Cat Karina (15 page)

“Grupos always fight,” he replied. “It’s in the nature of things. It strengthens the bond, although God knows how. Karina would make no difference … or would she? She certainly has a presence, that girl.”

“We hardly ever fought when she was around. Oh!” cried Saba in sudden despair, as Teressa straddled Runa, got a handful of her hair and began to pound her head into the dust, “I wish she was back!”

“I’ll have to speak to El Tigre,” said Dozo. “For what it’s worth. We can’t have our top grupo falling apart. Have you seen much of Torch lately?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Not since Karina left.… Anyway, it’s no use talking to father. Teressa’s the one who doesn’t want Karina around. She still blames her for running out on us.”

“I do. With good reason.” Teressa stood before them, panting, the tunic ripped from her breasts and hanging in rags around her waist. “A grupo is no grupo if one goes off alone. We’re supposed to share adventures — and Mordecai knows, adventures are hard enough to come by.” Runa lay in the dirt, shaking her head dazedly. There were a few delighted catcalls from the bachelors concerning Teressa’s state of dress, but the crowd was beginning to disperse, the fun over. “You’ll never see that traitor back in this grupo,” Teressa said.

The vampiro still stood there with folded wings, like a huge and dignified patriarch watching the squabblings of children.

“I wonder,” said Dozo.

“Ah, get out of here, you old faggot,” said Teressa in disgust. She dragged Runa to her feet. “Go and get a rope, Runa. We’ll lasso this stupid bat. Then we can pull him over with a couple of shrugleggers.”

“She wishes Karina was back, really,” said Saba to Dozo, but very quietly, so that Teressa couldn’t hear.

It was dark by the time the El Tigre grupo arrived at Rangua North camp. The other vampiros were all in position, replete with food, snoring softly while the grupos chattered under the domes of their wings. After a change of campsite the vampiros were always fed well — otherwise a grupo might awaken to find open sky above, and the giant bat winging across the rain forest, never to return.

Karina, hiding nearby, heard the creaking of cart wheels and the familiar, loved voices. She waited behind the curve of a tent for her chance.

Then, “Saba,” she whispered.

“Who’s that? Is that you, Karina? Oh …!”

Saba rushed into her arms and they hugged, pummelling each other in affection, stepping apart, then wrestling with soft growlings.

At last Karina asked, “Where have you all been? All the other felinas are here. I got worried.”

Saba explained the problem.

Karina laughed, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Saba? Saba, is that you, for God’s sake? For the love of Mordecai, where is that girl?” Teressa’s voice was tight with frustration. “Come and help hold this bastard down, Saba, otherwise he’ll take off for the hills the moment we untie him!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t untie him, Tess,” they heard Runa say. “Maybe we should leave him there until morning.”

“And let him meditate on the error of his ways, I suppose. God damn it, Runa, he’s just a dumb vampiro. A good whipping is what he needs!”

“No, I meant it would be easier in daylight. We could —”

“If you think I’m spending the night out in this cold, you’re dumber than this crazy vampiro.”

“Listen, Tess, I wish you’d stop calling me dumb. People can hear, you know. And anyway, I’m a sight cleverer than you. Everyone knows that. You’re just a quarrelsome brat. That’s what they all say!”

A scuffling broke out, and the sound of heavy blows. “I’m going to kill you, Runa!” Teressa screamed.

It was too much for Saba. “Stop it!” she shouted, rushing up to the dim figures thrashing in the dirt. “Karina’s here!”

“Huh?” The fighting stopped. The combatants stood, dusting themselves off. “Oh, it’s you, is it,” said Teressa as Karina stepped forward.

“Want some help with the vampiro?”

“Wouldn’t mind.”

Teressa stood by sullenly as Karina examined the creature who lay, trussed as though ready for the sun-oven, on the floor of the cart. Karina placed her palms on either side of the vampiro’s head. “Be quiet,” she said to the others. The vampiro lay still.

The sounds of the evening seemed to fade away, leaving Karina and the vampiro in a private world, small and walled with silence. Karina waited, concentrating.
Little Friends
.… she thought.

She felt the strange force flow down her arms.

And later, a minute or a microsecond later, she felt it return.

