Return to Eden

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

It was like awakening after a long sleep, the sleep of an endless night. Or perhaps was even more like cracking out of the egg, of leaving the long first night of life and being born into the world. These were the thoughts that Vaintè had. First she puzzled at these thoughts-then wondered why she was puzzled.

One day when she bent over to drink from the pool of fresh water she saw her reflection and blinked with uncertainty at it. Held up her hands and spread her thumbs wide, looked at the mud caked there. Then plunged them into the pool, shattering her image and wondered yet again why this bothered her.

Each morning she would look out to sea and search for the uruketo. But it never returned. This upset her because it was a change from the rhythm of the days that she had grown so used to. Sleeping, eating, sleeping. Nothing else. She was no longer at peace and regretted this greatly. Why was she upset? What was bothering her? She knew — and put the memory from her. It was very peaceful on the beach.

Then one day she awoke. She was standing on the beach and one of her companions was before her, waist deep in the sea. Fish, the fargi signed with a color change of her hand. Then fish yet again.

“What fish?” Vaintè asked. “Fish where? More than one fish? How big, how small, how many? Answer commanded.”

“Fish,” the stupid, gap-jawed, bulge-eyed creature signed yet again.

“Lump of worthlessness-rock of stupidity-mountain of incoherence…” Vaintè stopped because the fargi had dived in panic, swam away as fast as she could. Within a moment all of the other fargi who had heard her outburst were in the water. The beach emptied and her anger grew and she spoke loudly, vehemently, writhing with the passion of her feelings.

“Insensate, stupid and mute creatures. Knowing nothing of the beauty of speaking, the flexibility of language, the joys of coherence. You swim, you fish, you bask, you sleep. You could be dead and there would be no difference. I could be dead…”

She was awake now, fully awake and fully rested, for her sleep had been a long one. She did not know how long, knew only that days and nights, many of them, had passed. As the little waves broke and surged around her legs she thought about what had happened and began to understand a small amount of it. Deserted, deprived of the world she knew, stripped of her city, her rank, her power, she had been dumped on this beach to die. Lanefenuu had wanted her dead, hoped for her death — but that was not to be. She was not a witless fargi that could be ordered to die, who would instantly obey.

But it had been very close. Yet her desire for survival had been so great that she had retreated within herself, lived a life that was a shadow of life. No more. The dark days were behind her. But what lay ahead?

Vaintè was an eistaa, would always be one. Would lead and others would follow. But not on this beach.

Surrounded by swamp on three sides, the ocean on the other. It was nothing, no place to be, no place for her any more. When she had come here she had been ill. Now she was well. There was no reason to stay, nothing to remember, none to speak to in parting. Without a single backward glance she slipped into the sea, dived under and cleansed herself, surfaced and swam north. It was in this direction that the uruketo had gone, this was where the fargi had come from.

A rocky headland came into view ahead as she swam, and moved slowly behind her until it obscured sight of the beach where she had stayed so long. She did not turn to look for she had already forgotten it. There had to be a city somewhere up ahead. That was where she was going.

The great crescent of a bay appeared beyond the headland, golden sand rimming its shore. The swimming had tired her so she floated and let the waves carry her to the beach. The sand was smooth, unmarked by any footprint. She was alone now and greatly preferred that. Walking was easier than swimming: she covered a good deal of distance before dark.

In the morning she caught some fish, then went on. Each day was different and distinct now and she numbered them, thought about them while she was walking the beaches, swimming past cliffs or headlands.

On the first day she had reached the bay. It was so large that she had spent all of the second and most of the third day trudging along its shore. On the fourth the cliffs began, a mountain range that dropped directly into the sea. That night had been spent uncomfortably on a rocky ledge, spattered with spray from the breaking waves. On the sixth day she had passed the last of the cliffs and returned to the beach again.

On the thirty-fifth day she saw that her journey was coming to an end. At first the beach was like any other she had walked on — but suddenly became very different. In the calm water just offshore she saw the brief splashing of a school of fish — that were not fish. They surfaced and looked at her with tiny round eyes, dived instantly when she signed greeting. An immature efenburu, afraid of everything. They would eat — or be eaten — until one day the survivors would emerge from the ocean as fargi. Those with any intelligence would become yilanè and join in the life of the city.

If they were here in the ocean, then the birth beaches could not be too distant — nor were they. A natural bay had been deepened and reinforced. Dredged by eisekol, rimmed by soft sand. The guardians were in their appointed places, the males lolling in the ocean’s edge. There was a hill above the beaches, obviously a favorite viewing place for well-trod paths marked it, leading away from the beaches and towards the tall trees of a city.

