was part of their culture—far more so than it was of the Deyzara's.

The human reaction remained the principal unpredictable element. How would the Commonwealth government on Fluva react to an attempt to minimize forever the influence of the local Deyzara? Would they interfere at all? As the wily Aniolo-jat had already pointed out, Commonwealth money and goods were too important to risk losing. The other variable was the reaction of the clans. How closely would traditional rivals and competitors cooperate in an attempt to get rid of the Deyzara? And for how long?

And exactly who were these new “friends” the cunning Yuiqueru had spoken of?

Too much was at stake to leave to chance. The more she struggled to reconcile Aniolo-jat's seductive words with what she felt to be right, the harder the veins in her ears throbbed. Could a decision on so weighty a matter be made so soon? Today, even? She wished fervently for wise personal counsel. But her mother was dead.
She
was the counsel, now. A look cast in Cecolou-tiu's direction brought no relief. The aged Hata had fallen asleep.