Winter in Eden

CHAPTER THIRTY

Ambalasi fell back before the unexpected attack. Enge jumped in front of her, thumbs extended and snapping with anger, shouting commands.

“Go back! Cease! Error-of-doing!”

The newcomer did not press the attack — though she still held the spider extended before her. She gaped at the two Yilanè with obvious fear. Then turned and fled.

“You saw her,” Enge said, more statement than question.

“I saw. Physically identical to us in most ways. Opposed thumbs grasping the insect. Shorter in height, stockier, light green in coloring becoming darker on the back and along the crest.”

“Admiration at observation. I saw simply a figure.”

“Scientific training of course. Now consider! This is wonderful, remarkable, a truly important discovery. For social historians as well as biologists.”

Enge was keeping one eye on the jungle — she wanted no repeats of the unexpected attack — and was listening to Ambalasi with her other eye. She signed ignorance and query. Ambalasi was exuberant.

“Biology of course for all the obvious reasons. But that spider — do you not instantly think of the wall of history? No, you wouldn’t. Listen and be guided. You must recall the shells of lobsters, placed there to mark the dawn of our existence when Yilanè were supposed to have brandished them as weapons in defense of the males. Now we have proof that the theory is indeed fact. Wonderful!”

“But — I saw no lobster…”

“Creature-of-ignorance! It is the similarity, the action that I am talking about. In the sea brandishing a clawed lobster for defense is what would have been done. On land, as we have seen, a poisonous insect serves the same function.”

“Information understood. But we must leave, come back with others, this is a most dangerous place to be. Threats of death by poison.”

“Nonsense. She was just threatening us, a defense reaction since she did not press the attack home. Did you not see the confusion in her movements? We are her kind — yet not her kind. Uncertainty of threat, then retreat. I must consider the way to continue this contact without alarming them more.”

“Ambalasi, I cannot order you to return — but I can implore you. We can then come back here with help…”

“Negative. The more of us that there are the more frightened they will be. We have been warned — but not attacked. That is the situation at the present moment, and I do not want it changed. I shall remain here. You will go into the river and catch a fish.”

Enge could only communicate doubt and confusion.

“Think,” Ambalasi commanded. “You pride yourself on your powers of rationality. The feeding ceremony, we still use it on important occasions, it must surely be as old as social custom. What is more sisterly than an offer of food? A sharing of sustenance and existence. A fish is now needed.”

The old scientist irascibly rejected all arguments and communication, simply settled back comfortably onto her tail with a last imperative fish! and stared at the forest, her limbs shaped into welcome and warmth. Enge had no choice but to turn and walk into the river, diving beneath the surface.

There she saw them, a sight to bring happiness to any Yilanè. An immature efenburu gliding through the clear water, scarcely elininyil, the youngest of the young groupings, they were so small, moving in pursuit of a school of silver fish. She watched for a long moment until they saw her, turned with colored signs of fear on their palms. She raised her own palms telling them not to be afraid. But they were, she was too strange, and in an instant they were gone. One of them had been holding a freshly caught fish, had just bitten through its spine, and now she released it in panic as she rushed away. Enge swam forward and retrieved it, returned to shore.

Ambalasi looked at the small fish with doubt. “Speed of fishing produces tiny catch,” she said.

“I didn’t catch it. I surprised an immature efenburu, disturbed their feeding. They were attractive beyond measure.”

“Undoubtedly. The fish will have to do. Remain here while I go forward.”

“You may order, I will not obey. I will walk behind you, then move forward to assist you if there is danger.”

Ambalasi began to speak, realized it would only be a waste of effort, and signed reluctant agreement. “At least five paces behind me. We proceed.”

She held the tiny fish before her and walked slowly along the path, stopping before she entered the grove.

“Fish, tasty, nice, friendship,” she said loudly but pleasantly. Then she settled back slowly on her tail, the fish still held out before her, and repeated her entreaties. Something stirred in the darkness and she did her best to convey warmth and friendship in the simplest manner.

The leaves parted and the stranger came reluctantly out. They examined each other in silence for the moment, Ambalasi with the skill of the scientist. All differences appeared to be superficial. Size, structure, surface coloration. A subspecies at most. With slow movements she bent and placed the fish on the grass, then stood and slowly stepped back.

“It is yours. A gift of friendship. Take it and eat. Take it, it is yours.”

The other looked confused, drew back a bit and opened her mouth with lack of comprehension. Perfect dentition, Ambalasi observed. She must simplify.

“Fish-for-eating,” she said, using the very simplest expression, non-verbal and simple color-change in her palms. The other raised her hand.

“Fish,” she color-signed. Bent and seized it up, turned and fled from sight once again.

“Excellent first contact,” Ambalasi said. “That is enough for today, and I grow tired. We return. Did you see what she said?”

Enge was radiant with excitement. “I did, it was wonderful! There is a theory of communication that begins in this manner. It assumes that we learned to speak in the ocean, physically at first, then with greater skill and verbalization.”

