The Days of Peleg (40 page)

“Maybe that one,” admitted Peleg. “But I think they are just as noisy—and smelly—as ever. In fact, I think they
like
the cold.”

Serug glared at his antagonist.

“Just help me with these cages,” he said tersely.

The cold environment had produced other interesting conditions, one of which was the slippery film which often covered the top decks. As the fresh-water spray blew over the ship, it collected on the decks and hardened into a thin crystalline layer which often made walking treacherous. On more than one occasion, various mariners (who prided themselves on their excellent balance) found themselves on their knees as they tried vainly to keep from sliding across the flooring.

Peleg reached up to help Serug wrest the top
tum
-coop from the stack, which was really four cages fastened together with a family of eight birds in each. Slowly they slid it off of the cage beneath and began to back away. Once it had cleared the stack, Serug began to maneuver towards the small narrow staircase in the center of the deck which descended into the level below.

“Step down!” Serug warned as Peleg began to back over the narrow ledge that separated the poop deck from the main.

“I see it,” Peleg grunted. After years of taking measurements and inflating
Zini
while on the Poop Deck, he certainly knew where that first step was.

Serug followed him over the ledge and they began to make their way towards the opening. Suddenly, a slight tip of the deck pushed Peleg backwards, forcing his knees to buckle. Normally, such rocking would have amounted to nothing, but this time Peleg was walking over a patch of slippery
šeg
and his feet flew out from under him.

Serug felt the cage become much heavier as Peleg went down, and he pulled back instinctively in an attempt to take over the load. The thirty-two
tum
-birds began to squawk noisily as their home tipped violently.

Serug bent backwards trying to hoist the cage on his waist, but it was too heavy. Peleg managed to get to his knees and reach up from the deck where he grabbed the nearest section and pushed upward.

Peleg tried to help him lift the cage, but instead he managed to push Serug backwards, threatening to buckle his knees. Serug stumbled back a few paces as Peleg, who had slid back down to the deck, waved helplessly at the cage in a vain attempt to try and reach it.

Finally Serug could stand no more. His legs crumpled and he sank flat on his back with his legs twisted under him. He tried to bench-press the cage to keep it from resting on his head, but his efforts were useless and it continued to fall slowly and relentlessly onto his face.

Peleg was still clambering forward and he managed to get close enough to give the cage one desperate shove which pushed the falling coop past Serug where it was able to drop safely, barely missing his head.

Unfortunately, Serug’s head was at the edge of the main deck, and the
tum
-cage hurtled over the side of the ship and down into the chilly waters below.

Serug twisted violently and forgot all about his narrow escape.

“My birds!” he shouted.

The cage was bouncing along the water’s surface, occasionally submerging, but falling behind the
Urbat
with alarming speed.

Without a moment’s hesitation—or thought, Serug dove in after his birds.

“Man overboard!” yelled Peleg, and soon the sails were lowering and the oarsman were back-rowing to slow the ship.

Peleg slid to the other side of the boat, threw the anchor in to the water, and then ran for the dinghy.

There would normally not be this much of an alarm; all crewmen were expected to swim regularly as part of their fitness regiment. But in these cold waters they had discovered that joints would lock and muscles would fatigue in a matter of minutes. In warmer waters, any one of them could swim for hours. Now, however, great concern was given to anyone who remained in the water for more than a few moments.

Peleg knew that Serug would not rest until he had recaptured his
tum
-birds. Soon he and Untash, along with two oarsmen, had lowered the dinghy and were cutting through the waves towards his bobbing blond head. The cage could be seen in the distance, over three-quarters submerged. Peleg hoped these strange birds were good at holding their breath.

Tidal forces had etched out jagged outcroppings and islets along this coastline/river bank. Huge walls of water pounded against the rocks creating spray and thunder. The cage was swiftly approaching them, and Peleg was afraid that a wave might catch Serug and toss him in the direction of the craggy
šeg
-covered ridges.

Slowly they began to close on Serug, but it soon became obvious that he was floundering. He was still wearing his trousers and jacket made from blankets which weighed him down even more, and he was suffering from leg and abdomen cramps. He would go under soon.

Up ahead, a small wave lifted the cage, draining much of the water and exposing the soggy birds inside. As the poor
tum
tried to orient themselves, a second wave tipped the cage on its end and propelled it towards a huge igneous boulder which was covered in
šeg
spray.

The cage smashed on impact, and pieces of wood and rope, along with food and nesting materials, were sent flying everywhere. Coop-sections dangled from severed lashings, and the newly freed birds
should
have discovered their emancipation and headed for the skies. Instead, the strange black and white birds, (which were never really good fliers), fought their way out of the crate, and dove headlong into the water where they vanished beneath the waves.

The men’s attention was focused on Serug, and when they reached him, his head was submerged and he appeared motionless. Peleg and Untash jumped into the cold water and grabbed hold of Serug, lifting him up to the surface and into the dinghy. As they clambered back in behind him, Untash turned the unconscious Serug over. His normally pinkish skin had turned a glossy white with a bluish tinge. As Peleg bent over him, his worse fears were confirmed.

His friend was not breathing.

The massive earthquakes had coincided with Mentor Inanna’s screams of pain during the hours she spent in labor. She cursed the cosmos which somehow had seen fit to give this anguish only to humans—the highest form of
Lifeforce
. No other creature had such agony giving birth.

