Part Four
Chapter 32
THE ESCORT
Binatree and Unustree slept in their own huts that night, and met in the path the next morning rested, clean, rescented, and in high spirits, ready to depart on their quest for glory. The sun was yet behind the distant mountains, but the day promised to be clear and glorious. Everything about them that morning seemed to be bigger than life: the air was sweeter, the road was smoother, their sight was keener - they wanted to move the mountains, to change the course of the river, and they had the strength and the energy to do it! They jauntily snapped their fingers at the First Hand, at the Orsnumquammee, at the daunting two-days' journey ahead of them, at the espavees (well, maybe not at the espavees!). Everything had fallen into place for them. All of the petty injustices they had suffered all their lives, all of the arbitrary and demeaning assignments they had drawn from their superiors, all of the rancorous sniping they had suffered from each other was suddenly made right, forgiven, and forgotten. Today began a new order, a new life; and they were entering it from the top this time.
They strode past the asmees and eminafees working their gardens between huts. "Cursed lazy outriders! Beautiful morning, isn't it, asmees?" the gardeners would call.
"Poor jealous folk! Beautiful, indeed! And I hope you enjoy your day! as we plan on enjoying ours!" they would return condescendingly.
"Ercusstee!!"
The two outriders jogged on, merrily jesting with each other in word as well as thought, enjoying a session of good will and compatibility the like of which was exceedingly rare in their race. They did not pause to consider this extraordinary relationship: that would have ended it; it would not bear analysis. For any attempt to scrutinize the rare occurance of complete accord between two Eatopygiastees would have brought them round to the basic cause of all their enmity: what the First Hand had named The Curse.
The Curse was the inability to avoid hearing each others' thoughts. This sense had done more by far to shape the Eatopygiasteen society than any other single fact or event. It had brought about the invention of putting messages down in symbols on idascees, because rational face-to-face debate was impossible between any two Eatopygiastees. It had forced the population to build their dwellings at least one hand hands iscelervee paces apart (the approximate distance their thoughts would carry). It had rendered any form of family life utterly tortuous - so the Eatopygiastees lived alone. And it had forced on the race, as the only possible means of verbal communication, a ridiculously hypocritical politesse.
As vile, or insulting, or licentious a thought as they might have about another (or hear about themselves) had to be ignored by all as if it had never been thought. Failure to do so was punishable by decree of the First Hand, and indeed this was one of the oldest rules in the archives of Usunee. Only verbal speech could be considered. To ostensibly disguise any predisposition toward malice, this verbal speech assumed a preposterously ponderous mantle of etiquette. At the same time, this official disregarding of their thoughts gave them complete license. Their thoughts degenerated to the basest depths, even as their speech soared to a nice frailty.
Eventually, though, many generations passed, and the Eatopygiastees came to accept The Curse as part of the natural order of things. It ceased to be a curse, in fact: only the leaders of the race, especially the First Hand, knew how difficult it made real communication, for it was their task to govern, and try to draw together a folk forcibly separated.
This was not an easy task.
For instance, all forms of trade or bartering were virtually impossible. So, exchange rates had to be fixed for everything. Through the seasons, many different bases for these rates had been tried, and the best (though by far far from perfect) basis for exchange had proved to be time. Products grown, raised, or built were to be traded for products taking equal amounts of time to grow, raise, or build. But soon, it became obvious that some Eatopygiastees did not produce an equal amount of goods in a set time. So, official times for the production of all goods were set. This resulted in a rapid and dismaying deterioration of the quality of the goods traded. Official rates were constantly being tinkered with to approach some sort of parity, or at least the appearance of parity. At the same time, the officially recognized times of production were being adjusted and readjusted in the attempt to perfect the system.
This all led to a bewilderingly complex set of rules: layer upon layer upon layer of interwoven references, exclusions, and caveats. No one knew them all. Agents were appointed to oversee particular sets of trades, and more agents, and more. Soon it took more time to locate the correct agent to ascertain the proper exchange rate for a particular trade than it took to produce the goods in the first place.
