Into the Storm (38 page)

“Distant!” snorted Sandra. “Most lemurs are no bigger than a cat. None I know of are bigger than a chimp!”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, my dear. A species of giant lemur once dwelt on Madagascar, a species almost as large as our friends. I’ve seen their very bones!” His brow furrowed. “But they were not nearly so . . . humanlike in form. Nevertheless! This gives me almost enough information to advance my theory regarding—” He was unable to finish because the wizened priest spoke once more.

“The war for paradise must have lasted generations. We know not, because the Scrolls do not say. But during that time, the People learned to build great ships—the Homes of the Sea—and so were prepared when the Grik became too many and the People were finally cast out, forced to wander the vast oceans, never to return to our sacred home.” Naga paused to catch his breath and allow Bradford time to translate. While he waited, he looked wistfully at the great tree in the center of the hall. “At first, we wandered blindly. We had not yet learned the Heavens—to follow the paths they laid before us. We knew the Great Star, the Maker of All Things who lights the world and brings brightness to the void of night, and we knew his little brother, who washes the night with a cool, sleepy light, but we did not know that the smaller stars yearned to show us things. Many perished when their Homes were cast on unknown shores, and it’s said the bones of those ancient wrecks bleach there even still. But enough survived to carry on. Lost and scattered by storm and darkness, our people did survive. Over time, they saw the light in the darkness and learned the wisdom of the Heavens. It was then that they knew the stars for what they are—the bright essence of those who have gone before and watch over us from the sky.”

He looked at the humans for a moment and Bradford could have sworn that he blinked in speculation. He continued. “Some settled in the northlands, and others in the south. Some eked out an existence on tiny islands in the middle of the Western Sea, but always, where there was land, eventually there were Grik. The only ones to gain a shadow of freedom from war and fear were those who lived on the sea. Only the sea was safe, for the Grik do not love it and did not know how to build the great floating Homes. With the deep waters between us, where the mountain fish dwell, for a time there was peace and it seemed the Grik had forgotten the prey that escaped them. We found these lands where the Grik did not thrive and those that did were weak and primitive and we made colonies, or land Homes, for the first time in age upon age. A hundred generations passed. More. The people lived well and in peace. Baalkpan and other colonies rose to thrive and prosper and the great Homes of the sea plied the oceans and slew the gri-kakka for his sweet oil and restored contact between the scattered ones so we could become one People again. Different, diverse, and far-flung, but still one People even if languages and beliefs had changed.

“The Grik became no more than a myth, a terrible legend to frighten younglings into doing their chores, but no longer did they haunt our dreams. The terrible enemy that stole our home and nearly destroyed us had become less than a fable. The backward Grik here were hunted and slain, and those on the islands nearby did not know tools and weapons. On a few islands, some live still and no one ever goes there to stay.”

“Bali,” Matt said aloud, and the old priest blinked a curious affirmative.

“Then, like a gift from the Heavens themselves, the first Tail-less Ones came in three ships, suffering from storm and loss. They were tired and weak and poor in food, but friendly and rich in wisdom of the Heavens. We fed them and nursed them and helped them repair their ships and, in return, they taught us that the stars did indeed show the way, but one could
see
the way only through the Sun, since the Sun alone was the child, and as one with the Maker of All Things. From the Sun we take direction, and with direction, the stars in the Heavens would show us the way from place to place. They told us the names of the stars and the names of places as well, like Baalkpan and Borno and Baali. But the greatest gift they bestowed upon us was the Ancient Tongue by which the Scrolls were drawn and written at long last, and in which we now converse.”

“My God,” whispered Matt. “The stars are ‘ancestor spirits,’ the son of the sun is the sun . . . Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

Sandra nodded. “Whoever came before left behind more than they thought.”

“Yeah, I’d hoped the ‘Scrolls’ weren’t so deeply incorporated—”

Naga interrupted. He’d watched their varied reactions, but he didn’t pause for long. “At last there was a way for all the People to understand one another again, and to go from place to place without ever having been there, and in safety!”

