Mother of Demons Read online

  Indira suppressed a sharp retort.

  "But I did not believe them. I thought instead—"

  Ushulubang paused for a moment.

  "What have the apashoc told you of Goloku?"

  Indira was taken aback by the question. She fumbled an answer: A holy person; a saint; a sage; possessor of all wisdom; embodiment of goodness; teacher of—

  Ushulubang whistled derision.

  "What nonsense! Goloku was a crude boor; a rascal; a drunk; a teller of lewd jokes; and most of all, she was a tyrant, hard as bronze."

  Indira's eyes widened. The gukuy on either side of Ushulubang flashed bright ochre. Ushulubang glanced at them both, and again made the gesture of derision. (But the subtleties of the arm-curls contained also, in some manner Indira could not determine, the connotation of affection.)

  "They did not know Goloku, as I did." For a moment, Ushulubang's mantle turned a deep, rich shade of brownish-green.

  "I am the only one still alive," said Ushulubang sadly, "of Goloku's first apashoc. All that is left of that small band of sisters. There are not even many still alive of the later apashoc. Very few, of those who knew Goloku personally, survived Ilishito's persecution."

  Indira knew the tale. She had heard it many times from the Pilgrims on the mountain. During Goloku's lifetime, her disciples had been few in number. After the founder of the Way died—of poison, it was said—the Paramount Mother of the time, Ilishito, had ordered the extermination of the sect. Guided, according to proclamations of the Anshac officials, by the divinations of the priests. From what she had been able to learn of Anshac society, Indira suspected that the decision had actually been made by the awosha—the ruling council of the Ansha females. Although, by all accounts, the Paramount Mother Ilishito had been more than cruel enough to have ordered the persecution herself.

  Of the inner circle of disciples—those who had learned directly from Goloku herself—only Ushulubang had survived. Due, Indira thought, to the fact that Ushulubang was herself a very high-ranking member of the dominant clan. She had been officially expelled from the clan, and her clan markings scoured clean with caustic substances. But her life had been spared by the priests.

  To their everlasting regret, I suspect.

  Ushulubang's mantle returned to gray. "These young apashoc have never really understood Goloku. I do not criticize them, you understand." The pinkish tones in her two companions faded. "They have tried, and tried very hard. Under the most severe circumstances. But—they always lapse into the great error. The error which Goloku flailed us for committing, mercilessly, every day of her life."

  "What error is that?"

  Ushulubang's huge-eyed stare was piercing.

  "The belief that Goloku brought us the Answer. When what she really brought us was a thing much greater. She brought us the Question."

  Ushulubang rose. "And now, with your permission, I will leave you. Tomorrow, perhaps, we can speak again. But I fear I am old and weak, and it has been a long journey from Shakutulubac."

  Indira nodded. That human expression was now familiar to the gukuy on the mountain. Ushulubang's reaction to it demonstrated, once again, that the old sage had prepared well for this meeting.

  "I thank you." She turned to go.

  "One moment, please," said Indira.

  Ushulubang looked back.

  "You did not answer my question. What did you mean—when you said that you were not certain until you met me?"

  "When I heard that demons had come to us, and that there was one among them who knew the Answer, I had thought the tale must be wrong. But until today, I was not sure. Until you denied that Enagulishuc is the holy tongue, in words as sharp as stone."

  "I do not understand."

  "Just so did Goloku flail us, when we fell into error. When I heard your words, I understood why the Coil sent demons to the world, and my soul was filled with love. I had feared, in the depths of my heart, that we would lose the Way. Without a flail to lash the error of the Answer, it is so easy to fall aside."

  "I do not understand."

  Green ripples marched across Ushulubang's mantle.

  "Just so. You have seen the statue of Goloku in the temple at Fagoshau?"

  "Yes."

  "It is no longer there. I smashed it with my flail when I saw it." A whistle of derision. "These spawn"—a gesture to her companions— "were shocked and aghast. That is because they had fallen into the error of the Answer."

  A faint brownish ripple went across Ushulubang's mantle.