So the Eatopygiastees generally just threw up their hands and shouted "Odee cipiacee!" a term which originated with the meaning of "fair trade" but had acquired a popular connotation now widely understood to be obscene. They planted their gardens, they raised their own livestock, they learned to work with their hands, and they gradually became very independent. An underground market of sorts flourished in spite of both The Curse and the official exchange rates: if something was needed it was easier to go to your vile idiot of a neighbor than to challenge the labyrinthine madness of the official market.
In this roundabout way, the efforts of the leaders to bring their subjects together were, ironically, successful.
The outriders, blinking at the first narrow rays of sunlight shooting over the mountains, turned their steeds toward the fens and broke into a trot.
"Here, ruhhnecca! Come here, slowly! slowly!"
The bulbous, unblinking eyes slowly advanced toward the shore, nothing else of the great beast was exposed above the surface of the muddy water. Now and again, a loud swirling splash would erupt some three paces behind the lidless eyes, as though the beast's own tail was trying to warn it of its folly, but the eyes would not heed, and silently continued to glide closer to Monwyrt on the bank.
"Um, good! Come, ruhhnecca. Come to camp. Slow!"
The brute slithered almost completely out of the water onto the soft, slimy shore before resorting to its hand of powerful (if short) legs. Then, the massive tail rested and was content to trail submissively behind, letting the stout legs do the work. Its legs moved in a marvel of coordination: no more than two were ever off the ground at one time, each moving independently but always in its own set turn, the front and back sets providing most of the thrust while the middle set maintained its rock-solid balance.
Monwyrt had discovered, to his near undoing, that the ruhhnecca could move with alarming speed on these legs. Once before, he had made the mistake of turning his back on one that he was trying to coax back to his camp. He'd heard the rush of its advance, whirled around to find the beast nearly upon him, and panicked; screaming for it to go away. The moment he had made eye contact again, the brute had ceased its attack and obediently slunk back into the water. This time Monwyrt was determined to keep his eyes on it even if it meant walking backwards all the way to his camp (which, after all, was not very far).
For four days Monwyrt had been practicing his wildlife calls, with unqualified success. He had been constantly amazed at the variety of beasts he had been able to attract to his camp. To be sure, very few of them were worthwhile as subjects of a hunt, and he soon discovered that, of those that were of sufficient size to justify killing for meat, few were palatable. But he had managed to provide himself with food for the past few days, enough to be able to ignore the acabee fruit. (As sweet as they were, he had eaten enough of them the first two days of his camp there to weary him of the taste forever.)
A curious fact of the fens impressed itself on him during his carnivorous communion with the beasts there: the deepest, loudest, and most resonant voices belonged to the tiniest, least savory creatures; while the larger prey seemed to rely on virtual silence to aid their concealment. He had invited into his camp all manner of ludicrous little vermin. Some were hairless, rolling blobs; some were brightly-colored fluffy specks; there were hopping, crawling, swimming, and flying mites of every description, all of them insignificant in size but mighty in bravado. They were summarily dismissed. Monwyrt was disgruntled. He wanted something he could cook and cure and carry with him on his journey.
But then, quite by accident two days ago, he surprised a huge ruhhnecca sleeping in the mud. There was game! It coolly opened its eyes and looked at him, decided he was not fit for a meal, yawned (Monwyrt gaped at the rasp-like rows of tiny pointed teeth), and slid into the water. Since then, Monwyrt had concentrated on luring one of these monsters to him.
"Um, ruhhnecca, um!" he coaxed, staring into the unflinching eyes, backing in a wary crouch away from the water's edge. "Follow me!"
They reached a point a few paces from his camp and fire. Monwyrt gulped and hoped he knew what he was about, and instructed his dangerous prey: "Stop now! Stop!" The ruhhnecca froze motionless as though turned to stone, not even moving to set down the legs it had raised for its next step. "Good, good ruhhnecca!"
