"I've got a bad feeling about this," said Julius, watching the procession approach.
"Why?" asked Indira.
"Because I think we've become famous. And I think we'd have been better off if we'd just remained a small little bunch of happy-go-lucky, obscure, inconspicuous, fly-on-the-wall, nobody-type demons."
He chewed his lip. "Mark my words. I speak from experience. Somehow or other, we Jews got famous early on in the game. We should have listened to the Speckites."
"The who?"
"The Speckites. The Hebrews' next-door neighbors. You never heard of them?"
Indira frowned suspiciously. "No, I haven't."
"Imagine that! And you—an historian. Just goes to illustrate my point. The Hebrews went for the bright lights of Broadway and the Speckites stayed anonymous. Guess which one of us caught hell for the next few thousand years?"
Indira snorted. Privately, she thought Julius was probably right. But—
What's done is done.
She couldn't begin to estimate how many gukuy were in the column approaching them. Hundreds, she thought—possibly thousands. The head of the column was just entering the village; the tail of it was still not in sight. All down the valley, three or four abreast, marched the Pilgrims.
On either side of the column, scattered along its length, members of Takashi's platoon acted as an honor guard. The platoon had been stationed in Fagoshau (as the gukuy called their settlement in the big valley) when the huge column of new Pilgrims arrived. After observing the progress of the column up the eastern slope of the Chiton, Takashi had sent a runner to the council requesting orders. The council, after a quick deliberation, had passed on a formal invitation for the newcomers to come and visit.
And they had—all of them.
At that moment, Takashi trotted up. When the young lieutenant drew up before her, Indira saw that he wasn't even breathing hard—despite the fact that he had just finished running up and down the entire column at her request. As was so often the case now, she felt a contradictory mix of emotions. Admiration for the young man's excellent physical condition; uneasiness because she knew it was the result of Joseph's relentless military training.
Still, she wished Joseph were there. The Captain had been gone for days now, leading yet another punitive expedition against a party of slavers which had been spotted the week before on the southern plain near the Chiton.
"Punitive expedition," thought Indira. There's a euphemism for you. "Extermination squad" would be more accurate. Not one of Joseph's expeditions—and there had been many, these past two years—has failed to massacre every slaver they caught.
Indira sighed. And so what? Would you feel better if the owoc were dragged into slavery?
Takashi interrupted her musings.
"I count almost fifteen hundred of them, Indira. But that's just the number in the column. There are more Pilgrims, further back. Scattered groups of stragglers. All told, I'd guess there's around two thousand new Pilgrims on the mountain."
"Holy shit," muttered Julius.
"Have they told you what they want?" asked Indira.
The gaze which Takashi leveled at her was hard as stone.
"Yes. They want to talk to the Mother of Demons. About the secrets."
Indira uttered a silent curse. She had feared as much. Next to her, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julius' face twist into a grimace.
Where did it get started? she wondered. This myth of the secrets—and the mother who holds them back from her children?
When she first heard of it, from one of the gukuy Pilgrims, she had blamed Joseph. Had gone to him, in fact, and accused him hotly. Joseph had denied it, with equal heat. After a few minutes of argument, Indira had become convinced he was telling the truth.
She had never known Joseph to lie to her (or to anyone else, for that matter). Still, she had been confused and exasperated.
"How did this silly rumor get started, then?" she had demanded. "If you didn't start it?"
She would never forget the look on Joseph's face when he gave his answer. Like an ancient gold mask of Benin.
"It is not a rumor. It is the truth. Everyone knows it—gukuy and ummun alike."
It had not taken long to discover that Joseph was right. At the next council meeting, Indira had proposed that Anna Cheng replace her as the Admiral of the Ocean Sea. Anna had immediately refused, and was supported in her refusal by the entire council except Julius.
"Until you teach us the secrets, Indira," commented Ludmilla, "there is none who can take your place."
"There are no secrets!" she had protested angrily. The young members of the council had simply stared at her in silence. Even Julius had looked away.
The column was now close enough to examine the individual Pilgrims who were leading it. At the very front, in the center, marched a small and elderly gukuy. She was wearing none of the decorative strips of cloth with which southern gukuy generally adorned themselves. For that reason, Indira at first assumed she was from one of the barbarian tribes, who eschewed any clothing except armor. She was puzzled, however. There were a number of barbarian converts to the Way, many of whom had been trickling onto the Chiton for the past several months. But the religion had originated in Ansha and all of its leaders, so far as she knew, were from the civilized southern prevalates.
