Cat Karina

Tortugo

Karina crept through the jungle, following her quarry by scent as much as by sound.

It was strange to be alone. All her life she’d been used to the strength of the grupo; and now here she was, unprotected, following two True Humans into the secret recesses of the delta.

Why?

Because of her stubbornness. Because she was loyal to her people. Because she wanted to prove to her father that she was capable of looking after herself. Because she was sure there was something in the delta which the felinos ought to know about.

But basically because she was a felina, born to hunt but condemned by her religion to play hunting games — until now.

Tonio halted his horse before a group of mouldering huts near a tall fence of vegetation and spun silk.

«Wait here, Raoul,” he said, dismounting, «I won’t be long.»

«Can’t I come?» It was an unpleasant corner of the delta, and Raoul thought he saw monstrous things in those huts. Certainly eyes watched him from the shadows.

«I said wait. It’s Canton business — no affair of yours.»

Tonio paddled through the boggy ground, not allowing Raoul to see his own uncertainty and slight fear, and ducked into the largest hut. «Cocodrilo?»

A supine figure opened an eye, opened a huge mouth in a yawning grimace and hoisted itself off a low bed, standing in a threatening crouch. «Yes?»

«I’ve come to inspect the crop.»

«It’s not convenient.»

«Listen, I’m not going through all that again.» It was the same every year. Of all the humans of the coast, the delta people were the most surly, the most unobliging. But then, they had to be strange, to live in a place like this. «Open up the gate and let me through!»

Grumbling, Cocodrilo shambled to the gate, brushed away a cluster of black widows with his horny hand, and tugged at the fastenings.

Suppressing a shudder, Tonio passed through. The black widows looked as big as puppies, and they could kill. He hurried across the farm, seeing Siervo in the distance. His mood changed to pity as he watched the man, emaciated almost to the point of looking skeletal, digging away at an endless dyke like a man possessed. He remembered his own childhood when they’d tested him, breaking the skin and touching the wound with a smear of brownish venom — and he’d been sick for days. It was one of his clearest memories — everyone said the same. A child never forgot his black widow test.…

«I’ve come to see the crop, Siervo.»

Siervo hadn’t noticed his approach. He dropped his shovel with a small scream of fear, and stared at him, hollow eyes guilt-ridden. «What’s that? What’s that? What do you want? Who are you?»

«Sorry — I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s me, Captain Tonio. You remember me — I’m contracted for your crop.»

«Ah.… Yes.» Pulling himself together, Siervo climbed out of the ditch and led the way to his hut.

«What are they like this year?»

«Fine.… Very good‑looking animals.»

«What did you say, Siervo?» Cocodrilo had sidled up, barking the question.

«An excellent crop. Excellent.»

Cocodrilo laid a scaly hand on Siervo’s shoulder as they walked among the shells of dead male tortugas. Tonio avoided the shells but it seemed that Cocodrilo took pleasure in stepping on them, crunching them and squeezing out stinking, decaying flesh. «Always remember this, Siervo,” said Cocodrilo softly. «Tortugas are not animals. Not in any shape or form. They are vegetables which go through a mobile stage before maturing. Now, how many times have I told you that, Siervo?»

«Many.… Many times.» The hand was biting into Siervo’s shoulder like a claw.

«So, say it to me, Siervo,” hissed Cocodrilo.

«That’s enough!» Tonio found himself shouting. «Leave him alone!»

«He’s a True Human and I’m a Specialist, is that it?»

«Nothing of the kind.» They halted at the pens and Tonio took his chance to change the subject. «They’ll be ready in time, will they?»

«Of course.»

Tonio bent down and examined the tortugas. They were becoming torpid now, gazing around with lack‑lustre eyes, scarcely moving. Meanwhile Cocodrilo had moved off, jaw jutting, sidling towards Siervo’s hut. The tortugas were prime specimens. Tonio picked one up, imagining himself in one of the southern towns, haggling with a merchant over the price of his cargo. Then he looked at Siervo, the pathetic creature whose life was devoted to the tortuga.…

Siervo’s eyes were wide. «No!» He was staring at Cocodrilo.

«You shouldn’t let them get into your hut, Siervo,” called Cocodrilo from the entrance. And he tossed a tortuga out; a thong trailed from its hind leg. It fell among the pregnant females.

«No!» Siervo was scrabbling on his knees, sorting among the animals in the pen.

«Well, if you can’t tell one from another, it hardly matters.» Cocodrilo gave a sharp laugh.

Tonio resisted the urge to hit him. It would do no good. Cocodrilo was immensely powerful; short thick arms, legs and neck; muscular torso. He sighed and turned away, saddened. He heard Siervo utter a cry of triumph and assumed he’d found his pet, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

In the jungle clearing

After the unwholesome atmosphere of the tortuga pens, the shops of the Canton engineer were a welcome change. Tonio and Raoul stood in a wide grassy clearing about two kilometers north of the loading yards. Here the sun shone, gleaming from the leafy roofs of a cluster of workshops, reflecting from the length of the test track.

At the near end of the track stood Rayo .…

She was tall, beautiful and two‑masted. Probably around thirty meters long, her hull was fabricated from the lightest timbers of balsa, covered with fabric.

«Will it be strong enough, Maquinista?» asked Tonio. He could dig his fingernail into the wood quite easily.

«Certainly it will.» The Canton engineer, a tall, stooping True Human, glanced at Tonio from under heavy brows, then winked at Raoul. «I’ve made a few modifications recently, too. Added a bit to the speed, I’d say. She’s not a bad car. Not bad at all.» His understatement barely concealed a deep pride in his work, and he regarded Rayo as a mother regards a new-born baby.

«The strain’s all taken by the masts, the keel and the guidewheel arms. The hull’s just a shell for people to sit in. We’ve been building them too heavy for centuries.»

Rayolooked clean and fast, like a killer whale. Raoul took his eyes off her with some difficulty and watched the odd little Specialists who swarmed about the yard, chattering interminably as they worked on similar cars with nimble fingers and great agility. Rayo stood proudly alone on the test track, ready to go.

They climbed aboard. «I’ll stay on deck,” said Tonio. «I want to see the effect of your modifications. Raoul — you go after and look after the brake. Maquinista, you ride with me on the foredeck. The rest of you look after the sheets.»

The small Specialists, well‑drilled, took up their positions.

The brake was a heavy handle projecting from the deck; a system of levers below pressed a heavy block against the running rail. Raoul worked it to and fro, getting used to the play.

«Haul in the sheets!» came Tonio’s shout. «Ease off the brake!»

The wind was light, but as the crew drew the flogging canvas tight it freshened, and Rayo took off like a startled tapir. Raoul had never known such acceleration. He hung onto a stanchion as the ground flew past. He heard the rumbling of the running wheels on the rail, the squeal of the lee guiderails — but that was all. The axle bearings — usually a source of much rasping and groaning — were silent.

And Rayo gathered speed.

She sped across the clearing and Raoul found he was shouting with joy and excitement. This was what flying must be like. He leaned over the rail and yelled to the people below. Work was forgotten; they stood and watched with wide eyes in their little monkey-faces. One or two shouted back.

«Take care.…»

A small group of ponies shied at their approach and began to gallop alongside, but Rayo soon left them behind and they veered off, snorting, eyes rolling. Now a pitching motion developed with the combination of speed and rough track. Raoul clung on. The crew fought for balance as Rayo began to porpoise.

«Ease off sheets!»

There was alarm in Tonio’s voice. The crewmen had been surprised by the rapid acceleration and the ropes were cleated down. They staggered about the deck, unable to get back to their posts. Some crawled, hanging onto projections and dragging themselves across the deck.

«Brakes?»

Raoul lurched towards the lever, grabbed it as he fell, and pulled. There was a scream of wood on wood. Sitting on the deck with his feet braced against the lever bracket, he put all his strength into it. Rayostreamed a trail of smoke as the brake block heated up. A Specialist rolled across the deck, bringing up against Raoul.

«The track ends —” His shout ended in a grunt as the deck bucked and flung him against a post.

«Let go those goddamned sails!» Now Maquinista was struggling aft, swinging on the shrouds, kicking the crew out of his way, lurching heavily against the mainmast.

In his hand was an ax which glittered like no stone ax ever did.

Bracing himself with legs astride, crablike figure in a semi‑crouch, he swung the ax. Rayo pitched, and unbalanced him. The blade thudded uselessly into the deck. He yelled an incoherent string of oaths and swung again. This time the mainsheet parted with a sharp report. The end, whipping away, caught a crewman around the waist and, plucked him overboard. His scream was lost in the roar from the overstrained lee guiderails. The boom swung out, spilling wind, and the motion steadied.

Maquinista charged onto the afterdeck, swinging the ax as he came, and Raoul ducked as the blade swished past his face and thudded into the mizzen sheet. Again the rope parted and the boom swung free.

Now the engineer hurled himself at the brake, biceps knotted, dragging at the lever. Ahead, Raoul saw the forest rushing towards them. He seized the brake and added his strength to that of the engineer. They stood side by side, hauling at the lever while smoke poured from beneath the car, and the crew began to jump overboard.

In those last moments before the crash Raoul noticed small things. Maquinista’s shirt hung open and a livid scar was slashed across his stomach — or what was left of his stomach. At some time in the past the man had suffered a terrible injury. Gulping, Raoul looked away and saw his father standing beside the mainmast, mouth open in a frozen yell. The main boom hit a tree and came swinging back across the deck, carrying away the shrouds. The mast toppled, so slowly. The track ended, Raoul saw the butt end of the guiderail whip past, and Rayo leaped into space.

Then Raoul jumped.

Afterwards, he couldn’t remember how it happened. He remembered seeing the trunk of a huge tree passing beside the deck — just a half-glimpsed impression. The deck was beginning to tilt forward and he knew that when Rayo struck she would probably go end-over-end — unless she piled into a tree.…

He found himself clinging to a thick bough ten meters from the ground. Rayo was gone, buried in the undergrowth. A tunnel of smashed brush showed where she had passed. He looked around, seeking a way down. There were no branches; he lay on the lowest. He would have to wait until someone brought a ladder. He wondered how his father was.

Little Specialists began to arrive on ponies, galloping across the short grass, leaping from their mounts, plunging into the bush. As they ran, the uttered small cries of desolation. Were they mourning the injured, or the loss of Rayo? Raoul couldn’t guess.

He wondered how he’d reached this branch. It was much higher than Rayo’s deck had been, and quite a way from the trackside too. He examined the trunk below him.

He saw a series of deep scratches in the bark, where his fingernails had stabbed into the wood. He’d climbed almost five vertical meters with fingers and toes alone. He examined his fingers. The nails had always been thick, but.…

Not for the first time, he began to wonder about himself.

Karina wondered, too.

She watched from the trees; first in astonishment as Rayo accelerated, then in anxiety as it rocketed towards the end of the track. She saw Raoul hauling on the brake, and she saw the smoke.

She saw Raoul jump.

He ran to the rail and leaped sideways and upwards, arms outstretched and fingers hooked like claws, and smacked into the trunk of the great tree. As he hit, he was already climbing, and he almost ran up the trunk into the crook of a branch. The toppling mast, swinging, slashed past his back, missing him by a centimeter.

At least he has some sense of self-preservation, thought Karina. True Humans were notorious for dying in the face of danger. Rayo raised a fountain of broken branches and flying leaves as she ploughed into the jungle. For a moment there was silence, then people began picking themselves up, crawling out of the bush, yelling; and a mob of wailing monkey-people leaped onto their tiny mounts and galloped towards the scene of the accident.

It occurred to Karina that Raoul had probably died on many happentracks; his escape had been nothing short of miraculous and she glanced around, half-expecting to catch sight of the handmaiden. But the jungle was empty, and after a while a procession began to move back to the huts; the injured limping, some being carried on stretchers, one motionless form laid over the back of a mule.

Karina sighed, then caught herself in some surprise. Why did she feel sad because the True Humans’ fast car was wrecked? Her own father had said that Rayo could be used as a weapon against the felinos.

But the car had been a beautiful thing.…

She began to work her way around towards the village. She would find out more about this secret place in the delta, carry the news back to El Tigre, and bask in the admiration of the felinos.

The beast in the valley of lakes

«When will you be able to let me know?» asked Tonio.

«Let you know what?»

