Flandry looked up. And up. Plastic rungs had been set into the ancient rough bark. At intervals a platform, ornamented with flowering creepers, offered a breathing spell. But the climb would be long. He sighed and followed his guide.
When he reached the lowest branch, he saw it stretch like a road, outward and curving gradually up. There were no rails. Looking down, he spied earth dizzily far beneath him, and gulped. This close to the leaves, he heard their rustling loud and clear, everywhere around; they made a green gloom, unrestful with a thousand flickering candle-flames of reflection. He saw buildings along the branch, nestled into its forks or perched on swaying ancillary limbs. They were living houses, woven together of parasitic grasses like enormous reeds rooted in the bark-graceful domes and hemicylinders, with wind flapping dyed straw curtains in their doorways. Against the trunk itself stood a long peak-roofed structure of blossoming sod.
“What’s that?” asked Flandry.
Djuanda said in an awed whisper, almost lost under the leaf-voices: “The shrine. The gods are there, and a tunnel cut deep into the wood. When a boy is grown, he enters that tunnel for a night. I may not say more.”
“The rest are public buildings, storehouses and processing plants and so on,” said Tembesi with an obvious desire to turn the conversation elsewhere. “Let us climb further, to where people dwell.”
The higher they ascended, the more light and airy it became. There the buildings were smaller, often gaily patterned. They stood in clusters where boughs forked; a few were attached to the main trunk. The dwellers were about, running barefoot along even the thin and quivering outermost parts as if this were solid ground. Only very young children were restricted, by leash or wattle fence. Physically, this tribe was no different from any other on Unan Besar; their costume varied in mere details of batik; even most of the homely household tasks their women carried out, or the simple furniture glimpsed through uncurtained doorways, was familiar. Their uniqueness was at once more subtle and more striking. It lay in dignified courtesy, which glanced at the newcomers with frank interest but did not nudge or stare, which softened speech and made way for a neighbor coming down a narrow limb. It lay in the attitude toward leaders like Tembesi, respectful but not subservient; in laughter more frequent and less shrill than elsewhere; in the plunk of a samisen, as a boy sat vine-crowned, swinging his feet over windy nothingness and serenading his girl.
“I see flats of vegetables here and there,” Flandry remarked. “Where are the big crops you spoke of, Djuanda?”
“You can see one of our harvesting crews a few more boughs up, Captain.”
Flandry groaned.
The sight was picturesque, though. From the outer twigs hung chenoid beards, not unlike Spanish moss. Groups of men went precariously near, using hooks and nets to gather it in. Flandry felt queasy just watching them, but they seemed merry enough at their appalling work. The stuff was carried down by other men to a processing shed, where it would yield the antipyretic drug (Unan Besar had more than one disease!) which was the chief local cash crop.
There were other sources of food, fiber, and income. Entire species of lesser trees and bushes grew on the big ones; mutation and selection had made them useful to man. Semi-domesticated fowl nestled where a share of eggs could be taken. Eventually, branches turned sick; pruning them, cutting them up, treating the residues, amounted to an entire lumber and plastics industry. Bark worms and burrowing insects were a good source of protein, Flandry was assured-though admittedly hunting and fishing down in the ground was more popular.
It was obvious why the planet had only this one stand of titans. The species was moribund, succumbing to a hundred parasitic forms which evolved faster than its own defenses. Now man had established a kind of symbiosis, preserving these last few: one of the rare cases where he had actually helped out nature. And so, thought Flandry, even if I’m not much for bucolic surroundings myself, I’ve that reason also to like the people of Ranau.
Near the very top, where branches were more sparse and even the bole swayed a little, Tembesi halted. A plank platform supported a reed hut overgrown with purple-blooming creepers. “This is for the use of newly wed couples, who need some days’ privacy,” he said. “But I trust you and your wife will consider it your own, Captain, for as long as you honor our clan with your presence.”
“Wife?” Flandry blinked. Luang suppressed a grin. Well… solid citizens like these doubtless had equally well-timbered family lives. No reason to disillusion them. “I thank you,” he bowed. “Will you not enter with me?”
Tembesi smiled and shook his head. “You are tired and wish to rest, Captain. There are food and drink within for your use. Later we will pester you with formal invitations. Shall we say tonight, an hour after sunset-you will dine at my house? Anyone can guide you there.”
“And we’ll hear your plans!” cried Djuanda.
Tembesi remained calm; but it flamed in his eyes. “If the Captain so desires.”
He bowed. “Good rest, then. Ah-friend Kemul-you are invited to stay with me.”
The mugger looked around. “Why not here?” he said belligerently.
“This cabin only has one room.”
Kemul stood hunched, legs planted wide apart, arms dangling. He swung his hideous face back and forth, as if watching for an attack. “Luang,” he said, “why did we ever snag the Terran?”
The girl struck a light to her cigarette. “I thought it would be interesting,” she shrugged. “Now do run along.”
A moment more Kemul stood, then shuffled to the platform’s edge and down the ladder.
Flandry entered the cabin with Luang. It was cheerfully furnished. The floorboards rocked and vibrated; leaves filled it with an ocean noise. “Cosmos, how I can sleep!” he said.
“Aren’t you hungry?” asked Luang. She approached an electric brazier next to a pantry. “I could make you some dinner.” With a curiously shy smile: “We wives have to learn cooking.”
“I suspect I’m a better cook than you are,” he laughed, and went to wash up. Running water was available, though at this height it must be pumped from a cistern thirty meters below. There was even a hot tap. Djuanda had mentioned an extensive use of solar cells in this community as its prime energy source. The Terran stripped off his bedraggled finery, scrubbed, flopped on the bed, and tumbled into sleep.
Luang shook him awake hours later. “Get up, we’ll be late for supper.” He yawned and slipped on a kilt laid out for him. To hell, with anything else. She was equally informal, except for a blossom in her hair. They walked out on the platform.
A moment they paused, then, to look. There weren’t many more branches above them; they could see through the now faintly shining leaves to a deep blue-black sky and the earliest stars. The Tree foamed with foliage on either hand and below. It was like standing above a lake and hearing the waters move. Once in a while Flandry glimpsed phosphor globes, hung on twigs far underfoot. But such lighting was more visible on the next Tree, whose vast shadowy mass twinkled with a hundred firefly lanterns. Beyond was the night.
Luang slipped close to him. He felt her shoulder as a silken touch along his arm. “Give me a smoke, will you?” she asked. “I am out.”
“Fraid I am too.”
“Damn!” Her curse was fervent.
“Want one that bad?”
“Yes. I do not like this place.”
“Why, I think it’s pleasant.”
“Too much sky. Not enough people. None of them my kind of people. Gods! Why did I ever tell Kemul to intercept you?”