  "Yet I should not be proud. I too had fallen aside, without realizing it. Until you flailed me, great mother of demons."

  "I do not understand."

  The gesture of profound respect. "Just so. Enagulishuc is indeed not the holy tongue. It is the tongue that will pave the road of holiness."

  "I'm impressed," said Julius softly, after Ushulubang left. When she looked at him, Indira saw that there was no trace on his face of whimsy.

  "So am I," she replied. "I always wondered what it would be like to meet the founder of Christianity."

  Julius frowned. "What do you mean? Ushulubang's impressive, but she hardly seems divine."

  Indira shook her head. "I wasn't talking about the Christ. Jesus inspired the religion that took his name. But Christianity was founded by St. Paul."

  Julius stared out the doorway at Ushulubang's receding figure.

  "You think so?"

  Indira shrugged. "It's an analogy, and like any analogy it's suspect. For one thing, the Way of the Coil is a totally different doctrine than Christianity. Insofar as there's a parallel on Earth, it reminds me more of Taoism than anything else."

  "You've always said Buddhism was the closest parallel."

  "Yes, I have. But now that I've met Ushulubang, I will no longer say it."

  Julius attempted to pursue the matter further, but Indira was clearly distracted. More than distracted, Julius eventually realized. She was completely lost in her own thoughts.

  Indira met again with Ushulubang the following day. But the meeting was brief. Although Indira was burning with the desire to pursue what she had glimpsed of the sage's philosophy, practical matters had intervened—in their usual, overwhelming manner.

  "How long will you stay?" she asked Ushulubang.

  The sage made the gesture of completion. "I will die here, on the Chiton." A whistle. "Though not soon, I hope."

  Indira shook her head. (Another human gesture which had become familiar to the gukuy.)

  "I did not mean you personally. I meant—" She waved her hand, encompassing the huge throng outside the hut.

  "We have come to stay," replied Ushulubang. The gesture of respectful inquiry. "With your permission, great mother of demons."

  "Don't call me that!"

  The gesture of obedience. "As you wish. May I ask why?"

  "I am not the ruler of my people."

  "So I was told. That is why I did not call you Paramount Mother."

  Indira's irritation was replaced by curiosity.

  "I do not understand the distinction."

  Ushulubang whistled humorously. "There is, in some ways, no distinction. The Paramount Mothers of the tashop arren do not rule their peoples, in all truth, despite the hootings of the awoloshu."

  Indira mentally translated Ushulubang's terms. The Anshaku term tashop arren meant "the thickness of the meat." All of the gukuy religions which she had so far encountered, except that of the Pilgrims, based their cosmological concepts on the analogy between the world and a huge clam. In all the languages she knew, in fact, the term for "world" was actually "The-Clam-That-Is-The-World." The earth itself, rich and fecund, was "the Meat of the Clam." The pearly gray sky above was "the mother-of-pearl." The shell of the Clam protected the world from the unknown terrors which lurked in the Infinite Sea beyond. (When the gukuy had learned that the humans had come to Ishtar from somewhere in that Infinite Sea, their nature as "demons" had been confirmed. Who but demons could survive such a voyage?)r />
  The religion of the Pilgrims did not seem to be much preoccupied with questions of cosmology and cosmogony. Like the ancient religions and philosophies of China, the Pilgrims were far more concerned with questions concerning social life and ethics. They accepted the basic cosmological concepts of their time—except for a slight twist. Goloku had said, once, that the world was not a clam but a snail. The distinction, to Indira, captured the essence of what made the religion of the Pilgrims such a new and revolutionary factor in gukuy history. Clams are passive. Filter feeders. Whereas snails—far more so on Ishtar than on Earth—were active animals who hunted for their food. To the traditionalists, the world simply was. To the Pilgrims, the world was going somewhere, in search of something.

  Much like the ancient Chinese, the civilized realms of the south viewed themselves as the center of the world. The Chinese had called their land "the Middle Kingdom;" the southern gukuy called theirs "the thickness of the meat."