“What happened to them? What did they look like?” Bradford asked quietly. His face remained impassive, but when he glanced at Captain Reddy, his eyes were intent.

“As far as what they looked like, all that is recorded is they had no tails, as you do not, which is strange and disturbing enough. The circumstance of their arrival is also somewhat similar . . .” He hesitated. “As far as where they went, that’s a tragic story in itself, and one that, I fear, has finally returned to task us. A learned one among them, a scholar of great wisdom with the name Salig-Maa-Stir, taught our fathers the Ancient Tongue and drew the lands and waters and placed names upon them. It’s said his leaders did not approve, and when they found out he’d done this thing, they forbade him to teach us their everyday tongue or the magic they guarded. Nevertheless, he loved the People and told us what he could through a tongue ancient even among his kind. Eventually, even this wasn’t allowed, and Salig-Maa-Stir was kept away except to barter for goods. His greatest pupil, however, a female named Siska-Ta, picked up the narrative of the visitors. It was she who told the tale of the leaving of the Tail-less Ones.

“They claimed their home was far to the west, beyond even the Land of the Grik. But in spite of their wisdom, their Scrolls, and their tools, they were lost and alone and all their people were gone. Salig-Maa-Stir claimed that their land had ceased to be. Siska-Ta and our fathers assumed their people were slain by the Grik, and the horrors of old legends resurfaced. But before he was taken away, Salig-Maa-Stir said his people were not conquered, they had simply ceased to be.”

Matt and Sandra looked at one another.

“This was a horror even worse than the Grik, but they never gave explanation. However, it came to pass that one of the ships wanted to go to their home and see what had become of it. Our fathers told them the legends, and warned them of the danger, but they knew. They
knew
! They’d met the Grik already! This was terrible news for the People, for it confirmed the legends and meant that the Grik truly did exist, as the priests had been saying all along. But what worried them most was that if the Tail-less Ones returned to that evil land, the Grik might learn their ways and soon find us as well! The leaders of the other ships shared this concern, but they had not the will or right to stop the one from trying.

“Finally, it was decided the one would go west, bearing only those who desired to go, with only the most rudimentary weapons and the scantiest of Scrolls. It was hoped that if they were taken, the Grik would learn nothing about where they’d been, where they were going, and most important to the other two ships, where we were and where they would go. On a blustery spring day, the one sailed west—we expect now to its doom—and the other two sailed east, and disappeared into the vast, empty Eastern Sea, beyond the known world. That was almost three hundred seasons ago.”

The old priest took another long swallow from his tankard and smacked his lips over eroded, yellow teeth. It was evidently a story he’d often told and now that it was done, the somber theater of the telling passed and his mood once more reflected that of the party that continued to thrive.

“Did this Siska-Ta ever write any more?” Bradford asked.

“Oh, yes indeed! She became the first true Sky Priest and not only finished the early Scrolls but traveled the world and taught the Scrolls and the Ancient Tongue to all the People. It is from her we know the shape of the world, from this side of the great Western Sea all the way to the Eastern Ocean, where the waters fall away and the world ends. She also compiled histories of the many people she met and went among. She was a Prophet. A great Prophet.”

“Do the Scrolls show where the Ancient Home of your People lies?” Bradford questioned eagerly, certain that he’d solved his riddle.

The old priest closed his eyes in a long, mournful blink. “Alas, they do not. We know it is beyond the Western Sea, where none dare go. The waters are without bottom, as are those of the Eastern Ocean, and great monsters dwell there. And of course, beyond the Western Sea are the Grik.”

“Did the Tail-less Ones leave nothing of themselves at all? Nothing you could point to and say, ‘This was theirs’?” Sandra asked.

“Some ornaments and cloth, some of which still exist,” the priest said dismissively. Then he glanced at Nakja-Mur before speaking again. “Other than that, only this.”