Then, when the column drew closer, she saw the elaborate carvings on the gukuy's cowl. The pigments which would normally have colored the carvings had been scoured clean. But she recognized the carvings themselves, from descriptions which she had been given by Anshac Pilgrims. They were the insignia of the prevalent clan of the Ansha.
Shocked understanding came to her.
"Is that—?"
Takashi nodded. "Yes, it is. Ushulubang herself."
"Holy shit," muttered Julius.
"Can't you say anything else?" snapped Indira.
Julius eyed her, then looked back at the column. A rueful grin twisted his face.
"I say it again: holy shit."
The audience which followed, in Julius and Indira's hut, was one of the most disconcerting episodes in Indira's life. In Julius' life, as well, he told her later.
Extremely intelligent and well-educated people like Julius and Indira do not, really, believe there is such a thing as a "sage." Until they meet her.
That Ushulubang was extraordinarily intelligent became obvious immediately. The chief opoloshuku—a term which translates loosely as "disciple/teacher"—of the Pilgrims of the Way remained silent until she entered the hut. Then, she thanked Indira and Julius for their hospitality. In perfect English.
Indira was too surprised to respond with the customary phrases. Instead, she blurted out:
"You speak English!"
Ushulubang made the gesture of affirmation, with a subtly humorous twist.
"Certainly. How could I be certain the scribes have captured the true spirit of Goloku's teachings if I could not read the holy tongue myself?"
She reads English, too. And her accent's extraordinarily good—especially given that she must have learned from another Pilgrim.
Suddenly, Indira was filled with—not anger, exactly, but extreme exasperation. She had had more than enough of these bizarre new myths and legends which seemed to be springing up like weeds.
"English is not a holy tongue," she said harshly. "It is simply a language like any other. A ummun language, true. But the ummun have many languages."
The two other gukuy who had entered the hut with Ushulubang registered ochre/pink confusion/abashment. But Indira was surprised to see an emerald tint appear on Ushulubang's mantle. Green, Indira had learned, was a very complex color for the gukuy. The various shades carried subtle differences in meaning, which, though they all had love and tranquillity at their base, could express those fundamental emotions in a multitude of permutations.
Emerald is the color of contentment.
"As I surmised," said Ushulubang. The old gukuy made the gesture of profound respect. "I had hoped, but I could not be certain until I came here and spoke with you myself."
"Be certain of what?" demanded Indira.
The opoloshuku gestured to her two companions. "My apashoc"—the word meant "kin of the road"— "had told me that you were the guardian of the secrets. A jealous guardian, they said, who would not impart the secrets to the people."
Indira suppressed a sharp retort.
"But I did not believe them. I thought instead—"
Ushulubang paused for a moment.
"What have the apashoc told you of Goloku?"
Indira was taken aback by the question. She fumbled an answer: A holy person; a saint; a sage; possessor of all wisdom; embodiment of goodness; teacher of—
Ushulubang whistled derision.
"What nonsense! Goloku was a crude boor; a rascal; a drunk; a teller of lewd jokes; and most of all, she was a tyrant, hard as bronze."
Indira's eyes widened. The gukuy on either side of Ushulubang flashed bright ochre. Ushulubang glanced at them both, and again made the gesture of derision. (But the subtleties of the arm-curls contained also, in some manner Indira could not determine, the connotation of affection.)
"They did not know Goloku, as I did." For a moment, Ushulubang's mantle turned a deep, rich shade of brownish-green.
"I am the only one still alive," said Ushulubang sadly, "of Goloku's first apashoc. All that is left of that small band of sisters. There are not even many still alive of the later apashoc. Very few, of those who knew Goloku personally, survived Ilishito's persecution."
Indira knew the tale. She had heard it many times from the Pilgrims on the mountain. During Goloku's lifetime, her disciples had been few in number. After the founder of the Way died—of poison, it was said—the Paramount Mother of the time, Ilishito, had ordered the extermination of the sect. Guided, according to proclamations of the Anshac officials, by the divinations of the priests. From what she had been able to learn of Anshac society, Indira suspected that the decision had actually been made by the awosha—the ruling council of the Ansha females. Although, by all accounts, the Paramount Mother Ilishito had been more than cruel enough to have ordered the persecution herself.