  She had greater difficulty with awoloshu. The prefix "a" simply indicated the plural. "Wolosh" was the stem of the word. From the context, she assumed that Ushulubang was referring to the priests of the southern societies. But, in Anshaku, the term for priest was "wulush," not "wolosh."

  She understood, suddenly. The word used by the sage was a pun. There was a type of snail on Ishtar, called oloshap. It was a scavenger and, as such, considered unclean by the gukuy. It also produced, when startled, a loud and ugly-sounding noise. (The Anshaku word for "fart," in fact, was a derivative—shapu.)

  Chuckling, she shook her head. "I still do not understand why a paramount mother is different—"

  "Are you familiar with the customs of the barbarians?"

  Indira nodded. "To some degree. There are a number of former tribespeople among the Pilgrims."

  Ushulubang made the gesture of agreement, which shifted to the gesture of regret.

  "Not so many as I would prefer. The barbarians, despite their crudities, are a better-souled folk than the dwellers of the tashop arren. Especially the Kiktu. I raise this matter because the barbarians do not have the custom of Paramount Mothers."

  Indira nodded again. "No, they call them the Great Mothers. They are not revered; but, I think, have more real say in the affairs of their people."

  The gesture of respectful disagreement.

  "To a degree, that is true. But the difference is much more profound. The Paramount Mothers of the tashop arren are the source of the people, the embodiment of the people's life. Among the barbarians, however, the Great Mothers are also the protectors of the people."

  Indira frowned. "The protection of my people is in the hands of our Captain, Joseph Adekunle." (She pronounced it in the Anshac manner: Yoshefadekunula.)

  "Just so. Yet . . . you are called the 'Admiral of the Ocean Sea.' The term may be translated, I believe, as the 'Leader of the Journey Through Infinity.' "

  Indira gritted her teeth. God damn Hector Quintero and Julius Cohen. Men and their stupid jokes.

  She attempted to explain the actual origin of the term in the colony's history, but Ushulubang interrupted her with a whistle.

  "Males—and their stupid jokes. But Goloku taught us that humor is the palp of wisdom. A rough and heavy palp, at times. But such is often necessary, to open the valves of truth."

  Once again, that piercing huge-eyed stare.

  "The title is, I believe, most appropriate. Tell me, gre—Inudiratoledo: what is the principal means by which a being protects itself?"

  Indira shrugged. "It depends on the being. Tentacles, for gukuy. Arms, for an ummun. And for both, the swiftness of their peds."

  Ushulubang made the gesture of negation.

  "No. The principal means by which a being protects itself is its eyes. For you must first see the danger, before you can deal with it."

  Indira hesitated. "That is true. But—"

  "What is the danger which always faces a people?"

  "I—it depends."

  "No. It does not 'depend.' It is always true—at all places; at all times."

  She understood, suddenly. "The future."

  "Just so—Admiral of the Ocean Sea Inudiratoledo."

  Indira shook her head fiercely.

  There is no time for this now.

  "We must return to the original subject of our discussion."

  "As you wish."

  "How will your Pilgrims live on the Chiton? And where?"

  "You have not yet given us permission to stay."

  Indira frowned. "You do not need my permission. I do not own this mountain, nor do my people. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to the owoc."

  "You misunderstand. The Chiton is vast, with many valleys. There is more than enough room here for all of us—owoc, gukuy, and ummun alike." A humorous whistle. "The Pilgrims number among them both civilized and barbarian people. There is not a skill in the world which they do not know. Skills which, from what I have seen, you ummun often seem to lack."

  Indira nodded. It could not be denied. In truth, over the past two years the humans had learned far more from the gukuy, in the way of practical skills, than the other way around.

  "You, on the other hand, possess arts and skills which we lack. Most of those arts—sciences, you call them—are not yet of any use to my people. In truth, we do not even understand them. But I believe those arts will be necessary for us, in that dangerous place called the future."

  The gesture of regretful affirmation. "And in the meantime, you possess a great knowledge of that skill which is most necessary of all. In this perilous place called the present."

