The Ships of Earth: Homecoming: Volume 3 (35 page)

If he succeeded.

Elemak spoke to Nafai then. “Are you a good shot with that thing?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Nafai. “I haven’t tried it yet. It was too dark last night. I do know
this
—I can’t shoot far. I don’t have strong enough muscles in the right places yet, for drawing a bow.” He grinned. “I’m going to have to find some animal that’s very stupid, very slow, or deaf, blind, and upwind of me.”

No one laughed. Instead they all stood and watched him stride away, heading unwaveringly in the exact direction his father had pointed.

From then on it was a tense morning in the camp. Not the tension of quarrels barely contained—they had experienced
that
often enough—but the tension of waiting. For there was nothing to do but care for the babies and wonder whether Nafai would, against all probability, bring back meat with his bow and arrows.

The only exception to the general air of glum nervousness was Shedemei and Zdorab. Not that they were
happy,
really—they were as quiet as ever, going about their business. But Luet could not help but notice that they seemed more—what,
aware
of each other today. They kept
looking
at each other, with some barely contained secret.

It didn’t dawn on Luet until late in the morning, when Shedemei was holding naked Chveya while Luet washed the second gown and diaper that her daughter had managed to soil that morning. Shedemei couldn’t stop giggling right along with Chveya while they played, and as Luet wondered about Shedemei’s unaccustomed lightness of spirit, she realized: Shedemei must be pregnant. At long last, after everyone had concluded that she was sterile, Shedya was going to have a baby.

And, being Luet, she did not hesitate to ask the question outright—after all, they were alone, and no woman kept a secret from the waterseer, if she wanted to know it.

“No,” said Shedemei, startled. “I mean—I might be, but how could I know so soon?”

It was only then that it occurred to Luet for the first time: Shedemei had not been pregnant till now because
she and Zdorab had never coupled. They must have married for convenience, so they could share a tent. They had been
friends
all this time, and they were so
aware
of each other, Shedemei was so
happy
today because last night they must have made their marriage real for the first time.

“Congratulations anyway,” said Luet.

Shedemei blushed and looked down at the baby, tickling her a little.

“And maybe it
will
be soon. Some women conceive immediately.
I
did, I think.”

“Don’t tell anyone else,” said Shedemei.

“Hushidh will know that something has changed,” said Luet.

“Her then, but no one else.”

“I promise,” said Luet.

But there was something in Shedemei’s smile then that told her that while she knew
part
of the secret, perhaps, there was more that was yet untold. Never mind, Luet said silently. I’m not one of those who has to know everything. What goes on between you and Zdorab is none of my affair, except as you make it plain to me. But whatever happened, I know this: It has made you happier today. More hopeful than I’ve seen you in this whole journey.

Or perhaps it is
I
who am more hopeful than ever before, because we weathered such a terrible crisis this morning. And, best of all, because Elemak was on the side of the Oversoul. So what if Vas is a sneak and a murderer in his heart? So what if Obring and Sevet would leave their babies? If Elemak was no longer the enemy of the Oversoul, then all would be well indeed.

Nafai came home before noon. No one saw him coming because no one was looking for him so early. Suddenly he was there at the edge of the tents.

“Zdorab!” he called.

Zdorab emerged from Volemak’s tent, where he and Issib had been working with the Index together. “Nafai,” he said, “I guess this means you’re back.”

Nafai held out the skinless carcass of a hare in one hand and an equally naked and bloody yozh in the other. “Neither
one’s very much by itself, I suppose, but since Father said we could make stew if I got back early enough, I say start up a fire, Zodya! We have fat-riddled animal protein to put in our bellies tonight!”

Not everyone was overjoyed to know that the expedition would go on—but they were all glad of the cooked meat, the spicy stew, and the end of the uncertainty. Volemak was positively jovial as he presided over the meal that night. Luet wondered at that—wouldn’t it have been easier for him, now, to let the mantle of authority slip away, to pass it to one of his sons? But no. Heavy as the burden of authority might be, it was far lighter than the unbearable weight of losing it.

