It sounded foolish to her the instant she said it — self-pitying, melodramatic. But the Ghrayrog offered no comment, leaving her without a way of retracting it. and to hide her embarrassment she busied herself elaborately in the job of strapping on her pack.
He was silent until she was ready to leave. Then he said, 'Is Narabal very beautiful?'
'You haven't seen it?'
'I came down the inland route from Til-omon. In Til-omon they told me how beautiful Narabal is.'
'Narabal is nothing,' Thesme said. 'Shacks. Muddy streets. Vines growing over everything, pulling the buildings apart before they're a year old. They told you that in Til-omon? They were joking with you. The Til-omon people despise Narabal. The towns are rivals, you know-the two main tropical ports. If anyone in Til-omon told you how wonderful Narabal is, he was lying, he was playing games with you.'
'But why do that?'
Thesme shrugged. 'How would I know? Maybe to get you out of Til-omon faster. Anyway, don't look forward to Narabal. In a thousand years it'll be something, I suppose, but right now, it's just a dirty frontier town.'
'All the same, I hope to visit it. When my leg is stronger, will you show me Narabal?'
'Of course,' she said. 'Why not? But you'll be disappointed, I promise you. And now I have to leave. I want to get the walk to town behind me before the hottest part of the day.'
3
As she made her way briskly toward Narabal she envisioned herself turning up in town one of these days with a Ghayrog by her side. How they'd love that, in Narabal! Would she and Vismaan be pelted with rocks and clots of mud? Would people point and snicker, and snub her when she tried to greet them? Probably. There's that crazy Thesme, they would say to each other, bringing aliens to town, running around with snaky Ghayrogs, probably doing all sorts of unnatural things with them out in the jungle. Yes. Yes. Thesme smiled. It might be fun to promenade about Narabal with Vismaan. She would try it as soon as he was capable of making the long trek through the jungle.
The path was no more than a crudely slashed track, blaze-marks on the trees and an occasional cairn, and it was overgrown in many places. But she had grown skilled at jungle travel and she rarely lost her way for long; by late morning she reached the outlying plantations, and soon Narabal itself was in view, straggling up one hillside and down another in a wobbly arc along the seashore.
Thesme had no idea why anyone had wanted to put a city here-halfway around the world from anywhere, the extreme southwest point of Zimroel. It was some idea of Lord Melikand's, the same Coronal who had invited all the aliens to settle on Majipoor, to encourage development on the western continent. In Lord Melikand's time Zimroel had only two cities, both of them terribly isolated, virtual geographic accidents founded in the earliest days of human settlement on Majipoor, before it became apparent that the other continent was going to be the center of Majipoor life. There was Pidruid up in the northwest, with its wondrous climate and its spectacular natural harbor, and there was Piliplok all the way across on the eastern coast, where the hunters of the migratory sea-dragons had their base. But now also there was a little outpost called Ni-moya on one of the big inland rivers, and Til-omon had sprung up on the western coast at the edge of the tropical belt, and evidently some settlement was being founded in the central mountains, and supposedly the Ghayrogs were building a town a thousand miles or so east of Pidruid, and there was Narabal down here in the steaming rainy south, at the tip of the continent with sea all around. If one stood by the shore of Narabal Channel and looked toward the water one felt the terrible weight of the knowledge that at one's back lay thousands of miles of wilderness, and then thousands of miles of ocean, separating one from the continent of Alhanroel where the real cities were. When she was young Thesme had found it frightening to think that she lived in a place so far from the centers of civilized life that it might as well be on some other planet; and other times Alhanroel and its thriving cities seemed merely mythical to her, and Narabal the true center of the universe. She had never been anywhere else, and had no hope of it. Distances were too great. The only town within reasonable reach was Til-omon, but even that was far away, and those who had been there said it was much like Narabal, anyway, only with less rain and the sun standing constantly in the sky like a great boring inquisitive green eye.
In Narabal she felt inquisitive eyes on her wherever she turned: everyone staring, as though she had come to town naked. They all knew who she was — wild Thesme who had run off to the jungle — and they smiled at her and waved and asked her how everything was going, and behind those trivial pleasantries were the eyes, intent and penetrating and hostile, drilling into her, plumbing her for the hidden truths of her life.
