The Inheritors

  Lok laughed again at his picture. The old woman would not make such smoke and fires never woke of their own accord in the wet spring. He watched the smoke uncoil and drift away through the gap, thinning as it went. Then he smelt meat and forgot the smoke and his picture. He gathered up the lumps and staggered after Fa and Liku along the fault. The weight of the meat, and the thought of bringing all this food back to the people and their respect for the bringer kept the pictures of the smoke out of his head. Fa came running back along the fault. She took some of the lumps from his arms and they half-climbed, half-slithered down the last slope.

  Smoke was rolling heavily from the overhang, blue, hot smoke. The old woman had lengthened the bed of the fire so that a pocket of warm air lay between the flames and the rock. The flames of the fire and the smoke were a wall that interrupted any attempt of the light wind to penetrate the overhang. Mai lay on the earth in this pocket. He was curled up, grey against the brown, his eyes were shut and his mouth was open. He was breathing so quickly and shallowly that his chest seemed to beat like a heart. His bones showed plainly and his flesh was like fat that the fire was melting. Nil, the new one and Ha were just moving away down to the forest as Lok came in sight. They ate as they went and Ha waved a congratulatory hand at Lok. The old woman was standing by the fire, picking at the stomach which Fa had left with her.

  Fa and Lok dropped down to the terrace and ran to the fire. As he piled his meat on the scattered rocks Lok shouted across the flames to Mai.

  “Mai! Mai! We have meat!"

  Mai opened his eyes and got himself on one elbow. He looked across the fire at the swinging stomach and panted a grin at Lok. Then he turned to the old woman. She smiled at him and began to beat the free hand on her thigh.

  “That is good, Mai. That is strength." Liku was jumping up and down beside her.

  “I ate meat. And little Oa ate meat. I frightened the beaks away, Mai." Mai was grinning round at them and panting.

  “Then after all, Mai saw a good picture."

  Lok tore out a scrap of meat and chewed it. He began to laugh, staggering along the terrace in mime of the load as he had mimed the night before. He spoke indistinctly with his mouth full.

  “And Lok saw a true picture. Honey for Liku and the little Oa. And armfuls of meat that a cat had killed."

  They laughed with him and beat their thighs. Mai lay back, the grin faded from his face and he was silent, concentrating on his pulsing breath. Fa and the old woman sorted the meat and laid some aside on shelves of rock or in the recesses. Liku took another piece of liver and edged round the fire into the pocket where Mai lay. Then the old woman lowered the stomach gently on to a rock, untwisted the mouth and began to poke about inside.

  “Bring earth."

  Fa and Lok went through the entry to the terrace where rocks and bushes sloped down to the forest. They tore out lumps of coarse grass with the earth still hanging to them and brought the loads back to the old woman. She took the stomach and laid it on the ground. She scraped up fire ash with a flat stone. Lok squatted on the terrace and began to break up earth with a stick. As he worked he talked.

  “Ha and Nil have brought many days' wood back. Fa and Lok have brought many days' food back. And soon the warm days will be here."

  As he collected the dry, broken earth, Fa wetted it with water from the river. She carried it to the old woman who plastered it round the stomach. Then she quickly raked out the hottest ashes of the fire and piled them round the plastered earth. The ashes lay thick and the air over them shivered with heat. Fa brought more earth and sods. The old woman built these into a pile round the ashes and shut them in. Lok stopped work and stood, looking down at the food. He could see the puckered mouth of the stomach and plastered earth, then the sods. Fa nudged him aside, bent down and poured water from her cupped hands into the mouth. The old woman watched critically as Fa ran back and forth. Again and again she came from the sliding river until the surface of the water in the stomach lay level with the mouth, flat and scummy. Little bubbles bulged out of the scum, wandered and blipped out. The grass on the sods that covered the red-hot ashes began to curl. It writhed and began to blacken and smoulder. Little flames popped out of the earth and ran about in the grass or moved in balls of consuming yellow from the base of a stem to the end. Lok stepped back and reached for scraps of earth. As he poured them over the burning sods he talked to the old woman.

  “It is easy to keep the fire in. The flames will not crawl away. There is nothing here for them to eat."

  The old woman smiled wisely at him, saying nothing, and this made him feel silly. He tore a strip of muscle from a flabby haunch and wandered down the terrace. The sun was over the gap through the mountains and he adjusted himself without thinking to the fact that now the end part of the day was coming. Part of the day had gone so quickly that he felt he had lost something. He began to picture confusedly the overhang when he and Fa had not been in it. Mai and the old woman had waited, she pondering Mai's sickness, Mai panting, waiting for Ha with wood and Lok with food. Suddenly he understood that Mai had not been certain that they would find food. Yet Mai was wise. Though Lok felt important again at the thought of the meat, yet the knowledge that Mai had not been certain was like a cold wind. Then the knowledge, so nearly like thinking, made a tiredness in his head and he shook it off, returning to be the comfortable and happy Lok whose betters told him what to do and looked after him. He remembered the old woman, so close to Oa, knowing so indescribably much, the doorkeeper to whom all secrets were open. He felt awed and happy and witless again.