And she
knew
.

“Well?”

“It’s.… It’s time for this vampiro to mate. He needs to be set free. We’ll.… You’ll have to get another.”

“Yes, and what about tonight? What about that, huh?”

“He’ll shelter you tonight, if you’re kind to him.”

“Thank you so much, Karina,” said Saba. “You’re so clever. Isn’t she, Teressa?”

“Huh. Just a trick. She isn’t getting round
me
. She deserted the grupo when we needed her most, remember?”

Suddenly, this ingratitude merged with her recent unhappiness, and Karina felt a flash of temper. “Oh, so I’m not getting round you, Tess? Want to bet?”

“None of that stuff,” said Teressa nervously, backing away.

But Karina pinned her arms. “Want to bet?” She thrust her face close to the other, forcing her sister to meet her eyes. “Watch me, Tess. Watch me!”

“Let me go!”

“Look at my eyes.… That’s right. Now. You don’t really hate me, do you? Of course you don’t. Keep looking at me, or I’ll break your goddamned spine.… I could, you know. You love me, Tess. You don’t believe I ran out on you. You love me. You always have. You’d do anything for me. Wouldn’t you?
Wouldn’t you?
”

“I’d do anything for you,” repeated Teressa woodenly.

“Okay. Now, let’s get this vampiro untied and set up.” Karina let Teressa go and she blinked, then smiled.

“I’ve been a fool,” she said.

“Wait a moment,” said Runa. “Just wait a goddamned moment. You don’t convince
me
as easily as that. Why the hell did you run out on us, anyway?”

“I didn’t. It was important to the felinos that I found out what was happening at the delta. And if you don’t believe me, then by Mordecai I’ll convince you!”

“No, that’s all right,” said Runa hastily, edging away.

“Convince
me
,” purred Saba, moving up against Karina and gazing at her round-eyed.

The tension broke, they laughed and hugged, and the El Tigre grupo was united again.

“Now,” said Karina after a while. “Let me tell you how we can get back at that lousy Iolande grupo.…”

“We are nothing,” said Haleka into the afternoon air. “We are less than the mountain, less than the sea. We are ants, without understanding, without effect. We move through a brief instant of Time like a puff of wind, and are gone, leaving nothing.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m back, Haleka?”

“Gladness does not enter into it. You were sent here as a punishment, and since you have performed adequately I saw fit to allow you a brief respite. So now you’re back. When do you leave us permanently?”

“Father says I can’t go back until after the Festival. I really wanted to see the Festival, Haleka.”

“Another example of your desire for corruption. El Tigre has more sense than I’d have given a felino credit for. The Festival is a disgusting bacchanal; a drunken, brawling exhibition of gluttony, lust and other pleasures of the flesh.”

“What others are there?” asked Karina innocently; then, seeing Haleka’s frown deepening, she said hastily, “I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. Can we stop, now?”

He looked down at her and found himself saying, “All right. But hurry. The tump must receive his full daily intake.” He reached into a large sack and took out a portable sun-oven, banding it down to her.

“That’s all right. I can eat it raw.”

“Certainly not! I shall not encourage you to eat raw flesh except in an emergency. I took the trouble to have this oven made for you, and so long as you are in the tumpfields you will use it.”

Karina set the complex of hemitrexes on the ground and focussed the sunlight on a strip of tumpmeat, which soon began to crackle and emit a delicious aroma. Haleka slid down the tump’s flank and joined her, squatting on his skinny haunches. He watched her eat while he chewed thoughtfully on herbs and reflected on the unseemly coarseness of her nature. Feeling himself in the mood for lecturing, and judging Karina to be a worthy victim, he cast around in his mind for some parable fitting to the occasion.

“I am going to tell you a story, Karina.”

“But won’t the tump lose out on its daily intake?”

“Sit down.” He directed a skeletal forefinger at her, and she resumed her seat with every sign of reluctance.

Haleka then told her the story known as The Dead People of Arbos — which, millennia later, passed into the Song of Earth as the Second Kikihuahua Allegory.…

The Isle of Arbos lies thirty kilometers off the coast, and people say it floated out to sea on the waters of the Rio Plata. It is quite barren, and uninhabited — although it was not always that way.