Of the inner circle of disciples—those who had learned directly from Goloku herself—only Ushulubang had survived. Due, Indira thought, to the fact that Ushulubang was herself a very high-ranking member of the dominant clan. She had been officially expelled from the clan, and her clan markings scoured clean with caustic substances. But her life had been spared by the priests.
To their everlasting regret, I suspect.
Ushulubang's mantle returned to gray. "These young apashoc have never really understood Goloku. I do not criticize them, you understand." The pinkish tones in her two companions faded. "They have tried, and tried very hard. Under the most severe circumstances. But—they always lapse into the great error. The error which Goloku flailed us for committing, mercilessly, every day of her life."
"What error is that?"
Ushulubang's huge-eyed stare was piercing.
"The belief that Goloku brought us the Answer. When what she really brought us was a thing much greater. She brought us the Question."
Ushulubang rose. "And now, with your permission, I will leave you. Tomorrow, perhaps, we can speak again. But I fear I am old and weak, and it has been a long journey from Shakutulubac."
Indira nodded. That human expression was now familiar to the gukuy on the mountain. Ushulubang's reaction to it demonstrated, once again, that the old sage had prepared well for this meeting.
"I thank you." She turned to go.
"One moment, please," said Indira.
Ushulubang looked back.
"You did not answer my question. What did you mean—when you said that you were not certain until you met me?"
"When I heard that demons had come to us, and that there was one among them who knew the Answer, I had thought the tale must be wrong. But until today, I was not sure. Until you denied that Enagulishuc is the holy tongue, in words as sharp as stone."
"I do not understand."
"Just so did Goloku flail us, when we fell into error. When I heard your words, I understood why the Coil sent demons to the world, and my soul was filled with love. I had feared, in the depths of my heart, that we would lose the Way. Without a flail to lash the error of the Answer, it is so easy to fall aside."
"I do not understand."
Green ripples marched across Ushulubang's mantle.
"Just so. You have seen the statue of Goloku in the temple at Fagoshau?"
"Yes."
"It is no longer there. I smashed it with my flail when I saw it." A whistle of derision. "These spawn"—a gesture to her companions— "were shocked and aghast. That is because they had fallen into the error of the Answer."
A faint brownish ripple went across Ushulubang's mantle.
"Yet I should not be proud. I too had fallen aside, without realizing it. Until you flailed me, great mother of demons."
"I do not understand."
The gesture of profound respect. "Just so. Enagulishuc is indeed not the holy tongue. It is the tongue that will pave the road of holiness."
"I'm impressed," said Julius softly, after Ushulubang left. When she looked at him, Indira saw that there was no trace on his face of whimsy.
"So am I," she replied. "I always wondered what it would be like to meet the founder of Christianity."
Julius frowned. "What do you mean? Ushulubang's impressive, but she hardly seems divine."
Indira shook her head. "I wasn't talking about the Christ. Jesus inspired the religion that took his name. But Christianity was founded by St. Paul."
Julius stared out the doorway at Ushulubang's receding figure.
"You think so?"
Indira shrugged. "It's an analogy, and like any analogy it's suspect. For one thing, the Way of the Coil is a totally different doctrine than Christianity. Insofar as there's a parallel on Earth, it reminds me more of Taoism than anything else."
"You've always said Buddhism was the closest parallel."
"Yes, I have. But now that I've met Ushulubang, I will no longer say it."
Julius attempted to pursue the matter further, but Indira was clearly distracted. More than distracted, Julius eventually realized. She was completely lost in her own thoughts.
Indira met again with Ushulubang the following day. But the meeting was brief. Although Indira was burning with the desire to pursue what she had glimpsed of the sage's philosophy, practical matters had intervened—in their usual, overwhelming manner.
"How long will you stay?" she asked Ushulubang.
The sage made the gesture of completion. "I will die here, on the Chiton." A whistle. "Though not soon, I hope."
Indira shook her head. (Another human gesture which had become familiar to the gukuy.)
"I did not mean you personally. I meant—" She waved her hand, encompassing the huge throng outside the hut.
