Bantus reached the creek and the little fish were there, but he couldn’t see them. The surface of the water was in dancing motion with the rain. Snorting with hunger and annoyance, he made a ponderous slash at a half-seen flash of silver, and his paw came up empty.
The nearby lake was about twenty meters across and quite deep; one of an interlinked system of five small lakes. Above, the stream descended narrow and cold from the mountains. Below, a waterfall fell a hundred meters down an escarpment, sealing off the valley from that direction. How the fish got there, Bantus didn’t have the intelligence to ask himself.
Now, irritated, he prowled the banks of the linking streams and soon came across easy prey. A huge fish hovered in the current, facing upstream and totally unaware of his presence. Bantus tensed. He would leap into the center of the stream and straddle the fish — that was the most certain way. The bases of his claws itched.
He sprang.
And something in the very fabric of his cells said: Today is not the day for Torpad.
Torpad?
No, he didn’t want the big fish today. Someday maybe, quite soon. But today the fish was too big for Bantus’ hunger. It would be wasteful to take him.
And Torpad, having no curiosity in his dim senses, fled into the next lake and instantly forgot his narrow escape. Soon he was feeding on small fish — never taking more than he needed — while the smell of mammal washed out of the waters.
Bantus grunted in disgust and plodded away. It was too wet for fish, yet it was no day for meat.
Not in the valley.…
But he remembered that food was available outside the valley. He need not be hungry today; not if he climbed the rocky hill towards the brightness. Outside the valley, food was unlimited. He quickened his pace, and soon the wind was cool against his coat as he climbed into the barren ground, leaving the jungle behind.
In Palhoa they bought food, utensils and a llama. They paid the villager well — money was no problem for Tonio — and led the animal away. They soon found that llamas do not necessarily agree with human concepts of ownership, and this particular llama was very much his own animal. He consented to take a small share of their baggage, but any attempt to load him further resulted in a display of sullen temper and spitting, until Astrud said nervously,
«We’ll carry the rest. It’s not too far, is it?»
«About six kilometers.» Tonio shared the remainder of the baggage between them while the llama watched with ill‑concealed triumph.
They took a trail into the bush and within minutes were in a different world as the rain forest closed about them. Tonio led, ploughing through the vegetation, Astrud followed, then came Raoul, leading the llama.
That was how the villagers remembered them: squat coastal True Humans walking into the jungle, loaded down with provisions, the boy jerking a reluctant llama behind. They looked completely out of place. There was much speculation. Some said they were spies of the Canton Lord; others, having heard a little of the happenings in Rangua, guessed they were refugees. Later, they learned the truth.
«It doesn’t matter,” one of the village elders said. «We’ll never see them again. La Bruja will get them.…»
In some places the abandoned sailway had completely disintegrated into the jungle floor, but the route could still be followed and in places the rail supports still stood. Some rails were even in place, a webwork of vines holding the rotting logs together.
«Why did they abandon it?» asked Raoul as they rested, sharing a moss‑covered running rail while the llama ruminated nearby.
«They said something in the village about a bruja ,” said Astrud.
«Nonsense!» Tonio said loudly. «Typical Specialist superstition.»
His face was red with exertion and he looked unhealthy, but at least he’s lost some of that beaten look, thought Astrud.
In fact he seemed to have gained in stature since they’d left civilization. He strode ahead again, balancing on fallen rails and eyeing the forest with new interest as they climbed higher. From time to time he would exclaim as he recognized things: marked rocks at the trackside, or the overgrown clearing which denoted an abandoned stage. Astrud drew something from his new confidence, ceased to shy at every yell of the howler monkeys, and even took in her stride the unearthly rattling roar of a jaguar.
«It’s nature,” Tonio said. «We have to get along with it, if we’re going to survive. In some ways, the kikihuahuas were right. They say you could put a kikihuahua down anywhere and he’d fit in, and he’d have the animals and plants working for him in no time.» Incongruously he slapped at a mosquito, examined the little smear of blood on his palm, and swore.
Fitting into his mood, she quoted:
«They float about the Greataway, their ships are monster bats.
Live hemitrexes cook their food, their clothes are made by rats.»
It was a childish rhyme which her mother had told her, years ago; but somehow it had stuck in her mind.
Before the last words had died away into the wetness of the jungle, Tonio stopped. «What’s that?»
«What?»
He stood tense and staring, watching a part of the forest where the trees thinned out and a rocky ridge could be seen. They had climbed out of the clouds and the ridge baked in the afternoon sun, brilliant beyond the darkness of the jungle. «I saw something … big.»
«They say jaguars don’t attack in daylight.»
«This was not a jaguar.» He was whispering, watching the ridge, while he fumbled blindly with the fastenings of his pack.
«What was it, then?» She was whispering too, and the fear had returned. She watched as he stole quick glances at his pack, drawing out a leather sheath while he continued to keep the jungle under observation.
«It was gray and … enormous. I only caught a glimpse, you know? Its head — it seemed to be all teeth! Agni, what a brute!»
She watched in horrified realization as he began to screw pieces together. The thing was metal. Touched by Agni. He’d carried it all this way.
«Tonio!»
«Shut up!»
«Maquinista gave you that,” said Raoul quietly, flatly.
Tonio didn’t reply to that. His instrument was complete. He hefted it in his hand, fitted a bolt, then sighted at the trees. He was trembling — and suddenly Astrud knew it was excitement, not fear. He was actually enjoying this moment of danger. «This was bigger than any bear — more like a huge cai‑man with long thick legs and gray hair. It ran down the ridge, fast, on its hind legs. I’ve never seen an animal run so fast.» Suddenly he brandished the crossbow. «Come on, you bastard! I’m ready for you!»
Raoul said unhappily, his eyes on the bow, «You could have been mistaken. It could have been quite small, really. Or two animals running together. Giant anteaters.»
He uttered a bark of derision. «In the mountains? I don’t think so. Well, we can’t wait for him. We’ll see him again, I’m sure of that. And when we do.…» He waved the crossbow like a banner.
«Have … have you noticed how quiet the forest is? Even the monkeys.» Raoul followed him, jerking at the llama’s rope. The animal’s reluctance had become more marked.
Astrud stood staring after them and, in a moment, followed.
The track steepened as they pushed on — then, before Astrud realized it, they had reached their destination. The ground levelled out. There was an old signal tower which had almost become part of the jungle; just four more creeper-entwined trunks among many, and she had to follow Tonio’s finger carefully before she could make out the rectangular shape of the cabin among the branches.
«They’ll never find us here,” said Tonio.
«Are you sure it’s safe?» Raoul asked. «It looked very old.»