The Totems of Abydos (61 page)

He did not really believe, you see, that Rodriguez would return to the village without him. That, at least, did not seem likely.

Rather than return to the village immediately Brenner now walked along the outside of the cliffs, passing the openings on his right. He did not want to go back inside the passages. Too, it was getting darker. The sun was now behind the trees. He did go up to one or two of the openings and call out, but, again, there was no response from within. In a few minutes, about half a Commonworld hour, he had come to the small valley at the end of the cliffs on the right, to where the mounds were. But there was no sign of Rodriguez there, either. Brenner then, the cliffs with the openings now on his left, retraced his steps in the longer valley. Then he climbed up to the cliffs which overlooked the platform below, and the village, in the distance. Here, too, he saw no sign of Rodriguez. He could see the village in the distance. It was now growing dark.

Rodriguez must have left the passages, to return to the village. There was no other possible explanation.

As Brenner stood on the cliffs, above the platform, he saw torches being lit in the Pon village. These torches then, perhaps some twenty of them, left the village. He could see them from time to time, flickering amongst the trees. They were apparently following the string.

They may be coming to search for us, thought Brenner. Or, perhaps, for me. Perhaps Rodriguez has sent them back to find me. Brenner watched the torches. They were definitely following the string, definitely approaching.

In a few minutes Brenner, whose hearing, as we have noted, was excellent, could detect that the Pons were not approaching in silence.

They were uttering strange, keening sounds, sounds as though of misery, or mourning.

Brenner had never heard Pons utter such sounds.

He turned about, facing the valley, and the cliffs, with their openings, across the way. “Rodriguez!” he called. “Rodriguez! Emilio! Emilio!”

He received no answer. There was only the echo, reverberating back from the opposing cliffs.

Then, frightened, Brenner made his way down the cliff, past the platform, and hurried to meet the Pons.

Chapter 27

“No!” screamed Brenner, seizing the bloodied shirt from the hands of a Pon, under the torches, near the string.

The Pons with the torches began again their eerie, keening wails.

The pack, too, bloodied, still sticky, was in the hands of another.

Brenner crouched down, his head in his hands. Rodriguez should not have left him. He should not have gone on ahead! He should not have tried to reach the village by himself!

“What happened?” asked Brenner, lifting his eyes, choking.

“Beast, beast,” said one of the Pons.

“Darkness, forest, shadows,” said another.

“Jump, take, kill, eat!” said another.

The keening was shrill now, almost as though it would cut the leaves from the branches.

“Big beast,” said another, gesturing with the torch, lifting and lowering it in what, for him, was a huge half circle.

It must be the totem animal, or an animal of that sort, thought Brenner.

Many of the small, simian faces were streaked with tears. It seemed strange to see these lachrymal traces on such faces. Brenner had not realized that Rodriguez would have meant that much to Pons. Certainly he had never been at pains to treat them well, or to consider their feelings. And Pons did have feelings, of a sort, of that Brenner was much aware. He had seen them throw back their heads upon occasion and utter raucous pleased cries, which may have been laughter, and, surely, upon occasion, he had seen wonder in their eyes, and perplexity, and, once, as yesterday morning in their hut, something like tenderness, or kindliness, or perhaps even love, and, too, he did not doubt they might know frenzy, and hatred. He remembered the small bones, the apparently hideous vengeances enacted upon two members of their own group who had, it seems, violated some rule, or taboo. Yes, they were capable of emotion, Brenner was sure of that, even strong emotion. Very little in the world, Rodriguez had once told him, is accomplished without love and hate.

I am alone, thought Brenner. The only friend I ever had is gone.

“Grief!” said a Pon.

“Sad, sad, terrible, terrible,” said another.

To be sure, Brenner understood that their wailing, their keening, their misery, might not be all on the account of Rodriguez, a stranger, one not even of their own group. They might be frightened for themselves, as well. The meretricious nature of the “pact” might have finally become clear to them. Perhaps they now understood, for the first time, the nature of the totem animal. Poor Rodriguez, thought Brenner, how confident he had been in his theories. How little he had been afraid. He could have remained within the palisade, for what protection that might have been worth. No, he had gone on with his work, and then, on the way back to the village, it seemed, he had learned, if he had had time to learn it, that he had been mistaken, that there was no pact, that the beast, after all, was a beast, only that, and that it might be hungry, a force of nature that might be hungry, and that it was no more to be trusted than rushing water or the stroke of lightning.

“When did this happen?” asked Brenner.

The Pons looked at one another, puzzled.

“Where did it happen?” asked Brenner.

Two of the Pons gestured back toward the village. “That way,” said one.

“You found the body?” asked Brenner. He had seen, after all, only a bloodied, torn shirt, and the pack, also with blood on it.

“Yes,” said one of the Pons.

“Come, come,” said another.

“Pieces,” said another.

“Not all gone,” said another.

The beast, Brenner thought, did not even drag its prey into the forest, to eat it in secret. It was such a lord, such a king, it would feed on it where it laid it low. It had not even, apparently, like certain of the beasts of the forest, dragged it into the branches of a tree, to keep it for later, to keep it out of the reach of others, such as the humped, crested ones. Was it such a hunter, Brenner wondered, that it could feed when it wanted, and eat only fresh meat, and only parts which pleased it at the time. Was the forest such a vulnerable, plenteous larder for it?

