A Far Sunset

EIGHT

The half-starved youth, dad in a threadbare samu, who climbed up the steps as Poul Mer Lo watched from his verandah, seemed vaguely familiar. But though there were not many beggars in Baya Nor, their faces all looked the same— like those of the proverbial Chinamen to people on the other side of a world on the other side of the sky…

‘Oruri greets you,’ said the youth, neglecting to hold out his begging bowl.

‘The greeting is a blessing,’ retorted Poul Mer Lo automatically. After two fifty-day Bayani months, he found ritual conversation quite easy. According to form, the youth should now tell of the nobility of his grandfather, the virility of his father, the selfless devotion of his mother and the disaster that Oruri had inflicted upon them all to bring joy through penitence.

But the boy did not launch into the expected formula. He said: ‘Blessed also are they who have known many wonders. I may speak with you?’

Suddenly, Poul Mer Lo, who had been sitting cross-legged with Mylai Tui, enjoying the light evening breeze, recognized the voice. He sprang to his feet.

‘Lord, I did not ’

‘Do not recognize me!' The words shot out imperiously. Then the boy relaxed, and carried on almost apologetically: ‘I am Shah Shan, of late a waterman. I may speak with you?’

‘Yes, Shah Shan, you may speak with me. I am Poul Mer Lo, a stranger now and always.’

The boy smiled and held out his begging bowl. ‘Oruri has seen fit to grace me with a slight hunger. Perhaps he foresaw our meeting.’

Silently, Mylai Tui rose to her feet, took the bowl and disappeared into the house. Poul Mer Lo watched her curiously.

She had seemed almost not to see Shah Shan at all.

‘Poul Mer Lo is gracious,’ said the boy. ‘It is permitted to sit?’

‘It is permitted to sit,’ returned Poul Mer Lo gravely.

The two of them sat cross-legged on the verandah, and there was silence. Presendy Mylai Tui returned with the bowl. It contained a small quantity of kappa, the cereal that was the staple diet of the poor and that the prosperous only ate with meat and vegetables.

Shah Shan took the kappa and ate it greedily with his fingers. When he had finished, he belched politely.

‘I have a friend,’ he said, ‘whose head has been troubled with dreams and strange thoughts. I think that you may help him.’

‘I am sorry for your friend. I do not know that I can help him, but if he comes to me, I will try.’

‘The kappa is still green,’ said Shah Shan.

Poul Mer Lo was familiar enough with idiomadc Bayani to understand that the time was not ripe.

‘My friend is of some importance,’ went on the boy. ‘He has much to occupy him. Nevertheless, he is troubled … See, I will show you something that he has shown me.’

Shah Shan rose to his feet, went down the verandah steps and found a small stick. He proceeded to draw in the dust.

Poul Mer Lo watched him, astounded.

Shah Shan had drawn the outline of the Gloria Mundi.

‘My friend calls this a silver bird,’ he explained. ‘But it does not look like a bird. Can you explain this?’

‘It is truly a silver bird. It is a—a ’ Poul Mer Lo floundered. There was no Bayani word for machine, or none that he knew. ‘It was fashioned by men in metal,’ he said at last, ‘as a sculptor fashions in stone. It brought me to your world.’

‘There is another thing,’ continued Shah Shan. ‘My friend has seen the silver bird passing swiftly round a great ball. The ball was very strange. It was not a ball of yarv such as the children play with. It was a ball of water. And there was some land on which forests grew. And in the forests there were waterways. Also there was a city with many temples and four great reservoirs … My friend was disturbed.’

Poul Mer Lo was even more amazed. ‘Your friend need not be disturbed,’ he said at length. ‘He saw truly what has happened. The great ball is your world. The reservoirs are those of Baya Nor … Your friend has had a very wonderful dream.’

Shah Shan shook his head. ‘My friend has a sickness. The world is flat—flat as the face of water when there is no wind. It is known that if a man journeys far—if he is mad enough to journey far—from Baya Nor, he will fall off the edge of the world. Perhaps if he is worthy, he will fall on to the bosom of Oruri. Otherwise there can be no end to his falling.’

Poul Mer Lo was silent for a moment or two. Then he said hesitantly: ‘Shah Shan, I, too, have a friend who seems wise though he is still very young. He told me a story about six men who found a sleeping tlamyn. Each of the men thought the damyn was something else. Eventually, they argued so much that it woke up and ate them.’

‘I have heard the story,’ said Shah Shan gravely. ‘It is amusing.’