  "And what is that?" But she already knew the answer.

  "The art of war."

  * * *

  "Is that why they came here?" asked Julius later. "To learn how to fight their persecutors?"

  "Partly. But it's more than that. Ishtarian society has reached the stage where the old ways are rupturing at the seams. In all societies—civilized and barbarian alike. The emergence of the Way is itself a symptom of that upheaval. So is the rise of this monstrous tribe from the far west."

  "The Utuku?" He shook his head. "Well, let's root for the Kiktu."

  Indira shook her head. Grimly: "It's too late for that, Julius. The Kiktu were utterly destroyed by the Utuku. Months ago, in a great battle on the other side of that huge jungle southwest of the Chiton. The Pilgrims learned about it from refugees fleeing the disaster. That's why they circled the mountain and came in from the east, in fact—to avoid the oncoming army of the Utuku. A number of the refugees are here with the Pilgrims. I was able to talk to one of them today myself."

  Julius was pale. "The Kiktu were destroyed? Completely?"

  Indira nodded. "Apparently so. Well, the refugee I spoke to said that some of the Kiktu fled into the swamp. But she seemed to view that as no more than a protracted death sentence. That aside, yes. And not just the Kiktu, but all of their tribal allies. They were surrounded and pinned against the swamp. Crushed. The tribes' mothers would have been crippled and enslaved. All others butchered for meat, except for young females conscripted into the Utuku army."

  "Conscripted?"

  "Yes. It's the Utuku custom to force young warriors and females to join their army."

  Julius shook his head. "Sounds like a chancy proposition to me. What's to keep them loyal?"

  "They are required to participate in a ceremony which guarantees they will not go back to their old tribe."

  Julius turned even paler. "I don't think I want to hear this."

  "Yes. They are forced to eat their tribespeople in the victory feast."

  He looked away. "I knew I didn't want to hear it."

  "You must, Julius. As Ushulubang said, there is the danger of the future—and the peril of the present. The entire Papti Plain is now open to the Utuku. They will be sweeping across it like army ants. With nothing between them and us but the slopes of the Chiton. And whatever army we can build to defend those slopes."

  "Maybe they'll turn south."


  "Toward the prevalates?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. Neither does Ushulubang. The Beak of the Utuku is reputed to be cold and calculating, as well as vicious. As powerful as the Utuku have become, they are still not ready to match flails with the Anshac. Not yet. They will need to consolidate their rule over the Papti first. And in order to do that, the Beak will see to the elimination of any possible threat in the vicinity. Such as demons living on the mountain that overlooks the plain."

  She stared out the hut.

  "Where are you, Joseph?" she whispered.

  Chapter 19

  To her relief, Joseph returned the next day. With, for the first time since he began the raids, a prisoner.

  That is easily the biggest gukuy I have ever seen, except a mother, thought Indira, gazing at the figure on the litter. Also, if I've learned to assess gukuy standards of beauty, the ugliest.

  Then she noticed the small figure of the male inside the warrior's mantle cavity.

  That's strange. The males usually don't associate closely with warriors. I wonder what happened to his mate?

  The female gukuy was unconscious, and horribly injured. Her left eye was a ruin, and there were two great puncture wounds on her mantle.

  Spear wounds.

  Nor was the gukuy the only injured member of the returning expedition. Jens Knudsen had been hurt as well. But it was merely a flesh wound, Indira was relieved to see.

  "Merely," she thought ruefully. God, how this life has changed us all.

  Maria De Los Reyes was examining the wounded gukuy, with a fierce frown on her face.

  "Why didn't you just dismember her completely, while you were at it?" she demanded crossly.

  "Can you save her life?" asked Jens.

  Somewhat hesitantly, Maria nodded. "I think so. Her mantle cavity's obviously infected, but those poultices you put on the wounds have probably kept her from dying. It'll be touch and go, but—if this warrior's as tough as she looks, she'll survive."

  Joseph smiled. "She's even tougher. Judging, at least, from the damage she caused—four wounded, two of them with broken bones."