'Is the lake endless?' she asked.
'No,' I said.
We had been twenty days upon the lake, living by fishing, drinking its water.
I could see brownish stains in the lake. I could smell flowers. Somehow, the mouth of the Ua must lie ahead.
'Do you carry slaves into danger?' asked the blond-haired barbarian.
'Yes,' I told her.
She trembled, but did not lose the stroke of the paddle. She had tried to speak to me at various times during the past few days, but I had responded little to her, usually confining my responses to curt utterances. Once I had gagged her, with her own hair, and leather.
She continued to peddle, miserably, knowing herself to be in disfavor with her master.
'Surely, by now,' said Ayari, speaking from the bow, 'we must be hear the Ua.'
'Observe the water,' said Kisu. 'Smell the flowers and the forest. I think that already we may be within its mouth.'
I was startled. Could its mouth be so wide? Already we were perhaps within the Ua.
Kisu pointed overhead. 'See the mindar,' he said.
We looked up and saw a brightly plumaged, short-winged, sharp-billed bird. It was yellow and red.
'That is a forest bird,' said Kisu.
The mindar is adapted for short, rapid flights, almost spurts, its wings beating in sudden flurries, hurrying it from branch to branch, for camouflage in flower trees, and for drilling the bark of such trees for larvae and grubs.
'Look!' said Ayari, pointing off to the left.
There we saw a tharlarion, sunning itself on a bar. As we neared it it slipped into the water and swam away.
'We are within the river,' said Kisu. 'I am sure of it.'
'The lake is dividing,' said Ayari.
'No,' laughed Kisu, pleased. 'That is an island in the river. There will doubtless be many of them.'
'Which way shall we go?' I asked.
'Go to the right,' said Kisu.
'Why?' I asked. I am English. It seemed to me more natural to pass on the left. That way, of course, one's sword arm faces the fellow on the other side of the road who might be passing you. Surely it is safer to keep a stranger on your right. Goreans generally, incidentally, like the English, I am pleased to say, keep to the left of a road. They, too, you see, are a sensible folk. They do this, explicitly, for reasons quite similar to those which long ago presumably prompted the English custom, namely, provision for defense, and the facilitation, if it seems desirable, of aggression. Most Goreans, like most men of Earth, are right-handed. This is natural, as almost all Goreans seem to be derived from human stock. In Gorean, as in certain Earth languages, the same word is used for both stranger and enemy.
'In entering a village on the Ngao coast,' said Kisu, 'one always enters on the right.'
'Why is that?' I asked.
'One thus exposes one's side to the blade of the other,' said Kisu.
'Is that wise?' I asked.
'How better,' asked Kisu, 'to show that one comes in peace?'
'Interesting,' I said. But, for my part, I would have felt easier in passing to the left. What if the other fellow does not desire peace? As a warrior I knew the value of an eighth of an Ihn saved in turning the body.
'Thus,' said Kisu, 'if there are men in these countries and their customs resemble those of the Ngao villages, and Ukungu, we shall make clear to them our peaceful intentions. This may save us much trouble.'
'That sounds intelligent to me,' I said. 'If there are men in these countries, they may then be encouraged to leave us alone.'
'Precisely,' said Kisu.
'And we might, of course, if need be,' I said, 'bring the canoe about.'
'Yes,' said Kisu.
We then took the canoe to the right. In half of an Ahn the island was on our left. It was pasangs in length.
'I do not even think there are men in these countries,' said Ayari. 'We are too far to the east.'
'You are probably right,' said Kisu. It was then that we heard the drums. 'Can you read the drums?' I asked. 'No,' said Ayari.
'Kisu?' I asked.
'No,' he said, 'but doubtless they are announcing our arrival.'
27
The Fishing Village; A Slave Begs To Be Touched; Ayari Acquires Information
They were scampering about on the scaffolding, it extending far out into the river. We could understand little of what they said. From the scaffolding, a double row of peeled logs, about ten feet apart, with numerous connecting bars and crossbars, fastened together with vines, more than a hundred yards in length, extending out into the flowing waters, hung numerous vine ropes, attached to which were long, conical, woven baskets, fish traps.
'Away! Away!' screamed one of the men, first in Ushindi and then in Ukungu. He, and others, waved their arms aversively. There were only men and male children on the scaffolding. Back on the shore, almost invisible in the jungle, were the huts of the village. On the palm-thatched roofs of these huts, in rows, exposed to the sun, were drying fish. We could see women on the shore, some with bowls, come out to the edge of the river to see what was occurring.
'Go away!' cried the fellow in Ukungu and Ushindi.
'We are friends!' called Ayari, speaking in Ushindi.
'Go away!' screamed the fellow again, this time in Ushindi. He was, we gathered, the village linguist. Other men, too, some eight or nine of them, and some seven or eight boys, of various ages, came out farther on the platform, balancing themselves expertly over the flowing waters, to bid us be on our way.
'I would know,' I said, 'if Shaba came this way, and how long ago.'
More than one of the men now drew forth knives and threatened us.
'They are not overly friendly,' observed Ayari.
'This is not good,' said Kisu. 'We could use supplies, bush knives and trade goods.'
'With what will you purchase them?' I asked.
'You have the golden chain, given to you by Bila Huruma,' he said.
I touched the chain. 'Yes,' I said, 'that is true.'
I lifted the chain from my neck and displayed It to the men on the long scaffolding.
They continued to encourage us to be on our way.
'It is no use,' said Ayari.
Even the children were screaming at us, imitating their elders. To them, of course, objectively, I supposed it made no difference whether we came ashore or not. This was the first settlement we had come to on the river. It lay only an Ahn beyond the first island, one of several, we had encountered.
'Let us continue on our way,' said Kisu.
I heard a sudden scream, that of a boy, and, looking about, saw one of the lads, some eight years in age, tumble from the scaffolding. He began almost immediately to be washed downstream. Without thinking I dove into the water. When I surfaced I heard Kisu calling out to turn the canoe. I stroked quickly after the boy, moving swiftly in the current. Then I was to where I thought, given my speed, he should be, or to where I thought I might be able to see him. He was not there. A few moments later the canoe glided beside me.