She noticed as they sat and ate together that Nafai stank from his exertions of the day. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar odor—no one could maintain Basilican standards of hygiene here—but it was unpleasant. “You smell,” she whispered to him, while the others listened to Mebbekew chanting out a bawdy old poem he had learned in his theatrical days.

“I admit it, I need a bath,” said Nafai.

“I’ll give you one tonight,” said Luet.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he answered. “I see you give them to Veya and I get so jealous.”

“You were magnificent today,” she said.

“Just a little whittling while the Oversoul pumped knowledge into my head. And then killing animals too stupid to rum away.”

“Yes, all of that—magnificent. And more. What you did with your father.”

“It was the right way to do it,” he said. “Nothing more than that. Not like what
you
did. In fact, it’s
you
that deserves to be pampered and babied tonight.”

“I know it,” she said. “But I have to bathe you
first.
It’s no fun being babied by someone who smells so bad it makes you choke.”

In answer, he embraced her, burying her nose in his armpit. She tickled him to break free.

Rasa, looking across the fire at them, thought: Such
children. So young, so playful. I’m so glad that they can still be that way. Someday, when real adult responsibilities settle on them, they’ll lose that. It will be replaced by a slower, quieter kind of play. But for now, they can cast away care and remember how good it is to be alive. In the desert or the city, in a house or a tent, that’s what happiness means, isn’t it?

The next morning they loaded the camels and moved southeast. No one said anything about it, but everyone understood that they were moving to put some distance between them and Dorova Bay. It was still no easy task finding a way through the Valley of Fires, and several times they had to backtrack, though now Elemak usually rode ahead, often with Vas, in order to scout a path that led somewhere useful. Volemak would tell him in the morning what the Index advised, and Elemak would then mark a trail that led to the easiest ascents and descents from plateau to plateau.

After a few days, they found another spring of drinkable water, which they named Strelay, because they would use their time there to make arrows. Nafai went out first and found examples of all the kinds of tree that the Oversoul knew would make good bows; soon they had gathered several dozen saplings. Some of them they made into bows at once, for practice and for their immediate hunting needs; the rest they would carry with them, allowing them to season into wood that would hold its spring. They also
made hundreds of arrows, and practiced shooting at targets, men and women alike, because, as Elemak said, “There may come a time when our lives depend on the archery of our wives.”

Those who had been good shots with a pulse were as good with the bow, after some practice, but the real challenge was developing the strength to pull far enough and steadily enough to hit more distant targets. There wasn’t a one of them without aching arms and backs and shoulders for the first week; Kokor, Dol, and Rasa gave up early and never tried again. Sevet and Hushidh, however, developed into rather good archers, as long as they used smaller bows than the men.

It was Issib who thought of dyeing the arrow shafts a bright unnatural color so spent arrows would be easier to retrieve.

Then they moved on again, from fountain to fire, practicing archery as they went. They began to be proud of the strength in their arms. The competition in archery among the men became rather fierce; the women noticed but mentioned only among themselves that the men cared about no targets but the ones placed far enough away that Sevet’s and Hushidh’s smaller bows could not accurately reach them. “Let them have their game,” said Hushidh. “It would be too humiliating for any of them to be beaten by a woman.”

Without meaning to, they were soon running parallel to the caravan route, and rather close—they were back to raw meat for a while. Then one morning Voiemak came out of his tent, holding the Index, and saying, “The Oversoul says we must now head west into the mountains until we come to the sea.”

“Let me guess,” said Obring. “We won’t be able to see a city there.”

No one answered him. Nor did anyone else mention their last venture near the Scour Sea.

“Why are we heading west now?” asked Elemak. “We’ve gone barely half the length of the Valley of Fires—the caravan trail doesn’t come to the sea again until it reaches the
Sea of Fire, due south of here. All we’re doing is going far out of our way to the west.”

“There are rivers to the west,” said Volemak.

“No there aren’t,” said Elemak. “If there were, the caravanners through here would have found them and used them. There’d be cities there.”

