Three days passed. I won't describe them. I could say I don't remember them, but that's dodging the truth. Even if I can't list what I did, I remember every hour deep in my bones: grieving, raging, raving. I can return to that darkness anytime I want; stand over the pit and look down, shivering with the same furies and regrets. Now and then I deliberately turn back to those days — lift the lid to reassure myself I have not forgotten. At other times the memory rises unbidden; I find myself blurting out, "I'm sorry!" in the silence of an empty room.
The taste is still bitter.
Oar took care of me in her way: alternating between earnest attempts to comfort me and annoyed impatience when I wouldn't "stop being foolish." Sometimes she would storm off, calling me a stupid fucking Explorer who was very, very boring. Later she would come back and hold me, rocking me in her arms as she searched for words to bring me back from wherever I was. She fed me; she told me when I had to wash; she slept beside me after I fell into bed from exhaustion.
When I awoke the fourth day… I won't say I was better or over my breakdown, because that makes me sound stronger than I was. I felt as fragile as an eggshell; but a tiny part of me was ready again for the future.
By the time Oar woke up, I was rewatching the broadcast from Chee and Seele. This time, I paid attention to the maps.
Geography
As I had seen from space, the lower half of this continent was a wide prairie basin, bounded to the south by an arc of mountains and to the north by the three-lake chain stretching well into the heartland. The more I thought about the layout, the more it reminded me of Old Earth's North America: the Great Lakes in the middle of the continent with forest-covered shield to the north and grassy plains to the south. The parallels weren't exact, but they were disturbing, as if someone had superimposed Earth's ecology onto another planet's plate tectonics.
In terrestrial terms, I was close to the south shore of the lowermost Great Lake — call it Lake Erie — and the city Chee and Seele described lay several hundred klicks to the south, somewhere in the mountains along the "Caribbean" coast.
The trip from here to there looked suspiciously simple. The region immediately below the lake had a good growth of forest (slightly thinned by Oar); but a few days travel would bring me to open grassland, and from there it was an easy walk all the way to my destination.
No doubt there would be difficulties — rivers to cross, wild animals to avoid — and winter could start snowing down in a few weeks. By then, however, I'd be substantially closer to the equator. If Melaquin's weather patterns were comparable to Earth's, I might miss the snow entirely.
As the broadcast ended, I finished scribbling in my notebook: Seele's description of how to find the entrance to the subterranean city. Between now and the next broadcast, I would check the best food synthesizer Jelca left behind and get the rest of my gear together. Then I'd listen to the loop one more time to make sure I had all the details correctly. Within an hour, I'd be ready to head south… except for one loose end.
"You are writing, Festina," Oar said. "Does that mean you are no longer crazed?"
Seeing the World
"When you are crazed," Oar continued, "you are a very boring person, Festina. You nearly drove me to lie down with my ancestors forever and ever."
"I'm glad you didn't," I told her. "I still feel three quarters crazed, but at least I've cried myself out. How are you?"
"I am not such a person as has difficulties," she answered, "except when you fucking Explorers make me bored or sad."
"Lucky you," I murmured.
She gave me a look of wounded dignity.
"All right," I sighed, "let's talk about important matters. Have you ever wanted to see the world?"
"I can see the world now, Festina. It is not invisible."
"See more of the world. How far have you traveled from your home here?"
"As far as far." She lowered her eyes. "When the other Explorers left with my sister — for some time I was… crazed like you. Later, I tried to follow them; perhaps I was crazed then too. I walked for many days in the direction they had gone, until finally I came to a river that was very wide and deep. It was not such a river as I could cross, but I tried anyway. That is how I know what drowning is like, Festina. It is very unpleasant. I was lucky the river had a strong current — it carried my body along till I washed up on shore. The same shore I left. I thought about trying to cross again, but I lacked the courage."
She glanced up quickly, as if to check whether I was sneering at her as a coward. "You made a wise decision," I assured her.
"I did not feel wise. I felt sad and lonely. I sat on the bank of that river for many days, wondering how my sister got across. We are not such creatures as swim. But perhaps Explorer Jelca pulled her through the water, just as you pulled me out of the lake. He might have wrapped his arms around her and helped her away."
For a moment or two, we both brooded silently over that mental image.
My Native Guide
"All right," I said at last, "you've traveled before. Would you like to do it again?"
"What do you mean, Festina?"
"I know where Jelca and Ullis went. I want to go there too, and I'd like you to come with me. My native guide."
"We would see Explorer Jelca?"
"And Ullis and your sister," I added, too sharply. "What's your sister's name anyway?"
"I call her Eel," Oar answered. "An eel is an unpleasant kind of fish."
"Is that her real name?" I asked suspiciously.
"Yes," Oar replied. In a lower voice she added, "At one time, I did not think eel-fish were so bad."
I hid a smile. "Would you like to go with me, Oar? I could use your help."
"Is that true? I would be helpful to an Explorer?"
"Absolutely. You've helped me the past few days, haven't you?"
"That is different, Festina — you were crazed. Now that you are an Explorer again, you are not such a person as needs help from me."
I looked at her closely. Her head was lowered, her posture crumpled. Hesitantly, I patted her shoulder; today, her skin felt cool under my fingers. "The other Explorers made you feel useless… is that it?"
"You do too, Festina." She didn't lift her head. "You know many clever things. Even when you are being stupid, you make me fear I am the one who does not understand. You can swim and make fires; you can use your seeing machine. And you know the names of plants and animals — you talked about them when you were crazed. I have lived here all my life and do not know such names. You know more about my world than I do." Suddenly, she raised her eyes and looked straight at me. "How do you think I will help you, Festina? Do you just need someone for bed games? That is the only thing Explorers do not like to do by themselves."
"Oar…" When I met Jelca, he was going to have a lot of explaining to do. "Oar, I need you to help carry things. It's not glamorous, but it's important — you're much stronger than I am. And I'll teach you other things as we go along. Besides," I added, "I'll be lonely and sad if I go on my own. I need company, and I'd like it to be you."
"Festina," Oar said, "are you telling the truth? Maybe you just feel bad about going away, and you say, 'Come along, Oar,' because you are sorry for me. I do not want to burden you, Festina. It is sad being alone, but it is worse being with someone who hates you."
"I don't hate you now, and I won't hate you ever. Listen, Oar. If I went without you, I'd be alone with my thoughts for weeks on end. I couldn't stand that — not right now. With you along, I'll stay sane… probably moody as hell, but I'll cope. Besides, Explorers never set out alone if they can help it. Solo missions are a hundred times more dangerous than taking a partner."