«I have arrangements to make. I’m going to need a fast car for the Races — the Lord gave his orders.» His expression was stony. A bandage was wrapped around his head; blood already showed through. He sat in a rough chair in the Engineer’s hut. The walls were hung with antique mechanical devices — and the nature of some of those devices did nothing to improve Tonio’s temper.

Raoul had rarely seen his father so furious. Maquinista stood in the centre of the room, arms dangling limply by his sides, eyes blank and dazed, his shirt hanging in rags around his waist so that the cavern of his stomach was clearly visible.

«Oh … that. I’ll see what I can do. Right now I have other matters to attend to. You’d better go.»

«Go? I want to hear your intentions first.»

Maquinista walked to the doorway, looked out, walked back. «Give it a rest, will you? One of my men was killed. I have to make arrangements.»

«One of your men? ” Now Tonio was standing too, white with rage. «You have the impudence to call those Specialists men? You’ve been living in the delta too long, Maquinista. It wouldn’t surprise me to find you were friendly with the felinos, too!»

«The felinos?»

«We’ve had word they’re aware of developments here. They’ve had spies in the trees — probably your own mechanics. They know about Rayo, Maquinista!»

«There are no spies among my people.»

«God, man, you talk as though you’re some kind of father to them! They’re Specialists, just like the felinos! Can’t you see that? You can’t trust them. They have different values!»

The engineer shook his head slowly. «You can’t class all Specialists together. My mechanics will do anything for me. They’re loyal and they’re trustworthy. But maybe you wouldn’t understand that, living up in Rangua.»

«Have the felinos approached you? Have you seen any of them sniffing around?»

«Probably. I don’t know. Does it matter?» The engineer rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted.

«It sure as hell matters if they find you’re building cars which can climb hills without felino help!»

Raoul stared at his father. Cars which didn’t need felinos? Rayo, certainly, had moved fast enough to climb most hills. So the felinos would be obsolete. What would they do? Would they run wild, hunting meat in order to survive? Would they sabotage the sailways? Would they march into Rangua?

«I obey the Lord’s commands,” said Maquinista quietly. «The felinos will find out eventually.»

And now the real reason for Tonio’s rage boiled up, boiled out. «The Lord didn’t tell you to use metal. Rayohas metal axles and metal bearings. She’s an offence against the Examples! You’ve sought out metal from old dwellings, you’ve kindled the Wrath of Agni and you’ve worked the metal. Why didn’t you tell me? You tricked me into piloting that abomination. How in hell do you think you could have got away with it? Did you fail, was that it? Did you find you couldn’t build a proper car fast enough, so you had to resort to this? ” He strode across the room, snatched something from the wall and flung it to the floor.

It made a sharp ringing noise, startling to the ears.

It was metal. There was metal all over the place.

Raoul huddled nervously back in his chair, staring fascinated at the thing on the floor.

«You wanted a fast ship.»

«Not at the expense of our beliefs!»

«Are you quite sure of that?»

«What in hell are you trying to say, Maquinista?»

«I’m saying we all bend the Examples when it suits us.»

«I’m damned sure I don’t.»

«And how about your colleague Herrera?»

«Herrera is wrong. I know that, and so do you, Maquinista!»

«But I don’t know that, Captain Tonio.» Suddenly the engineer’s voice was quiet, intense. «I was taught that, certainly. When I was a child, and lacked the experience to argue back. But I know differently. I know the Examples are wrong, for me. What may make very good sense to a kikihuahua flying through space in the pouch of a marsupial bat, may make nonsense when applied here in the jungle.

«Look at this.» He picked up the curious article from the floor, hefted it in his hand, selected a rod from a shelf, pushed it into the cross-shaped object and pulled a lever.

Then he pointed the thing at the wall.

Wang-whack!

The cross jerked, the rod quivered in the wall. Raoul stared. He hadn’t seen the rod move. One moment it had been sticking from the end of the cross, the next moment it was embedded in the wall. Tonio tried to pull it out, but he couldn’t.

«My God,” he muttered.

«No,” said Maquinista. “ MyGod. Yours is a God of stupidity. My God is practical. I’d like to tell you a story, Tonio. It won’t take a moment. It might help explain a few things to you.»

And Raoul, sitting in that dim hut in the delta clearing, was aware that there was metal all around him; on the floor, on the walls, even hanging from the ceiling — and that this place was alien and terrible. A short corridor led from the room to another place, probably the engineer’s workshop; and as the daylight began to fade it was replaced by an eerie glow from this other place.

In that place, someone had kindled the Wrath of Agni.

So he shivered a little as he sat back and listened, and he thought of his mother, who told stories with a point; stories he could understand.

But the gaunt engineer with the ruined body told him a story which made no moral sense whatever.…

«The jungle up beyond Palhoa is dense and I was a fool to leave the sailway track. But work was finished for the day and I was young and adventurous, and something in the forest seemed to call me. There was plenty of daylight left and talk during supper turned to witchcraft, and the bruja whom the Palhoa people had warned us about, who lived in those parts. I was young and I laughed. The mountain people are always nervous — they shy away from sudden noises like guanacos.

«An older man dared me to go and look for the bruja.

“‘She’s pretty,’ he said. ‘About your age too, so they tell me. Lives all alone. Go and find her, Maquinista. Ask her to grant you a wish.’” The engineer mimicked this voice in a bitter falsetto.

«I climbed a ridge where the trees thinned out, and it was much lighter here. There was time to take a walk into the valley below. I started off, and suddenly things were different.…»

«Different?» Tonio’s question was a sudden, startling bark. He was staring at the engineer. «I … I know those parts,” he said lamely.

It had been a long time ago. The young girl had come up to him saying, «Here, take this child. I have brought it for you. ”

He’d held the baby. It was light and warm. Somehow it was not in his mind to question why; not at that moment. «What’s its name?» he asked.

«You will give him a name. The name is unimportant, although it is written in the If along as Manuel, Joao, and Raoul. His son, however, will be called John in every happentrack in which he lives. John will be the most important human of his time. ”

Maquinista said, «It was very quiet. No birds sang — although birds were there, I knew. They seemed to be watching me. All different kinds, all together. Animals too — I knew they were there, even though I couldn’t see them. It was as though I was being escorted into the valley. They were on three sides of me, so that it seemed I could only go forwards. I walked on until the nature of the forest changed and the ground became spongy underfoot. I wanted to turn back, but I didn’t seem to be able to. I walked beside small lakes, and crossed streams. When I started to climb a path away from the water, a tapir stood before me, barring the way. It didn’t run. It just stood there, and I knew it wouldn’t let me pass. The other animals were all around me, waiting — and I could smell jaguar.

«By Agni, I was scared!

«I stood there, and after a while the birds and animals went. Then, at last, I heard a sound.

«It was a woman singing.

«She sang a song I’d never heard before — a song of old times, like the Pegman sings. But as I listened, the song became something different, and the words changed and became strange, and somehow I knew the things she sang of were not old happenings any more. She sang of the future, of all of Time and the Greataway, and the place of the world in all this vastness. It was a song about everything we ever knew and ever will know. A song of Earth.

«Then she stopped singing, and spoke. She didn’t say much, but I’ll never forget those words. Her voice was queer and flat and dead, quite unlike the song. And all she said was,

“‘Hungry, Bantus?’

«And something sighed.

«It was a huge sound, like stormwater blasting from a blowhole. And I was alone on the path. I took out my knife. It was a good knife with a keen blade chipped from the hardest stone. The handle was mahogany, bound to the blade with horsehair twine. It was a strong knife, and yet when I heard — felt — the creature moving down the path towards me, I knew it wasn’t enough.

«I turned and ran. I ran so fast my legs couldn’t keep up with my body, and I fell. I fell into soft wet ground and I lay there, too frightened to rise, screaming into the grass. The creature came for me. I felt the earth shake to its footsteps, then I felt its breath on my neck. I couldn’t turn. I couldn’t look at it. It touched my hip. Hard, sharp claws; I felt them. My eyes were shut. It rolled me over and began a huge sniffing, and at last I dared to look at it.

«I could only see its muzzle, a handsbreadth from my face. Warm fluid dripped on me. I’ve never seen jaws that size before or since — far bigger than the greatest crocodile. Then the muzzle tilted and I saw the eyes of the beast. They were quite small, and all the more frightening because they were not savage. They were curious, inquisitive like a bear looking at a hole in a tree. The face of this beast was hairy, but it wasn’t warm. Wherever it touched me, I felt coolness. It looked at me as though I was a plate of food, not a living man. And I found the knife was still in my hand.

«I drove it upwards into the brute’s throat.

«And I felt the blade snap like a stick.

«The animal didn’t even blink. It sniffed its way down my chest, straddling me, seeking out the softest parts.

«Then it began to eat me.»

There was a moment’s silence in the hut. The air was keen and cool, blowing through the open doorway, and bore with it the sad singing of the little Specialists who were mourning the loss of their comrade. Maquinista regarded Tonio and Raoul, then turned away and disappeared into the dark recesses of the hut.

When he returned, he brought light.

It flashed from his hand, brightening the hut and glittering from the metal things on the walls. It dazzled Raoul and filled him with fear. He heard his father groan, saw him cover his eyes so that a black shadow fell over his face. But Raoul couldn’t shut out the terrible sight. He had to look. The light held a dreadful fascination as it swung and flickered from Maquinista’s hand. It was hot and fierce, like the eye of a cyclops. It stared at him, burning away his will to resist.

It was the Wrath of Agni.

«You’ll kill us all,” Tonio groaned.

And the engineer laughed. He set the little fire on a shelf, and it showed no sign of consuming the hut. It blazed alone there like the evening star. Unbelievably, the engineer seemed to have controlled it.

«That’s your answer to the felinos,” said Maquinista. «Fire. They’re scared of it, even more than you are. It’s the animal blood in them — a race memory of forest fires. If it wasn’t for the damned Examples, the True Humans would rule the world, instead of going in fear of every Species they live with.»

Raoul spoke. «But it’s wrong to rule the world. We must live in accord with the world and the creatures in it.»

«Tell that to the creatures.… No. Just forget about the Examples and take a fresh look at things as they really are. Explain it to me, Raoul. Explain to me why I was better off with a stone knife which broke, when I could have had a metal knife like this! ”

And he snatched something from the wall and threw it. It struck the floor beside Raoul and stuck there, quivering.

Raoul flinched, pressing himself against the wall and shivering.

Maquinista turned, and the light fell across his stomach, and the scars were like rose petals, and Raoul thought he could see the outline of the spine in there.

As if from a long way off, he heard his father saying, «Maybe.… Maybe it isn’t my business to judge, Maquinista. Maybe my business is to pilot sailcars the best way I can. Maybe the exact nature of those sailcars is none of my business. Wouldn’t you say that’s the case?»

«I can have Rayo repaired and ready for trials in two weeks,” said the engineer.

Raoul saw the Wrath of Agni kindling a light of greed in his father’s eyes, and felt some of his childhood crumbling away from the core of his belief, leaving him exposed and naked in this adult world, while outside the hut the monkey‑men sang a slow lament.

And as he mourned, the sounds of the Specialists changed. There were little squeals and shufflings, and a deadly barking. Suddenly things were different, Maquinista was cocking his head, and the dream of glory faded from his father’s face to be replaced by a questioning look.

Then came the trampling of heavy footsteps.

A solid body of cai‑men burst into the hut. They were bunched about something, corralling it with their scaly bodies. They flung short-arm punches at it, barking and grunting in excitement. The air was fetid with their fishy stench and as they milled around one of them knocked over the lamp. A trickle of fire ran across the floor. Maquinista threw a sack down, snuffing the flames.

«Get the hell out of here, you bastards!» he shouted, «How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from my camp!»

Cocodrilo detached himself from the others and stared coldly at the engineer. «If you had the sense to take proper security measures I wouldn’t have to waste my time on your part of the delta, Maquinista! Just take a look at what we found out there!»

He reached among his men, seized a pale arm and dragged out a struggling figure which he flung to the floor.

«A felino spy, Maquinista,” he said softly. «Now, what do you think of that?»

Karina looked up at them, bleeding, her tunic hanging in rags.

«What were you doing out there, girl?» asked Maquinista quietly.

«Spying, that’s what!» snapped Cocodrilo. «Now you’ve seen what can happen around here, Maquinista, I’ll take her away for disposal. I’ll report this to the Lord, of course. I don’t suppose he’ll be very pleased.»