“Grief!” wailed a Pon.

Their world may have collapsed, thought Brenner. But perhaps not, he thought. Rodriguez was not of the Pons. Their sorrow may actually be for Rodriguez, or perhaps even for me. It was not as though it had taken a Pon. But what if they thought that Rodriguez had included himself within the pact, and had nonetheless been seized and killed? That would surely undermine their confidence in the pact.

But surely they could find some way to explain it away. Could that not always be done?

But sometimes such explanations do not, truly, satisfy even their propounders.

Are the Pons now as alone, and terrified, as I am, in the forest, Brenner wondered.

“Do not cry,” said Brenner, standing up.

“No, cry, cry,” said a Pon.

“We will mourn,” said another.

“We will love,” said another.

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“Come, come!” said Pons, tugging at his clothes.

“Why?” asked Brenner.

“See pieces,” said a Pon.

“They may be gone now,” said Brenner.

“No,” said a Pon.

“See beast!” said a Pon.

“You know where it is?” asked Brenner.

“Come, come,” said a Pon, earnestly. Torches were lifted.

Clearly in evidence was the agitation of the small creatures, “The beast?” said Brenner.

“Yes, yes!” said more than one of the Pons.

Brenner blinked against the light of the torches. Then the hair on the back of his neck rose.

“You have cornered it, you have trapped it?” asked Brenner, suddenly. That might be possible, with the torches. Many animals fled fire.

“Come, come!” urged the Pons.

“Kill!” cried another suddenly, shrilly.

“Kill the beast?” asked Brenner.

“Yes!” said the Pons.

Yes, thought Brenner, in sudden cold rage, kill it. Kill it.

But how?

“Come, come!” urged the Pons.

Brenner then accompanied the Pons. In a few minutes, to his surprise, and trepidation, they had led him within the gate of the palisade itself.

Chapter 28

“It is permissible for me to enter here?” asked Brenner.

“Please!” said one of the Pons.

“Please!” said another, gesturing with the torch.

Brenner stood at the door to the temple, that reached from within the palisade of the Pons. In his hands, he gripped a long, pointed stick. It was the nearest thing to a weapon he could find.

“You are sure it is within?” asked Brenner.

“Yes,” said one of the Pons.

How terrified they are, how frightened, thought Brenner.

Brenner looked at the makeshift spear, the pointed stick he held. If the thing was indeed within, somehow, what good would the stick be?

So he was a champion to Pons, he thought, towering above them, many of them coming only to his waist.

What would it be doing in this place, wondered Brenner.

Did they hold it within, with torches?

“Kill,” said one of the Pons.

Of course, it must be killed, thought Brenner. It has tasted flesh.

He sobbed.

But how could he kill it? He did not have the rifle. And if he had had it, he was not even certain of its operation. Insert the charge in the wrong fashion, and it could blow up in his hands, taking him, and the roof of the temple with him. Too, he was not certain as to how to free the rifle. Certainly its freeing would not be obvious; it would be subtle, at least; it was probably designed with the idea of slipping undetected through customs. Too, he did not know the sequence which prepared the rifle for firing. There must, too, be a safety mechanism. Rodriguez had handled such things. Brenner had not even wanted to know anything, really, about the rifle. It was a sort of thing against which he had been conditioned. This put him, of course, and others like him, at the mercy of those to whom such devices were familiar. But, in any event, he did not have the rifle.

He had, of course, tried to communicate with the Pons pertaining to the shiny tube, the putative optical instrument, even attempting to suggest its latent capacities, but they had, apparently, understood nothing. It was not a pointed stick, not a sharp-edged scarp. How could one explain a rifle to a people unfamiliar with the bow? Would it not be easier to explain fire to a fish? And those with him seemed to know nothing, even about a shiny tube.

And so Brenner, with a pointed stick, with fear, and rage, and desperation, guided by the Pons clustered about him, with their wailing, and torches, had come to the door of the temple.

Several Pons, others from the village, who, it seemed, had been waiting, swung open the doors of the temple.

Brenner could see light within, that of other torches.

He then entered the temple, Pons behind him, those who had come to fetch him in the forest, with torches, those who had opened the doors, and others, too, from the village.

Chapter 29

Brenner proceeded down the corridor.

The last time he had been in this corridor he had been with Rodriguez.

The torches behind him made his shadow seem long and before him.

He was descending now, and must, by this time, be outside the perimeter of the palisade.

Before him he could see two torches, one on each side of the double doors, within which was the hall of the temple, which he had, only last night, discovered with Rodriguez.

To his surprise there were several Pons at these doors.

The beast, if it is here, must be trapped inside, somehow, thought Brenner. It might have come in here, through the village, frightened by torches within the ring of the palisade, the portal would be large enough. Perhaps it thought the opening was like a den mouth, or a cave, a place to hide. But there seemed no marks in the corridor, the print of moist pads on the floor, strands of hair caught against the wooden walls, to suggest such a journey. Or it might have come in, somehow, from the rear, through the tunnel, that which last night had been blocked by the great gate of logs, with the sharpened spikes, pointing outward. Perhaps that gate had been opened, and then closed behind the beast.

The Pons at the hall doors began to swing them open.

“No!” said Brenner, putting his hand out. “Do not open them widely!”

A beast like that which had taken Archimedes could force its way, fierce head first, then shoulders and haunches, through such an opening with the ease of quicksilver.