Hills
If only the Umoi had been a more belligerent race.
But the Umoi had given up war centuries before their demise. Consequently, when Gene had asked Zond about weapons, Zond had trouble grasping the concept. Gene remembered the conversation.
“Weapons,” Gene repeated. “Guns, bombs, nasty stuff like that?”
“Well, this may sound strange, Gene, but I think we’ve hit a subject that’s in one of my interdicted files.”
“What are those?”
“Subject areas that may or may not contain data, but which cannot be accessed except by special permission from the Chief of Library Services.”
“Who’s been dead for fifty centuries.”
“Precisely.”
“You do know generically what a weapon is, though, don’t you?”
“Well, yes. But I’m specifically prohibited from discussing the subject, in any way, under any circumstances. The ban is very comprehensive. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Do you understand?”
“Sure.”
So universal was the Umoi proscription against violence, offensive or defensive, that Gene had had no recourse but to drive the rover over a cliff to escape the hundak, the six-legged bulldozer he had run into on the way to Annau. The rover had not possessed the capacity to harm a microbe, much less the hundak.
If only the Umoi had been a tad more irascible, just a jot less peace-loving. Maybe then Gene would have been able to procure a high-tech weapon.
“One would sure come in handy right now.”
“Did you speak, husband?”
Gene hadn’t realized he was thinking aloud. “It’s nothing, Vaya.”
“You seem troubled.”
Gene turned in his saddle and looked at the long line behind him. The whole tribe was on the move, following their Queen to a place they had never dreamed of going near, much less taking up residence in: an Umoi city. Some of the older folks had rejected the scheme out of hand and had stayed behind, preferring certain death in the desert to the condign punishment they would receive for committing unforgivable sacrilege.
The rest of them had required some major persuading. But they had pulled up stakes and tagged along. Why so, Gene wasn’t sure.
The whole idea had been out of the question until Vaya had her visitation. She woke up one morning with the news that one of her ancestors, a woman (naturally, as this society was an ironclad matriarchy), had dropped in by way of a dream, telling her that her First Husband, the stranger, spoke truth, and that she should order her people to move into the abode of the Old Gods.
Whoever the old crone had been, Gene was grateful to her. He, for one, was tired of gnawing tough, charred meat and scratching at fleas. He was looking forward to sleeping in a warm bed and having a civilized meal for a change.
He had his thoat, his Martian princess, now all he needed was one of those Thrilling Wonder Stories Art Deco futuristic cities to live in, and he’d have it all.
That is, if Annau was still functioning.
He still was intent on searching for the interdimensional device. He had not forgotten Castle Perilous, nor could he. He had been here in New Barsoom for about a year, close as he could reckon. It had been fun, but was wearing rather thin. He wanted to get back to Perilous. That was his home. He’d be sure to look into stabilizing this world’s portal, though. He’d want to come back now and then to see how the yalim were faring.
He looked over at Vaya. She rode bestride and with a noble seat, erect and regal. Queenlike.
Yes, he loved her. That was the one complication. He couldn’t leave her, and she couldn’t very well abdicate and follow him to Perilous.
He knew he would be coming back here on a more regular basis than “now and then.”
Could he leave her at all? He wondered.
He was having second thoughts about Annau. It was an unknown quantity. No telling what he’d find there. He would have his hands full in any event trying to calm a mob of frightened primitives. Perhaps going back to Zond would be the best idea. Once things were running smoothly, Zond could whip up another rover for him and he could …
No, the thought of undertaking another cross-world trek didn’t appeal to him. Too dangerous. Perhaps he should just forget about the interdimensional device altogether.
But he couldn’t. He had to get back to Perilous, if only to let everyone know he was all right. He owed Sheila and Linda that much.
“Do you feel them, too, husband?”
Gene came out of his brown study. “Hm? Sorry. What did you say?”
“Do you feel eyes crawling on your skin?”
“Eyes crawling …? Oh.” Gene looked right and left, running his gaze along the ridges above. “Yeah, I do. Been getting a being-watched feeling for some time now. You, too?”
“Yes.”
Gene took a deep breath, then searched the heights once again. “Haven’t seen a thing, but I sure feel something. It’s probably just paranoia on my part, but how sure are we that there aren’t any hrunt here?”
“Who can be sure?”
Of course. For travel information, all the tribe had to rely on was oral tradition. Gene doubted that it would be of any value.
“There may be yalim, however,” Vaya said.
“Hostile?”
“All tribes like to fight. It is the yalim nature.”
“We don’t bother anybody,” Gene said.
“There are not many to bother.”
She was right. The yalim were dying out.
Gene said, “Well, anyway, I’m not concerned about yalim. If we can beat the hrunt, we shouldn’t let a few bandits worry us.”
“The sun creeps low,” Vaya said. “Soon it will seek its burrow in the earth.”
“Yeah. Nice metaphor, there. You want to make camp, my Queen?”
“You pick the site, husband.”
“Right. Well, I don’t like being at the bottom of these cliffs, but I don’t see any way to get up into them. This wide area coming up is as good a place as any.”
“Then that is where we shall make trail camp.”
“Yeah. The Sheraton is booked solid, I hear.”
That night, Gene had trouble sleeping. He got up and walked the camp’s perimeter several times, but saw nothing but desert darkness and one dozing guard. He had the guard flogged, then returned to the royal tent.
“You rest uneasy, husband.”
“Sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“No. Come close.”
They embraced. Outside, the sound of a drear wind masked a greater silence. Gene drew the bedclothes up.
“It’s cold out there.”
“You are warm, my husband.”
“I just got hotter, Queenie.”
“Make another child in me.”
“Yeah, that’d be … Another?”
“The first one will come in eight cycles of the Night Watcher.”
“Uh.”
“Are you not proud?”
“Uh.”
“I am sure it is yours. I have forsaken the others.”
“This is kind of new to me. Never thought I’d be a father.”
“She will be the next Queen.”
“Oh. You’re sure about that, are you?”
“Yes. The Ancestor told me.”
“Did a sonogram, no doubt.”
“You speak strangely again. Sometimes I think that you are one of the Old Ones, come to lead us to the Castle of the Gods.”
Passion suddenly leaving him, Gene rolled over on his back. “This is very interesting. Tell me more.”
“The old legends say that the gods live in a great fortress of stone, far away. One day the gods will return and take all the yalim away to live there. There will be happiness forever.”
Gene put his hands behind his head and stared off into darkness. “Fascinating, Captain. The natives seemed to have developed a strangely prescient mythology.”