«You tell me, girl,” said Maquinista.

Karina was silent, staring at them with blazing eyes.

«Disposal?» echoed Tonio uncertainly.

«Well, she can’t go back to the felino camp now, can she?»

Tonio regarded Karina. «Who is she, anyway? She looks familiar.»

Raoul said, «She’s Karina. You remember, father — El Tigre’s daughter. She came up on deck the other day.» There was a bitterness in him. He’d liked Karina, but now he suspected that her apparent friendship on that occasion had been a ruse to pump him for information. So here she was, caught. A dirty spy. She deserved everything she got — except disposal. That was taking things too far.

«El Tigre’s daughter?» Tonio’s expression was worried. This presented a political problem.

«There’s no way we can let her talk to El Tigre now,” said Cocodrilo, jerking Karina to her feet. She lashed out at him but her fingernails had no effect on his horny skin. He laughed coldly. «You’ve met your match, girl.»

«And there’s no way you’re going to dispose of her, either,” said Maquinista.

«Talk!» Cocodrilo suddenly shouted, wrenching at Karina’s arm. She winced, blinked back tears of pain, tossed her head so that her hair flew like spun copper, then slammed her elbow into Cocodrilo’s stomachs The man‑creature grinned toothily, tightening his grip so that Karina gave a little mew of pain.

«Easy, Cocodrilo,” said Maquinista. «We’ll keep her out of sight for a while.»

«Won’t her people come looking?» said Tonio.

«I doubt it. They’ll probably assume she’s gone brute. They often do, around her age. Then after a while they snap out of it and go back to camp.»

«They’ll follow her trail,” objected Cocodrilo.

«I don’t think so. There were guanaco clouds blowing in from the sea today. The rain will wash away her scent.» In fact they heard a light patter on the roof at that moment, and the wind gusted cooler.

Cocodrilo’s jaw was set stubbornly, tips of the teeth showing against his lips. «I still say dispose of her.»

«Maybe.… Oh, I don’t know.» Tonio looked from Cocodrilo to Maquinista helplessly. It was a complex situation. «Where can we keep her? How can we be sure she won’t escape?»

«She wouldn’t escape from the tortuga pens,” said Maquinista.»

Cocodrilo’s mouth opened in a slow grin. «I’ll say she wouldn’t.»

«Now, I’m going to report this to the Lord,” said Maquinista, eyeing Cocodrilo closely. «And if any harm comes to her, he’ll have your hide, Cocodrilo. He wants no part of murder.»

Tonio said, «But what happens when we release her in the end? She’ll still tell them everything.»

«Ah, but it’ll be too late,” said Maquinista. «Can’t you sense it, Tonio? Don’t you feel the gathering unrest in the camps, in the jungle and the foothills and on the plains, everywhere? Can’t you feel that the climax will come this Tortuga Festival? After that, I think we’re going to see a different situation on the coast. A different relationship, one way or the other.…»

And Raoul shivered, only half understanding the deliberations of his elders but knowing, somehow, that the existence he’d always known was threatened.

«Take her away, Cocodrilo,” said Maquinista.

The heavy bodies clustered around Karina again, pawing her, pinioning her. She was dragged struggling from the hut. As she passed Raoul her eyes met his and she said viciously, «Don’t you have anything to say, brat? Don’t you have any say in what goes on around you?»

Then she was gone, out into the curtain of rain.

Nobody spoke for a long time. Nobody looked at anyone. The rain grew heavier, and big drops began to force their way through the roof and splatter to the earthen floor.

The maturing of Mariq

It was unseasonable, the rain. Usually heavy rains came a month later, after the Festival, washing away the debris and cleaning the coast ready for the winter. But that year, the Year of Nodal Conception, freak depressions in the South Atlantic brought early storms.

It was a year of changes in many ways. Locally, the relationship between Specialists and True Humans would never be the same again. Climatically, it marked the onset of a new Ice Age. Historically it was marked by a new calendar: the Johnathan Years. In some remote parts this calendar is still used; but elsewhere it is just a memory in the Rainbow, along with various other ancient calendars.

So they dragged Karina into the new Ice Age, through swamp and jungle which would be cool dry pampas twenty thousand years later, when the Triad would come together and free Starquin. They dragged her brutally, because they were little more than brutes, and they tripped her often because they enjoyed seeing her fall; and they enjoyed seeing her get up again, with her mud-soaked tunic clinging to her body. The rain fell ceaselessly and the cold wind blew, and Karina fell again.

Cocodrilo bent to pick her up this time, his sharp fingers probing at breast and groin.

«She’s weak as a kitten, this cat-girl,” he grunted, setting her on her feet. «Soft and weak, like a fungus.»

His companions muttered agreement as they ploughed through mud and water, their bodies well adapted to this kind of travel.

Siervo had watched the first clouds sweep low over the treetops but he’d anticipated rain long before that, with the first cool breath of wind and rustle of leaves. Maybe even before that, during the steamy summer, he’d known this year was going to be different — the year which, to him, was the Year of Goldenback.

Last year had been the Year of Mariq. He’d named the creature Mariq after a child he’d once known, in Rangua. As the years passed he’d found, to his dismay, that he’d stopped thinking about Mariq. So perhaps the tortuga had been an attempt to perpetuate her memory.

It had failed.

The mating of tortugas is as inevitable as the branching of happentracks.

Although he’d taken every precaution to keep the males from Mariq he’d reckoned without the female’s own persistence. The mass mating had taken place and the males had wandered off to die, and he’d untied Mariq so that she could forage in the mud. She had a particular fondness for the tiny water-snails which abounded in the stagnant waters of the dike.

She found a male there, stuck, unable to climb out and take part in the mass coupling. So they mated down there in the green water; slowly and, presumably, enjoyably.

«You bastard! Son of Agni, you bastard! Where in hell did you come from?»

Siervo scrambled down into the ditch and kicked the male tortuga away. The creature skittered across the mud, spun on its back, and was still.

Siervo picked up Mariq gently, cradling her in his arms. «Oh, my pet.… What did he do to you?» She regarded him with bright button eyes, passive, fertilized, replete. He didn’t release her. He kept her in his hut, talking to her, telling her his plans for the trench he was digging. Autumn closed in and the leaves blew about the farm and whirled into the gray sky.

And the carts came, drawn by llamas and led by dumb mountain people with their prancing walk and timid eyes — the first humans Siervo had seen for a year, apart from Cocodrilo. They loaded the female tortugas into the carts, never speaking to him, tossing their heads if he attempted to strike up a conversation. They despised him — him, a True Human of the Second Species!

They left the breeding stock behind — like the marketable females, these were becoming plump and their legs short. The carts trundled away down to the yards where the tall‑masted sailcars would carry the cargo down the coast. They left Siervo with his mad plans and his tame tortuga.

Mariq grew fatter until her shell was almost spherical and her head was barely able to emerge from the narrowing orifice. One morning Siervo awoke to find her balanced on the curve of her undershell, legs paddling at the air, unable to reach the floor. He untied the thong, satisfied that she could not leave him. He talked to her a lot, while she watched him gravely until her shell grew over the neck orifice and the transformation was complete.

In the late fall there was a brief Indian summer and the sky cleared.

And Siervo heard the first of the explosions.

He carried Mariq out of the hut; by now the tortuga was almost perfectly spherical and about the size of a human head. He took her to a special place, chosen because of the wind direction and the thickness of the silken fence, and he set her on the ground. She was an almost featureless globe, dark golden in color, with slight fissures in her surface tracing the lines of the original shell plates.

And the words of an ancient philosopher came into his mind. Without realizing it, he was speaking them aloud. «To seek purpose in the millennia of human existence is as futile as asking God the reason for the tortuga.»

Mariq exploded.

Siervo staggered back, temporarily deafened.

The air was filled with tiny gossamer-borne eggs. Caught by the wind, they drifted towards the fence and hung there for a while until the gossamer deliquesced. Then they fell to the wet ground, winking like little eyes in the unseasonable sunlight. Siervo kicked water, washing them into deeper puddles.

The shell of Mariq lay shattered.

He picked up the pieces and slung them over the fence.

He walked quickly back to his hut, fetched the shovel and began to dig his trench with uncontrolled vigor. When Cocodrilo next came he teased Siervo:

«Only a fool would want to befriend a dumb thing which can’t decide whether it’s a reptile or a plant, and which dies just when a man would be starting to live. Fix your hut — it’s a disgrace! Live for the day, Siervo. The future is no better than the present, you can take my word for that. Look at that drainage trench of yours. You’ve almost finished it, so now you have nothing left to live for! Can’t you see what’s wrong with your philosophy?» Cocodrilo had yawned hugely, showing rows of sharp teeth.

Death and freedom

And so another year, another crop. Goldenback chosen from Mariq’s offspring. Sometimes Siervo wondered, in those moments when his thoughts made sense, what he was trying to breed. Did he have some crazy idea that it was possible to produce a real, empathetic companion?

The rain hammered the mud around him and the trench began to fill, flowing out under the east fence. He hurried back to his shack, avoiding the carcasses of the males, anxious to see Goldenback again. He was shivering, and it wasn’t simply the cold and the wet. He was running a slight fever. He was seized with a spasm of coughing as he entered the hut, so it was a moment before his mind registered what his eyes told him.

Goldenback was not alone.

A male tortuga crawled away from her, his slow movements telling the story.…

When Siervo awakened he felt refreshed, as though he had slept a sickness away. The rain still slashed at the roof but the sky was brightening outside; a new morning was beginning. In the first waking moments he forgot what had happened to his tortuga, and rolled over to speak to her.

He gulped, a sudden shock hit his stomach, and a shaft of pure madness lit his dim brain.

Goldenback had turned into a girl.

She lay on the floor with her knees drawn up under her and her head pillowed on her hands, asleep. Her hair spread across the dirt like a tawny fan. Her clothes were in rags, so that one breast rested across her forearm, the nipple pink and bruised. Her legs were encrusted with gray mud streaked with blood.

Somebody had mistreated Goldenback.

The remnants of reason were ebbing away from him as he rolled to the floor and knelt beside the girl, stroking her hair and mumbling, «Everything will be all right, my pet. You’ll see.»

She opened her eyes.

Her eyes, so hurt.…

«Everything will be all right,” he said numbly. She was on her feet in one movement. She stood panting, staring down at him. Her eyes were pools in which hatred swam. Her belly contracted, muscles bunching above the matted triangle of hair. Dry mud fell away from her toes and he saw the nails, tough and pointed. The toes curled and flexed. There was a sudden animal stink, and when he looked up at her face he saw murder there, and her lips drawn back over sharp teeth.

Sanity returned to him in a flash.

He rolled away.

Her foot lashed out, toenails grazing his shoulder with sharp pain. She recovered her balance instantly and dropped into a crouch.

He rolled under the bunk, whimpering with terror, pressing himself into the angle of wall and floor. He heard her cough with rage and fling herself on the bunk. He saw her fingers hook under the rough wood, clawing for him. He shrank away. The fingers grasped the wood, seeking to wrench the bunk from the wall. The retaining pegs creaked, and one snapped.

«Get away!» he was screaming. «Get away, you bastard!»

Beside him, the rotting timber of the wall sagged. The bunk began to shift. A sudden cool breeze blew in through the new gap. With a final rending the bunk came free, and a portion of the wall with it.

He dived through the hole and rolled in the mud. He heard a crash inside the hut. He stood, his breath sobbing in his throat. The flat mud of the farm stretched in all directions, giving no cover, no refuge. Scarcely pausing to think, he jumped, got a grip on the eave, and pulled himself onto the roof.

He lay on the wet mat of leaves, his heart pounding. Below him, all was quiet.

Later, Karina walked out of the hut.

She gazed at the mud, and sniffed the air. It smelled of decay. Spherical things lay around. They almost looked like tortugas, except that they had tiny legs which waved aimlessly. In the distance a tall fence separated the muddy compound from the jungle. Ignoring the pain in her body, she ran towards it.

Hideous spiders hissed at her. Through the thick, translucent screen she could make out guards, lying in the mud like driftwood.

She walked back to the hut, and saw a sallow little man lying on the roof, watching her with scared eyes.

She felt herself flush with embarrassment. «I’m sorry.»

He didn’t reply. His lips moved, but he seemed temporarily bereft of speech.

