So Billin slumped his shoulders, then looked up at the crowd again and said, "Never mind. I don't care what you do. Stay here and keep digging for the damned iron and wait for the sand to come again. But I'm going. Because even if I'm crazy and there's nothing out there, it's better to die looking for something than to die here in the sand, with the wind to dry us out because we've lost our power even to bury or burn the dead."
And then Billin let himself fall backward and slide down the dune to where Cirith caught him and cradled his head. The crowd stayed for a while, then went back to their homes to begin sweeping out the dust.
That night the wind came up again, as hard as ever, and the dust came back in and hung in the houses.
And the next morning at dawn Billin, Cirith and their two children loaded pitifully scrawny packs on their backs and left their house. They walked west to the stream and then set their faces south, uphill into the shadeless trees that had been stripped by the storms.
They had not gone more than a hundred meters when they heard a hoarse cry behind them. Billin turned and saw Serret and Rebo and their two surviving children (one from each set of twins) also loaded with meager packs.
"Wait for us!" Serret called again.
They waited.
"Billin, may we go with you?" Serret asked.
"I thought you didn't believe me," Billin said.
Rebo shrugged. "Does it matter whether we believe you?"
Billin smiled, a dry, ghastly grin, he knew, but the first time he had smiled in weeks. "Come along then."
They went up the stream all day. Gradually, as the miles went by, the sand grew less, and the stream was deeper, better to drink. They filled their waterbags and went on (after drinking deeply and pouring the clean water on their heads). And finally they came to a place where the stream bent to the west and their path went to the east a little.
Billin went to a tree that bore a small cut, and with his knife made the cut deeper and more plain. He turned the mark into an arrow, pointing the way they went. Then he looked ahead until he saw a tree with another small mark, and led them to it, where again he made the mark plainer. "In case others follow."
They were nearly out of food when they came to the mountains, but already the land was far greener, the trees and undergrowth lusher, water more plentiful. Billin killed a tree squirrel and they ate the meat. And while they camped there, with a fire and water enough to wash all over, two more families joined them.
"We saw your fire," they said, "and realized you weren't so far ahead as we had thought."
So they waited a few more days, killing more squirrels and catching some small freshwater fish in a mountain lake one of them found while exploring the area. And when they finally left, heading downhill this time, there were thirty of them, counting women and children — half of the colony. Billin knew now that he hadn't dreamed — everything was as he had remembered it, and he couldn't stop talking about what they would find at the bottom of the mountains.
And after another week they reached the end of the craggy paths and found themselves by a placid bay, with a coldwater river rushing down, and fruit trees and berries so thick around that there was hardly need to plant. Of course they did plant, because one never knew what other seasons might be like in a place like this — but who needed to bother with watering and tending the fields, when they knew the seeds would grow and the harvest would come without worry?
And Billin's children stopped wearing clothing as they played in the sun, day after day.
Over the weeks more and more people came down the mountains and into the village, where the only houses were roofs — no walls were needed, and the roofs were just to keep a few things dry when the rains fell, and to keep the sun off during the heat of the day.
At last Billin counted who was there and realized that between those who had died and those who were there, only seven people remained unaccounted for: Stipock, Wix, and Hoom and Dilna with their three children.
He told Cirith.
"Will they come, too, do you think?" she asked.
"I don't think so," Billin said. "What would they do here? The only way they know how to live is by telling other people what to do."
"You tell people what to do."
Billin laughed. "Only when they want to work. We built a boat — so what! Those who wanted to work on it did. The rest just did as they pleased. Next week maybe we'll go over to that other place across the water. Who knows? Who cares?"
"I see, now. You're just lazy." She laughed.
"Of course," Billin said. "And you're just fat."
Cirith looked ruefully at her bulging stomach. "I was hoping I was going to have a baby, but my time of month began yesterday, so it isn't that."
"It's berries. Always when I kiss you you taste like berries," Billin said.
Then they made love, without particularly caring that their house had no walls and that it was daytime. No one particularly looked. And when they were through, Cirith went naked to the stream to get water.
"Cirith, you forgot your clothes," Billin said reproachfully when she came back.
"I know," she said. "But who needs them in this heat? We all know what human bodies look like, don't we?"
And they laughed, joking about what life was like for all the poor people back in Heaven City who had to wear clothes to stay warm and who had to work in order to eat, who always tried to keep learning things.
"Who cares if you can read and write?" Billin asked. "I never knew anyone who said anything worth writing down."
And Cirith only belched and then left him, trotting down to swim naked in the bay. Billin joined her and swam for hours, mostly lying on his back in the water looking at the white sky, wondering what Jason would think if he could see them now. Probably tell them that people were only human when they were working to achieve something. Like Stipock — have a goal, have a purpose. Well, to hell with them, Billin thought, and then he laughed so loud that he swallowed seawater and had to paddle in to shore, coughing and sputtering all the way. To hell with them, he thought again as he lay in the warm sand of the shore. And tomorrow I'll explore that other land. Or the next day, maybe.
14
STIPOCK WOKE early one morning, and because there was no wind he dressed and left his house and walked among the dying houses of the village. He went from door to door, and almost every one was hanging on its hinges, or blown off, and no one was there to make repairs. At last he came to Hoom's and Dilna's house, and knocked, and they let him come in and sit on one of the beds as they served the small breakfast they had to Cammar and Bessa and Dallat. The children looked gaunt and old, and no one seemed to have the energy to speak or make a sound.
Wix came a little later, and sat beside Stipock on the bed, and said. "We're the last."
Breakfast done, there was little to do worth doing. No one had worked the mine for a month or more, and it was doubtless completely blocked by sand. The pitiful amount of iron they had taken from the hill this year was not enough to encourage them to dig for more. And Hoom voiced all their thoughts when he said, "If only we could eat iron."
Wix patted his trouser leg and dust rose into the air. Outside there was only a small breeze. The sand lay undisturbed, but the dust rose into the air, seeped through the many cracks in the house. Cammar kept sneezing.