  Fa was sitting by the fire toasting scraps of meat on a twig. The scraps spat and trickled as the twig burned and she stung her fingers every time she took meat off to eat. The old woman was pouring water from her hands over Mai’s face. Liku sat with her back against the rock and the little Oa was on her shoulder. Liku was eating slowly now, her legs were stretched out straight in front of her and her belly was beautifully round. The old woman came back and squatted by Fa and watched the wisp of steam that rose from the bubbles in the stomach. She snatched a floating titbit, juggled with it and popped it in her mouth.

  The people were silent. Life was fulfilled, there was no need to look farther for food, to-morrow was secure and the day after that so remote that no one would bother to think of it. Life was exquisitely allayed hunger. Soon Mai, would eat of the soft brain. The strength and fleetness of the doe would begin to grow in him. With the wonder of this gift present in their minds they felt no need for speech. They sank then into a settled silence that might have been mistaken for abstracted melancholy, were it not for the steady movement of the muscles that ran up from their jaws and moved the curls gently on the sides of their vaulted heads.

  Liku's head nodded and the little Oa fell off her shoulder. The bubbles rose busily in the mouth of the stomach, slipped to the edge and a cloud of steam puffed upwards to be sucked sideways into the rising air of the bigger fire. Fa took a twig, dipped it in the seething mess, tasted the end and turned to the, old woman.

  “Soon." The old woman tasted too.

  “Mai must drink of the hot water. There is strength in the water from the meat."

  Fa was frowning at the stomach. She put her right hand flat on top of her head.

  “I have a picture."

  She scrambled out of the overhang and pointed back towards the forest and the sea.

  “I am by the sea and I have a picture. This is a picture of a picture. I am .." She screwed up her face and scowled. “…thinking." She came back and squatted by the old woman. She rocked to and fro a little. The old woman rested the knuckles of one hand on the earth and scratched under her lip with the other. Fa went on speaking. "I have a picture of the people emptying the shells by the sea. Lok is shaking bad water out of a shell." Lok began to chatter but Fa stopped him.

  “…There is Liku and Nil…" She paused, frustrated by the vivid detail of her picture, not knowing how to extract from it the significance she felt
was there. Lok laughed. Fa brushed at him as at a fly.

  “…water out of a shell."

  She looked at the old woman hopefully. She sighed, and started again.

  “Liku is in the forest..."

  Lok pointed, laughing, to Liku who lay against a rock, sleeping. Fa struck at him this time as though she had a baby on her back.

  “It is a picture. Liku is coming through the forest. She carries the little Oa..."

  She was gazing earnestly at the old woman. Then Lok saw the strain go out of her face and knew that they were sharing a picture. It came to him too, a meaningless jumble of shells and Liku and water, and the overhang. He began to speak.

  “There are no shells by the mountains. Only shells of the little snail people. They are caves for them."

  The old woman was leaning towards Fa. Then she swayed back, lifted both hands off the earth and poised on her skinny hams. Slowly, deliberately, her face changed to that face she would make suddenly if Liku strayed too near the flaunting colours of the poison berry. Fa shrank before her and put her hands up to her face. The old woman spoke.

  “That is a new thing."

  She left Fa who bowed her face over the stomach and began to stir it with a twig.

  The old woman laid a hand on Mai's foot and shook it gently. Mai opened his eyes but did not move. There was a tiny patch of dark saliva-stained earth on the ground by his mouth. The sunlight slanted into the overhang from the night side of the gap and lit him brightly so that shadows stretched from him to the other end of the fire. The old woman put her mouth close to his head.

  “Eat, Mai." Mai got up on one elbow, panting.

  “Water!"

  Lok ran down to the river and came back with water in his hands, and Mai sucked it up. Then Fa knelt on the other side and let him lean against her while the old woman dipped a stick in the broth more times than there were fingers in the whole world and put it to his mouth. There was hardly time between his breathings for him to swallow. At last he began to turn his head from side to side, avoiding the stick. Lok brought him water. Fa and the old woman laid him carefully on his side. He with- drew from them. They could see how private his thought was and how trapped. The old woman stood by the fire looking down at him. They could see that something of his privacy had reached her and lay in her face like a cloud. Fa broke away from them and ran down to the river. Lok read her lips.

  “Nil?"

  He went after her into the evening light and together they peered along the cliff over the river. Neither Nil nor Ha was to be seen and the forest beyond the fall was already darkening.

  “They are carrying too much wood." Fa made an agreeing noise.

  “But they will bring big wood up the slope. Ha has many pictures. To carry wood on the cliff is bad."

  Then they knew that the old woman was looking at them and thinking that she was the only one who under- stood about Mai. They came back to share the cloud in her face. The child Liku was asleep against the rock, her round belly glowing in the firelight. Mai had not even moved a finger but his eyes were still open. Suddenly the sunlight was level. There was a flapping noise from the cliff over the river and then the scrape of someone edging round the corner. Nil hurried to them along the terrace, her hands empty. She cried her words out.

