“Who-?” Harsan began, but he was forestalled by Tlayesha’s angry cry of 'Why?' The Heheganu turned his lumpy body to face her.
“You are not affected, woman. No one seeks you. It is the man Harsan who is wanted. You may remain.”
“I–I cannot. We are-”
Emotions coiled within Harsan’s stomach: anger, despair, cold fear. “You must listen to him,” he said harshly to Tlayesha, “for I am the one they pursue. Why involve yourself further? You rescued me, and that in itself is more than I can repay. There are many caravans, many who would employ a physician…” He could say no more but gestured wordlessly at the squalor around them.
Her oddly coloured blue eyes told him that all his reasonings would be in vain. Tlayesha would not leave him.
Harsan let out his breath slowly. He had not realised that he had been holding it. “You mentioned a choice, High One.”
“It is a tree of three branches,” the creature replied. “The first branch takes you-and the woman, if she desires-to the one who seeks. The second branch leads to a gate known to us, there beyond the quarter of the mat-weavers, on through a tunnel, and so to the outside, where a skiff can be given you to cross the Great Morass…”
Tlayesha interrupted him, “Harsan, we could reach Mrelu-go to Do Chaka-Itk t’Sa’s people could hide us, take us through the forests-to Mu’ugalavya-or north to Pijena…” Her eyes sparkled red in the rush-light, and he could see how much she yearned to be free of this dreadful place.
“Fugitives forever?” He sighed and considered. “No, love, I have already thought upon this. They could catch us with their sorceries, take us as we fled-and those who have aided us would be imperiled, a fine reward for their guesting! And even if we were successful, the Mu’ugalavyani or the Yan Koryani would use me as I have told you the Worm Prince would do.” “Yet you-we-cannot go on living here forever!” She clenched her fists and glared at him, angry for the moment. “Harsan, would you spend the rest of your life in a hole? — Oh, I know that you await an opportunity, for time to pass and all to be forgotten. But-but now…”
She was more right than she could guess. He had delayed, postponed the decision, been content to dwell in this lair, like a Mnor lurking in its den to let the hunting party pass by it. Nothing had been resolved. Now, however, he must make his move, willy-nilly. He turned back to the Heheganu.
“And the third branch, High One?”
Ormudzo held out a tiny vial of dull red glass in his rough, grey fingers. “This is Onka'om, the Tsuhoridu of Ultimate Destinations. What you would leave behind upon this Plane could not be revivified by sorcery, nor could your souls be made to speak from beyond the tomb.”
Tlayesha drew back, eyes wide. Harsan waved the thing away. “It is not to be considered, High One. I- we-”
The Heheganu rocked back and forth upon the mat. “It is sad, man Harsan, for this is perchance the noblest of all the branches. A joyous feast which we would provide; a pleasant evening; a few farewells; a quiet toast and a drinking. All would be tasteful. Noble. The drawing-together of an exquisite Skein. It is an ending that appeals to us-that keeps certain secrets hidden, that raises no spectres from the lost graves of the past. ’ ’
“You would not force us-me-?”
“Who could compel a guest and yet remain noble? No, this branch must be of your own choosing.”
‘ They are too strongly bound to this life for any such honourable termination,” Itk t’Sa said. “Break this last branch from your tree, High One, and cast it aside. What of the first of your branches: the one who seeks? You said that this is no servitor of Lord Sarku? Who, then?”
“The laws of our guesting permit no more. I have uttered too much.”
“Tsolyani, Yan Koryani-or other?”
“I must not say.”
Itk t’Sa spread her upper pair of hands. She drew in a hissing breath, and Harsan could hear the spiracles in her thorax taking air into her abdominal lung-sacs as well. “Old One, Ormudzo of the Heheganu, look upon me. Say what you know of me.”
The knobbly round head turned toward her. “It is your desire. You are Itk t’Sa, of the Pe Choi, sent by your people, we are told, to confer with all those races of sentient beings who dwell under the hand of humankind. With us you hold the status of an envoy.”