Vaintè paused. Until this moment she had not thought of what would happen after she had reached the city. Getting to this place, that is what had concerned her, the swimming, walking. She had known that a city must be north along the coast, knew that she must reach it. Now what?

What city was this? Who was the eistaa? She knew nothing, was as stupid as any fargi emerging from the sea. Looking back towards the ocean she saw an uruketo moving towards the harbor, small boats returning from fishing. A rich city, for all cities were rich. Fish and meat for the eating. Meat. She had not tasted it, not even thought about it during the timeless dark period that had passed. When she thought of it now she felt the taste of it in her mouth and wiped her tongue along her teeth. She would enter this city and eat. Then look at it, understand it, discover it. Just as any fargi would do. She would do the same. The paths all led to the city and she took the most direct one.

There were crowds of fargi ahead, then a file of them carrying bundles, two Yilanè walking behind, talking. Vaintè understood some of it as they passed and yearned to hear more. But first she must eat; she felt saliva on her lips as she thought of cool, jellied meat; she licked them dry. A group of fargi was coming towards her. She stopped in their path and they shuffled to a stop as well, gaped at her.

“Are you yilanè? Which of you speaks/understands?”

They moved aside, looking towards a larger fargi to the rear who signed small comprehension.

“Food. You understand food?”

“Eat food. Eat good.”

They were all plump, all eating well-and now it was her turn.

“We eat. You go. We eat.”

“Food, food,” the other fargi muttered excitedly. They may have just eaten, it made no difference. They were animated at the thought.

“Food,” the slightly yilanè fargi said, with a crude modifier of movement. They started off towards the city and Vaintè followed in their wake. Through the tree-arched streets, past the guarded hanalè, to the banks of a river. There was excitement and bustle here, silver fish and tubs of prepared meat. The fargi went to the fish, the only food they had known in their short lives, to be among their own. There were Yilanè near the meat, talking to each other, their conversation incomprehensible and confusing to the newcomers. Not so Vaintè. She walked to the vats, and every movement of her body signed strength and ability. The Yilanè of no rank moved aside for her and she reached in and ate. One of the Yilanè was looking at her, welcomed her and wished good eating. With her mouth full Vaintè could only sign appreciation and gratitude in return.

“What is this city?” she asked as she reached for more meat, her modifiers equal-to-equal.

“It is Yebèisk. The Eistaa of great authority is Saagakel.”

“Yebèisk and Saagakel are known in all of the cities of Entoban*.”

“You are a Yilanè of wisdom. And which is your city?”

“I travel now and know many cities.” This was an accurate statement. Vaintè took a bite of meat in order to avoid any amplification of detail. But she could not hide the overtones of strength and power that were associated with the cities she had visited and her listener was aware of this. When the other Yilanè spoke again it was as from someone slightly lower down to one a good deal higher up.

“The city welcomes the visitor.”

“Well spoken. I would see the ambesed and look upon the Eistaa who sits there.”

“Pleasure of guidance when eating finished. May honored visitor’s name be known?”

“Vaintè. And yours?”

“Opsotesi.”

The afternoon was warm so they took a shaded route through the streets and under the trees, wandered from the river to the foothills beyond, then back to the ambesed. By this time the midday heat was gone and the ambesed stirred with movement.

“Admirable,” Vaintè said, with qualifiers of great appreciation. Opsotesi arched with pleasure.

The ambesed was an open glade with tall trees forming a backdrop behind it. Through the center a stream of fresh water flowed, its course turning back and forth in gentle arcs. The stream was spanned by shining metal arched bridges that were decorated with loops of wire and set with glinting stones.

Vaintè and her new companion were standing on the public side of the ambesed along with many other Yilanè. Some of these bent over and drank from the stream, others splashed it on their limbs to cool them. But on the far side of the water there were no crowds. The grass there was green and untrampled. Small groups talked together, while the largest group of all was around the Eistaa who sat in the place of honor.

“An ambesed reflects its eistaa,” Vaintè said. “As I look at this my respect for your Eistaa grows.”

“Twice I have spoken to her,” Opsotesi said proudly. “I have skill at speaking and carry messages for many.”

“Appreciation of talents. Tell me of these messages for they must have been of importance if the Eistaa would hear of them.”

“Importance magnified. I stood on the dock when an uruketo arrived and there were those of high rank aboard. I took their names to great Saagakel.”

