Avram Davidson - The Kar-Chee Reign

“What should the people of your home land have done when the Double Devils appeared? They should have built an ark and departed in search of a place to settle in—”

He broke in, “And waited there, passively, until the next visitation?”

But (she protested) if they would only be virtuous, obedient, diligent in the pursuit of proper conduct, then there would be no “next visitation”!

“Not ‘passively,’ no. Activity — but active in the correct way. Have you never thought to wonder why the Double Devils exist at all? Surely you know that nothing happens without a cause, and that no cause exists without a purpose? I’m told that your people believe that the Kar-chee come from the stars. This is mere superstition. No — this is rank superstition! The stars are made of purest fire and nothing comes from them but burning embers… sometimes we see them streak, flaming across the sky at night; sometimes we find the burnt-out coals upon the ground. But no living thing comes from the stars because no living thing can live in the stars. Why? Because the stars are fire and living things cannot live in fire.” Her voice was earnest and sincere and she looked at him to see if he understood.

Liam, suppressing a sigh, said, “Well, Mother, your arguments are persuasive, and it is perhaps not for me, being rude and unsure, to say that they are not correct. You speak of it being possible to prevent the visitation of the Kar-chee. To me, their non-appearance would be a miracle. But you say that in order for this to happen, all mankind must become virtuous. And, to me, Mother, this would be an even greater miracle.”

She swept up a pile of tufts of wool with her hand. “My son, it is necessary, then, for you to learn that man can compel the performance of miracles, that it lies within his power to do so; and that, indeed, he must do so, for man is a miraculous creature.”

“Land is near,” Gaspar declared, approaching Liam in his usual majestic fashion, and leaving moderate excitement in his wake. “All things, of course, are comparative: in terms of walking, or, to be more accurate, swimming, land is still very far. But in terms of the distance we have voyaged, land is rather near. Yes, yes,” he said, contentedly, stroking his vast gray beard.

Liam asked the obvious question.

“How do we know? We are Knowers. It is our duty to know. But to reply more specifically: by the observation of the clouds, by the flight of birds, by the scent and direction of the winds, by the nature of drifting wood and weeds, by the color of the sea; and by many other numerous and significant things. We know— as you could, too, if you were one of us. But we will leave that matter for the immediate present. Only for the immediate present, though. By and by we must take it up. We are determined that our stay in this newest land, if it is suitable for habitation, must be of long duration. From which it must follow that we can harbor none among us who are not of our knowledge and our ways. Otherwise the same sorry story of sin, injustice, and iniquity, followed by punishment and Devilish visitation and destruction will repeat itself. We are wearied of it. Yes, Liam, we are wearied of it.”

With a firm nod of his head he passed on, leaving Liam with much to think about.

But within a few moments his meditations were interrupted. Gaspar was giving orders. The helm was unlashed and a man stationed on it. The mast was stepped into its socket, and the sails of sewn-matting bent in place to the yards. Oars were gotten ready. So far, evidently, they had ridden with the current (though presumably sail or oars had been needed to get them into it, in the first place) — but they were going to take no chances now, either of the current’s taking them past the land or perhaps wrecking them upon reefs or shoals or shores or shallows.

All day long they watched, the arkmen abating somewhat their attitude of abstraction, and the raftmen theirs of suspicion… but no land came into sight.

And that night Rickar and his friends returned again for whispering heresy. Liam hardly felt that he could either encourage or discourage them. He agreed that something better than the present group of choices should exist, but he did not know what that something might be. Pressed, urged that his “experience” demanded him to know more than the Knowers, old or young, at least upon this particular subject, he scowled… paused… said, at last, “We could hardly know less about Kar-chee and dragon than we do. Perhaps if we knew more we could do more… perhaps not…

“But if we should find them here, or anywhere — or if they should find us — I wonder if we wouldn’t do better — rather than at once fleeing, or at once fighting — oh, I’m sure we would do better — to lie low. Not let ourselves be seen a while, or seen again. And concentrate everything on finding out as much as we can about them… without their finding out anything about us.”

Rickar said: “Hiding and skulking?”

“Put a stinking name to it and say it smells bad, if you like. You’re vexed because I won’t offer to lead you in a charge, aren’t you? If I thought it would do more than momentary good, I would. If I ever do, I will. But meanwhile… Knowers? On this subject, let us all become knowers. Father Gaspar’s proverb: ‘Knowledge is power.’ ”

A sudden, dull glow of light suffused the horizon.

“Heat lightning,” someone murmured, even as it vanished. It appeared again, twice more. The air seemed to quiver. Then, darkness, and the silent stars.

Late the next afternoon land appeared — lying upon the rim of the sea like some crouching beast, and, presumably far inland, surmounting the high-massed land, a mountain peak with a long wisp of cloud pendant to it.

Gaspar had appeared to welcome the suggestion of Liam that he and other raftmen accompany the arkfold chosen to make an exploratory landing. Perhaps because this way, should anything untoward happen to the makers of the first landfall, the losses to and of his own people would be thereby diminished… or so thought Liam.

But Gaspar would not allow the ark to put in close until the next day. For the remainder of light time they stood down the coast, making soundings, but finding no bottom anywhere. And toward the last he gave a little sound of satisfaction and pointed toward a line of white or yellow in between the dark water and the darker land.

“Beach-coast, you see. Just the place for a small boat to put ashore—” He was interrupted by a shout. Bottom had been found at last. “Good, then. We’ll anchor and ride here tonight.”

It was cold and the stars were just beginning to pale when Liam, Rickar, an older Knower named Lej who was the uncle of Fateem, and the raftsman Skai descended into the small craft, hoisted a small triangular sail, and let the wind take them in. Day crept out, the sun leaped up, something moved upon the beach, and presently they saw it dissolve into three things… three men. Warily they checked their weapons. The three men were soon seen to be three very young men, two of them evidently brothers. Surprise and suspicion jousted for place on their faces; Liam felt he knew exactly how they must feel.

Lej was the first to speak. “War is not our wish,” he said. He took a tiny pouch of flour, emptied it into his hand, tossed it north… south… east… west. “Peace and plenty to the four quarters of your land. May the blessings of Nature be made manifest upon them and upon you and upon yours.”

The three young men looked uncertain, perhaps regretting a ritual of welcome which they didn’t have. Then, after exchanging glances, they stowed their bows and stepped into the water and helped beach the canoe. The older brother said, “All men are welcome here now, I think…”