Seahorse in the Sky

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

IT WAS INDEED a long hard night, but a rewarding one. For by the end of it, they had established at least some simple communication with the captives and had inspired, perhaps, a small amount of confidence. By a laborious process, Russell had managed to effect an exchange of names. The woman called herself Ora and the man called himself Ireg.

Afterwards, Russell realized that it was the exchange of names that brought about the psychological breakthrough. Up to that point, Ora and Ireg had behaved as if every moment might be their last. They had gained a little confidence when freshly cooked meat was offered to them. They ate it greedily. But it had been a bad mistake to offer them water in glasses. Ora held hers wonderingly, not comprehending that it could be used for drinking.

Anna took the glass from her and demonstrated. Whereupon Ireg raised his glass to his mouth, took a great bite out of it and spent the next few moments spitting out blood and slices of glass. Eventually a bowl of water was produced, and the captives scooped up handfuls eagerly, alternately sucking and lapping like cats.

One thing that Russell rapidly discovered was that Ora and Ireg were not unintelligent. They had an amazing capacity to learn. In a sense, thought Russell, they might be likened on the intellectual level to intelligent ten-year-olds who had been deprived of any education at all and allowed to run wild. He was reminded of stories he had heard long ago on Earth of children who had been lost in forests and had managed to survive.

But these were not children: they were mature adults, members of a small tribe in a primitive phase of development. Therefore, if it were possible to teach them, to increase their limited language to the point where it could cope with complicated thoughts, it might even be possible to lift them clean out of their Stone Age culture and perhaps introduce them to the rudiments of science and technology. What a fascinating project that would be!

But first there was the problem of communication. And, as time passed, it became less formidable than Russell had feared. After the exchange of names, Absu cut through the cords that bound Ora’s and Ireg’s legs.

“Not-run,” warned Russell. “You-she-walk, look, see things. Not run. You-eat, laugh, rest. Russell talk, Ora talk, Ireg talk. All talk.”

Ora looked perplexed, but Ireg smiled, “You-good-thing-man,” he said tentatively.

“Russell-good-thing-man. Ireg-good-thing-man. Not-hurt.”

Ireg stood up carefully and slowly, to show that he would neither run nor fight. Then he stretched himself, and the muscles rippled on his sturdy limbs.

Absu said solemnly: “You-big-thing-man. Hard-big. Hard-make-cold-hurt. Good.”

Russell gazed at him in surprise.

“Do not be too surprised,” said Absu drily. “I, too, must learn to speak his strange word patterns, Russell. It may be that in the end Ireg and Absu mes Marur will understand each other well. Since each, in his fashion, is a warrior.” He laughed. “I have thought much about you and your magicians, Russell. You once told me that you came from a world beyond the stars and on the far side of the sun. This I find hard to believe, since I know that the world is flat and that beyond the fire of the sun and the lanterns of the stars there can be nothing that a man may understand without first receiving the gift of madness—or, perhaps, of great wisdom. Yet I know also that you would not willingly deceive me, and that many strange things have happened to bring all of us far from our own lands. It may be that Ireg and his kind have been brought here from a far country. Are we not all, then, brothers in misfortune? There is much that I must seek to understand.”

Russell said: “Absu, my friend, I already knew that you were a brave man. Now I realize that you are a wise one.”

Ora had stood up also and was now walking around the room examining large and small things wonderingly. She picked up a glass ash tray and made noises of childlike pleasure as she saw the candlelight shining through it. When she put it down again, very carefully, Anna took it and gave it to her.

“This-you-have. Keep,” said Anna. “Anna-give-Ora-this-thing-keep. This-thing ash-tray.”

“Ora-keep-hold,” said the woman smiling. “Keep-hold. Look-laugh… Ash-tray.”

Ireg looked at the ash tray enviously. “Ireg-keep-hold,” he said. “Thing-Ireg-keep-hold. Look-laugh.”

Anna looked round. On a low table, there was a small polished steel tray. She gave it to Ireg. He examined it with delight, but let it drop with a crash when he glimpsed his own face reflected from its shiny surface.

Anna picked it up and gave it back to him. “Not-hurt,” she said soothingly. “Ireg-keep-hold. Look-laugh. Not-hurt.”