“Yilanè of importance, Eistaa of greatness,” Vaintè said, repeating the titles to hide her growing boredom. Opsotesi spoke well, but her only skill was in speaking; she would never rise very high. Yet she knew the city. “And what else did you speak of to the Eistaa?”

“Matter of darkness.” Her body moved in unhappy memory. “A stranger came to the city. I was told to bring notice of this stranger…”

Her speaking stopped, rigid, and she signed doubt, identification/clarity. Vaintè spoke strongly and curtly.

“Opsotesi, you address me with dark questions. What is the reason?”

“Apologies! Doubts of stupidity. You are a stranger — but you could not be as that stranger was. She was—”

Again she broke off, moving with fear. Vaintè signed friendship and curiosity of identification. She already had her suspicions. Opsotesi still could not speak so Vaintè encouraged her.

“I know of those who are outcast. Though I am not of them, despise them, I know of them. So speak — was it of a Daughter of Life that you were informed?”

“It was! Apologies for fear. Vaintè is above me, ahead of me in every way. That is the matter of which I spoke. There was anger, we fled.”

Vaintè calmed her, flattered her strength and speaking ability. Then decided what she must do.

“I have come a long way, friend Opsotesi, and am tired. But not so tired that I cannot do my duty and speak my gratitude to your Eistaa for pleasures enjoyed of your city.”

Opsotesi was wide-mouthed now like a fargi. “You would do that? Just speak to her without being summoned?”

“She will speak to me if she wishes. I will simply make my presence known.”

Strength of purpose straightened Vaintè’s back, fullness of knowledge glowed in her eyes. Opsotesi bid her farewell, lowest to highest and she acknowledged this with the slightest movement. When Vaintè now walked forward the Yilanè grew silent and made way for her. When she reached the shining bridge she stopped to admire it aloud, then went on. Those about the Eistaa saw her approach but did not move for they were proud of their positions and did not relinquish them easily. Vaintè made no protest, just sat back slowly onto her tail, beyond the circle, her arms formed into a sign of respectful attention.

Curiosity won in the end as they became aware of the stranger and her dignified presence. The nearest, a fat Yilanè with purple designs on her arms and down her chest, continuing onto the rolls of fat as well, looked at her with one cold eye. Then turned her head, wattles swinging and spoke a rude query.

“Explain presence, highest to lowest.”

Vaintè gave her one disdainful glance, then looked back to the Eistaa. The fat one’s crest flared because she was not used to being dismissed this rudely. Saagakel, who was indeed an Eistaa of intelligence, was aware of this exchange and enjoyed it. Watched but did not interrupt. Ostuku was fat and lazy and deserved a little reduction of status as well as of weight.

“Answer demanded stranger!” Ostuku ordered.

Vaintè looked at her coldly and spoke with minimum movements, rejection without insult. “I am commanded only by those of power: I speak only to those with grace.”

Ostuku gasped, angered and confused. The sureness of the visitor was real, her presence imposing. She turned away from Vaintè, not willing to go on with the exchange.

“An accomplished Yilanè,” Saagakel thought, and of course communicated this thought to those around her. Vaintè heard it as well and signed respectful gratitude, pleasure of presence. All of the others were watching now and Vaintè was suddenly the center of attention. She saw this, stood and spoke.

“Apologies, Saagakel Eistaa of power. I did not mean to impose myself on your presence, wishing just to experience the pleasures of your ambesed, the strength of your presence. I withdraw for I have caused an interruption.”

“A welcome one, for events of the day are boring beyond belief. Come forward and tell us of yourself and of your visit to Yebèisk.”

Vaintè did as she had been commanded, moving closer to the Eistaa. “I am Vaintè, she who was Eistaa of Alpèasak.” When she spoke the city’s name she added modifiers of darkness and termination. Saagakel responded with knowledge of circumstance.

“We have heard of your city and those who died there. Killer ustuzou, event of great unhappiness.”

“Happiness restored. Ustuzou driven out, the city Yilanè once again — for Ikhalmenets has gone to Alpèasak.”

Saagakel signed knowledge and memory. “I have heard of that great event from uruketo of Ikhalmenets that called here. I also heard of one who drove out the ustuzou. Coincidence of great importance, for that Yilanè also bore the name of Vaintè.”

Vaintè lowered her eyes and tried to speak humbly, succeeded slightly.

“There is only one Yilanè of small importance who bears the name Vaintè.”

Saagakel expressed great pleasure. “Doubly welcome to my city, Vaintè. You must tell me of this new land of Gendasi * across the ocean and of all the things that have happened there. Here, sit close to my right thumbs, and speak to us. Move, fat Ostuku, and make room for our new comrade.”