The Kar-Chee Reign (7 page)

There had been those who had clung to life with tenacious avidity even in the face of famine and drought, only to let go their hold on life with food and water still on their lips. And others to whom strange fantasies had become, if not facts, at least attitudes: that the arkfolk had not merely — fortuitously or providentially — in saving their lives done a deed of mercy, but that in some unknown, but not unsuspicionable, way the arkfolk were part of an overall scheme … details infinitely vague … a scheme in which Liam (to the minds of some of them) might be also involved, wittingly or otherwise…. “Weary, wary, cynical, grim, bitter,” they declared by their manner if not by their words that they were not to be cozened or deceived any further; that they had suffered enough so far; that henceforth they were to be exceedingly canny and cautious and that the burden of proof lay upon everyone else.

And the fact that they had never heard of an “ark” merely added to the bitter mystery of things.

Liam, moving slowly, slowly around the deck of this curious vessel, sometimes holding to the side and sometimes to Gaspar, as yet did not fully grasp the meaning of the odd looks cast him by a few of his followers, themselves crawling cautiously about or merely reposing on the deck of the ark in the positions which had become habitual to them through reposing on the deck of the raft. His eyes and mind were both at work, but for the moment, satisfied that his people were not in want, he preferred to concentrate on other matters.

“Another thing our wise ancients used to say,” Gaspar went on; “our wise ancients used to say, ‘Knowledge is power.’ Do you understand that? No, you don’t, you only think you do. If you had understood it you wouldn’t have been dying of hunger and thirst. You
were
dying of hunger and thirst, so that proves you didn’t understand it. But the fact that you had made an attempt indicates that you are capable of understanding it. Listen to what I tell you, young man, and then you will understand, you will become knowledgeable, and hence powerful.

“Do you see how well prepared this Ark is? How cleverly and how sturdily it is made? How it is provisioned with food and fuel and water? Look at the drain-gutters and pipes and barrels — if a sudden shower occurred at this minute not a drop of water would be lost. Observe how all of our people are engaged in assigned and useful tasks, not sunken in corrosive sloth or corrupting idleness. See how well-cared for our beasts and poultry are. Do you notice the young people at their lessons? You do. May I ask you the rhetorical question, ‘Did you make any of these beneficial arrangements for your own vessel and people?’ ”

Liam put one peeling foot down carefully in front of another. “There wasn’t time,” he said.

“You did not. Exactly. Time? Wasn’t time? There is always time. It depends what one does with time. You are the product of a society given over to violence and self-indulgence, confusing knowledge with knowing. By suffering the hypocrisy of a regime which ignored the laws of Nature, you saw that society met its inevitable destruction. Can Nature be successfully resisted? Of course not.”

Liam resisted the temptation to say, “Old graybeard Gaspar, you are babbling.” For one thing, it was not courtly; for another, it was not … hardly … safe. And besides, there was just a germ, a grain of conviction in the fact that the ark
was
exceedingly well made, arranged, provisioned, and ordered. Gaspar’s words were persuasive of foolishness, but the existence and circumstancing of the ark seemed anything but folly. Liam resolved to listen well and long before voicing curt conclusions.

Gaspar passed his hand over his beard in a smooth motion, said, equally smoothly, “You perceive how unanswerable my argument is. Very well. To continue. The man of the multitude, contented with little, observes that a thing happens, and to him it is as though the happening has neither past nor future: as though something materializes from nothing and will subsequently dematerialize into nothing. But this is not so. Am I correct? Of course I am correct. Follow me closely, now.
Nothing happens without a cause
. The acceptance of this maxim is the solid foundation of all human knowledge, progress and hope.”

He paused to watch and nod approval as the hide of a just-slaughtered bull-calf was carefully scraped with a sharp stone to remove the hair from one side and the fat from the other. Even these were not wasted and went carefully into containers provided for them. The fat was edible and the hair could be used to make brushes. “And therefore — ” Liam gave the conversation a polite nudge. He scanned the horizon. Nothing in sight but water. Nothing. Surely Gaspar and his people did not intend to remain afloat forever?