«I won’t hurt you. You can come down now.»

He uttered a faint moan, clinging to the ridge,

«Listen, if you don’t come down right away, by Agni I’ll come up and get you!»

Now he slid to the edge, hung for a moment watching her imploringly, then dropped to the ground. His legs slipped from under him and he felt on his back, flinching as though he expected her to pounce on him.

«That’s better,” she said. He was a True Human, but a very puny one. She couldn’t think why she’d been scared of him before.

«Who are you?» he asked, getting up.

She told him the story. As she talked, his eyes grew wide; and when she spoke of Cocodrilo and the journey through the jungle he made little noises of sympathy, and bobbed his head. They sat together on the step while the rain washed the mud from them.

«He hurt you, this terrible man-thing? I’m not surprised — I know him well. What did he do?»

She pulled aside the remains of her tunic, showing him her scratched and bitten body.

Siervo said slowly, «He is the cruellest creature I’ve ever known. And yet.…»

«What?» Karina was suddenly discomfited. Siervo’s eyes had filled with tears.

«I look forward to him coming,” he said in a low voice. «There’s nobody else, you see.»

«Well, why don’t you go into Rangua sometimes? You don’t have to stay here. You’re a True Human, aren’t you?» There was some impatience in Karina’s tone. The man was more feeble than Raoul, even.

So Siervo told her his history.

They talked all day as the rain fell and the waters rose. It was one of the days Karina would remember best from that year; the rain, more gentle now, and the gentle voice of this strange True Human who’d known more unhappiness than she’d have thought a person could bear. It was the lack of freedom which affected her most, of course. The thought of spending twenty years penned in the same place was unthinkable to a free-ranging felina.

And now she was caged, too.

The fences seemed to march towards her as evening came, imprisoning her with walls of claustrophobia.

«I’ve got to get out of here!» she cried suddenly.

Siervo watched her pacing to and fro. «We can leave in the morning, if you like,” he said diffidently.

«How? We can’t get through the fence for the spiders, and you say Cocodrilo’s men are guarding the outside anyway!»

«I’ve had a long time to think,” said Siervo. «I have it all planned. I hadn’t intended to leave until after the Festival, but since the rains have come early, well.…» He shrugged rapidly and glanced around with a sudden, sly grin which was so close to madness that Karina doubted him.

«Maybe we should talk about it in the morning,” she said.

They slept together on the narrow bunk but Siervo was restless, twisting and turning for a long time before he relaxed and his breathing became regular and even. Karina was a light sleeper like most of her species, and she was awakened in the middle of the night by Siervo’s hand sliding over her body and cupping her injured breast. She pushed it away gently, but Siervo awakened with a start, realized what he was doing, and crawled out of bed, mumbling with shame. He spent the rest of the night on the floor, muttering to himself, mortified by the involuntary actions of his own body. Karina was sorry he’d gone, because the warm proximity reminded her of the grupo.

When morning came the rain had ceased and the sun was filtering through the roof. Siervo was up and about, arranging a row of breeding tortugas outside the door, clucking over them. Karina awakened, stretched, and sat up in bed watching him.

«Tell me about getting out of here,” she said.

He didn’t meet her eyes. He’d been peeping at her waking up, and her wild beauty scared him. It was many years since he’d seen a pretty girl, and he’d never known how they could affect a man. He’d been very young when they’d brought him here. And Karina was a Specialist, apparently. He shouldn’t even think of her as beautiful.

But she was.

Suddenly he didn’t want to leave. He was scared of the world outside, and he was scared of losing Karina out there.

«Maybe the time isn’t right yet.»

«Oh.… I don’t think I could face Cocodrilo again,” she said quietly. «He told me he would be coming, today. To see how I was settling in. He’ll probably bring other guards.»

After a pause, Siervo said, «We’ll go. First, we’ll eat.» He cracked open a tortuga by banging it against the doorstep so the shell split, then handed it to her. It was not quite ripe, and there were clear indications of flesh and blood inside.

The ripe tortuga is filled with delectable tiny eggs, like caviar.

Karina regarded it with distaste. «This isn’t a tortuga. This is some kind of animal.»

«Of course it is. Tortugas are animals.»

«But.… What about the Examples? True Humans don’t eat meat.»

«Most people think tortugas are plants.»

«But what if they found out? If True Humans eat meat, why are felinos forbidden to hunt and fish? Why do they say it’s the animal in us, that makes us need tumpmeat?»

Siervo said, «Why do you think the tortuga farms are kept secret? Why am I a prisoner here?»

«Well.… Why?»

And the True Human, with no loyalty to his race — how could he have, after a lifetime’s imprisonment? — said, «Only by regulating the food supply can True Humans keep Specialists under control.»

«But why do True Humans grow tortugas? Why take the risk?»

«It’s a profitable crop. I don’t suppose the True Humans down south know the tortuga is an animal. It can only breed here in the delta. The eggs would never hatch in the drier lands — in fact the shell would get too hard to explode. The Rangua Canton Lord, the sailway captains and the other True Humans have gotten rich on tortugas. They’ll make sure nobody finds out what tortugas really are.»

Karina looked at him, her eyes widening. «But I’ve found out.»

«So they can never let you go.»

She gulped. «I don’t want any of this tortuga. I don’t like the look of it. Let’s hurry up and get out of here.»

«All right.»

Now this mild, timid True Human did a series of things which surprised Karina.

He took a strong hardwood staff and jammed it into a crack in the outside corner of the hut. Feet planted firmly in the mud, he threw himself against the end. The hut groaned, swayed and finally collapsed; one long wall falling outwards and the other walls piling on top of one another.

«Help me with this,” said Siervo, and together they carried a long wall across the mud, laying it beside the fast-flowing trench. Then they took the two short walls, leaving only the wall with the door in it, and Siervo placed these upright on the long wall, then leaned the two top edges together and formed a triangular shelter. Pegs slid smoothly into place.

«As I said, I’ve had a long time to think,” said Siervo drily, noticing Karina’s astonishment.

Now they had a raft with a small chalet-shaped cabin. Siervo brought tortugas and other food which he placed in the cabin. He ran back to the wreckage of the hut and collected the hardwood staff, jammed it under the raft and levered.

«Push,” he said.

«Wait a moment.» Karina was bewildered by the swift events, the imminent plunge into unknown dangers. «Where are you taking me?»

He paused, leaning against the staff. «I’ve no idea. But I know that if we don’t go now, we’ll never get out of this place. We’ll die here.»

«Yes, but.…»

«HAH!»

Cocodrilo was running towards them, followed by a number of his men.

«Push, Karina!» Siervo leaned on the pole. Karina got her fingers under the raft and heaved. It slid a few centimeters, then stuck. «Push!» Siervo jerked at the staff.

It snapped.

Cocodrilo had pulled ahead of his men, skittering across the wet ground in a low-slung run, using his hands from time to time so that, horribly, it looked as though he was scuttling on all fours. As he came he uttered harsh cries.

Karina and Siervo stood shoulder to shoulder, lifting and pushing, feeling the raft move, but too slowly. Siervo was sobbing. After twenty years of subservience the enormity of his actions was almost too much for him.

«Stop!» shouted Cocodrilo.

And Siervo stopped, his body sagging, the raft falling back into the mud.

Karina said, «He’s going to kill us if we don’t get away.» She siezed Siervo’s arm, swinging him round to face her so that he couldn’t see the monstrosity bounding towards them. «Do you really want me to die?» she asked, trying to get him to meet her eyes.

Her eyes were like mountain lakes. Siervo stared.

Her beauty was more important than life itself. It was a gift placed in his care. It was.…

He hurled himself at the raft.

It slid forward into the trench. The current seized it. They jumped aboard. Cocodrilo, arriving seconds too late, trotted alongside, gauging his leap. The raft moved faster, the mud flats slipping by. Cocodrilo, yelling to his men, plunged into the channel and took hold of a corner of the raft. The vessel tilted and swivelled, touching the bank and slowing. The cai‑men were yelping like hounds, closing in.

Cocodrilo, his head protruding from the water, snapped, «Stop. Get off this raft.»

Karina could see Siervo shaking as he dropped to his knees and, with trembling hands, tried to pry Cocodrilo’s fingers away. The raft tilted further, water swilling over the deck.

«We daren’t stop.» Siervo’s tone was pleading. «Your men are out of control. Coco. They’ll kill us. Look at them!»

There were six of them. They scurried along the bank, level with the raft, uttering fearsome coughing sounds, their mouths snapping at air, their coarse lips dripping fluid. They were crazed with the ecstasy of the hunt. They began to roar with anticipation, seeing a shallow place ahead where they could easily drag the raft to a halt. They scuttled on, arms pumping, overtaking the raft and getting ready to jump into the trench.

«You … asked for it,” gasped Cocodrilo, water washing over his face.

Karina found she was holding the shattered end of the staff. She stepped forward. The raft heeled and Cocodrilo disappeared underwater.

«Go to the other end,” she told Siervo.

He glanced at her, uttered a little moan of despair, climbed to his feet and scrambled away. The fence loomed less than fifty meters ahead — but Cocodrilo’s men were waiting for them in the shallows. As Siervo reached the other end, the raft balanced itself.

Karina crouched.

Cocodrilo emerged from the water, gulping air.

Karina rammed the jagged end of the staff down his throat. As he screamed, blood sprayed over her legs. Karina laughed, a harsh yell of pure delight. He let go and drifted away, twisting and turning in the water like a gaffed fish, seaming the surface with pink threads.

Karina ran to the other end where Siervo was struggling with a cai‑man who had got a grip on his ankle. She kicked, and ripped the man’s throat open with her toenails. Blood welled out, bubbling as he fought for breath, then he was gone somewhere under the raft.

Then someone grabbed her leg, scaly fingers digging deep. She kicked out, slipped and fell, sliding towards the edge of the raft. Another hand gripped her thigh just as she caught hold of the cabin front and checked her slide. The fingers were like steel, inhumanly strong, and although she kicked with all her strength she couldn’t shake them free. She caught sight of Siervo in a similar predicament, being dragged off the raft; then two of the men began to climb aboard, grinning, crawling towards her.

The raft tipped.

Karina floundered in deep, icy water. Something struck her a smashing blow across the head, then the grip on her legs slackened and she rose. Surfacing, she found the raft beside her and pulled herself half onto it, gasping for breath. Other heads bobbed up, Siervo’s among them. They began to drop astern as the raft sped over the shallows. Karina stood, preparing to dive to Siervo’s aid.

«No!» The little True Human shouted. «Leave me, Karina!»

She couldn’t do that. But his cry made her pause, and in that instant the raft swept past a tall figure dressed in black, standing motionless beside the ditch. The ruined face turned to Karina, the scarred lips formed just two words.

“ Leave him.…»

And Karina hesitated, just for a second.

Then a fetid blanket enveloped her and she fell.

Siervo had designed his escape route well. The gathering momentum of the raft across the shallows was sufficient to carry it through the fence, and a hundred spiders hissed their fury as the raft smashed through their handiwork and sped on past the guards, across a shallow tributary and into the deeper waters of the delta.

She lay still, wrapped in a dense, translucent web, using every last part of her self‑control to summon her Little Friends against the spiders attacking her body, while the floodwaters hastened her towards the sea.

In later years the Escape of Karina formed an important part of the Song of Earth, being celebrated in the stanza beginning:

«Karina fought the crocodiles with courage and with might,

Then called upon the power of bor to dull the spiders’ bite.»

But there was another Karina on another happentrack, who refused to heed the command of the Dedo’s handmaiden, and who dived into the swift water to swim to the aid of her True Human friend. Now that Karina fought the cai‑men bravely, killing one and mortally wounding another before her neck was broken by two of the brutes.

The minstrels of Late Earth do not sing of that Karina. They do not know of her, because her story is locked in some cold memory of some dying Rainbow on some remote happentrack. On that happentrack the Purpose was not fulfilled, Starquin was not freed, and in his eventual disinterest he allowed Mankind to rot in his Domes and villages. The Dedos were withdrawn into Starquin’s body and Earth spun on its way, of no more use to him than the dead canyons of the Moon, while in the reaches of the Greataway the Hate Bombs circumscribed his eternal tomb.