But now Monwyrt was at a loss. What should his next step be? The exchanged stares would be broken if he could successfully command the beast to sleep. Would it awaken when he tried to slip his knife to it? Most probably. He thought of the morning he had first spied a ruhhnecca asleep in the mud. And could he force his blade into it at all? The back of the brute's neck - indeed, the entire beast! - was covered with heavy, overlapping plates of hide or bone, he couldn't tell which. Would his knife pierce through? Perhaps the ruhhnecca's belly was soft - but how could he get at it?
"Moc!" he muttered aloud in frustration. He had got it all this way - he was so close - how could he finish it off? "I wish you would just die!" he shouted at it without thinking.
The ground beneath his feet shuddered as the huge bulk of the ruhhnecca dropped with a dull thud, limp and lifeless, legs akimbo.
Monwyrt couldn't believe his eyes. The horrible brute lay just three short paces before him: eyes open yet in a vacant glaze; the first row of teeth showing through a taut, wicked sort of grimace; soft nostrils permanently collapsed; tail rigidly pointing the way straight back to the water. The Traeppedelfere cautiously stepped backwards away from it at first, not daring to take his eyes off it, hardly daring even to breathe.
After some moments had passed and the ruhhnecca had shown no signs of life, Monwyrt tossed a small branch at it. It struck the beast directly on one of its eyes. He threw another. It bounced off its snout. The ruhhnecca did not move. Monwyrt sighed loudly, and allowed himself to look away. He quickly looked back, almost expecting the beast to charge. Nothing happened.
Warily, stealthily, Monwyrt drew his knife and slowly approached it. The bulging eyes did not follow him. Ever so gently he circled to the side of the monster and, suddenly, flung himself onto its back and feverishly tried to drive his blade into the back of its neck.
Without success.
The tough, brittle hide thwarted his most determined attempts, and he could hardly cut more than a scratch into it. His almost frenzied efforts had convinced him of one thing, though. The ruhhnecca surely could not be alive and yet suffer him to attack it the way he was doing. He began to breathe easier.
But then, the beast's leg moved.
One of the legs that had fallen oddly when the ruhhnecca dropped now rotated into a more natural position for it, and in doing so pinned Monwyrt's foot to the ground beneath it. Monwyrt loosed a surprised scream which rent the air sharply. The cries and calls of the nearby things were momentarily silenced. His heart pounded desperately, and he pulled on his leg to free his foot with equal desperation.
But the ruhhnecca was, in fact, dead. Monwyrt soon freed himself, and stood aside, panting, but already planning the butchering (assuming he could, somehow, get his knife into it).
After a great struggle, he managed to get at the underside of the kill. The hide there was also tough, but not scaly, and he could ryman the belly with an effort. He discovered that there was precious little butcherable meat along the torso, but the huge tail (which was nearly half the total length of the ruhhnecca) was almost all lean, and the stout legs also carried a considerable quantity of usable tissue. Standing back for a breather, he realized that he had an immense amount of food here, if it should prove to be edible. He would be busy for some time. He went to the water to rinse his sticky knife and hands, and returned to prepare his fire for roasting. He would need a lot of fuel. It would take two days just to sear in the juices, he reckoned, and he couldn't guess how long to dry it all. He decided to split his fire into two, no, three separate fires. It would be hard to keep up with it all, but it would be worth it.
"Smoke?! Excuse me, my observant friend," said Unustree, "but do you detect the odor of smoke?"
"Fire? In the fens? Please, do not jest with me, lest we fall from our current pinnacle of compatibility, good colleague," Binatree remonstrated gently. "Why, excuse my haste, please! Icsee, there it is again! Icsee, I believe you are right; smoke, indeed! It would seem to be eminating from the approximate area of our destination. How incongruous!"
"Of course I agree! This accord must be preserved at all costs! But to return to the subject of our search," Unustree said, "perhaps our Orsnumquammee ate the acabee fruit with sufficient haste to alight the acabee from the heat of its mastication! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"Oh! Oh! you wicked wit! Spare me, I beg of you. Or," hazarded Binatree, warming to the repartee, "Igilvee overfed, and, finally exploding, scorched the fens with its non-existant entrails!"
"Me wicked! Ha! Ha! Ha! Save me! Ha! Ha! I shan't be able to save myself!"