"We have come to stay," replied Ushulubang. The gesture of respectful inquiry. "With your permission, great mother of demons."
"Don't call me that!"
The gesture of obedience. "As you wish. May I ask why?"
"I am not the ruler of my people."
"So I was told. That is why I did not call you Paramount Mother."
Indira's irritation was replaced by curiosity.
"I do not understand the distinction."
Ushulubang whistled humorously. "There is, in some ways, no distinction. The Paramount Mothers of the tashop arren do not rule their peoples, in all truth, despite the hootings of the awoloshu."
Indira mentally translated Ushulubang's terms. The Anshaku term tashop arren meant "the thickness of the meat." All of the gukuy religions which she had so far encountered, except that of the Pilgrims, based their cosmological concepts on the analogy between the world and a huge clam. In all the languages she knew, in fact, the term for "world" was actually "The-Clam-That-Is-The-World." The earth itself, rich and fecund, was "the Meat of the Clam." The pearly gray sky above was "the mother-of-pearl." The shell of the Clam protected the world from the unknown terrors which lurked in the Infinite Sea beyond. (When the gukuy had learned that the humans had come to Ishtar from somewhere in that Infinite Sea, their nature as "demons" had been confirmed. Who but demons could survive such a voyage?)
The religion of the Pilgrims did not seem to be much preoccupied with questions of cosmology and cosmogony. Like the ancient religions and philosophies of China, the Pilgrims were far more concerned with questions concerning social life and ethics. They accepted the basic cosmological concepts of their time—except for a slight twist. Goloku had said, once, that the world was not a clam but a snail. The distinction, to Indira, captured the essence of what made the religion of the Pilgrims such a new and revolutionary factor in gukuy history. Clams are passive. Filter feeders. Whereas snails—far more so on Ishtar than on Earth—were active animals who hunted for their food. To the traditionalists, the world simply was. To the Pilgrims, the world was going somewhere, in search of something.
Much like the ancient Chinese, the civilized realms of the south viewed themselves as the center of the world. The Chinese had called their land "the Middle Kingdom;" the southern gukuy called theirs "the thickness of the meat."
She had greater difficulty with awoloshu. The prefix "a" simply indicated the plural. "Wolosh" was the stem of the word. From the context, she assumed that Ushulubang was referring to the priests of the southern societies. But, in Anshaku, the term for priest was "wulush," not "wolosh."
She understood, suddenly. The word used by the sage was a pun. There was a type of snail on Ishtar, called oloshap. It was a scavenger and, as such, considered unclean by the gukuy. It also produced, when startled, a loud and ugly-sounding noise. (The Anshaku word for "fart," in fact, was a derivative—shapu.)
Chuckling, she shook her head. "I still do not understand why a paramount mother is different—"
"Are you familiar with the customs of the barbarians?"
Indira nodded. "To some degree. There are a number of former tribespeople among the Pilgrims."
Ushulubang made the gesture of agreement, which shifted to the gesture of regret.
"Not so many as I would prefer. The barbarians, despite their crudities, are a better-souled folk than the dwellers of the tashop arren. Especially the Kiktu. I raise this matter because the barbarians do not have the custom of Paramount Mothers."
Indira nodded again. "No, they call them the Great Mothers. They are not revered; but, I think, have more real say in the affairs of their people."
The gesture of respectful disagreement.
"To a degree, that is true. But the difference is much more profound. The Paramount Mothers of the tashop arren are the source of the people, the embodiment of the people's life. Among the barbarians, however, the Great Mothers are also the protectors of the people."
Indira frowned. "The protection of my people is in the hands of our Captain, Joseph Adekunle." (She pronounced it in the Anshac manner: Yoshefadekunula.)
"Just so. Yet . . . you are called the 'Admiral of the Ocean Sea.' The term may be translated, I believe, as the 'Leader of the Journey Through Infinity.' "
Indira gritted her teeth. God damn Hector Quintero and Julius Cohen. Men and their stupid jokes.
She attempted to explain the actual origin of the term in the colony's history, but Ushulubang interrupted her with a whistle.
"Males—and their stupid jokes. But Goloku taught us that humor is the palp of wisdom. A rough and heavy palp, at times. But such is often necessary, to open the valves of truth."
Once again, that piercing huge-eyed stare.