No one was at home at her mother's house. She went to her old room and stuffed her pack with books and cubes, and ransacked the medicine cabinet for drugs that she thought might do Vismaan some good, one to reduce inflammation, one to promote healing, a specific for high fever, and some others — probably all useless to an alien, but worth trying, she supposed. She wandered through the house, which was becoming strange to her even though she had lived in it nearly all her life. Wooden floors instead of strewn leaves — real transparent windows — doors on hinges — a cleanser, an actual mechanical cleanser with knobs and handles! — all those
'Thesme?'
She looked up, taken by surprise. Her sister Mirifaine had come in: her twin, in a manner of speaking, same face, same long thin arms and legs, same straight brown hair, but ten years older, ten years more reconciled to the patterns of her life, a married woman, a mother, a hard worker. Thesme had always found it distressing to look at Mirifaine. It was like looking in a mirror and seeing herself old.
Thesme said, 'I needed a few things.'
'I was hoping you'd decided to move back home.'
'What for?'
Mirifaine began to reply — most likely some standard homily, about resuming normal life, fitting into society and being useful, et cetera, et cetera — but Thesme saw her shift direction while all that was still unspoken, and Mirifaine said finally, 'We miss you, love.'
'I'm doing what I need to do. It's been good to see you, Mirifaine.'
'Won't you at least stay the night? Mother will be back soon — she'd be delighted if you were here for dinner—'
'It's a long walk. I can't spend more time here.'
'You look good, you know. Tanned, healthy. I suppose being a hermit agrees with you, Thesme.'
'Yes. Very much.'
'You don't mind living alone?'
'I adore it,' Thesme said. She began to adjust her pack. 'How are you, anyway?'
A shrug. 'The same. I may go to Til-omon for a while.'
'Lucky you.'
'I think so. I wouldn't mind getting out of the mildew zone for a little holiday. Holthus has been working up there all month, on some big scheme to build new towns in the mountains — housing for all these aliens that are starting to move in. He wants me to bring the children up, and I think I will.'
'Aliens?' Thesme said.
'You don't know about them?'
'Tell me.'
'The offworlders that have been living up north are starting to filter this way, now. There's one kind that looks like lizards with human arms and legs that's interested in starting farms in the jungles.'
'Ghayrogs.'
'Oh, you've heard of them, then? And another kind, all puffy and warty, frog-faced ones with dark gray skins — they do practically all the government jobs now in Pidruid, Holthus says, the customs-inspectors and market clerks and things like that — well, they're being hired down here too, and Holthus and some syndicate of Til- omon people are planning housing for them inland—'
'So that they won't smell up the coastal cities?'
'What? Oh, I suppose that's part of it — nobody knows how they'll fit in here, after all — but really I think it's just that we don't have accommodations for a lot of immigrants in Nara-bal, and I gather it's the same in Til-omon, and so—'
'Yes, I see,' said Thesme. 'Well, give everyone my love. I have to begin heading back. I hope you enjoy your holiday in Til-omon.'
'Thesme, please—'
'Please what?'
Mirifaine said sadly, 'You're so brusque, so distant, so chilly! It's been months since I've seen you, and you barely tolerate my questions, you look at me with such anger — anger for what, Thesme? Have I ever hurt you? Was I ever anything other than loving? Were any of us? You're such a mystery, Thesme.'
Thesme knew it was futile to try once more to explain herself. No one understood her, no one ever would, least of all those who said they loved her. Trying to keep her voice gentle, she said, 'Call it an overdue adolescent rebellion, Miri. You were all very kind to me. But nothing was working right and I had to run away.' She touched her fingertips lightly to her sister's arm. 'Maybe I'll be back one of these days.'
'I hope so.'
'Just don't expect it to happen soon. Say hello to everybody for me,' said Thesme, and went out.
She hurried through town, uneasy and tense, afraid of running into her mother or any of her old friends and especially any of her former lovers; and as she carried out her errands she looked about furtively, like a thief, more than once ducking into an alleyway to avoid someone she needed to avoid. The encounter with Mirifaine had been disturbing enough. She had not realized, until Mirifaine had said it, that she had been showing anger; but Miri was right, yes, Thesme could still feel the dull throbbing residue of fury within her. These people, these dreary little people with their little ambitions and their little fears and their little prejudices, going