The Canton Lord

In the year 91342 Cyclic, Earth was threatened by a race of aliens known as the Bo Adon Su. This was during the Age of Resurgence when it seemed that nothing could stop humanity from populating the entire Galaxy, given time. His three‑dimensional spaceships were everywhere and their navigational, drive and defensive equipment were wonders of physical technology. You will understand that this technology was to seem incredibly clumsy fifteen hundred years later, in the age of the Outer Think and the Invisible Spaceships; but at the time it was a thing to be marvelled at. And marvel was what the less-advanced races did.

All except the Bo Adon Su. Refusing to accept the supremacy of Man, they scythed through the Galaxy in a series of clumsily-executed raids of little more than nuisance value, finally arriving at the Solar System itself — the very cradle of Mankind. They poised to attack Earth, trying to mass their fleet into some semblance of order for a concerted onslaught.

Suddenly, humanity woke up to what was happening.

They fed the Bo Adon Su’s tactics into the Rainbow, to prepare their defenses.

The Rainbow found the Bo Adon Su’s tactics incapable of analysis.

The attacks had been utterly undisciplined, characterized only by inventiveness and adaptability. Frequently the attacks had not been pressed home despite initial gains. The Bo Adon Su had apparently lost interest, or maybe proved their point, and taken off in search of fresh glory.

And now they were at the gateway to Earth. The Rainbow had metaphorically thrown up its hands, so the defenses of Earth were as uncoordinated as the Bo Adon Su, who milled around somewhere outside Pluto, filling Space with urgent but incoherent messages to one another.

The situation for Earth was particularly alarming since the Rainbow, by that time, had gained some reputation for foretelling the Ifalong. But if the computer couldn’t even tell Earth how to defend itself, its Ifalong predictions must be meaningless. Some gloomy individuals even took this to mean that the Earth had no future. Then, suddenly, the Rainbow emitted the message:

«Put the matter in the hands of the Whirst Institute.»

The Mordecai N. Whirst Institute for Genetic Research had up to that time been involved in low-key improvements to human stock, adapting humans to alien environments and, most controversial of all, creating new varieties of humans for specific purposes by adding a tiny proportion of appropriate animal genes to their chromosome structure. These were the Specialists, who became the Felinos and the tumpiers, and many others who lived and died outside the scope of our story.

The Whirst Institute rose to the challenge.

Calling upon its most distinguished geneticists including several who had to be summoned from outlying colonies, the Institute commenced Operation Counterthink, a five-year crash program which culminated in the creation of the Us Ursa.

The Us Ursa was a triumph. It was a living, breathing creature which combined the intelligence of a human with the social instinct of an ant, the reactions of a leopard, the intuition of an ultrapigeon, the planning ability of an architect‑mouse of Chega IV and the strength and ferocity of a grizzly bear. In addition, it had an extremely high self-preservation quotient. It was a superb creature, well suited to its task of protecting Earth against the Bo Adon Su.

Unfortunately, by that time the Bo Adon Su had lost interest in Earth and were seeking adventure elsewhere.

Now the Us Ursa’s instinct for self-preservation came into play. Realizing that their existence was now unnecessary they fled into the mountains where, for several thousands of years, they lived in tiny villages, hunting and growing crops and generally maintaining a low profile. In time their file at the Whirst Institute deteriorated and could not be recalled, but they remained in hiding, knowing full well that if the rest of Mankind learned what powerful creatures they were, they would be hunted down and destroyed.

Then the Inner Think came, and the Age of Regression, and Man drifted back into the Domes.

And the Us Ursa came down from the hills.

Captain Tonio received a summons to appear before the Canton Lord.

He trembled. He watched the back of the huge man who had delivered the message, and he resisted the temptation to cry after him:

«Why? Why does he want to see me? What have I done?»

His mind rifled through a casebook of imagined misdemeanors.

«It’s quite an honor,” said Astrud, unsuspecting, brushing his best vicuna jacket.

Raoul watched him thoughtfully, and Tonio wondered what the kid was thinking.

Tonio rode the deck of the Lord’s private sailcar, aware that he hadn’t been invited to use the cabin. The crewmen were reticent, handling the sails with quiet skill, saying little as they concentrated on a difficult, jibing run uphill.

And then, at the Lord’s palace, the guards.

They were giants like the one who had delivered the summons. They carried weapons of unknown workings and like the crewmen, they hardly spoke, escorting Tonio through endless corridors, past exquisite statuary, paintings and tapestry, to a vast anteroom.

«Wait here,” said the guard. He was a head taller than Tonio, immensely broad in the shoulder and thick at waist and hip; bigger than a felino male even, and more powerful. Tonio watched him depart with a heavy, shambling gait quite unlike the graceful walk of El Tigre.

Then Tonio waited. For at least an hour he stood in the anteroom, hesitating to sit, examining the tapestries until he knew every stitch. The books — thousands lined the walls — did not interest him. Like most of his contemporaries, he was unable to read the complex prints of the ancient texts. Forty thousand years later much of the substance of this library would be rediscovered and its contents keyed into the Rainbow to flesh out the history already recorded. By that time, some of the stories would already have found their way into the repertoire of the early minstrels, ultimately to be included in the Song of Earth.

The door opened.

«Enter,” said the Lord.

Tonio knew that nobody had ever seen the Canton Lord — or maybe nobody had lived to tell the tale. It didn’t surprise him when he entered the chamber to find nobody there. There was a chair, however, and the voice said, «Sit.» Tonio sat facing a blank but translucent wall through which a shadowy form could be discerned.

«Speak,” said the Lord.

This confused Tonio, since he was not yet aware of the purpose of the summons.

He said, «I regret to report that the experimental sail‑car Rayo was severely damaged in a trial run. We shall have to develop new techniques for handling such craft. As we gain experience, we will pass on the knowledge to other Canton crews.» Was the Lord going to tell him he was being replaced as captain of Rayo?

«I heard about the crash,” said the Canton Lord.

«Maquinista used a revolutionary design of axle bearing. This, together with the light weight and altered sail-plan of Rayo, resulted in remarkable acceleration.» Who would be given the job, then? Not Herrero!

«I know all about that, too.»

«Well, then.…» Tonio’s voice trailed away.

«There was a spy,” prompted the Lord gently.

«Hardly worth mentioning. A young felina named Karina. I had Cocodrilo lock her away until after the races.»

«Well, not quite, Captain Tonio.»

«I beg your pardon, Lord Benefactor?»

«She escaped, didn’t you know? She arrived back at the felino camp yesterday and had a conversation with her father, the redoubtable El Tigre, no less. He held an emergency meeting. His objective, so it seems, was to whip up dissension on the basis of his daughter’s story and to lead the felinos into some kind of action against the sailways. He failed, due to that lack of cohesiveness so peculiar to the felino character. His daughter was not believed, and is being temporarily sent away from the camp.»

«That’s … that’s good, Lord Benefactor.» “ How much did Karina find out, Tonio?» «Nothing. She couldn’t have. She probably thought Rayo was fast, that’s all. And the felinos already knew that. There have been other spies.»

«That’s all?»

Then it hit Tonio like a kick in the stomach. The tortugas. Maquinista told Cocodrilo to lock Karina away in one of the pens. Maquinista was an engineer. He had no thought for the niceties of religious belief — he’d already proved that. But now Karina probably knew the life cycle of the tortuga. Would she realize the significance — that True Humans were trading in meat? Probably not. Felinos ate meat. If Karina had thought the matter important enough to mention to her father, the Lord would have known, and said so.

Unless the Lord was trying to catch him out. People who defied the Lord came to a bad end. The guards were sent for them, and they were never seen again. Fear of the guards was the whole basis of the Lord’s rule. The guards were incredibly strong and efficient.

In the end, Tonio decided to play innocent.

«I’m sure she didn’t hear our conversation after the accident,” he said evasively. «I criticized Maquinista for using metal in the construction of Rayo .»

To his disappointment, the Lord seemed unmoved by this sacrilege. “ Rayois the top Canton car. It is very important that Rangua Canton wins the Tortuga Race — not merely for financial reasons. The Companies have been troublesome lately, and I want it to be seen that Canton cars are superior.»

The Companies were loose associations of True Humans who operated cars out of various coastal towns in competition with the official Canton cars.

«I have sent a reprimand to El Tigre,” continued the Lord, «recommending his daughter be sent away for a while. This will give matters a chance to calm down.»

«Lord Benefactor, the felinos aren’t fools. They will have guessed the capabilities of Rayo. There will be ugly scenes when we demonstrate these capabilities. The felinos will see Rayo as the first step towards their becoming redundant.»

«As indeed it is. But I anticipated this. Guards will be posted at the Stages. All that remains now is for you to prove yourself worthy of the trust I’ve placed in you. You will win that race, Tonio. You understand?»

«Yes, Lord Benefactor.»

The interview was at an end. He was still alive. His vicuna jacket was drenched in sweat. He rose, and left. His final impression was of the sheer size of the Lord, who rose on the other side of the screen like a thunderhead.

Karina in the tumpfields

The ride into the foothills seemed endless. The shrugleggers plodded slowly uphill, following the sail-way towards Rangua Town for a while, then joining an ancient trail which wound among the rolling downs. The short grass became streaked with a richer green — the sign that tumps had been here. The shrugleggers pulled on, dragging the crude meat‑carts with their squeaking bearings, heads twitching to the bites of countless insects.

Karina seethed. She was in disgrace and her punishment was, to her mind, unjustified.

From time to time the other felinos grinned in her direction as she rode, bolt upright, beside her father. She ignored them. She despised them — particularly that fat fool Dozo who had ruined El Tigre’s meeting, calling her testimony into doubt and holding her up to ridicule.

«So Karina says Rayo is faster than the wind.… Well, she must be more trustworthy than our previous informant, the anonymous crocodile. Or wasn’t it her grupo that Iolande caught stealing tumpmeat the other day? Dear me, I can’t quite remember.…»

The El Tigre grupo minus Karina, having been beaten by Iolande in battle, had been presented to the camp as the guilty ones. Might, in the felino culture, is always right.

By the time the meat train reached the tump station, Karina was at bursting point. She stood sulkily by as her father bargained with Haleka, the head tumpier, and she refused to speak to the young felinos.

Haleka was a frail figure beside El Tigre, but he carried himself with pride. He had never kowtowed to the felinos and he wasn’t going to start now, even though El Tigre himself had come. He bargained almost absently, while with razor-sharp shell he cut strips of meat from the tump.

Haleka prided herself on being the best butcher in Rangua. He cut strips a meter long and five centimeters deep, wedge-shaped so that the beast’s skin was marked by a single cut which healed within two days.

And the tump lay there, making no sound, feeling nothing.

Haleka wore a simple robe of guanaco hide. His face was long and pale despite a lifetime in the sun; his eyes pale also, and deep-set. When El Tigre finally arrived at an acceptable price, he merely nodded slightly, saying nothing. The felinos carried the strips to the cart. There were other felinos, other tumpiers; but the best tump was Haleka’s and the best meat went to the cart of El Tigre. The meat was ripe red and bleeding sweet blood.

Karina stood beside the tump. She touched one of the neat incisions. No blood flowed here, and only a faint indentation in the skin showed where the wedge of meat had been cut.

«And the girl will help you,” said El Tigre. «She is my daughter, so you will treat her with the respect she deserves.»

«I will certainly do that,” replied Haleka drily, «but not because she is your daughter, El Tigre. Here in the tumpfields, respect must be earned.»

«And each year there are less tumps. Perhaps there is something wrong with the tumpiers’ code.»

«When God wishes it, the tumps will breed. Maybe God wishes to cut down on the felino population.» He referred to the felinos’ dependence on tumpmeat.

«One day the felinos will hunt the jungle again,” snarled El Tigre, «But without tumps there will be no tumpiers.»

Haleka was preparing his next sally when his gaze fell upon Karina. She stood beside the tump, swallowing heavily. As he watched, she brushed a finger along the wound and raised it to her lips.

«Get your dirty hands off my tump!» Haleka shouted. He stepped forward and slashed at Karina with his tumpstick, then picked up a bundle of herbs and began to rub them gently along the length of the wound, chanting in a sing-song voice:

«Spirit of the herb make the tump live long.

Spirit of the herb make the muscle strong.

Spirit of the herb make the man belong,

All one with hills.»

And as he sang, he nicked his own forearm with the shell, and rubbed the herb into that wound, too.

«Damned fool,” said El Tigre.