"The title is, I believe, most appropriate. Tell me, gre—Inudiratoledo: what is the principal means by which a being protects itself?"
Indira shrugged. "It depends on the being. Tentacles, for gukuy. Arms, for an ummun. And for both, the swiftness of their peds."
Ushulubang made the gesture of negation.
"No. The principal means by which a being protects itself is its eyes. For you must first see the danger, before you can deal with it."
Indira hesitated. "That is true. But—"
"What is the danger which always faces a people?"
"I—it depends."
"No. It does not 'depend.' It is always true—at all places; at all times."
She understood, suddenly. "The future."
"Just so—Admiral of the Ocean Sea Inudiratoledo."
Indira shook her head fiercely.
There is no time for this now.
"We must return to the original subject of our discussion."
"As you wish."
"How will your Pilgrims live on the Chiton? And where?"
"You have not yet given us permission to stay."
Indira frowned. "You do not need my permission. I do not own this mountain, nor do my people. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to the owoc."
"You misunderstand. The Chiton is vast, with many valleys. There is more than enough room here for all of us—owoc, gukuy, and ummun alike." A humorous whistle. "The Pilgrims number among them both civilized and barbarian people. There is not a skill in the world which they do not know. Skills which, from what I have seen, you ummun often seem to lack."
Indira nodded. It could not be denied. In truth, over the past two years the humans had learned far more from the gukuy, in the way of practical skills, than the other way around.
"You, on the other hand, possess arts and skills which we lack. Most of those arts—sciences, you call them—are not yet of any use to my people. In truth, we do not even understand them. But I believe those arts will be necessary for us, in that dangerous place called the future."
The gesture of regretful affirmation. "And in the meantime, you possess a great knowledge of that skill which is most necessary of all. In this perilous place called the present."
"And what is that?" But she already knew the answer.
"The art of war."
"Is that why they came here?" asked Julius later. "To learn how to fight their persecutors?"
"Partly. But it's more than that. Ishtarian society has reached the stage where the old ways are rupturing at the seams. In all societies—civilized and barbarian alike. The emergence of the Way is itself a symptom of that upheaval. So is the rise of this monstrous tribe from the far west."
"The Utuku?" He shook his head. "Well, let's root for the Kiktu."
Indira shook her head. Grimly: "It's too late for that, Julius. The Kiktu were utterly destroyed by the Utuku. Months ago, in a great battle on the other side of that huge jungle southwest of the Chiton. The Pilgrims learned about it from refugees fleeing the disaster. That's why they circled the mountain and came in from the east, in fact—to avoid the oncoming army of the Utuku. A number of the refugees are here with the Pilgrims. I was able to talk to one of them today myself."
Julius was pale. "The Kiktu were destroyed? Completely?"
Indira nodded. "Apparently so. Well, the refugee I spoke to said that some of the Kiktu fled into the swamp. But she seemed to view that as no more than a protracted death sentence. That aside, yes. And not just the Kiktu, but all of their tribal allies. They were surrounded and pinned against the swamp. Crushed. The tribes' mothers would have been crippled and enslaved. All others butchered for meat, except for young females conscripted into the Utuku army."
"Conscripted?"
"Yes. It's the Utuku custom to force young warriors and females to join their army."
Julius shook his head. "Sounds like a chancy proposition to me. What's to keep them loyal?"
"They are required to participate in a ceremony which guarantees they will not go back to their old tribe."
Julius turned even paler. "I don't think I want to hear this."
"Yes. They are forced to eat their tribespeople in the victory feast."
He looked away. "I knew I didn't want to hear it."
"You must, Julius. As Ushulubang said, there is the danger of the future—and the peril of the present. The entire Papti Plain is now open to the Utuku. They will be sweeping across it like army ants. With nothing between them and us but the slopes of the Chiton. And whatever army we can build to defend those slopes."
"Maybe they'll turn south."
"Toward the prevalates?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. Neither does Ushulubang. The Beak of the Utuku is reputed to be cold and calculating, as well as vicious. As powerful as the Utuku have become, they are still not ready to match flails with the Anshac. Not yet. They will need to consolidate their rule over the Papti first. And in order to do that, the Beak will see to the elimination of any possible threat in the vicinity. Such as demons living on the mountain that overlooks the plain."
She stared out the hut.
"Where are you, Joseph?" she whispered.