Once it was peopled by a tribe of Wild Humans some forty strong. They arrived by raft, having been driven from the mainland by a hostile tribe. When they arrived, the Isle of Arbos was covered with forest, much of which they cut down to build huts. The fishing was good, so although the trees did not bear fruit there was no shortage of food. In the mornings the men would depart in dugout canoes, and in the evenings they would return with fish. They would kindle the Wrath of Agni, and the fires burned into the night as the fish were cooked and eaten. The tribe grew fat.

But the trees became sparse. In a hundred years every tree had been cut, and since none were planted the island became a dusty waste. The islanders were reduced to eating their fish raw; and they became like animals as their art and culture declined.

A hundred and fifteen years after they arrived, the waters around Arbos turned red. A tiny organism, carried by the waters of the Rio Plata, had found salt water to its liking and had multiplied prodigiously. The fish ate the organism, and the shellfish ate it too, and they thrived.

But any humans who ate the fish, died.

They died slowly, over a period of months, but they died nonetheless — and in some agony at the end, as the organism ate into their flesh.

One day a kikihuahua came by.

He saw the people lying sick on the beach, and he guessed the cause.

“Our God has deserted us,” said the chief. “He has left us on this barren island to die.”

“No,” said the kikihuahua. “That is not God’s way. He is displeased with the kind of creatures you have become, and he has sent hardship your way so that you may improve. It is God’s way of weeding out the people who do not use the wits he gave them.”

“But there is nothing we can do! We have no fire and no food!”

“The time for burning and destroying is past,” said the kikihuahua. “You must adapt — that is what God is telling you.” He bent down, and from the beach he picked a small dish-shaped object. “You see this hemitrex? Millennia ago, the hemitrex was a different creature altogether. It was soft. It had no hard shiny shell. It was just a fragile mass of jelly floating in the ocean — in fact people called it the jellyfish. It was at the mercy of tide and current, and since it floated near the surface, it was at the mercy of the sun, too.

“And one day, the sun became terrible.

“Giant balls of fire exploded from its surface and sent evil rays shafting towards the Earth like poison arrows. Men and animals and plants died in the heat and sickness of its light. For ten thousand years this went on, until the fires died down and the sun was normal again. But the men and animals and plants were no longer normal. Except for those humans protected by the Sisters of the Moon, they were changed, because only by changing could they have survived the furious sun.

“The jellyfish adapted too. In order to protect itself against the rays, it grew a hard thin shell of a shiny substance which had the power of reflecting almost all the sunlight which struck it. The jellyfish adapted, and it lived. As did many other creatures. As you must.”

The chief pointed out, “We don’t have ten thousand years. We’re dying
now
.”

“Then eat something other than fish.”

“There is nothing else. The land is barren.”

The kikihuahua put its hand into a rock pool and drew out a handful of seaweed. “Eat this. It is not affected by the red tide.”

“We’ve tried. It’s too coarse. We cannot digest it.”

“Then cook it.”

“We have no firewood, remember?”

The kikihuahua sighed. “You haven’t learned anything.” He placed the seaweed on the rock and held the hemitrex over it, tilting it so that the sun’s rays were gathered in the shiny bowl and focussed on the weed. After a while, steam rose. In a few moments the seaweed was cooked, tender and edible.

The kikihuahua bowed, walked across the island, climbed onto his vehicle-creature and disappeared.

At this point the Second Kikihuahua Allegory, as told in later years, ends. In Karina’s day, however, people were more ruthlessly literal, and Haleka continued the story to its climax, as he knew it, like this:

The chief approached the pile of cooked seaweed, sniffed it and made a face of disgust. “We can’t eat this muck. It may be food for a kikihuahua but it’s no food for humans. We’re a tribe offish-eaters, and fish-eaters we will remain, and no alien with hairy buttocks will tell us otherwise.”

“And anyway,” said his woman, holding up the shell, “This jellyfish may have adapted, but it’s dead all the same.”

“There’s a lesson in that,” said the chief.

And from that day on they thought no more of the kikihuahua, but continued to eat raw fish, getting even sicker until they died, one by one.

Which is why the Isle of Arbos is uninhabited — and there’s a lesson in that, too.