Karina stood by, fingers hooked, restraining herself with difficulty. The tumpstick had missed her by several centimeters, but the indignity had struck home.

When the meat was all loaded the felinos returned to their carts. Seven tumps lay in a great circle, their keepers ministering to their wounds, their chanting borne up the foothills into the trees, where the monkeys heard it and yelled back with animal derision.

«Goodbye, father,” said Karina, feeling suddenly alone.

El Tigre looked at her for a moment, then turned away with a growl. The felinos shouted. The shrugleggers threw themselves against the harness. The carts squealed, and the long procession moved off downhill, El Tigre in the lead, hopeful vultures circling overhead, Rangua a clutter of little boxes under the noon sun.

Iolande rode in the last cart with her grupo trotting alongside. Karina’s final impression of the meat train was Iolande’s malicious grin.

«You will learn to respect the tump,” Haleka stated from his lofty perch. «You will always walk on the uphill side of him, because it is from the forest above that the danger comes, when the jaguars walk at night. You will match your pace to his, because he dislikes being hurried or held back. His very life depends on steady movement across the grass because he cannot move his head.»

Karina paced slowly along in the late afternoon sun. The other tumps had diverged on their separate paths, the tumpiers sitting on their backs, the apprentices walking alongside. The apprentices were the lowest of the low.

Karina, for the time being, was one of them.

«The sun and the grass are all the tump needs,” Haleka droned on. «When God created the tump, he created the perfect meat producer.»

«If the tump is so goddamned great, how come it’s got no goddamned legs?» Karina shouted in sudden temper.

«The tump has no need of legs, because it can move by flexing its ribs. There have been tumps on these hills for many thousands of years, and they’ll be here for thousands more.»

But even as he said this, a sadness took Haleka. The tump numbers had dwindled alarmingly in recent years. The trouble was, they didn’t breed. At one time this didn’t matter, because they didn’t die, either. But increasing felino demands on them had resulted in some overflensing, and recently there had been the occasional death through disease.

More worrying, though, was the increasing incidence of suicide. Disturbed tumps — those who had been attacked by jaguars, for instance — were subject to a mental disorder known as loco. The symptons were a tendency to travel downhill until the tump’s progress was halted by the sailway track. It would then butt against this structure, endlessly, unable to feed, until it died. A few tumps had even been known to smash their way through the track and to disappear into the sea, presumably to drown.

It was a serious problem. It was also degrading for the lumpier who was obliged to stay with his mount, subject to the jeers of the True Human passengers on the sail-way.

Was that why they had sent Karina?

El Tigre’s story was that Karina was in disgrace for some reason, but there was a rumor rife in the tump-fields that the Canton Lord had commanded her presence here. The Lord must be worried about the falling tump population. He might look on sailway-butting as evidence of tumpier incompetence — the felinos always said the tumpiers were too gentle with their charges. The tumpiers’ methods contrasted sharply with those of the felinos, who simply terrorized the shrugleggers into obedience.

Perhaps the Lord intended the felinos to take over the tumpfields, and had sent Karina as an experiment.

Haleka shot Karina a glance of intense suspicion. The girl paced alongside like some big cat, nostrils twitching at the scent from the still-fresh wounds. Granted, she was a beautiful creature — even old Haleka could not help being stirred by her — but she was dangerous and the tump sensed it. Its path across the hillside — the wide wake of cropped and fertilized grass — showed a definite curve away from the side on which Karina walked.

It was beginning to head downhill.

It might be going loco.

«Get on the other side of the tump!» shouted Haleka.

«But you said.…»

«I don’t care what I said. Do what you’re told!»

The path of the tump straightened out over the next few minutes, but soon showed a marked tendency to the right. Haleka knew a moment of sudden fury, unusual for a tumpier.

How could he drive a tump when a wild animal walked beside it?

Night in the foothills

The foothills were exposed and, although Haleka halted the tump in a shallow declivity, the air was cool and breezy.

The tump did not halt readily. It edged relentlessly forward, its jowls chomping, while Haleka leaned against its nose and shouted tumpier oaths. Karina watched him with contempt. He was frail, and slant-eyed like all tumpiers — more like a True Human than a Specialist — and she wondered what creatures had lent its ineffectual genes to his make-up.

There were legends of a sea-going race of similar appearance to Haleka, who populated the floating islands of Polysitia and helped provide the continents with life-giving oxygen. In the Dying Years the minstrels would sing of Belinda, the most famous Polysitian, who was pursued and imprisoned by the black rider Or Kikiwa, blown ashore in a gale and loved by Manuel of the Triad before the Great Blue took her back to her people.

Haleka looked like the Polysitians of legend.…

Karina stepped forward and laid her hand on the tump’s nose.

The tump’s tiny eyes blinked, and it stopped moving.

Haleka glanced at her without expression. He reached into his robe and took out a handful of dried herbs, which he crushed in his palm and held under the tump’s nose. It was a mild narcotic — falla — to deter the tump from moving off during the night. Then Haleka gathered grass and leaves from the fringes of a stream. He took two rocks from a hempen bag hanging from the tump; a large flat rock and a smaller spherical one. With these he pounded the vegetation into a paste. This he ate with apparent relish, sucking his lips afterwards. Then, without having suggested that Karina satisfy her own hunger — indeed, without having uttered a word since she’d immobilized the tump — he unrolled his blanket on the ground, lay on it and closed his eyes.

I was only trying to help, thought Karina. She lay down too, but the ground was hard and she was cold. She had no blanket, and she felt alone and frightened. She longed for the companionship of the grupo. She didn’t feel whole. She wasn’t even sleepy. In her sorrow she began a soft whimpering.

She’d seen her sisters briefly after the meeting, when a mysterious messenger had arrived and spoken to her father just before he propelled her through the camp to the meat train, his face like thunder. The grupo hadn’t spoken to her. They’d avoided her eyes. They blamed her for their disgrace over the Iolande incident. They thought that if she’d stayed with them, instead of fooling around in the jungle, Iolande would never have got the better of them.

Karina whined.

«Will you stop that caterwauling!» Haleka was propped on one elbow, staring fiercely at her, the moonlight glittering from his slant eyes so that he looked like an alien creature.

After he’d settled back again, Karina crawled over to the tump and nestled up against the rough hide which provided some small warmth and shelter. She lay awake for some time, swallowing heavily and continuously and wondering whether she was sickening for something — her whole throat seemed to be choking up.

Then she realized that the proximity to the tump was making her salivate …

It was a night of discomfort and strange dreams, and just before dawn she discovered, drowsily, that she’d been incontinent; and in her despair she thought: this will surely convince Haleka that I’m some kind of wild animal .…

But in the morning Haleka had other matters to worry about.

«There was another attack!» An apprentice stood panting steam in the cold dawn.

«Where?»

«Further up the gully. They got at Axil’s mount!»

«Did he see them?»

«No.… We slept.» The apprentice avoided Haleka’s eyes.

«You were scared,” said the tumpier. «You heard, but you were too scared to do anything. By Agni, this is too much!» He stared around furiously. «Where in hell is that goddamned jaguar-girl? She’s at the bottom of this, I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s insane, letting her loose among the tumps. As if the big cats in the forest aren’t enough for us to contend with, every grupo in the Canton will home in on the smell of her! This attack — was it felinas or jaguars?»

«There was a lot of damage. Jaguars hunt alone. I think it was a felina grupo.»

«And I know which grupo it was!»

Haleka sniffed the morning breeze, stiffened, then strode down the gully, splashing through the stream. Further on he came to a tiny waterfall spilling into a pool. Sitting beside the pool was Karina, naked and shivering, squeezing the water out of her tunic.

«Washing the blood off, eh?» He stood looking down at her, trembling with outrage.

«What? No, I.… What do you mean?»

«Explain what you’re doing!»

Karina stood with downcast eyes, the tunic hanging from her fingers, dripping. «I.… I thought, maybe it would make the tump more easy for you to control, if I.…» She swallowed. «If I washed myself and my clothes, so that.… So that the tump wouldn’t be so sure I’m a felina, and wouldn’t be so scared of me.»

«That would make a better story if you and your grupo hadn’t attacked Axil’s tump last night!»

«My … grupo?»

«Yes, your grupo. The famous El Tigre grupo. Or are you saying you’ve disowned them suddenly?»

Karina said quietly, «I think perhaps they’ve disowned me.»

«What do you mean?»

So she explained. And as she stood there, shoulders drooping, defeated, something of her sorrow transmitted itself to Haleka. She’d scrubbed herself until her skin glowed in the thin morning sunlight, her wet hair captured this sunlight like glowing copper and her figure was beautiful beyond belief. All this touched something in Haleka which took him right back to his youth, returning to him a strength and compassion which had been leeched away by the lonely years on tump-back.

«No doubt you brought it on yourself,” he said eventually, gruffly. «Get dressed and I’ll find a slice of meat for you.» He turned away abruptly.

She smiled like the sun itself. «Thanks, Haleka.»

When they got back to the tump, Axil was there. «I see you’ve caught her,” he called. «That’s good. Now we can deal with her. One thing I know — she won’t pull a trick like this again.» He held a tumpstick with which he took a practice swing, making the air whistle.

«She didn’t do it, Axil.»

«Tell that to the howler monkeys!»

«I said she didn’t do it.» He faced the man squarely. «She told me so, and I believe her.»

Now Axil got his first good look at Karina. The cat-girl met his gaze and for a long moment held it, and during that moment two minds met: the mind of a girl whose race had been created thirty thousand years ago in a laboratory, and the mind of a man whose race went back to the Paragonic Years, which had lived for millennia on remote islands before undertaking a duty which took it around the world and deprived it forever of a permanent home. The two minds met and recognized each other as human. And a third mind was there too — an alien mind, a catalyst.

«No, Karina didn’t do it,” said Axil.

He walked away slowly, as though sleep-walking.

Moving camp

Saba said, «I wish Karina was here. She was good at this. The vampiro liked her.»

All over the hillside the vampiros were rising into the afternoon sky like leaves in an autumn wind, trailing thongs. There was excitement in the air and the felinos were singing as they set off northwards, an old felino song:

«My house is like a warm cocoon,

And shelters me from fear.

But when the Festival draws near,

My house is like the Moon.»

And the vampiros soared on membranous wings, filling the air with their shrill piping.

«You fed it too much,” Runa accused Teressa.

«I never fed it.»

«Well then, you starved it. It’s too weak to fly.»

«What about you? What about you? Why blame me?»

All around them the vampiros were taking off, the felinas gripping the ends of the thongs and hurrying away. Teressa was tugging at the giant bat’s claws which remained obstinately fixed into the ground, like the roots of a very old tree. The vampiro watched her with baleful eyes. It had folded its wings so that the grupo’s furniture was uncovered, but some unknown grudge caused it to remain sulkily earthbound.

«Get moving, girls!» called El Tigre, passing by.

«Mordecai!» swore Teressa. «All the best sites will be taken!» She jumped up and seized the vampiro around its scrawny neck. «Help me!» she shouted to her sisters.

«What are you trying to do, strangle it?»

«I’m trying to knock it over, you fool!» The vampiro had straightened its back, lifting Teressa’s feet from the ground. She hung there kicking. «If we can get the weight off its legs, we stand a better chance of unhooking its claws from the ground!»

The vampiro, a creature of great stoicism, ignored her. When crouched with spread wings to form the traditional shelter, vampiros are bell-shaped and not much taller than a man. In the standing position, though, they are of impressive height, and Teressa’s feet were a good meter from the ground. The vampiro gazed stolidly at the distant ocean, as though reflecting on the timelessness of it all. Its face was small and mouselike with a curious harelip but its neck was comparatively long, and bald. This gave the whole creature the appearance of a giant and dignified condor.

Runa flung herself bodily at the animal.

It absorbed her momentum like a leathery pillow.

«Oh, God!» shouted Saba in mortification, glancing frantically at the grinning faces which were beginning to turn their way, then taking a short run and hurling her own slight frame against the resilient vampiro.

Dull Torpe drew near, blinking. «I may be stupid,” he said, «But I can’t understand what you girls are trying to do.» His mouth dropped open again, his face resuming its characteristic expression of doltish surprise.

Teressa dropped to the ground, turned, and in her frustration attacked Runa. «It’s all your fault! It’s all your fault! I hate you!» They rolled to the ground in furious combat while Saba backed off hastily.