“It makes biological sense as well. Non-verbal communication would appear to be universal in the sea. When our species separated from theirs, signed-colored speaking must have existed — or we would not have been able to communicate just now. The question is — are they Yilanè or yiliebe? Is this primitive signing all that they know? I must find out. There is much work to be done with them.”

Enge was just as enthusiastic. “It is an opportunity never presented before! What pleasure. I have long studied communication and look forward expectantly to further work.”

“I am pleased to hear that you have interests other than your life-death philosophizing. You will join me in this project, for there is much to be done.”

They made their way back to the riverbank, but they were now more hesitant about plunging into the river. No longer carried away by excitement they were fully aware of the dangers beneath the surface: they attempted to stay in the shallows as they worked their way around the growing barrier. Smeared with mud, uncaring, they made their way back through the dead plants. The Daughters of Life were gathered by the uruketo, talking. Ambalasi looked about with growing anger.

“The work has not been done! No excuses for sloth-laziness-unsuitability.”

Enge signed a query as well and Satsat, who was at the center of the circle, requested permission to speak.

“Far‹ requested permission to address us all. Of course we listened, for she is a deep thinker. Now we discuss her thoughts—”

“She will speak for herself!” Ambalasi said with growing disgust. “Which of you Daughters of Talk is Far‹?”

Enge indicated a thin Yilanè with large, intense eyes, who filled her days with Ugunenapsa’s thoughts. She signed them all to attend her, then spoke.

“Ugunenapsa said that—”

“Silence!” Ambalasi ordered, using the rudest form of address, from highest to lowest fargi. Far‹ colored at the insult. “We hear far too much of Ugunenapsa’s thoughts. I asked why you stopped the work here?”

“I did not stop it — I just suggested it be examined. It is because we all came to this place of labor of our free will. But once we had arrived here you issued orders as to what we were to do, yet you did not ask how or why we wanted to work, but simply and as imperiously as an eistaa issued orders. But we do not take orders. We have come too far, have suffered too much for our beliefs to abandon them at this time. We are grateful, of course, but gratitude does not imply servitude. As Ugunenapsa said—”

Ambalasi did not hear what Ugunenapsa had said this time, but turned to Enge and signed urgency of attention.

“This is the end of my patience, end of my help. I know all that must be done; your Daughters of Stupidity know nothing but argument. I am through — unless you convince them quickly that interference must stop. Without my assistance you will all soon be dead and I am beginning to feel that that day would be a very happy one for me. I now go to the uruketo, to cleanse myself, to eat and drink and compose my thoughts. When I return you will tell me if you wish a city here. And if you do, you will tell me how cooperation will be achieved. Now — silence, until I am out of sight. I wish to hear nothing of your discussion, nor do I wish to hear the name Ugunenapsa uttered in my presence again without my permission to speak it.”

With every line of her body radiating anger and firmness of purpose she turned and stamped away toward the uruketo, nail gouges in the dirt marking her path. After rinsing herself at the river’s edge she clambered onto the uruketo and settled in the shade of its fin, calling out for attention as she did so. Elem emerged from the fin and looked down from above.

“Food and water,” Ambalasi ordered. “Speed of delivery. Urgency.”

Elem brought them herself, for she respected the scientist for her great intelligence, forgiving her all insults with gratitude for knowledge gained. Ambalasi saw this in the movements of her body and was mollified.

“Your scientific interests far outweigh your philosophical bent,” she said. “You are a better individual for it and I can bear your presence.”

“Kind thoughts from above equal to warm rays of the sun.”

“And you are Yilanè with gracious speaking as well. Share my meat and let me tell you of a scientific discovery that is incredible in its magnitude.”

Time was taken in the telling for Elem was a most satisfactory audience. The sun was on its way down the sky when Ambalasi finished and returned to the land. The first thing she saw, with a great deal of satisfaction, was that the Daughters were now working to clear the dead undergrowth. Enge put down an armload of wood and turned to speak with the scientist choosing her expressions carefully in order to obey the edict not to mention the name of Ugunenapsa.

“We discussed the work here in the light of our beliefs. A decision was reached. We must live, for we are the Daughters of Life. To live we must have a city to live in. The city must be grown. You are the only one who can grow a city. To grow the city we will take your instruction since we must do that in order to live. So now we work.”

“So I see. But only now as you have just told me. When the city is grown will you then stop taking my orders?”

“I have not considered all of the implications of thinking that far ahead,” Enge said with an attempt at evasion.

“Think. Speak.”

She must, though with great reluctance. “It is my belief that when the city is grown — the Daughters will no longer obey your orders.”

“I thought not. I hesitated to consider any future for them other than certain death. For the moment, for my own comfort, I accept this weak and dispirited arrangement. There is too much of importance to be done here to involve myself with more argument now.” She held up her hand and displayed the large portion of jellied meat held between her thumbs. “I return to the jungle to continue my contact with those we met. Will you accompany me?”

“With utmost pleasure and joy-in-tomorrow. This will be a rich city, rich with life and scientific endeavor.”

“The scientific endeavor, yes. But I do not see a favorable existence for your Daughters of Disagreement, followers of she-who-shall-be-nameless. I think that your theory of life will one day be your death.”