  “Wherein Ha?" Lok gaped at her stupidly.

  “He is carrying wood with Nil and the new one."

  Nil jerked at them. All at once she was shivering, though she stood within an arm's-length of the fire. Then she began talking quickly to the old woman.

  “Ha is not with Nil. See!"

  She ran round on the terrace demonstrating its emptiness. She came back. She peered into the overhang, caught up a piece of meat and began to tear at it. The new one woke under her hair and put out his head. After a moment she took the meat from her mouth and looked closely at each of them in turn.

  “Where is Ha?"

  The old woman pressed her hands on her head, considered this fresh problem for a moment and gave up. She crouched by the stomach and began to fish out meat.

  “Ha was gathering wood with you." Nil became violent.

  “No! No! No!"

  She bounced up and down on her feet. Her breasts bobbed and milk showed in the nipples. The new one sniffed and scrambled over her shoulder. She held him fiercely with both hands so that he mewed before he sucked. She crouched on the rock and gathered them urgently with her eyes.

  "See the picture. We bring wood into a pile. Where the big dead tree is. In the open space. We talk about the doe that Fa and Lok have brought. We laugh together." She looked across the fire and stretched out a hand.

  “Mai!"

  His eyes turned towards her. He went on panting. Nil talked at him, while the new one sucked at her breast and behind her the sunlight left the water.

  “Then Ha goes toward the river to drink and I stay by the wood." She looked as Fa had looked when the details of the picture were too much for her. "Also he goes to ease himself. And I stay by the wood. But he cries out: 'Nil!' When I stand up…” she was miming..

  “I see Ha running up towards the cliff. He is running after something. He looks back and he is glad and then he is frightened and glad...so! Then I cannot see him any more." They followed her gaze up a cliff and could not see him any more. "I wait and wait. Then I go to the cliff for Ha and to come back for the wood. There is no sun on the cliff." Her hair bristled and her teeth showed.

  “There is a smell on the cliff. Two. Ha and another. Not Lok. Not Fa. Not Liku. Not Mai. Not her. Not Nil. There is another smell of a nobody. Going up the cliff and coming back. But the smell of Ha stops. There is Ha going up the cliff over the weed-tails when the sun has gone down; and then nothing."

  The old woman began to move the sods from the stomach. She spoke over her shoulder.

  “That is a picture in a dream. There is no other." Nil started again in anguish.

  “Not Lok. Not Mai.." She went sniffing over the rock, found herself too near the corner that gave on to the cliff and came bristling back. "There is the end of the Ha scent. Mai..!"

  The others considered this picture gravely. The old woman opened the steaming bag. Nil jumped over the fire and knelt by Mai. She touched his cheek.

  “Mai! Do you hear?" Mai answered her between gasps.

  “I hear."

  The old woman held put meat to Nil who took it with- out eating. She waited for Mai to speak again, but the old woman spoke for him.

  “Mai is very sick. Ha has many pictures. Eat now and be happy."

  Nil screamed at her so fiercely that the people stopped eating too.

  “There is no Ha. The Ha scent has ended."

  For a moment no one moved. Then the people turned and looked down at Mai. With much labour he raised his body, and balanced himself on his hams. The old woman opened her mouth to speak, then shut it. Mai put his hands flat on top of his head. This made his balance even more difficult. He began to jerk.

  “Ha went to the cliffs."

  He coughed and lost what breath he had. They waited while the fast rhythm of his breath evened.

  “There is the scent of another."

  He pulled down with both hands. His body began to quiver. One leg shot out and the heel stayed him from a fall. The others waited, red in the sunset and firelight, while the steam from the broth poured up with the reek to be hidden by darkness.

  “There is the scent of others."

  For a moment he held his breath. Then they saw the wasted muscles of his body relax and he fell sideways as if he did not care how he struck himself against the earth. They saw him whisper.

  “I cannot see this picture."

  Even Lok was silent. The old woman went to the recesses and fetched wood as if she were walking in her sleep. She did things by touch and her eyes looked be- yond the people. Because they could not see what she saw they stood still and meditated formlessly the picture of no Ha. But Ha was with them. They knew his every inch and expression, his individual s
cent, his wise and silent face. His thorn bush lay against the rock, part of the shaft water-smooth from his hot grip. The accustomed rock waited for him, there before them was the worn mark of his body on the earth* All these things came together in Lok. They made his heart swell, gave him strength as if he might will Ha to them out of the air. Suddenly Nil spoke.

  “Ha is gone."

  FOUR

  Astonished, Lok watched the water run out of her eyes. It lingered at the rim of her eye-hollows, and then fell in great drops on her mouth and the new one. She ran down to the river and howled into the night. He saw the drops from Fa's eyes flash in the fire- light too and then she was with Nil, howling at the river. The feeling that Ha was still present by his many evidences grew so strong in Lok that it overwhelmed him. He ran after them, seized Nil by the wrist and swung her round.