It had been many decades since such intense geological activities, and many of the more spiritually attuned students at the
Citadel
looked for signs and apparitions from the recently disturbed underworld.

The
Sisterhood of Lilith
, who remained devoutly consumed with the return of their beloved Minister Dumuzi, attended the High Minister’s labor throughout the earthquake’s rumble, and saw the birth of this new boy-child as a possible answer to their desires. If any soul could escape
Erset la Tari
into
La’atzu
, the spirit world, it was the great Minister Dumuzi who had revealed so much to them. Upon restoration to the spirit world, incarnation would be a simple matter. How fitting to return to them as the offspring of their High Minister, whom they loved almost as much as he had. In fact, the
Sisterhood of Lilith
secretly referred to her as their Queen.

Mentor Inanna did nothing to dissuade their hopes. She knew of their faith in Dumuzi’s return, and she herself occasionally harbored similar desires. Besides, she told herself, anything was possible.

The baby boy now rested quietly, suckling beside his mother. Outside on the streets, Winter Solstice activities were coming to a close as the astronomers ritually announced that the sun was again returning from its southern passage.

She had named him
Tammuz
, which, in the new language of her father, was the equivalent of Dumuzi. It would honor Sargon, who would be arriving soon. And if it happened to increase speculations of the late High Minister’s incarnate return, so be it.

Chapter 28

Eternity

“More inconceivable than life after death is nothingness after life.”

L
ong twisting shadows arched away from the sun as it progressed around the horizon. In this bitter, cold land of perpetual twilight, depth and color perception were often suspect, and it was becoming more and more difficult for their tired eyes to judge distances accurately.

Cold silver spray mixed with the shadows to turn everything gray in the small dinghy. Untash flipped Serug over on his stomach and smacked him hard in the back, dislodging water and phlegm. He then turned him on his back and pressed his lips to Serug’s mouth and began forcing small amounts of air into his unconscious lungs.

After three short puffs, he tipped his head to examine Serug’s chest. After determining there was no motion, he repeated the procedure. He placed his pinky just under Serug’s nose to feel for breath, then tried again.

He filled Serug’s lungs, and waited to allow them time to expel. He repeated this over and over again, until the others in the boat thought he had gone far beyond futility and should give up.

Untash massaged the last exhalation from Serug’s blue-white form and sat back on his bench, exhausted.

A horrible gurgling sound escaped from Serug’s throat, reminding all those present of punctured air pockets found in a gutted fish. It was a sound which should have signaled the end, except that it grew louder.

Suddenly, the gurgling crescendoed into a soggy thunderclap. It took a few seconds before they realized what had happened.

Serug had just sneezed!

Untash bent over him and saw his chest moving ever so slightly. He pressed his ear close and could hear the faint taps of a quick heartbeat.

He was in shock and unconscious, but he was still alive!

Untash bundled him back up in his wet clothes and soon they were all hoisted back aboard the
Urbat
.

As the ship’s Chief Chemist, Thaxad was also the man responsible for the crew’s health and well-being. Usually this entailed little more than setting minor fractures or helping someone regurgitate the remains of poisonous berries which had looked much prettier than they tasted.

Now Thaxad was faced with something entirely new. They wrapped Serug in dry blankets and placed him on a table in the galley where the only real warmth on the ship existed.

“How did you know what to do?” Thaxad asked Untash. For someone who seemed to always have the answers, this question was quite intriguing to the surrounding men.

Untash shrugged his large shoulders.

“There are certain small cults in the Indus region that practice various ‘mind-over-body’ disciplines. There are those who can concentrate their mental abilities to slow their heartbeat, change their body temperature, and even reduce their breathing to a few short breaths per minute.”

He frowned.

“I guess they were experimenting to find how close they could get to death without actually dying.” He laughed slightly. “Or perhaps they were hoping to get a glimpse of what’s on the other side.”

Others joined in smiling at such superstitious thoughts.

“Either way, there were occasions where some stopped breathing altogether—or in some case, they chose to enforce their objectives by practicing underwater. I was among those who revived them and restored their air. Sometimes men and women who had gone for long periods without air told of fantastic spiritual visions or apparitions. I once tried to tell them that they were just hallucinations from passing out, but they informed me that I was too enslaved by the ‘illusory material world’.”

He shrugged again.

“Perhaps Master Serug will have a great tale to tell when he revives.”

The cold, pale form with its thick mop of blond hair showed no signs of reviving. He was, however, breathing peaceably.

The shores were now completely covered with
šeg
—several meters thick in places. Huge chunks of the material floated in the waters as the
Urbat
continued its southerly plunge. The oarsmen were constantly on the lookout for collisions.

This was increasingly difficult in the reduced light. Peleg was sure, now, that the sun’s path was much lower along the horizon, and it glowed a deep, dark orange. Strangely, the zenith was the darkest region of the sky, and one could usually make out some stars in its twilight. However, it was not enough to confirm any compass readings. Peleg shivered thinking about how much colder it would be when the Sun made its perpetual path
below
the horizon.

Thaxad claimed that within two or three thousand years, this entire place would be covered with thick layers of
šeg
—and that it would solidify all the way down to the ocean floor. Since the white surface reflected the sun’s heat, he said, it would never melt, and simply accumulate until the entire pole was covered.

“If mankind wishes to take advantage of this polar route, they’ll have to do it soon,” he said.