Tlayesha frowned in puzzlement, but Harsan realised that he knew. Itk t’Sa was no exile or common criminal; she was a Tii Petk, a speaker for her people. He opened his mouth, but she forestalled him.
“Yes, Harsan, I am entrusted with a charge,” she said in the Pe Choi tongue. “I am not of the ‘tame’ Pe Choi of your Empire, nor do I serve the Four Palaces of the Square of Mu’ugalavya. Your government would say that I am a ‘wild’ Pe Choi, one of those from the inner depths of the forests, who give no allegiance to any of the nations of humankind.”
“But-”
“I am here to test the wind, to speak to all of those races who have intelligence and yet who languish under the rule of humankind. The Heheganu are but one such.”
“What do you-the Pe Choi of the forests-?”
“Plan? A revolt? A war against your kind? Hardly! We would lose-be defeated, brutalised, exterminated, as the Mu’ugalavyani dealt with the Pachi Lei at Butrus some eight hundred years ago. Two things you humans have that no other race can match: the first is your numbers, and the second is your callousness. You breed like Dri-ants, and you destroy whatever is alien to you, even when it does you no harm.”
“There are some…” Harsan began. Itk t’Sa and her people knew all that. He, too, had heard these arguments during his childhood in the Chakas. Instead he said, “Then? What do you seek?”
“Perhaps no more than a network of friends-nonhumans who can aid one another, pressure human officials for concessions and mutual cooperation… Thus far I admit that I have found no easy path. There are too many varied species, too many conflicting ideas and goals. The least we can do is to speak, to let others know that we are there. At most we can hope to exploit human weaknesses and attain autonomy within our own regions- places of our own, an end to our dependence upon human goods and resources, our own pride-no more foppish, twittering Pe Choi imitating human dress and customs.”
Harsan had a brief vision of Chtik p’Qwe as he had first seen him. He replied, “Some races have these things now-the Shen, certain of the Ahoggya enclaves, the little flying creatures-the Hlaka-and others. They dwell apart in their own regions, of course, while some-the Pachi Lei, the Swamp Folk of Mu’ugalavya, the little pygmy creatures of Yan Kor, the Tinaliya of Livyanu-seem to live well enough in companionship with humans in our societies. I cannot see where your mission leads you-the Pe Choi. Do you not stir up mud from the bottom of what is best left as a quiet pool?”
“I-we-stir up nothing. We only wish to talk, to see what can be done, perhaps to help those species who now suffer.” She shot a swift glance at the Heheganu.
‘‘You are sent by the ‘wild’ Pe Choi of the forests. To whom else, then, do you speak?”
Itk t’Sa looked down at the tattered reed matting. “There is not much to say to the mighty races, those who occupy lands and places of their own: the Shen, the Hlaka, the Ahoggya, and others you mention. They do as they wish to do. We cannot deal with the Ssu, the Hliiss, or with certain other species, for they hate us almost as much as they do you. There are many more, however: the Underpeople, the lesser species who live here and there upon Tekumel. You know of the Heheganu and their cousins of the swamps, the Hehecharu. Many more exist. Some dwell with you in your cities and yet you see them not, while others hide in the mountains, the jungles, the wastelands, even in the seas. Several there are who prefer the dark places beneath the most ancient of your cities. There are some who have only a flicker of intelligence, yet they would also weave their own Skeins under the sun. The Renyu, for instance, who are treated as clever pets in your land; the Dzor, who are thought to be halfwitted giants of the woodlands; the Serudla and the Sro, whom you consider dragon-like monsters…”
Harsan shook his head. “I see no purpose in this. You cannot expect humankind to grant lands and provinces and cities to-to every species that lives beneath the bowl of the sky! And where would it end? A Hmelu has some intelligence-shall we invite it to share our dinner instead of roasting it as the chief course? Must I seek Shamtla — money in compensation from a Chri-fly when it steals a crumb from my plate?”
“As you say,” Itk t’Sa replied stonily. “Few things are sharply divided; there are always vaguenesses