"So true. You flatter me," gratingly cooed Binatree. "But, as always, you are utterly correct - let us approach, and ascertain the situation. Perhaps it is not meet to make light of."
The two omofinishees strode forward into the light breeze which carried the smoke toward them. Soon, the unmistakeable yellow lick of flames was obvious to them through the fronds of the ilixfees. They stalked forward as far as they dared, knelt down, and peeked out.
"Are you hungry?" Monwyrt waved a dripping, steaming piece of ruhhnecca roast at them from beside one of his fires.
"Ercustee! It would appear that we have been observed," commented Binatree.
"Ebeshee adospee! No aexfee! What do you propose we do now?"
"I propose you lick my tail. Our orders are to, er, capture it."
"Oh, really? Perhaps you would care to demonstrate?"
"Perhaps you would care to drop dead!"
"Ermisvee!"
"Orpensnucestee!"
"Please, please!" Monwyrt shouted to them, laughing. It was impossible for him to fear them, regardless of their height, when they carried on like this. He was well fed on the roast, which, while rather tough, was delicious, and he felt no trepidation on any account right then. He walked toward them in their ambuscade, arms outstretched. "Come!"
His call was strangely irresistable to them, and they stood, ready to stride out to meet him. But as soon as they stepped out from the undergrowth, they suddenly stopped.
"What is the matter?" Monwyrt asked. "What is wrong?"
"Oh, my! Orstorqueomee!" hissed Unustree.
Binatree pointed his pudgy finger. "Igilvee!" he warned. "Ercusstee! Behind you! An orstorqueomee!"
Monwyrt turned to see. They were afraid of the ruhhnecca carcass! He laughed, and tried to reassure them. "Do not fear!" he said. "It is dead! Come sit with me beside my fires while I dry it. Come!"
Again, his invitation was terribly appealing. But the outriders, somehow, could not bring themselves to move. Puzzled, Monwyrt could feel their willingness, but could not understand their inaction. Again he asked, "What is wrong? Won't you come with me?"
"Icsee, we will come, Igilvee!"
"Icsee, Igilvee. Igilvee," Unustree addressed Monwyrt, to his confusion. "We will come, but our steeds are afraid of the orstorqueomee."
"Your steeds?" Monwyrt didn't understand.
"Ofaexedees. Icsee," said Binatree. "The iscelervees won't come near the orstorqueomee," he pointed again, "even if it is dead."
"Iscelervees? Steeds? What are you talking about?"
Unustree's huge mid-section undulated. "Ofaexedee," he rasped enticingly, looking down at his middle. "Look at the orstorqueomee. It is dead! Ofaexedee!"
To Monwyrt's amazement and discomfiture, a slender growth began to emerge from the front of the large, round middle of Unustree. Monwyrt's eyes bulged as it kept coming out further and further until, apparently full-length, the end of the protuberance opened yawningly.
"Ruttetunge!" was all Monwyrt could think, but then, even more amazingly, two small eyes opened unmistakeably just above the still gaping mouth at the end of the flexible tube, and rolled around nervously. Monwyrt quickly looked over to the other creature, and discovered that it, too, suddenly showed a similar growth. It made him very uneasy.
"Aexfee! They still will not move," Binatree informed him. "We will have to walk."
This made no sense at all to Monwyrt. If they would not walk closer, why would it say they would have to walk? He watched perplexedly as the two tall creatures folded their legs beneath them. Did they walk sitting down?
"Curse it! Dismount!" barked Unustree mysteriously, and the two riders simultaneously backed off of their steeds and waddled around to timidly approach a flabbergasted Monwyrt.
They stood barely waist-high!
Their short, stubby arms were matched by equally short and stubby legs, which were extraodinarily wide-set to Monwyrt's eye, and depended from a disproportionately generous and protruding rump. They walked with obvious difficulty in an exaggerated side-to-side rocking motion, bent slightly forward at the waist, waving their arms to maintain their balance, and grunting audibly in the effort. Their "steeds" fluttered the wide, fuzzy flaps that had recently covered and protected the legs of their riders, and gracefully curled long slender necks to preen their newly unburdened backs.
