And a monster had charged him, bursting out of a thicket.
Huge it was, and terrible, carrying an aura of unspeakable evil. Not jaguar, nor bear nor cai‑man, yet possessing the most fearful characteristics of all three, and bigger than any of them, bigger even than the mythical thylacosmilus, about which he’d sometimes sung songs. But he never sang songs of this monster, in the years which followed.
So he ran until he collapsed sobbing with fear and exhaustion beside a stream, and while he lay there a girl came to him — a girl beautiful beyond measure, more beautiful even than Corriente, his love; but cold.
In a voice without expression she had said, «Don’t be alarmed. Bantus will not harm you now. You are outside the valley, you see.…» And they had talked for a while, of Time and happentracks.
I am the Dedo, the beautiful girl had said. You will never forget me.
«What else did she say? Can you remember the exact words?»
Surprised at the tenseness in his voice, Karina said, «I didn’t understand a lot of it. She used strange words. The Greataway — that was her word for the sky, I think. Ifalong.… Other words. That’s it — she said, ‘In certain tracks of the Ifalong you will be famous.’ Me, famous? What do you make of that, Enri?»
«If the Dedo’s handmaiden said you will be famous,” said Enri carefully, «then I think you will. I met the Dedo myself once, and I believe her.» He tried to smile. «People will write songs about you. Maybe I should write one, to be first.»
«But what are tracks of the Ifalong?»
«The Dedo says that Time consists of happentracks, all branching out from the present. So that at any moment your future might go one way or the other, depending on what you do. The Ifalong is the total of all these happentracks in the future, when there are a billion different ways things might have happened. One thing the Dedo can do, is to see all these happentracks in the Ifalong, and work out the course people ought to take.»
Karina caught a glimpse of immensity. «Ought to take, why? What’s the purpose? Why not just live?»
«I think she thinks there’s more to life than that. But she didn’t tell me what.»
Karina was thinking deeply. «I wonder.… Do you think it might be possible to change things, by jumping onto another happentrack which had branched off some time before? Suddenly find yourself in a different world, where.…» Her voice trailed away. She was going to say: where my mother is still alive.… «No,” she said. «You’d have to do something so strange that it was completely out of place in your happentrack, something which simply didn’t fit in with the way things are, something —”
«Yes, you would,” said the man who thought coolly of murder, and was given to meaningless bursts of shouting, and who perched on rails flapping like a bird.
On Urubu’s deck
The southbound dawn sailcar was captained by the infamous Herrero so Karina hung about the station for a while, drawing curious glances from True Humans who wondered why she hadn’t returned to South Stage with the other felinos.
She knew her father would be waiting for her and she couldn’t face his rage, not yet. It was daylight now, and in the distance the sun was coming up over the rim of the sea. Rangua sat on a shoulder of the coastal mountains. Inland, the jungle crawled up the slopes and there were great cleared meadows where slow‑moving tumps could be seen: huge mounds of flesh eating their way across the landscape in the care of the tumpiers.
The town was small, bright and neat, and the signs of wealth were everywhere. The stores were full of exotic goods and bright woven fabrics from the great southern plains, and the people, mostly True Humans, were well-fed and clean, busily getting the town ready for the day. West, in the distant foothills, stood the white Palace of the Canton Lord, with his private sailway winding through the tumpfields.
«Hey there, cat girl!» The greeting came from a grimy individual leaning against a wall; even in Rangua Town there were derelicts. Karina grinned at him with some malice, toyed with the idea of teasing, then realized that the slatting noise of the car’s sails had ceased. The crew had hauled them tight and the car was about to depart. She ran along the dusty street pursued by the ribald shouts of the bum, reached the trackside and, timing her moment, seized the guide-arm of the sailcar Urubu as it rumbled past. In one fluid movement she hauled herself up onto the arm, laughed into the amazed face of an elderly passenger who stared out of a nearby porthole, and swung herself to the deck above.
The Urubu was a two‑master and the crew of four were busy. The wind was light and it needed all their skill to keep the car moving; they hauled on the sheets to the instructions barking out of a voicepipe on the foredeck.
Then the car reached the downgrade and began to accelerate, and the men relaxed and turned their attention to the young girl leaning on the after-rail.
«Captain Herrero will kill you,” one of them said. «You know what he thinks of felinos.»
«He’ll never know,” answered Karina. The captain controlled the craft from a tiny cabin in the nose of the car, under the foredeck.
«He will if I tell him.»
«But you won’t.» She stared at him in some contempt.
He grinned, embarrassed by the certainty in her tone, at her knowledge that he couldn’t bring himself to harm her. «You’re one of El Tigre’s grupo, aren’t you?» Although deck crews were True Humans, they had a good knowledge of felinos and their ways and were often used as mediators in disputes.
But Karinas’s attention had been caught by a shiny object, one of six set in a row of holes in a deck‑coaming. «What …?» She pulled one out and stared at it. «What are these?»
«Knives, of course.»
«But.…» That smooth, shiny surface, cold to the touch.… «They’re metal! They.… Why do you have metal knives?» Suddenly the thing seemed to sear her hand and she dropped it to the deck. Touched by Agni. The metal was cursed by the Wrath of Agni. All metal was.
Now a larger man spoke, slow and deep. «We have metal knives to protect ourselves against bandit gangs of felinas.»
«But it’s illegal. It’s heresy!»
«Let’s just say that Captain Herrero’s religion involves keeping his crew safe, and we like it that way.»
«But … there’s only one religion — the Kikihuahua Examples. And the Examples say that metal is cursed by Agni the Fire-God, and that people are happier without it.» She was staring at the knife. «And that thing proves the Examples are right. The knife is for killing.»
Now the first man said, «The knives were found in an old dwelling. They were not wrought by any Ranguan man. They’re used in an emergency if a sheet jams in a gale and the car is in danger.»
And the big man added, «And they’re used in defense.» He moved close to Karina. «How is your father, girl? Is he still plotting rebellion? Does he still think the felinos could run the sailways better themselves? Tell him this.» He reached out and gathered up a handful of her tunic and, his fingers biting into her breast, he pulled her close. «Tell him we’re ready. Tell him about the knives. Tell him we don’t fight any fairer than he does.» His face was a centimeter from hers and she could smell his breath, and feel the mist of saliva which accompanied his speech.
“ Little Friends,” she said to herself, blanking out her reaction to the man’s presence, “ don’t let me lose my temper.»
«Let her go, Antrez,” said one of the crew unhappily.
«And I tell you another thing, cat-girl,” said the big man. «If there’s any trouble from you people at the Tortuga Festival this year, why, me and my friends have arranged a little surprise. I suppose you and your kind think you’re the only ones who hunt in packs? Well, now, the next time you take it into your heads to attack a True Human, you’ll be making one hell of a mistake. This time, cat-girl, you’ll find us ready and waiting.»