Suddenly, Russell realized that he was desperately tired. No doubt the others were, too. Although Ora and Ireg were nocturnal creatures, they had had a very rough time during the last few hours. Their minds must be reeling under the impact of many frightening and apparently inexplicable experiences. He thought it would be a very good thing if everybody took a spell of rest.

But there were problems. He turned to Anna and Absu. “We are going to have to rest ourselves and them. But I don’t think we can leave them alone. They may panic and wreck the place, or try to escape and hurt themselves—or somebody else. I don’t want to have to tie them up again.” He grinned. “I think it would make them unhappy. So, what should we do?”

“We can leave a guard,” said Anna.

Russell thought about it, and shook his head. “They are just getting used to us. A guard—especially an armed guard—might provoke them.”

“Then it is quite clear that we must all sleep in this place,” said Absu. “Do not be uneasy, Russell. It is true that I am a little tired, having seen much of interest; but it is my custom to sleep lightly as a warrior should. I doubt that our savage friends will be able to make any movement without Absu mes Marur noting it.”

“I must confess that I came to the same conclusion,” said Russell. “Let us hope that we can explain the idea to Ora and Ireg.”

Ireg was now accustomed to his own reflection from the steel tray. Indeed, he seemed rather pleased by it, and tried several ferocious and comic expressions upon himself. In the candlelight, his hard, rather flat features had become softened so that, but for his coarse hair and clothing of animal skins, he might have passed—thought Russell—for one of the more unkempt specimens of twentieth-century manhood that frequented the King’s Road in Chelsea. But, unlike the typical King’s Road grotesque, there was much humanity in Ireg’s eyes. Russell experienced a strange wave of sympathy for him—an innocent, catapulted by chance or design into a world he could never hope to understand.

“Ireg, you-sleep, Ora-sleep. Russell and Anna sleep. Absu sleep. Rest. Good-thing-do. Make happy.”

“Sleep?” asked Ireg. “Sleep? How-sleep-you-show?”

Russell sat down in one of the easy chairs, closed his eyes and tried to snore a little. “This-sleep. Make-good-strong. Make happy.”

Ora laughed. “Warm-dark-good. Make warm-dark-good. Ora-Ireg lie-down-warm-dark.”

“That is it,” said Anna. “See Anna-sleep. Russell-sleep. Not-hurt. Warm-dark-good.” She, too, leaned back in a chair.

The candles were burning low, and the room was full of warm, dancing shadows. Ireg tried a chair, then thought better of it. He took Ora’s hand, and together they lay down on the carpet. Absu sat cross-legged a little distance away, and allowed his head to droop.

But Ireg, evidently, had firm ideas about the proper preliminaries to sleep. After he and Ora had lain down for a while, his hand moved experimentally to her exposed breast. He took her left nipple between his fingers and tweaked it. Ora did not open her eyes, but her body responded. Thus encouraged, Ireg tweaked a little more. Ora still did not open her eyes, but she stretched luxuriously, and a strange gurgling noise seemed to come from the back of her throat.

Pretending to be sound asleep, Russell, Anna and Absu mes Marur were aware of the entire operation. Ireg’s love-play was crude but oddly tender. Presently, when Ora’s body—she still did not open her eyes—seemed fluid and completely relaxed, Ireg flung himself upon her and made love in a strenuous and joyous fashion, completely oblivious of the watchers who did their best to conceal their watching.

Ora rolled and writhed and pretended to fight now and then, but still did not open her eyes. She moaned a little and she laughed a little. Then presently, the two Stone Age people fell fast asleep in each other’s arms. Throughout the short but vigorous love-making, neither had uttered a word.

Watching them surreptitiously through half-closed eyes, Russell thought that that was how it might have been in the Garden of Eden. He glanced at Anna and saw that she was looking at him. He wanted her. He had been excited by a couple of savages rutting, and he wanted her. She seemed to know all that was going through his mind, and he sensed that she, too, had been aroused.

But they did not make love. They just looked at each other. They did not make love because they were not alone.

And that, mused Russell sleepily, was probably the difference between innocence and experience.

Ora and Ireg, bless them, did whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, oblivious of all else. They did not know about morals, or sophistication, or privacy.

They knew only about need. And, perhaps, about contentment.

And, quite possibly, that was really all there was to know…