Now the cynical Dozo appeared, smiling enigmatically as Teressa and Runa hammered each other and the gathering crowd hooted encouragement.

«This would never have happened if Karina had been here,” said Saba by way of an excuse, as Dozo cocked an eye at her.

«Grupos always fight,” he replied. «It’s in the nature of things. It strengthens the bond, although God knows how. Karina would make no difference … or would she? She certainly has a presence, that girl.»

«We hardly ever fought when she was around. Oh!» cried Saba in sudden despair, as Teressa straddled Runa, got a handful of her hair and began to pound her head into the dust, «I wish she was back!»

«I’ll have to speak to El Tigre,” said Dozo. «For what it’s worth. We can’t have our top grupo falling apart. Have you seen much of Torch lately?» he asked unexpectedly.

«Not since Karina left.… Anyway, it’s no use talking to father. Teressa’s the one who doesn’t want Karina around. She still blames her for running out on us.»

«I do. With good reason.» Teressa stood before them, panting, the tunic ripped from her breasts and hanging in rags around her waist. «A grupo is no grupo if one goes off alone. We’re supposed to share adventures — and Mordecai knows, adventures are hard enough to come by.» Runa lay in the dirt, shaking her head dazedly. There were a few delighted catcalls from the bachelors concerning Teressa’s state of dress, but the crowd was beginning to disperse, the fun over. «You’ll never see that traitor back in this grupo,” Teressa said.

The vampiro still stood there with folded wings, like a huge and dignified patriarch watching the squabblings of children.

«I wonder,” said Dozo.

«Ah, get out of here, you old faggot,” said Teressa in disgust. She dragged Runa to her feet. «Go and get a rope, Runa. We’ll lasso this stupid bat. Then we can pull him over with a couple of shrugleggers.»

«She wishes Karina was back, really,” said Saba to Dozo, but very quietly, so that Teressa couldn’t hear.

It was dark by the time the El Tigre grupo arrived at Rangua North camp. The other vampiros were all in position, replete with food, snoring softly while the grupos chattered under the domes of their wings. After a change of campsite the vampiros were always fed well — otherwise a grupo might awaken to find open sky above, and the giant bat winging across the rain forest, never to return.

Karina, hiding nearby, heard the creaking of cart wheels and the familiar, loved voices. She waited behind the curve of a tent for her chance.

Then, «Saba,” she whispered.

«Who’s that? Is that you, Karina? Oh …!»

Saba rushed into her arms and they hugged, pummelling each other in affection, stepping apart, then wrestling with soft growlings.

At last Karina asked, «Where have you all been? All the other felinas are here. I got worried.»

Saba explained the problem.

Karina laughed, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

«Saba? Saba, is that you, for God’s sake? For the love of Mordecai, where is that girl?» Teressa’s voice was tight with frustration. «Come and help hold this bastard down, Saba, otherwise he’ll take off for the hills the moment we untie him!»

«Maybe we shouldn’t untie him, Tess,” they heard Runa say. «Maybe we should leave him there until morning.»

«And let him meditate on the error of his ways, I suppose. God damn it, Runa, he’s just a dumb vampiro. A good whipping is what he needs!»

«No, I meant it would be easier in daylight. We could —”

«If you think I’m spending the night out in this cold, you’re dumber than this crazy vampiro.»

«Listen, Tess, I wish you’d stop calling me dumb. People can hear, you know. And anyway, I’m a sight cleverer than you. Everyone knows that. You’re just a quarrelsome brat. That’s what they all say!»

A scuffling broke out, and the sound of heavy blows. «I’m going to kill you, Runa!» Teressa screamed.

It was too much for Saba. «Stop it!» she shouted, rushing up to the dim figures thrashing in the dirt. «Karina’s here!»

«Huh?» The fighting stopped. The combatants stood, dusting themselves off. «Oh, it’s you, is it,” said Teressa as Karina stepped forward.

«Want some help with the vampiro?»

«Wouldn’t mind.»

Teressa stood by sullenly as Karina examined the creature who lay, trussed as though ready for the sun-oven, on the floor of the cart. Karina placed her palms on either side of the vampiro’s head. «Be quiet,” she said to the others. The vampiro lay still.

The sounds of the evening seemed to fade away, leaving Karina and the vampiro in a private world, small and walled with silence. Karina waited, concentrating. Little Friends .… she thought.

She felt the strange force flow down her arms.

And later, a minute or a microsecond later, she felt it return.

And she knew.

«Well?»

«It’s.… It’s time for this vampiro to mate. He needs to be set free. We’ll.… You’ll have to get another.»

«Yes, and what about tonight? What about that, huh?»

«He’ll shelter you tonight, if you’re kind to him.»

«Thank you so much, Karina,” said Saba. «You’re so clever. Isn’t she, Teressa?»

«Huh. Just a trick. She isn’t getting round me. She deserted the grupo when we needed her most, remember?»

Suddenly, this ingratitude merged with her recent unhappiness, and Karina felt a flash of temper. «Oh, so I’m not getting round you, Tess? Want to bet?»

«None of that stuff,” said Teressa nervously, backing away.

But Karina pinned her arms. «Want to bet?» She thrust her face close to the other, forcing her sister to meet her eyes. «Watch me, Tess. Watch me!»

«Let me go!»

«Look at my eyes.… That’s right. Now. You don’t really hate me, do you? Of course you don’t. Keep looking at me, or I’ll break your goddamned spine.… I could, you know. You love me, Tess. You don’t believe I ran out on you. You love me. You always have. You’d do anything for me. Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you? ”

«I’d do anything for you,” repeated Teressa woodenly.

«Okay. Now, let’s get this vampiro untied and set up.» Karina let Teressa go and she blinked, then smiled.

«I’ve been a fool,” she said.

«Wait a moment,” said Runa. «Just wait a goddamned moment. You don’t convince me as easily as that. Why the hell did you run out on us, anyway?»

«I didn’t. It was important to the felinos that I found out what was happening at the delta. And if you don’t believe me, then by Mordecai I’ll convince you!»

«No, that’s all right,” said Runa hastily, edging away.

«Convince me ,” purred Saba, moving up against Karina and gazing at her round-eyed.

The tension broke, they laughed and hugged, and the El Tigre grupo was united again.

«Now,” said Karina after a while. «Let me tell you how we can get back at that lousy Iolande grupo.…»

The hemitrex and the victory

«We are nothing,” said Haleka into the afternoon air. «We are less than the mountain, less than the sea. We are ants, without understanding, without effect. We move through a brief instant of Time like a puff of wind, and are gone, leaving nothing.»

«Aren’t you glad I’m back, Haleka?»

«Gladness does not enter into it. You were sent here as a punishment, and since you have performed adequately I saw fit to allow you a brief respite. So now you’re back. When do you leave us permanently?»

«Father says I can’t go back until after the Festival. I really wanted to see the Festival, Haleka.»

«Another example of your desire for corruption. El Tigre has more sense than I’d have given a felino credit for. The Festival is a disgusting bacchanal; a drunken, brawling exhibition of gluttony, lust and other pleasures of the flesh.»

«What others are there?» asked Karina innocently; then, seeing Haleka’s frown deepening, she said hastily, «I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. Can we stop, now?»

He looked down at her and found himself saying, «All right. But hurry. The tump must receive his full daily intake.» He reached into a large sack and took out a portable sun-oven, banding it down to her.

«That’s all right. I can eat it raw.»

«Certainly not! I shall not encourage you to eat raw flesh except in an emergency. I took the trouble to have this oven made for you, and so long as you are in the tumpfields you will use it.»

Karina set the complex of hemitrexes on the ground and focussed the sunlight on a strip of tumpmeat, which soon began to crackle and emit a delicious aroma. Haleka slid down the tump’s flank and joined her, squatting on his skinny haunches. He watched her eat while he chewed thoughtfully on herbs and reflected on the unseemly coarseness of her nature. Feeling himself in the mood for lecturing, and judging Karina to be a worthy victim, he cast around in his mind for some parable fitting to the occasion.

«I am going to tell you a story, Karina.»

«But won’t the tump lose out on its daily intake?»

«Sit down.» He directed a skeletal forefinger at her, and she resumed her seat with every sign of reluctance.

Haleka then told her the story known as The Dead People of Arbos — which, millennia later, passed into the Song of Earth as the Second Kikihuahua Allegory.…

The Isle of Arbos lies thirty kilometers off the coast, and people say it floated out to sea on the waters of the Rio Plata. It is quite barren, and uninhabited — although it was not always that way.

Once it was peopled by a tribe of Wild Humans some forty strong. They arrived by raft, having been driven from the mainland by a hostile tribe. When they arrived, the Isle of Arbos was covered with forest, much of which they cut down to build huts. The fishing was good, so although the trees did not bear fruit there was no shortage of food. In the mornings the men would depart in dugout canoes, and in the evenings they would return with fish. They would kindle the Wrath of Agni, and the fires burned into the night as the fish were cooked and eaten. The tribe grew fat.

But the trees became sparse. In a hundred years every tree had been cut, and since none were planted the island became a dusty waste. The islanders were reduced to eating their fish raw; and they became like animals as their art and culture declined.

A hundred and fifteen years after they arrived, the waters around Arbos turned red. A tiny organism, carried by the waters of the Rio Plata, had found salt water to its liking and had multiplied prodigiously. The fish ate the organism, and the shellfish ate it too, and they thrived.

But any humans who ate the fish, died.

They died slowly, over a period of months, but they died nonetheless — and in some agony at the end, as the organism ate into their flesh.

One day a kikihuahua came by.

He saw the people lying sick on the beach, and he guessed the cause.

«Our God has deserted us,” said the chief. «He has left us on this barren island to die.»

«No,” said the kikihuahua. «That is not God’s way. He is displeased with the kind of creatures you have become, and he has sent hardship your way so that you may improve. It is God’s way of weeding out the people who do not use the wits he gave them.»

«But there is nothing we can do! We have no fire and no food!»

«The time for burning and destroying is past,” said the kikihuahua. «You must adapt — that is what God is telling you.» He bent down, and from the beach he picked a small dish-shaped object. «You see this hemitrex? Millennia ago, the hemitrex was a different creature altogether. It was soft. It had no hard shiny shell. It was just a fragile mass of jelly floating in the ocean — in fact people called it the jellyfish. It was at the mercy of tide and current, and since it floated near the surface, it was at the mercy of the sun, too.

«And one day, the sun became terrible.

«Giant balls of fire exploded from its surface and sent evil rays shafting towards the Earth like poison arrows. Men and animals and plants died in the heat and sickness of its light. For ten thousand years this went on, until the fires died down and the sun was normal again. But the men and animals and plants were no longer normal. Except for those humans protected by the Sisters of the Moon, they were changed, because only by changing could they have survived the furious sun.

«The jellyfish adapted too. In order to protect itself against the rays, it grew a hard thin shell of a shiny substance which had the power of reflecting almost all the sunlight which struck it. The jellyfish adapted, and it lived. As did many other creatures. As you must.»

The chief pointed out, «We don’t have ten thousand years. We’re dying now .»

«Then eat something other than fish.»

«There is nothing else. The land is barren.»

The kikihuahua put its hand into a rock pool and drew out a handful of seaweed. «Eat this. It is not affected by the red tide.»

«We’ve tried. It’s too coarse. We cannot digest it.»

«Then cook it.»

«We have no firewood, remember?»

The kikihuahua sighed. «You haven’t learned anything.» He placed the seaweed on the rock and held the hemitrex over it, tilting it so that the sun’s rays were gathered in the shiny bowl and focussed on the weed. After a while, steam rose. In a few moments the seaweed was cooked, tender and edible.

The kikihuahua bowed, walked across the island, climbed onto his vehicle‑creature and disappeared.

At this point the Second Kikihuahua Allegory, as told in later years, ends. In Karina’s day, however, people were more ruthlessly literal, and Haleka continued the story to its climax, as he knew it, like this:

The chief approached the pile of cooked seaweed, sniffed it and made a face of disgust. «We can’t eat this muck. It may be food for a kikihuahua but it’s no food for humans. We’re a tribe offish-eaters, and fish-eaters we will remain, and no alien with hairy buttocks will tell us otherwise.»

«And anyway,” said his woman, holding up the shell, «This jellyfish may have adapted, but it’s dead all the same.»

