"I'm surprised it took them so long."
"I'm surprised Curt didn't brain an Oankali before he left."
Nodding in agreement, Lilith stepped around her and put down her load of wood.
Tate followed and again planted herself in Lilith's path.
"What?" Lilith asked.
"We're going too. Tonight." She kept her voice very low-though no doubt more than one Oankali heard her.
"Where?"
"We don't know. Either we'll find the others or we won't. We'll find something-or make something."
"Just the two of you?"
"Four of us. Maybe more."
Lilith frowned, not knowing how to feel. She and Tate had become friends. Wherever Tate was going, she would not escape. If she did not injure herself or anyone else, she would probably be back.
"Listen," Tate said, "I'm not just telling you for the hell of it. We want you to go with us."
Lilith steered her away from the center of the camp. The Oankali would hear no matter what they did, but there was no need to involve other humans.
"Gabe has already talked to Joe," Tate said. "We want-"
"Gabe what!"
"Shut up! You want to tell everyone? Joe said he'd go. Now what about you?"
Lilith stared at her hostilely. "What about me?"
"I need to know now. Gabe wants to leave soon."
"If I leave with you, we'll leave after breakfast tomorrow morning."
Tate, being Tate, said nothing. She smiled.
"I didn't say I was going. All I mean is that there's no reason to sneak away in the night and step on a coral snake or something. It's pitch black out there at night."
"Gabe thinks we'll have more time before they discover we're gone."
"Where's his mind-and yours? Leave tonight and they'll notice you're gone by tomorrow morning-if you don't wake everyone on your way out by tripping over something or someone. Leave tomorrow morning and they won't notice you're gone until tomorrow night at dinner." She shook her head. "Not that they'll care. They haven't so far. But if you want to slip away, at least do it in a way that will give you a chance to find shelter before nightfall-or in case it rains."
"When it rains," Tate said. "It always rains sooner or later. We thought. . . maybe once we were clear of this place, we'd cross the river, head north, keep heading north until we found a dryer, cooler climate."
"If we are on Earth, Tate, considering what was done to Earth and especially to the northern hemisphere, south would be a better direction."
Tate shrugged. "You don't get a vote unless you come with us."
"I'll talk to Joe."
"But--''
"And you ought to get Gabe to help you with your acting. I haven't said a thing you and Gabe hadn't already thought of. Neither of you is stupid. And you, at least, are no good at bullshitting people."
Characteristically, Tate laughed. "I used to be." She sobered. "Okay, yeah. We've pretty much worked out the best way of doing it-tomorrow morning and south and with someone who probably knows how to stay alive in this country better than anyone but the Oankali."
There was a silence.
"We really are on an island, you know," Lilith said.
"No, I don't know," Tate answered. "But I'm willing to take your word for it. We'll have to cross the river."
"And in spite of what we see on what seems to be the other side, I believe we'll find a wall over there."
"In spite of the sun, the moon and the stars? In spite of the rain and the trees that have obviously been here for hundreds of years?"
Lilith sighed. "Yes."
"All because the Oankali said so."
"And because of what I saw and felt before I Awoke you."
"What the Oankali let you see and made you feel. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff Kahguyaht has made me feel."
"Wouldn't I?"
"I mean, you can't trust what they do to your senses!"
"I knew Nikanj when it was too young to do anything to my senses without my being aware of it."
Tate looked away, stared toward the river where the glint of water could still be seen. The sun-artificial or real-had not quite vanished and the river looked browner than ever.
"Look," she said, "I don't mean anything by this, but I have to say it. You and Nikanj. . ." She let her voice die, abruptly looked at Lilith as though demanding a response. "Well?"
"Well, what?''
"You're closer to him-to it-than we are to Kahguyaht. You..."
Lilith stared at her silently.
"Hell, all I mean is, if you won't go with us, don't try to stop us."
"Has anyone tried to stop anyone from leaving?"
"Just don't say anything. That's all."
"Maybe you are stupid," Lilith said softly.
Tate looked away again and shrugged. "I promised Gabe I'd get you to promise."
"Why?"
"He thinks if you give your word, you'll keep it."
"Otherwise, I'll run and tell, right?"
"I'm beginning not to care what you do."
Lilith shrugged, turned and started back toward camp. It seemed to take Tate several seconds to see that she meant it. Then she ran after Lilith, pulled her back away from the camp.
"All right, I'm sorry you're insulted," Tate rasped. "Now are you going or aren't you?"
"You know the breadnut tree up the bank-the big one?"
"Yes?"
"If we're going, we'll meet you there after breakfast tomorrow."
"We won't wait long."
"Okay."
Lilith turned and walked back to camp. How many Oankali had heard the exchange? One? A few? All of them? No matter. Nikanj would know in minutes. So it would have time to send for Ahajas and Dichaan. It would not have to sit and go catatonic like the others.
In fact, she still wondered why the others had not done it. Surely they had known that their chosen humans were leaving. Kahguyaht would know. What would it do?
Something occurred to her suddenly-a memory of tribal people sending their sons out to live for a while alone in the forest or desert or whatever as a test of manhood.
Boys of a certain age who had been taught how to live in the environment were sent out to prove what they had learned.
Was that it? Train the humans in the basics, then let them go out on their own when they were ready?
Then why the catatonic ooloi?
"Lilith?"
She jumped, then stopped and let Joseph catch up with her. They walked together to the fire where people were sharing baked yams and Brazil nuts from a tree someone had stumbled upon.
"Did you talk to Tate?" he asked. She nodded.
"What did you tell her?" "That I'd talk to you." Silence.
"What do you want to do?" she asked.
"Go."
She stopped, turned to look at him, but his face told her nothing.
"Would you leave me?" she whispered.
"Why would you stay? To be with Nikanj?"
"Would you leave me?"
"Why would you stay?" The whispered words had the impact of a shout.
"Because this is a ship. Because there's nowhere to run."
He looked up at the bright half moon and at the first scattering of stars. "I've got to see for myself," he said softly. "This feels like home. Even though I've never been in a tropical forest before in my life, but this smells and tastes and looks like home."
" . . . I know." "I've got to see!" "Yes."
"Don't make me leave you."
She seized his hand as though it were an animal about to escape.
"Come with us!" he whispered.
She closed her eyes, shutting out the forest and the sky, the people talking quietly around the fire, the Oankali, several physically joined in silent conversation. How many of the Oankali had heard what she and Joseph were saying? None of them behaved as though they had heard.
"All right," she said softly. "I'll go."
4
Joseph and Lilith found no one waiting at the breadnut tree after breakfast the next morning. Lilith had seen Gabriel leave camp, carrying a large basket, his ax, and his machete as though intending to chop wood. People did that as they saw need just as Lilith took her own machete, ax, and baskets and went to gather forest foods when she saw need. She took people with her when she wanted to teach and went alone when she wanted to think.