Seahorse in the Sky

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ORA AND IREG remained as ‘guests’ at the Erewhon Hilton for six full days. Then they were taken back to the vicinity of the bridge of huts and released. During their captivity, they made no attempt to escape. They were too busy learning. And during their stay, Russell gave them a crash course in language development. They learned a lot of other things as well; but without the development of language, their ability to grasp and store conceptual knowledge would have been very limited. So, in the course of six days, they were pushed into achieving a degree of intellectual progress that it had taken Stone Age man on Earth thousands of years to achieve. But, of course, the terrestrial Stone Age people did not have teachers.

Russell was amazed by the innate intelligence of the two primitive creatures. It surpassed his wildest hopes. Ora was particularly bright and would grasp a concept or the meaning of a new word long before Ireg. He, on the other hand, though slow was more methodical. Once he had learned something, he could apply his new knowledge more efficiently than Ora.

By the third day, conversation had become noticeably less arduous for all concerned. As vocabularies increased, the need to string words together in elaborate definitions grew less and less.

Cold-hurt, for example, could be defined as death. Lie-hold-dark-close-laugh-cry could be defined as making love. And cold-hurt-no-hurt-eat-hurt could be called hunger.

Absu stayed long enough to see what the magicians were doing with the two captives, then he returned to Keep Marur to attend to such domestic problems as beset a feudal lord. He left Farn zem Marur to hold a watching brief, but took the other Gren Li warrior back with him. He told Russell that he would return in a few days to find out what progress had been made and to discuss the proposed attempt to pass through the wall of mist.

Meanwhile, Russell, Anna, John Howard and the others pressed on with the education of Ora and Ireg. Farn zem Marur watched them with bright, intelligent eyes. He, too, was being educated; and he was learning more about the magicians than they would ever realize.

One afternoon, Russell sat on the steps of the hotel—one of his favourite meditating places—with Ireg and the Gren Li pathfinder. Ora was somewhere inside the Erewhon Hilton being initiated by Andrea and Janice into the mysteries of modern feminine clothing and make-up. For the young British students, the operation was a joke; but for Ora it was an explosive succession of miracles.

For a while, the three men said nothing to each other. They had eaten well—Ireg, apparently, could dispose of any kind of food whatsoever—and were content with their own thoughts. The Gren Li pathfinder was idly using his poniard to carve a small fertility symbol which, as a mark of respect, he proposed to lay on the skins of the sept lord of the magicians. Ireg was practising counting with ten small stones. And Russell was light-years away, indulging nostalgically in memories of the London rush hour on a foggy November afternoon.

Suddenly, Ireg said: “Russell-friend give words to Ireg. Ireg not give. Nothing give. Ireg wet-hurt, dark-down.” By this time, Russell was familiar enough with Ireg’s way of talking to be able to pick up the nuances. He translated the statement as: “You are teaching me, but I cannot teach you. I do not understand why you are teaching me and I am sad that I have nothing to offer in return.”

Russell thought about that for a moment, then he said: “Ireg give big thing to Russell-friend. Ireg give throw-stone hand.” He held out his own hand expectantly.

With some wonderment, Ireg cautiously held out the hand he used most for hunting or fighting.

Solemnly, Russell took it and shook it slowly. The hand, with its horny, calloused skin, felt more like the paw of some giant beast. When Ireg’s fingers tightened, Russell winced with pain. Ireg noted and understood the gesture. He let go.

“Shake hand,” said Russell, “means Ireg not hurt Russell, means Russell not hurt Ireg. Never never hurt. Because Ireg friend, Russell friend. Ora, all Ireg people friends. Anna, all Russell people friends. Never never hurt. This big thing Ireg give…” Then, to emphasize it, he added: “Russell laugh, much happy, much good. Shake hand, warm hold, good big thing Russell Ireg make.”

“Big thing,” echoed Ireg, dimly comprehending. He could not understand why people who fought so terribly with loud noises, nets, ropes and shiny things sharper than stones should not want to fight him and his people. But, inscrutable are the ways of the gods. If this was what made these strange-smelling creatures happy, so be it. “Never never hurt. Big thing. Ireg people, Russell people, never never hurt.” He brightened. “This Ireg give?” There was a questioning in his eyes.

“This Ireg give,” affirmed Russell. “Good big thing. Bigger than words Russell give Ireg.”

Ireg stood up and beat his chest. “Big thing Ireg give!” he shouted down the strip of empty street, as if trying to communicate with the savannah. “Never never hurt. Good big thing Ireg give!”

“Lord,” said Farn zem Marur, looking up from his carving, “is it fitting that a sept lord should enter the bond with a savage?”

“It is fitting,” said Russell evenly. Then he said, almost irrelevantly: “Am I a man or a beast?”

The pathfinder smiled. “You are lord of the sept of magicians.”

“A man or a beast?” persisted Russell.

Farn zem Marur was disconcerted. “Lord, a man, I think— unless something greater.”

“And you, Farn, and the lord Absu—are you men or beasts?”

Farn regained his composure. “For myself, I answer I am a man… But my lord Absu casts a long shadow when weapons are drawn.”

“Yet he is a man?”

“Much of a man.”

“And Ireg, Farn. Is he a man or is he a beast?”

Farn zem Marur cast an appreciative glance at the Stone Age man. “Lord, whether he is a beast with the heart of a man or a man with the heart of a beast, I know not… Yet, I think I would rather he were with me than against me. He has much strength and, in his fashion, some valour.”

“I submit, pathfinder,” said Russell, “that you and I and he belong to the class of beings we call men.

Outside the barrier of mist which you know well, and which encloses us, there may be beings who are great in achievement yet are neither men nor beasts. The time may come when they may wish to dispose of us or when we may demand a reckoning.”

“Lord,” said Farn zem Marur, “in that case, we are all of one sept.”

Russell grinned. “Take one step further, Farn zem Marur,” he said. “In any case, we are all of one sept.”

Ireg smiled down at them. “Good big thing,” he announced sagely.