‘The tlamyn is truth. It is not given to men to understand truth completely. However wise they are, they are only permitted to see a little of the truth. But may not some see more than others?’

Shah Shan’s forehead wrinkled. ‘It is possible,’ he said presently, ‘that a stranger to this land may see a different countenance of the truth … A stranger who has journeyed far and therefore witnessed many happenings.’

Poul Mer Lo was encouraged. ‘You speak wisely. Listen then, to the strange thoughts of a stranger. Time is divided into day and night, is it not? And in the day there is a great fire in the sky which ripens the kappa, rouses the animals and gives the light by which men see … What is the name of this great fire?’

‘It is called the Sun.’

‘And what is the name of all the land whereon the sun shines?’

‘It is called the earth.’

‘But the sun does not shine on the earth by night. At night there are many tiny points of light when the sky is clear, but they do not give warmth. What is the Bayani word for these cold, bright points of light?’

‘Stars.’

‘Shah Shan, I have journeyed among the stars and I swear to you that they seem small and cold only because they are very far away. In reality they are as hot and bright and big as the sun that shines over Baya Nor. Many of them shine on worlds such as this, and their number is greater than all the hairs on all the heads of your people … My own home is on a world that is also called Earth. It, too, is warmed by a sun. But it is so far away that a silver bird is needed to make the journey. And now that the silver bird on which I came is dead, I do not think I shall return again.’

Shah Shan was watching him intently. ‘There are cities like Baya Nor on your earth?’

‘There are cities greater than Baya Nor. Cities where men accomplish wonderful things with metal and other substances.’ ‘Is Oruri worshipped in your cities?’

‘For my people, Oruri has many different names.’

‘And you have god-kings?’

‘Yes, but again they are known by different names.’

‘I have heard,’ said Shah Shan, smiling, ‘that Enka Ne permitted you to keep all that was found with you. They were things which the god-king found interesting but of no practical value. Is there anything among these things that would lend weight to the wonders of which you speak?’

Poul Mer Lo hesitated. There was the atomic powered miniature transceiver—the most he could raise on it would be static. There was the electronic wristwatch, a beautiful instrument but lacking, perhaps, the dramatic quality he needed to convince Shah Shan that he spoke the truth.

And there was the sweeper rifle. The ace that he had sworn only to use in extremity.

Should he risk throwing the ace away? He looked at Shah Shan, a boy filled with curiosity and a turmoil of strange new notions. Poul Mer Lo made his decision.

‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘I will bring you something that is both wonderful and terrible.’

He went into the house, took the sweeper rifle from the niche he had made for it and returned to the verandah.

‘This,’ he said, ‘is a weapon that, if it is used properly could kill half your people.’

Shah Shan looked at the small plastic and metal object uncomprehendingly.

‘Observe,’ said Poul Mer Lo. He stood on the verandah, raised the rifle to his shoulder, pushed the breeder button and sighted at the base of a large tree about a hundred metres away. He pressed the trigger.

There was a faint whine, and the rifle vibrated almost imperceptibly. At the base of the tree, a plume of smoke began to rise. Then the tree toppled over.

‘Observe,’ said Poul Mer Lo. He switched his aim to a clear stretch of water on a waterway that was about two hundred metres away. He pressed the trigger. The water began to stream, then boil, then produce a miniature waterspout.

‘Observe,’ said Poul Mer Lo. He aimed at the ground not far from the verandah and blasted a small crater in which the lava hissed and bubbled long after he had put the rifle down.

Shah Shan put out a hand and touched the weapon gingerly. ‘Truly, it is the work of gods,’ he said at last. ‘How many have you destroyed with it?’

Poul Mer Lo smiled. ‘None. There has been no cause.’

‘It shall be remembered,’ said Shah Shan. Then he, too, smiled. ‘But it did not save you from the darts of the hunters, did it?’

‘No, it did not save me from the darts of the hunters.’

‘That, too, must be remembered,’ said Shah Shan. He rose. ‘My lord, you have given me kappa, you have nourished my spirit, you have shown, perhaps, that my friend is not entirely mad. Oruri is our witness … I will go now, for time runs swifter than water. And for many there is much thinking to be done. Live in peace, friend of my friend … The fingers did not cause too much pain?’

‘It is over,’ said Poul Mer Lo briefly. ‘It was a small price.’

Shah Shan formally touched his lips and his eyes, then turned and went down the verandah steps.

Poul Mer Lo watched him make his way towards the sacred city.

Without speaking, Mylai Tui picked up the empty kappa bowl and the sweeper rifle and took them away.