Homeward

4 - The Garden

Fortunately for my still-grumpy ankle, the robot did not have to lead us very far until we found something worth looking for. As we walked, the ground slowly became steeper until I had to start bracing myself on roots and small branches as we climbed downward. That significantly slowed down my travel speed, which seemed to start annoying the bot. It would zoom back and forth between where Talson and I struggled to find our way and whatever it was heading for a few hundred yards ahead. Or rather, a few hundred yards down.

Talson began to wriggle inside my coat pocket. I guess I had started squeezing him too tightly as I tried to make my way down the slope. That, and by this point any berries that fell off of trees would surely have rolled down the slope; we hadn't had a bite to eat in a few hours. Even though we hadn't been threatened by anything more ominous than a sharp twig during this last part of our journey, I still didn't want to let the little fellow go. After seeing his defense against the gralnak, he was my best defense against any predators that might show up ahead. And, well, I had become attached to the little guy.

"Come on!" I said under my breath, speaking as much to myself as to the robot. "Slow down. No need to rush!" The constant flitting up and away of the bot was becoming exasperating, like someone tapping their foot at you, but I noted with some surprise that I did not feel physically tired in the slightest. That was strange, given that it still wasn't long after my three day sojourn in the tree, and that I had eaten nothing but berries since waking up on this planet.

"Probably the gravity," I said, giving voice to my own inner monologue. At just that moment, Talson's annoyed wiggling turned into an all-out scramble inside my coat. I realized that the only reason he wasn't screaming me into catatonia was because, inside my pocket, he couldn't extend his neck frills and create the right sort of resonance. Still, the low, grumbling sound emanating from his gizzard was certainly enough to voice his displeasure at me. Thankfully he had neither teeth nor claws with which to cut through the cloth of my coat and he was unable to escape.

That thought made me stop mid-step. There I was, practically falling down this hillside, abusing a creature I had kidnapped.

I braced myself against a dead branch and loosened my arm-hold on the front of my coat, giving more room to Talson. The rumbling sound lessened immediately.

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry," I said, cautiously putting my hand into the pocket and fishing for a grip on the monkey-lizard. I slowly inhaled through gritted teeth, knowing that, despite Talson's own lack of teeth, I definitely wouldn't appreciate having my finger bitten. I grabbed him under his legs and pulled him out...

There was a stump nearby, leaning almost totally sideways on the slope, and I placed Talson on top of it. He had ended his protests, and quickly settled down where I lay him, a little like a cat settling in for a self-important nap. "Good, that's better."

I had been focused on following after the robot for quite a while, so I took a moment to get my bearings. We were definitely headed toward some sort of ravine, if we hadn't already passed into one. There were still trees all around us, blocking my view, but these were no longer the super-tall, mega-wide trees like the one I had been caught in. These were more like squat bushes growing sideways out of the hillside. The ground was grey rocks and brown detritus instead of soft soil. I could hear the sound of slowly moving water up ahead, and a chill wind was gently rattling the leaves on the trees all around me. The two suns were somewhere in the direction that we had travelled from, and so now the curve of the hill shaded us from direct sunlight.  Light caught the top of some of the trees, making it seem like there was a moving, golden ceiling not too far above us. Thinking back on it now, I'm reminded of the way a ravnab's scales move...

It occurred to me again that I still wasn't actually tired. A little mentally frazzled, maybe, but I didn't actually need to rest. In fact, I felt like I could keep walking all day without even breaking a sweat. "Probably the gravity," I said, speaking vaguely in Talson's direction. The robot was up ahead of us somewhere. It could wait.

Obviously it was the berries. Can you believe that? Stuck in a tree for three days, and it just so happens to be the sort of tree that produces zam, and zam is just the stuff that my alien body reacts to like superfood. Just one and I can walk all day, or run from here to Tssalb, without breaking a sweat. I can climb the outer wall of the tower without my arms getting tired. I can jump five feet in the air and hold my breath under water for twenty minutes and open my thapt-naszt and see the Great Beyond. No big deal. All because of that little purple berry.

Praise to Ehta for all of those miracles, and more...

You know what? Sorry to interrupt the story, bet me tell you about the first time I saw a ravnab. The first time I met one. That's something I couldn't do without the berries. We were on the coast--Glant, my aide, and me--herding mal-majh, twelve or so of them. I was on the back of one of the big mares, trying to keep the rest in line as we swam toward Petnar. Suddenly the mal-majh spooked and bucked me off before plunging straight into the water. My arm was caught in the rein, and it dragged me along for ten or fifteen uj.  All I could do was hang on and hope that the ordeal would stop.

Soon enough, it did: The rein snapped. The mal-majh kept swimming, but I was left weightless and motionless underwater. You can't imagine how clear the water is that time of year, near Petnar. My arm felt like it had nearly been ripped out of its socket, but I forgot about that as soon as I opened my eyes. Pure, clear water all around me. I could see the sandy bottom below, white with scattered coral. I could see the light of the two suns shining on the surface above me, and the twinkling rays of light shining through the water. After the rush of being dragged by the mal-majh, all I could hear was a static fullness.

It must have been what spooked the mare, and I'm sure that if Glant had been on my side of the mal-majh flock he would have seen it and known to keep a wide distance. But he'd been driving mal-majh since he was a boy, and it was my first summer.

It was right in front of me, no more than two uj-alt away. Four mal-majh across, two high. It barely moved. It hung there, in the water, just like I was suspended there, not rising or sinking. We were still, the creature and I, just for a few seconds. I don't think it was breathing, but it looked that way as its pale body slowly expanded and contracted. I'll never forget the way its scales moved in the water, undulating and golden, like the sun on the leaves on the slope leading to Andheyb.

It occurs to me that the next time one of the pupils asks me about Zahi Talm's conjectures, I should use this as my example. A circular memory, a memory that leads back to itself, like a circular garden in our minds. We can see the path before we walk it and after we have walked it we can see it again. The leaves like scales like leaves like scales. Did I recall the scales when I saw the leaves the first time, even before I had experienced them the first time? The Atomists say no, but Zahi Talm says yes.

I tend to agree with Zahi Talm.

I'm sorry, I'm becoming lost in my own garden again.

Glant's arrow sped through the water, just missing the ravnab. Sensing this, the creature contracted its whole body, expelling water from its sacks. It shot away like a spear-tip.

That is what I remembered before I could possibly have remembered it, as I looked up at Ehta's beautiful sun-bathed leaves.

Suddenly, the robot reappeared. 

For the first time, it made a sound: A high-pitched bleep-bloop that sounded like a pre-determined alert message rather than some sort of computer language. I turned to face it, having craned my head to look at Glant where he leaned against the tree.

"We shouldn't keep him waiting," Glant said, adjusting his wide belt. He was used to warmer climates, and the chill air was making him antsy. He picked up the shield resting against the roots of the tree and slung its strap over one shoulder, which caused his impressive forearm to flex.

No. I'm sorry. I'm wrong again. It was Talson. Talson was on the tree.

The robot bleeped again, more shrill this time. I stood up and picked up Talson, who blinked his eyes asynchronously.  I took that as a sign of assent as I tried my best to stuff him back into my pocket as gently as I could. Another bleep.

"Yes, yes!" I said, "We're coming. On to Andheyb. Show us the way!"

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Arthur's Note: Huh! That went unexpected places! Leave a comment, and don't forget to vote if you're enjoying the story! Do you think Prim will ever get to wherever he's going? -Gabriel