Monwyrt shut his mouth with a click.
Unustree gulped, took two belabored steps toward Monwyrt, stopped, drew himself up, put his hands on his ample hips, threw his head back to take in the Traeppedelfere's full stature, and squeaked:
"Don't hurt me! Ig- Ig- Ig- Ig- " he stammered.
"Ebeshee! Orpensnucestee! Allow me to address the Orsnumquammee," Binatree offered graciously.
"Traitor! I believe, as your superior," Unustree responded, finding his tongue, turning to face his colleague, "I should be the one to make the opening address. And reap the rewards!"
"We heard your opening: 'Ig!' Most impressive! In that case," Binatree acquiesced, "please continue. To choke!"
"Lick my tail! Thank you so much!"
"After you finish with it! You are most welcome, I'm sure."
"Adospee! You are too kind."
"Odee cipiacee! Not at all."
Unustree awkwardly waddled a step to square his shoulders in Monwyrt's direction again, and cleared his throat. "Igilvee the Orsnumquammee," he began nervously, "we are emissaries of the First Hand of Eatopygiastees. Indeed, we have come with direct orders from Usunee himself!" This speech was calculated to impress, of course. Any Eatopygiastee would have been willing to prostrate himself already at this point. Unustree was a little unsettled by the fact that "Igilvee" did not respond to the gravity of his pronouncement.
Monwyrt was listening patiently. He found these small folk to be most interesting, particularly their silent communications. Their language, and the terms they made use of, were unfamiliar to him, of course; but as with the Laizuvrian tongue, he realized that from the first he could vaguely understand them on some common basic level that he could not describe.
He was concerned and curious about one thing in particular: could these creatures receive his thoughts as he received theirs? He decided to take no chances - he would have to disguise his thoughts as Cnawaneall had taught him. He wished he was better at focusing on nothing as his primary thought. Well, no matter now. He began thinking about beazhat primarily, and continued to concentrate on his two visitors secondarily.
"Curse it! It doesn't care an aexfee about Usunee! Curse it! We have orders," Unustree went on, "to escort you to Bisuree. Usunee gulp! himself understands that that is your true intention, and we are honored to be promoted, er, that is, selected to be your guides."
"Honored!" Binatree echoed. "Be careful, orpensnucestee!"
"Here goes! So, Igilvee Orsnumquammee," Unustree's voice wavered as he closed his eyes, "if you would please gather your baggage together, we will depart for Bisuree without further delay! Please please please!"
"Espavees!" Binatree interjected, suddenly looking anxiously around.
"You seem to have a name for me, and you imply that I am expected," Monwyrt responded in their tongue. "But I do not know you, and I am not sure I am traveling the path you seem intent to escort me on. Before I refuse to accompany you, I must have these things resolved. At any rate, as you can see," he waved his arm toward his smoky fires, "I am occupied here for at least two more days."
"I hear espavees, too! I think... Spoken fairly, good Igilvee!" Unustree said. "We have indeed been remiss in our manners! Allow me to introduce you to my esteemed companion, Inabinaniltrinaquinaquaterbinatree."
"My friends call me Binatree!" he said generously, though still apparently looking for something.
"What friends? Be quiet, adospee! And I humbly present myself, Inabinaniltrinaquinaquaterunustree." Unustree bowed stiffly. "If I may take the liberty, let me suggest that for clarity and convenience, until we reach Bisuree, you may find it preferable to address me as Unustree. That's how you should have said it, ermisvee! Where are those espavees, anyway?"
"You are indeed a fair-spoken folk," Monwyrt complimented him, "but I am still not aware of what type of folk you are! Are there more of you? Who is this Bisuree? Who is Usunee? Why should I go with you?"
The Eatopygiastees glanced at each other meaningfully. Shouldn't the all-knowing Orsnumquammee know these things? Perhaps they were too petty to bother to remember. And where did that annoying buzzing come from?
Monwyrt continued. "But we have time to discuss all these things, if you are willing. Come! Eat some roasted ruhhnecca with me. Perhaps later, we can again share some of what you call the acabee fruit." He turned and walked back to his fires.
