As Vorish walked along the central avenue of the native village, cordially exchanging greetings with the natives he passed, he noticed Talitha Warr seated a short distance up one of the curving side streets. Beside her was a child swathed in blankets, and her attitude was grave and intense.
He turned aside and sat down beside her. “What do we have here?” he asked, scrutinizing the child’s small, serious face.
“It’s something new,” she said. “A number of the children have come down with it, and we haven’t been able to figure out what it is.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
“We don’t know. They get sick and they stay sick, and we haven’t the facilities to handle an epidemic. All of our beds at the center are filled.”
“Are only the children affected?”
She nodded. “The young children. They’re a stubbornly healthy people, but this world has some very peculiar diseases.”
Vorish took leave of her and walked on up the central avenue.
At the isolated hut beyond the village, Fornri stepped out to meet him. They touched hands, and Vorish unfolded a large map onto a gourd table.
“Did Aric tell you what I wanted to talk about?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“This is a map of Wembling’s construction site and the land beyond it. He wants to push the perimeter back into the forest so he can clear land for a golf course. Do you know what golf is?”
“Airk explained it to me,” Fornri said.
“If you don’t see the point, don’t let that bother you. Some people who play the game don’t see the point. This new territory would lengthen the perimeter enormously, and I’ve already told Wembling I haven’t sufficient men. I think he’ll go ahead and use his own men for guards.”
“Perhaps we could ask our attorneys to make a suit about this golf course,” Fornri said. “The charter says Mr. Wembling can develop our world’s natural resources. Is golf a natural resource?”
“I don’t know,” Vorish said. “It sounds like the sort of question attorneys would enjoy immensely. By all means suggest it to them. This is what I wanted to see you about. There’s an abandoned village in the forest.” He pointed to the map. “Here. Did Wembling move your people out of there?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Vorish said, grinning ruefully. “If he’d forced your people from their homes, I could have done something about it. Why is this village off by itself in the forest when all the others are located on the coast?”
“It is the village of our teacher, and it is no longer in use.”
“Teacher?” Vorish echoed blankly. “What sort of teacher?”
“Every sort,” Fornri said with a smile.
“You interest me.” Vorish helped himself to a gourd chair. “Tell me honestly. Does this village have some special meaning for you?”
“It has a very special meaning.”
“Teacher? Guru? Philosopher? Prophet? A very special meaning, you say.”
“Yes. Very special.”
“And a village with a very special meaning—especially if the teacher is a religious leader—can become a shrine,” Vorish suggested. “Could we say that you left it exactly as it was in memory of your teacher?”
“Yes. That is true.”
“And you have permitted no feet to profane it since his parting. I like that. It just might be the angle I’ve been looking for.” He grinned at Fornri. “I think I’m going to get you some time for your Plan. I also think I’m going to get my report unfiled.”
On his way out of the village Vorish encountered Aric Hort, and the two of them walked together toward Vorish’s boat.
“Did you see the sick children?” Hort asked.
“Miss Warr was telling me about them. I gather that this world has some rather peculiar diseases.”
Hort turned on him furiously. “There wouldn’t be any disease if the children weren’t weak from hunger. The whole population is weak from hunger, but the children are the most susceptible to the disease. Neither she nor her precious doctor will face up to that.”
Vorish said, “As long as there’s no proof—”
“When the koluf catch is down more than a fourth, what more proof do you want?”
“Have the natives consented to your experiment?”
“We’ll start tomorrow.”
“Strange anyone should have to be hungry on such a fertile world,” Vorish mused, looking at the magnificent growth of forest.
“Don’t you know that human food won’t grow here?”
“No. I hadn’t heard that.”
“When we first came here I got Wembling to import all kinds of seeds,” Hort said. “The few things that grew were mutated and nutritionally suspect.”
“So the natives are forced to eat koluf, which would be a wonderful fate if they had enough of it.”
“Right. The water activity by construction and naval personnel, the machinery and construction noises transmitted through the water, the pollutants that are dumped offshore—all this and maybe other things are driving the koluf into deep water where the natives can’t catch them. The situation is going to get a lot worse, and it may never get better because once the resort opens the tourists will ruin the hunting grounds much more thoroughly. Yes, the natives are hungry, and the children are showing the effects of it first.”
“Strange,” Vorish said. “One would think the medical center would detect a thing like that immediately and do something about it.”
Hort said bitterly, “The most the medical center can do is make it possible for the natives to starve to death in perfect health.”
On his return, Vorish went to see Wembling. “About that golf course,” he said. “What do you plan to do with the native village?”
“Knock it down,” Wembling told him. “It’s abandoned. Probably it’s been years since the natives have used it.”
“Let’s go have a look at it,” Vorish suggested.
Wembling went willingly. Probably he hoped to persuade Vorish to extend the perimeter. His machines, well guarded, already were biting deeply into the forest. Wembling led the way around them and along a path that led to the village. It consisted of an oval-shaped clearing with a cluster of native dwellings at one end.
“See? It’s just an abandoned village,” Wembling said.
He began poking into the huts. Vorish, looking about him, saw an utterly strange object: native cloth stretched between two trees and plastered with a smooth layer of clay, and the dried clay bristled with mathematical symbols. “What the devil’s this?” he exclaimed.
Wembling emerged from a hut. “It’s been abandoned for years,” he called to Vorish. “Anyway, I couldn’t possibly leave it here. It’s right on the eighth green.”
Vorish was staring at the math symbols. “Why—it’s a problem in celestial navigation! Then this is a teacher’s village! But what would the natives want with mathematics on this order?” He turned away shaking his head.
Vorish joined Wembling as he emerged from investigating another hut. “Sorry,” Vorish said. “I can’t let you touch this place without the natives’ permission.”
Wembling playfully prodded him in the ribs. “Don’t be silly. You wouldn’t tie up my whole project for a few grass huts. Let the natives sue me. The court won’t stop me—it’ll just award them the value of the huts, which can’t amount to more than a credit and a half, and the suit will cost them fifty thousand. The faster they use up their money, the sooner they’ll stop harassing me.”
Vorish said sternly, “The navy is not here for your exclusive use. My orders specifically call for the protection of the natives and their property, just as I protect you and your property. Maybe the court won’t stop you, but I will.”