“Nevertheless,” said Volemak, “we’re going west. The Oversoul says that we’ll need to make a long camp again—to plant crops, to harvest them.”

“Why?” asked Mebbekew. “We’re making good progress. The babies are all thriving well. Why another camp?”

“Because Shedemei is pregnant, of course,” said Volemak, “and getting sicker with each passing day.”

They all looked at Shedemei in surprise. She blushed— and looked no less surprised than the others. “I only began to suspect it myself this morning,” she said. “How can the Oversoul know what I’m only guessing at?”

Volemak shrugged. “He knows what he knows.”

“Pretty poor timing, Shedya,” said Elemak. “All the other women are holding off on pregnancy because they’re nursing, but now we have to wait for you.”

For once Zdorab spoke up sharply. “Some things can’t be
timed
precisely, Elya, so don’t lay blame where there was no volition.”

Elemak looked at him steadily. “I never do,” he said. But then he dropped the matter and set out to the west, blazing a trail for the caravan.

Their route led up into real mountains—volcanic ones, with some relatively recent lava flows that had not yet been broken into soil. Issib used the Index to come up with information about the area—there were at least fifty active and dormant volcanos in this range of mountains fronting on the Scour Sea. “The last eruption was only last year,” he said, “but much farther to the south.”

“Which may be the reason the Oversoul is sending us to the sea this far north,” said Volemak.

Hard as the climb was, coming down the other side of the mountain range was harder—it was steeper and more
heavily overgrown. Indeed, it was almost a jungle high on the slopes of the mountain.

“The winter winds come off the seas,” said Issib, “and there are squalls almost every day in summer, too. The mountains catch the clouds, force them up into the colder atmosphere, and bring down whatever moisture is in them. So it’s a rain forest here in the mountains. It won’t be as wet down by the sea.” They were becoming used to Issib being the one who explored the Index; during days of travel, he was the only one with no other duties, and he carried the Index with him, one hand constantly on it, exploring. Zdorab had shown him so many tricks and back doors that he was almost as deft now as the librarian himself. And no one disparaged the value of the information Issib provided, because it was all he
could
provide.

They were in the middle of a tricky passage down a tangled ravine when they felt an earthquake—rather a violent one, which threw two of the camels off their feet and set the others to stamping and turning in confusion.

“Out of the ravine!” cried Issib at once.

“Out? How?” answered Volemak.

“Any way we can!” shouted Issib. “The Index says that this earthquake jarred loose a lake high up in the mountains—anything in the ravine is going to be swept away!”

It was a particularly bad time for an emergency—Elemak and Vas were far ahead, blazing a trail, and Nafai and Obring were hunting higher up in the mountain. But Volemak had been journeying far longer than Elemak, and had resources of his own. He quickly sized up the walls of the ravine and chose a route up through a jumble of rocks into a side canyon that might lead to the top. “I’ll lead the way,” he said, “because I’m the one who knows best what camels can do. Luet, you bring the women and children along—Meb, you and Zdorab herd the pack animals after us. Supplies first, cold- and dryboxes last. Issib, you stay within earshot of them, and stay in touch with the Index. Tell them when there’s no more time. When they have to abandon the rest of the camels and save themselves. They
must
save themselves, as must you, Issya—more important than anything. Do you understand?”

He was asking everyone, and everyone nodded, wide-eyed, terrified.

“Elemak is in the ravine,” said Eiadh. “Someone has to warn him.”

“Elya is fit to hear the voice of the Oversoul himself,” said Volemak. “The water is coming faster than anyone can ride to catch up with him. Save his baby and his wife, Edhya. Now come
on
.” He turned his camel and began the ascent.

Camels were not made for climbing. Their sedentary pace was maddening. But steadily they climbed. The earth shook again, and again—but the aftershocks were not as violent as the first had been. Volemak and the women made it to the top. Volemak had a fleeting thought of going back down to help, but Luet reminded him that in several places the path was not wide enough for two camels to pass—far from helping, he’d slow down the evacuation.