“And therefore,” Gaspar took up the thread once more, “it is necessary to inquire as to the cause of a thing, and this is to say that it is necessary to inquire into the causes of all things. Does this not follow?”

“Granted.”

“So. Suppose a man neglect or abuse his body. What is the inevitable result? The inevitable result is disease, blemishes, decay, breakdown, the appearance of evil sores and destructive parasites; all of which attack the body further. The foolish man bewails what has happened to him, not realizing that it has not merely or actually
happened
at all — but that he, through his folly, has
caused
it to happen! Now, fellow from a far country, let us apply this knowledge to the social body as well as to the individual body. Follow me closely. Suppose the social body, or, if you prefer, the body social, is neglected or abused. What is the inevitable result? The same … only, of course, on a much wider scale.
Disease
— a plague spreads.
Blemishes
— accident and misfortune vex the land.
Decay
— more people die than are born.
Breakdown
— bridges and boats and buildings are destroyed.
Evil sores and destructive parasites
— this means dragons and Kar-chee. Now — ”

Liam blinked and gaped. He put out his hand and Gaspar politely raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“ ‘Evil and destructive’ means
what?
”

“You have not listened carefully. However, I make allowances for the several circumstances of, firstly, you grew up in a benighted outland and not in a community of Knowers; secondly, you have suffered physically and mentally from your ill-managed venture upon the raft; thirdly, I do not wish to dwell upon it and perhaps hurt your feelings, but I must testify to what I see and in this case I see that you suffer from a physical malady: to wit, your eyes do not match, and from this it follows that — ”

Liam, trying intensely hard to recall the Father Knower’s exact words and stem the flood of rhetoric, said, rather loudly, “ ‘
Destructive parasites.
’ ”

And Gaspar immediately said, “Kar-chee.”

He was about to say more but a young woman of the stranger people, lighthaired and not ill-favored, rose from where she was sitting and stroking a small gray lamb, and said, “Liam!”

Her friend began to smile, then made an abrupt, impatient gesture, and she started to back away. He grasped her hand and drew her along, saying, “Father, your pardon, but — ”

“Granted. Young person, your name has not been made known to me.”

“Cerry … Cerry, I’m called.”

“Have all your wants been made known to the Mother?”

“Yes…. She’s been very kind.”

“ ‘Kind,’ a word of insufficient exactitude. The Mother knows her work; if you have made known your wants to her they will by now have been supplied if it is proper and convenient for them to be so. Has she informed you on the subject of cohabitation? You flush. How becoming and proper. So be it. Accompany us on our conversational circuit of the ark if you wish, but feel no compulsion, and on no account interrupt us further or again.”

So on they went, past the sheep-pens freshly littered with sawdust, past the woman plying distaff and spindle, past the sick-bay where some of the raft-people still lay, down to the close-packed but neatly arranged living-quarters — hammocks lashed and stowed; bachelors’ section here, single women there, nursery, married couples’ quarters; supplies: food, seed, tools, cloth, yarn, hides, salt, spices, water. Father Gaspar checked everything, inspected the rude but serviceable pumps, peered into each of the tripart hulls — and talked … talked … talked….

After a long, long time he informed them that it was his period for rest, and politely dismissed them.

Back up on deck, in a niche which, as no one else seemed to have claimed it, they made their own, Liam looked at Cerry. And she at him. After a moment, he asked, “And what, exactly, did the Mother inform you about cohabitation?”

She half-smiled, half-scowled. “Oh … since no one knows for sure how long we’ll be at sea, and since pregnancy and childbirth would be inconvenient for the duration of the voyage, all cohabitation has to be, well, ‘qualified’ was her word for it. I can go into details if you’d really like.”

“Not necessary.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, moodily.

“I haven’t forced you or distrained you. I don’t now.”

She blew out her lips. “Thank you, brave one. I understand that I am free to take my sheepskin elsewhere for qualified cohabitation….” With a quick expression of her face she showed what she thought of that, and with a quick glance of her eye and pressure of her hand on his she showed what she still thought of Liam. Then, “Well, the Mother is not a bad old one, considering that she’s been the sole wife of old Father Know-it-all for thirty years. Tell me, Liam: are they all quite mad? Or just him?”