He raised the pendant resting against his chest and held it forth. Matt, Sandra, and Bradford all leaned forward and peered at the tarnished brass disk. It was about the size and shape of a hockey puck, or a can of snuff. Reverently, the priest undid a clasp and raised the lid of the device.

“Is it not wondrous?” he asked.

Before them was a very old pocket compass. A tiny folding sundial lay retracted to one side, and beneath the crystallized, almost opaque glass, a small needle quivered and slowly swung to point dutifully in a northerly direction.

“My God,” murmured Captain Reddy. The compass itself was a fascinating discovery, but what caught his attention, and took Sandra’s breath, was the inscription under the lid.

“My God,” Matt said again.

“What’s it mean? H.E.I.C.?” Sandra asked, almost a whisper.

“It means we were right, my dear,” Courtney Bradford said. “We’re not the first ones here. H.E.I.C. stands for the Honorable East India Company.”

“As in the
British
East India Company?” she asked, astonished.

“So it would seem,” Matt answered dryly. “I think we know now where the Grik got the design for their ships.”

“You believe the Grik captured the ship that went west?”

“They must have. Indiamen at the time were built like warships, and the Grik ships we fought sure looked like seventeenth- or eighteenth-century warships—or Indiamen, I guess, come to think of it. I mentioned it at the time, and I also mentioned I didn’t think it was a coincidence. Somehow I doubt the crew of that westbound Indiaman survived the technology exchange with the Grik. I wonder what happened to the other two?”

“But if they were British,” interrupted Sandra, “why teach the Lemurians Latin?”

“They’d probably already figured out how messed up everything was, just like we did. According to Naga, they’d already run into the Grik too. They didn’t want anybody knowing too much about them and, ultimately, where they went. But they had to communicate, just like us, and it probably seemed safe to teach the Lemurians a language no one knew. That would still leave them, or anyone else, unable to read their charts or get much information from the crew at large.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” said Bradford, nodding. He glanced at Keje, who looked a little annoyed they were talking so long among themselves, but the other Lemurians just stared. “Thank God they didn’t take cannon with them,” he said fervently.

“That seems clear,” Matt confirmed, “just like their Scrolls say. No weapons, or at least no extraordinary weapons, are mentioned to have been encountered since. I think it’s safe to assume they must’ve removed the guns from the westbound ship. If they hadn’t, the Grik would be using them and the Lemurians would damn sure know about them. Ask their old priest how long they’ve been fighting the Grik this round, and how long the Grik have been using this type of ship.”

“The Grik have pushed us this time for only the last generation,” Naga answered. “Until then, they were content to remain upon the land to the west. They’d still been mostly creatures of legend. But now they come again. It’s just like the ancient times. The Grik come slowly at first, just a few at a time—but there are always more.”

Keje spoke and Adar translated, since his English still wasn’t up to the task. “During fight you help us, was first time we see such ships. Before, they look same, but . . . smaller.”

“It seems a stretch that their naval architecture hasn’t changed in three hundred years, except to enlarge an existing design.”

“The Grik are not innovators,” Keje said savagely. “They only take. If they’ve taken nothing better since they learned the three-masted ships, they would see no reason to change. Now they know where we are, though, they will keep coming. We will fight, and we will kill them, but they will keep coming until we are all dead or forced to flee these waters just as we fled our Ancient Home.”

So much for the “Malay pirate” model. They’d need another one. The “slow creep” that Naga described left too much to chance—like “when.” They
must
get more information about the enemy. A familiar feeling crept into his chest. It was like the days after Pearl Harbor all over again, when he knew they stood almost alone, in the face of . . . what? Something Big was all they knew, and they didn’t know when or where. They’d been expendable then, an insignificant cog, and he was just following orders. He remembered how helpless and frustrated he felt that their fate was so arbitrarily sealed by unknown policies and strategic plans that seemed to make no sense. Now he was the one who had to make policies that might kill all his men—or save them. The crash transition from the tactical to the strategic left him overwhelmed. Sandra must have seen the inner desperation reflected on his face, because he again felt her reassuring hand on his arm. Finally, he looked at Keje.