"No!" the Eatopygiastees reacted together at his mention of the acabee. They were already haunted by a mysterious sound in their heads which reminded them of the horrid espavees; they didn't care to invite the pests to appear in reality. They suspiciously eyed the orstorqueomee hide and stared uncertainly at the sizzling slabs of meat hanging over Igilvee's fires. But the Orsnumquammee, if reluctant to leave with them right away as they had hoped, was at least not antagonistic, or even unfriendly. They shrugged their shoulders in resignation, rollicked over, and took seats on the ground facing Monwyrt.
The ensuing conversation was a long one. The Eatopygiastees informed Monwyrt of their race, dwelling-place, and culture, and he in turn told them many wondrous tales of great beasts, deadly things in the wilds, and, what shocked them most of all, other civilisations. (He discreetly held his tongue on the subjects of his own heritage, and the existence of the Waeccelang.) Monwyrt was terribly confused by the outriders' casual mention of idascees, and went back to that time and again with questions which they found remarkable for their ignorance. It seemed that the Orsnumquammee simply could not understand the rudimentary idea behind recording messages on idascees. This seemed impossibly inconsistant with their conception of Igilvee. But then again, it did seem to know an awful lot about the lands beyond the mountains... Monwyrt assumed that "Igilvee" was some prepared moniker for the appearance of Cnawaneall's "new race," and he wondered how these remote folk had been able to anticipate him. He came to the conclusion that Usunee, like Paisohnprahn back in Todymody, must also be a Waeccelang. He wondered if these outriders knew.
Throughout the discussion, the Eatopygiastees were furtively turning their heads, instinctively ducking, and occasionally even slapping themselves without warning. At first, Monwyrt took this behavior as an inate quirk of the race, but as it continued, and became more pronounced, his curiosity finally got the better of him.
"Why do you do that?" he asked Binatree, as the latter wildly swooped aside as if to avoid some invisible attack.
"Ercusstee! Excuse me! I don't intend to be rude, please believe me!" he begged. "But, for some reason I don't fully understand, I feel about to be assaulted!"
"You can rest easy on my account," Monwyrt promised.
"I can't rest easy on any account! Where are those cursed espavees? Oh, you misunderstand us!" apologised Unustree. "We are experiencing a strange and unprecedented humming in our heads - I believe I am expressing it adequately?"
"Quite adequately," confirmed Binatree.
"Excuse me," interrupted Monwyrt, "but what exactly are 'espavees'?"
The Eatopygiastees jumped to their feet in alarm. "Odee cipiacee! Do you also have The Curse?" they cried.
"We have not spoken that term 'espavee' aloud, have we? Ercusstee!" added Binatree.
"Odee cipiacee! No, I don't think so!" answered Unustree, and he looked at Monwyrt with new suspicion.
Monwyrt was silent. He didn't know what they meant by a curse, but he believed he could guess what was causing the humming in their heads.
"Is an espavee about this size?" he asked, holding his figertips only slightly apart. "It propels itself through the air, and inflicts an annoying sting?"
"Icsee. That is an espavee," answered Binatree.
"Undoubtedly you encountered a host of them after you ate of the acabee," volunteered Unustree.
"Is that what drew them?" Monwyrt marveled aloud, but he thought secondarily, "so an espavee is a sphex! They can hear my primary thoughts after all! The rolling bea in a beazhat game does sound like a flying sphex. I will have to take care." He resolved not to let down his guard. He also decided to continue thinking about beazhat. It certainly made the Eatopygiastees uneasy!
"Tell me more about Bisuree," he urged, changing the subject. The outriders complied. After many uninteresting facts, histories, and statistics, Monwyrt finally heard what he was waiting for: Bisuree, the great dwelling-place of the Eatopygiastees, was situated beside a great river! a flowing river, a river originating, according to the outriders, in the fens. Monwyrt smiled at his discovery.
"Allow me two or three days to dry my meat," he requested, watching the grey smoke from his fires drift up and disappear against the grey haze of the sky, "and I will be more than honored to be escorted by you to Bisuree."
|