«There’s a lesson in that,” said the chief.

And from that day on they thought no more of the kikihuahua, but continued to eat raw fish, getting even sicker until they died, one by one.

Which is why the Isle of Arbos is uninhabited — and there’s a lesson in that, too.

«So?» said Karina.

«You will obey the dictates of the Examples and not eat raw meat.»

«Are you sure that’s what the story means?»

«You will not question me, Karina!»

During the rest of the afternoon the tump browsed its way through the foothills and Karina walked beside it; first on the seaward side, then on the side of the mountains — and the tump always tended to shy away from her.

I’m not cut out to be a tumpier, she thought in some satisfaction.

Evening came and Haleka slid down, allowing Karina time for a small cooked meal before the sun dropped below the mountains. Then the coolness of night enveloped the fields and Karina climbed onto the tump’s back to watch for jaguars. Looking around, she could see the dim shapes of other tumps, each topped by its attendant. The moon slid from behind a bank of clouds and the scene was suddenly washed with cold light. Karina, alert, stared about her, hearing faint sounds from a nearby grove of trees. A night-hunting owl swooped low overhead, snatching some squealing rodent from the grass and startling her. From somewhere else came the metallic roar of a big cat.

There was something wild and elemental about the night.

It’s a time for killing. The words came unbidden into Karina’s mind, planted there countless generations ago by a forgotten technician at the institute of Mordecai N. Whirst.

A sudden scream cut through the night sounds.

Karina whirled round. The tump to her left gave a convulsive heave, and the attendant was missing from its back. Then there was a worrying sound; a grunting, and noises of a struggle.

Karina threw her head back and uttered an unearthly screech.

«Huh? Huh?» It seemed that all of nature had been shocked into silence — with the exception of Haleka, who was muttering his anger at being roused. «Is that you, Karina? What in the name of Whirst is —”

«Be quiet.» Karina pulled him unceremoniously to his feet. «Come with me.»

Karina dragged Haleka at a trot towards the riderless tump. When they got there, they found the apprentice lying unconscious on the ground. Blood seeped darkly from a wound at his temple. His tumpier was crawling from under a blanket, grumbling.

«What …?»

«There’s been an attack.» Karina looked around. «Where have they gone?»

«They? Jaguars hunt alone, Karina.»

«Felinas don’t.»

Others arrived; tumpiers and their apprentices, alerted by Karina’s screech. Then, sliding from the backs of nearby tumps, three girls.

Haleka stared at them in surprise and suspicion. «Who are these felinas?»

«My sisters. I thought we might need some help tonight, so I replaced three of the apprentices. It was bad luck we picked the wrong tumps, or we might have had them. Did you see anything, Teressa?»

«Not a thing.»

«I thought we’d catch them in the act. But it seems they’ve gone. Maybe I frightened them off,” said Karina unhappily.

The apprentice on the ground groaned, returning to consciousness.

«Weakling,” observed Teressa disgustedly. She pulled him to his feet, not very gently. «Who attacked you, huh?»

His eyes focussed and he saw her. Sudden fear showed. «A grupo! What’s a grupo doing here?»

«Trying to help you, idiot. Who attacked you?»

«I was pulled off the tump from behind. I didn’t see.»

«Jaguars often attack from behind,” said a tumpier wisely. «They run up the back of the tump and pick the apprentice off, clean as a mango.»

«They don’t club him across the head,” said Runa. «This is human work.»

«A goddamned felina grupo!» somebody shouted, staring in deep suspicion at Teressa.

«Shut up, all of you!» Runa shouted, as a babble of accusations arose. «Shut up! This may be a diversion! While we’re all arguing here, they could be stripping a tump to the bone somewhere else!»

Karina raised her head, sniffed the air, and cried, «I smell blood! Over there! Towards the mountains!»

«But —”

«Be quiet, Saba.» Karina allowed the main body of the hunt to move off westwards, then took Haleka by the arm and called to her sisters. «Come on — this way. The noise from that crowd is enough to scare a herd of crocodiles. We go east, and we have Haleka as our witness.»

The five of them walked quietly downhill, and before long they heard the sounds of feeding.

«They don’t know you’re here,” whispered Karina to her sisters. «They won’t be expecting a full-scale attack. If it’s Iolande’s grupo, there’ll be four of them. That’s one each. Haleka — you help Saba.»

But the tumpier was accelerating down the slope, skinny legs pumping. «That’s my tump! For the love of Mordecai — it’s my tump they’re eating!» His voice was shrill with outrage, and the sounds in front of them ceased suddenly.

There was a low chuckle.

«Poor old tumpier. What a shame.»

Dark figures moved against the moonlit bulk of the tump. A jagged gash wept black blood. No knives had been used; the felinas had simply slashed at the tump with their tough fingernails and chewed their way in.

“ Now,” said Karina.

She’d already picked out Iolande, the tallest of the grupo — the mother, skilled in battle. Iolande stood a little apart from the others, frozen in the act of cramming a chunk of meat into her mouth, her fingers dripping while she watched the oncoming grupo with narrowed eyes.

«So.… It’s El Tigre’s little girls. Go home, kids. Find someone your own age to play with.»

«Take the others!» shouted Karina. «I’ll look after this old cow!»

«You’ll regret your choice,” said Iolande calmly, and jammed the wad of flesh into Karina’s eyes as she came in, blinding her for one vital moment.

Karina felt a knee crash into her groin and she doubled up, pawing at her eyes. Instinctively she swayed aside as she fell, and felt the wind of Iolande’s other knee as it swept past her head. This was for real. Iolande was fighting, if not to kill, at least to maim. On the ground, Karina grabbed for the other woman’s knees. She caught one of them. The other foot slashed into her flank, cutting flesh. She let go and rolled away. The wind had been knocked out of her.

Little Friends.…

Her vision cleared and she looked up. Iolande was standing nearby, breathing normally, unmarked, a faint smile on her face. Behind Karina, a little way off, the baffle rolled on.

«Had enough, pretty Karina?»

Karina hurled herself forward, the Little Friends driven from her consciousness by the sheer violence of her rage. Iolande jumped as she came in, pulling herself up by the trappings and hanging from the tump’s back, and slashed at Karina with her feet — but she didn’t quite allow for the strength and speed of the girl. Karina turned in mid‑leap, caught Iolande’s foot and, still turning, dragged the woman to the ground.

Iolande yelled as the ligaments other knee tore, sending hot needles of pain through her leg.

Karina maintained her grip, twisting the foot back until Iolande screamed again. Then Iolande’s other foot caught her in the stomach with devastating force, hurling her against the tump. She fell aside in the nick of time, barely avoiding Iolande’s rush.

For a moment they stood face to face, recovering their breath. They hardly noticed the shouts and thump of flesh on flesh from nearby. They watched each other, and then they heard a male voice shout with pain.

And Iolande smiled.

There was a perfect confidence in her smile, a knowledge that her grupo was mother-taught in fighting, a certainty that they would win.

Karina watched her eyes. Karina’s face was streaming sweat and her hair hung like wet kelp. The skirt of her tunic was missing and blood seeped from a deep wound in her side. Her eyes were wide and steady, and they watched, watched.

Iolande thought, Mordecai, she’s beautiful .…

Her head spun.

And her smile became fixed; a grimace of twisted lips.

Karina said, “ Scream, Iolande.»

She reached out with hooked fingers and drew her nails deeply down that smiling face, gouging the flesh. She took her hand away, still watching the eyes, while parallel rivulets of blood trickled down Iolande’s face, two on either side of the nose, flowing aside at the bow of the upper lip then entering the mouth at the corner, dribbling into the smile and forming a little lake in front of the teeth before flowing again, down the chin.

«Scream, Iolande.»

Now Karina’s hand fastened on the neck of Iolande’s tunic and jerked downwards, exposing the breasts. The sounds of battle had ceased but Karina didn’t notice. Iolande had suckled eleven children and her breasts were just slightly pendulous, in contrast to the trim muscularity of the rest of her body. Karina’s fingers, hooked into claws, reached towards those vulnerable breasts. Iolande smiled her bloody smile, her mind emptied of thought.

«No, Karina!»

Saba had her by the wrist, tugging at her, pleading. «That’s enough! Leave her alone! They’re beaten — beaten, all of them!»

Karina blinked.

The spell was broken. Iolande crumpled to the ground.

«We’ve got them all.» Teressa appeared, dragging another felina, and flung her down beside Iolande.

The tump was wriggling now, moving away as though the pain of its wound and the savagery of the fighting was too much. Runa pulled two more girls forward. They were crying; little mews of mortification. Karina said shakily, «I didn’t think you could do it. I thought I’d have to get Iolande to surrender.»

The tumpiers began to gather, coming from all directions to view the prisoners.

«Bastards!»

«Always knew it was a grupo. Jaguars don’t do that kind of damage to the tump. Look at the poor brute — the pain’s beginning to get through to him!»

«Well done, Karina.»

Karina said, «How’s Haleka?»

The elderly tumpier limped forward, assisted by Saba. «Pain is of little consequence,” he said. «It comes, it goes. More important the effect upon the tump. I would like to express my gratitude to you and your grupo, Karina, but.…» His face was like parchment in the moonlight and suddenly he coughed, clutching his chest. «Would you … mind controlling the tump for a while? I am not quite capable at this moment.»

So saying, he sagged against Saba. She laid him carefully on the ground. «He went to help me,” she explained, «and he took a hell of a kick in the ribs. Maybe something’s broken.»

Leaving him there, Karina went after the tump. She wanted to get away from them for a moment, to sort herself out. Events of the past few minutes had left her very frightened. For the first time in my life, she thought, I completely lost control of myself .…

And the words sounded in her head. Lost control of myself.

It was a horribly apt phrase. She had lost control, and something else had gained control, pushing her aside.

Just for a moment, the Little Friends had stopped being mere assistants, and had taken over .…

A fit of shivering took hold of her, and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick. She gulped, breathing deeply at the cold night air, and the pain of her wounds swam back. To divert herself, she turned her attention to the errant tump.

“ Basta!» she shouted; the traditional cry.

The tump ignored her.

Suddenly concerned, she ran around to the front of the beast and laid her hand on its nose, leaning against it.

«Basta! Basta!»

The tump moved on, thrusting her aside. She peered into its eye as it moved past. “ Basta, you brute!»

Still the tump undulated forward, an irresistible mountain of meat, moving relentlessly downhill, towards the coastal plain. Karina punched it, shouted at it, kicked it, climbed on its back and tried to guide it — but it was no use.

Haleka’s tump had gone loco.

Bor

«It is done,” said the handmaiden. «She is in the tumpfields.»

The walls of the Dedo’s cottage were hung with animal remains; furs and skulls and skeletons of creatures which the handmaiden had never seen living. A giant pelt almost covered one wall; russet with the hairs running in an unusual direction. Behind it hung a big skull of a carnivore with two upper canines lengthened like tusks and fitted into curious sheaths which extended downward from the lower jaw. Next was a batlike creature with a considerable wingspan, a leathery skin, a long jaw with sharp teeth and an odd lump which extended back from the head and seemed to counterbalance the jaw. There were all manner of creatures, big and small, all carefully preserved and displayed, occupying two of the four walls and hanging from the rafters.

The Dedo said, «From there she will go to Torres. There are two possible deviations from our happentrack. Make sure they don’t occur.» She went on to give exact details.

The handmaiden said, «Who is she?»

«You sense nothing remarkable about her?»

«Well.… She seems to have a resistance to pain.»

«That is caused by bor, the alien parasite consumed by the legendary Captain Spring. It was bor which assisted Captain Spring to achieve many of her exploits; otherwise she was an ordinary tiger-woman in charge of a clumsy three‑dimensional spaceship.»

«But how would a parasite help?»

“ Borhas a remarkable sense of self-preservation. It permeates the cells and achieves a complete empathy with the host. At first it was thought to be a hallucinogenic drug, because it made the host feel good — and incidentally made him live longer. A technique known as the Inner Think was later developed to harness this property of bor and extend Man’s lifespan to several hundred years. Even now, a few people with traces of bor in their genes are able to practice the Inner Think.»

The handmaiden said thoughtfully, «So Karina has this bor. How does it help our Purpose?»

«I don’t know,” said the Dedo. «All I know is that Starquin will be freed by a descendant of Karina’s possessing bor‑if he is freed at all.»