He said, “I suppose it’s a sort of qualified madness, one may say. Don’t laugh, lewd woman…. I don’t know for sure what to think of it all. Except that I think for sure that I am glad this vessel,
ark
, as they call it, was there when we were there … wherever we were…. If we just had a map … Well.
Every man hath his own madness
. A saying from our own wise ancients….”

He ruffled her light hair. The ark women had been obliged to cut it short, so tangled had it been. “This is no single, simple thread we have to follow; this you know, Cerry, don’t you? It goes weaving in and weaving out, it leads through the fire and the sea and storm, it’s full of knots, but the knots are proper parts of it. The Knowers are one knot. We’ll unravel it yet. And we will be sure of finding use for the slack as well. I’m sure of that.”

• • •

He was sure of little else but that. The ark folk were kind enough — “imprecise” though their captain-priest-father might find the term; they went about their duties with efficiency. If Liam were pressed to name a particular impression received from them, he might have inverted the reply by saying that he was most impressed by a lack of any strong impression. Listless was by far too strong a term. Browbeaten was equally untrue — Gaspar, the Father Knower, might perhaps have simply overwhelmed them all by his ceaseless flow of wordage. Chiefly he felt the lack of any stronger personality, single or collective. And if there were more to it than that, then he did not know.

The vessel was both the largest and the oddest he had ever seen. It had stepping for a mast — and, indeed, several mast sections as well as huge rolls of matting doubtless intended for sail were all clearly visible on deck — yet the mast was not stepped and the breeze did no more than cool the air … cunningly diverted belowdecks by screens set for the purpose at the lad-derheads. Also, thole-pins were in place and sweeps of a size for them all neatly arranged; yet no oar was set up; only the tiller oar, and that was lashed fixed. Still, the ark did move; it moved — as Liam observed, having for that purpose tossed a chip overboard — at a good pace. It seemed, then, that the ark had gotten into an ocean current, a mer-stream, and that old Gaspar knew enough about it to be quite confident as to where it was taking him, and at what speed, and for how long. Whence it was a reasonable assumption that eventually the mast would go up and the sails; too; and then, though not necessarily at once, the oars.

Liam had a strong sentiment that, in some things at least, Father Gaspar was, indeed, and literally, a Knower.

The sea had long since come to seem to him the natural element; memories of the land behind receded; the land (or lands) before remained as yet but unformed hopes. He watched the sun plunge into the sea, a descent so much more swift than the long, slow sunsets of his lost northern homeland. The luminous washings of the night waves seemed now merely proper and familiar and no more, no longer sinister. Something was happening to the forms of the star-clusters; he wished now with all his heart that he had taken thought to make a map of the constellations long before now; but it was not too late … he could ask the Father Knower for sketching materials tomorrow; if they were refused (or, a likelier negative, smoothly and reasonably declined), he would manage to improvise them somehow.

His mind was filled with this as he sat on deck with Cerry, beneath a sort of high chair in which sat a young man who had the lookout watch. And presently they became aware that someone else had joined them. He thought at first it was probably one of his own, the raft people — although with that thought came another; were they still “his own people”? and how many, if any? and which ones? — but before the faint star-gleam and almost equally faint sea-gleam could reveal the lineaments of the face, the accents of the low, soft voice told him it was one of the ark’s people.

“You don’t know … you didn’t, ever, know Serra?”

“I’m sure I never heard of her. Or — him?”

The young man laughed, softly, shyly. The laugh ended abruptly. Someone else had joined them. After a moment: “No … oh … Serra is the place where we used to live.” The name still meant nothing to Liam. But he now knew that the conversation was a clandestine one, that the speaker had for a moment been concerned about the identity of the last arrival, but was now content about it.

“In which direction did Serra lie? And what sort of a place was it?”

A hand was waved vaguely. “Back that way…. It used to be a part of — do you know the old names? — of Africa. But we aren’t of the old Serran stock. Before, although I don’t remember it, we lived in Sori. And before that, we used to live in Jari. Adn before that — But it doesn’t matter. My name is Rickar.”