“. . because it was only last night that Coliqueo was attacked.”
“I hope he was killed.”
“When we left he was alive, trying to renegotiate everlasting peace.”
“What a shame. I suspect that all this activity is because a certain diamond is due to change hands. .”
Although Gauna did not move a muscle, his aroused wariness struck Clarke like a hammer blow. Pillán went on:
“. . a diamond that belongs to us: the Legibrerian Hare.”
“You know what it is?”
The chieftain gave a fleeting smile.
“Yes and no. Of course, the stone does not exist. Yet even so, it belongs to us.”
“I don’t understand. Could you explain?”
“It’s quite simple. Doubtless in the distant past a tiny diamond was discovered in our carboniferous deposits — or perhaps not even that was necessary. What is beyond doubt is that one of our legendary tales concerns a hare that was fleeing across the plains to escape from a crazy horse that wanted to eat it, and it fell down a hole. Down and down it fell through the darkness, and its eyes puffed up more and more, while it saw scenes that are an important part of the story, but which I won’t bore you with now; by the time it reached the bottom, it had been transformed into a diamond. A naturalist explanation of the story would involve the transformation of carbon into diamond as a result of pressure. . though now that I come to think of it, it’s a good example of what I was saying earlier: the star in the bottom of the pit, the transmutation of the opaque into the transparent, the chase of words after meaning. . I don’t know if that’s made it any clearer for you.”
The three men’s stay in the cavern went on for an indeterminate length of time; it could have been a day, or a week. They ate, bathed in the placid waters of the springs, until finally they felt the need to depart. As they were taking their leave, Carlos asked the chief if he had ever heard of such and such a girl, pregnant, with a pretty face, who went by the name of Yñuy. No. They had never heard the name, or known of anyone by that description. By contrast, they did know of someone else the three of them had described, and as luck would have it the men who were to take them back to the open air, led by the very outgoing Equimoxis, were on a mission to find out more about him: this was none other than the famous Wanderer.
“Who is he?” Clarke asked with interest.
“I wish we knew. He appeared a few days ago, and we’re very worried by him.”
This was surprising. How had they of all people become aware of this always distant and fleeting presence? And how could he affect them? Both questions, Pillán explained, could be answered together. Clarke reflected that it was only when guests had their hand on the doorknob to leave that the conversation became really interesting.
“The underground world,” said Pillán, “is not strictly speaking autonomous (nothing is); nor have we ever lived under the illusion that it was. It is a temporary ‘parallel,’ whose worth changes daily according to its face value. That is why we are so alert to the changing circumstances outside, because to a certain extent we are those circumstances. And if it is true that news flies, it is no less true that it also sinks to the depths at an incredible speed. The ‘surprise guest’ is always a latent possibility. This strange Wanderer has come to fill a gap created not by the circumstances but by the system itself. I can’t say that we were expecting him, but nor can I say the opposite. He would appear to represent a complex of speeds, distances, and directions inherent to the surface world, a world upon which, as I’m sure you understand, our depths depend. Please don’t see us as excessively intellectual — far from it! — just because we are so interested in what might seem a tiny, distant variation in the logical ordering of the plains; it’s vital for us.”
“Is there some relation,” Clarke wanted to know, “between him and that. . gem?”
“As I think I told you, the gem does not exist. Our brothers in the parallel world are chasing, bedazzled, after a fiction.”
“What do you believe then is really at stake in all this?”
“Don’t get me started on philosophical explanations again. .”
“You’re right, we’ll say goodbye then. Farewell.”
“Farewell.”
“And thank you for your hospitality.”
“Don’t mention it. But we didn’t even get to talk of speleology!”
Clarke burst out laughing. Carlos asked him:
“What’s that?”
“I’ll explain to you later. Farewell, farewell.”
Equimoxis led the way up to the cave mouth. He was with another ten or so Indians, all of them warmly dressed. As they were leaving the great chamber, the three of them turned to give it one last look: as ever, it was filled with a calm grandeur. They started on the upward path. This time of course, it cost them more effort than when they had come down; before they had even reached halfway, the group was like a chamber orchestra of panting. They halted to get their breath back. Clarke asked Equimoxis who they were going to consult for information about the Wanderer. Equimoxis told him of some mint-growers who were their usual informants. They were normally to be found near the cave entrance, which made things all the easier for the Indians.
“In that case,” said Clarke, “we won’t be traveling together.”
They renewed their climb, and eventually an intense light shone above their heads. It was daylight. They took the final stretch very slowly, so that their eyes could readjust. The light seemed to fade while they were doing so, and once they were outside they discovered that this was in fact what had happened, because it was late afternoon. By the time they were out in the open, the sun had set. Even so, the luminosity made them hesitate. Their horses were nearby: the Indian called Josecito said he had kept them in the shade and well-watered. As they were no longer accustomed to them, their horses seemed like huge, clumsy beasts. But they were soon in the saddle and ready to take possession of the pampa once more, as it stretched out beneath their feet — or rather, those of their mounts — in the gentle blues and pinks of the sunset. The Indians looked tiny. After the customary bowing and scraping, they said farewell. Then they were on the move again. Within a matter of seconds they had resumed their usual positions, with Gauna a hundred yards up ahead, Clarke and his young friend conversing as they rode side by side, and the troop of horses bringing up the rear. The pace was brisk.
“What did you make of them?” Clarke asked Carlos.
“I thought they were delightful. So simple, so open. . it’s incredible that they should kill each other six times a year. Lucky we were there during a truce.”
“Who knows whether that was true?”
“They didn’t get all those scars from embroidering.”
“Are my eyes deceiving me, or is Gauna getting further and further ahead?”
“He’s in a hurry.”
“He thinks he has reason to be. I’ll tell you later the complicated nonsense he’s got into his head. He was explaining it to me while we were with Coliqueo.”
“Is it something to do with the Widow?”
“Correct: he claims she is his half-sister, and is planning to steal a family diamond from him. .”
“Ah, this time he really has gone crazy!”
“Let’s change the subject. He might be listening to us, and his hearing’s as sharp as a bat’s.”
“By the way, where are we heading?”
“After the Widow; where else?”
“Well, after all it could be an interesting experience. We’ve had forty already. .”
“And as the Widow is only forty-one. .”
They laughed like schoolchildren. The sky was turning a deep blue, the land was dark. A partridge gave Clarke a shock, and this brought fresh laughter from Carlos. The stars came out, like faithful old friends. They reached a spot where a skunk had fought an armadillo, and galloped on until they got away from the ghastly smell.