Edmund Cooper - Seahorse in the Sky

Enclosing the plain and transforming it into the segment of a vast circle there was a high and apparently static wall of mist or fog.

Mindful of his professional pride and his duty to his sept lord, the pathfinder resisted the temptation to turn back there and then. He marched across the plain on foot, leaving his pulpul tethered to a shrub. He had to do this for the simple reason that the pulpul, normally docile and obedient, refused to go forward.

It did not take the pathfinder long to reach the wall of mist. As he approached, he confidently expected that the strange barrier would no longer look like a wall. He was wrong. Though there was some breeze, the mist barrier remained motionless and definite in shape.

The curiosity of the pathfinder proved to be a stronger stimulus than his fear of this abnormal phenomenon. He hoped to pass through the white wall of mist if he could and to discover what lay on the other side. But before he entered it, he stood for some time gazing at the mist, noting several strange facts.

Its ‘surface’ was not fluffy or irregular as one might expect from a wave of ordinary ground or sea mist. It was uniform and opaque. It did not merge or mingle with the atmosphere at all, and seemed almost as if it were held in position by an invisible and rigid skin. The wall stretched away into the distance on each side of the pathfinder and, looking along it, he could see that the curvature was uniform.

Being an enterprising and intelligent fellow, the pathfinder did some rough but intricate calculations based upon the assumptions that the curvature remained constant and that the wall itself did not end. If that were the case, he reasoned, he and his sept and the land to which they had been brought, would be contained in a circle of perhaps fifty or sixty varaks in diameter. (In discussion with Absu, Russell had been able to establish that one kilometre was roughly equal to one and a half varaks.) Dwelling upon the implications of this possibility, the pathfinder came to the conclusion that it was his plain duty to penetrate the mist. Though brave, he was a naturally cautious man—as befitting his art—and instead of plunging boldly into the mist he first of all put his hand into it.

The hand disappeared almost as if it had been cut off at the wrist. Holding his hand in the mist for a few moments, the pathfinder became aware of a faint tingling in his fingers. When, at last, he withdrew the hand it was noticeably cooler than the rest of his body.

The pathfinder meditated on these discoveries for a while. They did nothing to improve his confidence. If the mist were so opaque as to make his hand disappear, how could he possibly find his bearings once he himself entered it?

However, besides having a lodestone, which was part of his standard equipment, he also carried with him a length of twine, almost one quarter of a varak long, made out of twisted pulpul hair. In case the lodestone should fail him—and who could foresee what effect such a mist would have on a simple lodestone—he planted his lance securely in the ground and tied one end of the twine round it and the other end round his waist.

The precautions were unnecessary. He was unable to penetrate far into the mist wall, and it was quite easy for him to find his way back. He was unable to penetrate deeply because with every step he took it became noticeably and uncomfortably colder. After half a dozen steps, frost formed on his skin; after three more steps, he could not move his fingers; after two more steps his lips froze together and a film of ice was beginning to form over his eyes. Finding his way out was simple. He had only to seek comparative warmth.

Mindful of his duty to his sept lord, the pathfinder tried to pass through a different part of the mist wall. Again he was driven back by the intense cold. He tried a third time and was driven back once more.

Then, sensibly, he gave up, made his way back to where he had left the pulpul and returned to Keep Marur to relate his experiences and make a rough map of his journey.

Russell heard the story from Absu when he had recovered from his red spice hangover. He asked if he could question the pathfinder himself. But, before Absu’s return to the keep, the man had been despatched to look for his sept lord, and had not yet returned.

As the two terrestrials and the Gren Li warriors journeyed back to the Erewhon Hilton, Russell considered the significance of the pathfinder’s story.

Granted the zoo hypothesis, and granting the supposition that the mist wall continued to form an unbroken circle, one was left with the conclusion that, however large the reservation area was—and it might even be as much as nine hundred square kilometres—the zoo keepers had no intention of letting their ‘animals’ escape. On the other hand, the pathfinder could easily be wrong in his conclusions; and the freezing mist might well be a local phenomenon.

But, remembering the report John Howard had brought back from the second expedition, Russell was inclined to believe that Absu’s pathfinder had interpreted the purpose of the mist barrier correctly.

While Howard was studying the People of the River through his binoculars, he had discerned a high, unmoving wall of fog in the distance, on the far side of the river. It seemed highly probable that this mist barrier and the pathfinder’s barrier were one and the same. Since the pathfinder had gone in a northerly direction and John Howard’s party had explored in a southerly direction, the notion of a circular wall was considerably strengthened.

In which case, several interesting possibilities were revealed…

Suddenly, Russell was aware that Anna was talking to him.

“We are very near home now, Russell. I do not think our warrior friends need accompany us all the way to our base,” she glanced significantly at the two impassive riders, “so perhaps we could walk the last kilometre or two on foot.”

“You are quite right,” said Russell, taking the hint. Although Absu mes Marur was familiar enough with the Erewhon Hilton, there was little point in letting his warlike followers see for themselves how indefensible it was from a military viewpoint. It might give them ideas.

He halted his pulpul and spoke to the two warriors. “My friends, it has pleased the lord Absu to send you to accompany us to our own land. For this we are grateful. We wish now to continue the last part of our journey on foot. Therefore, with thanks, we return to you the pulpuls we have ridden. Say to your lord that we have greatly enjoyed his company and that we thank him and you for the protection he has given on our homeward journey.”

Russell dismounted carefully—realizing that it would bring great loss of face if he were to fall off a pulpul—and helped Anna to dismount from her beast.

“Lord Russell,” said one of the warriors, “we hear you and obey. But know that our sept lord commanded us to see you safely to your keep, and it will go ill with us if harm should come to you because we have not discharged this task.”

“No harm will come to us,” said Russell. “But say to the lord Absu that I commanded you to return at this point.”

The warriors saluted, slapping their hands upon the blades of their weapons. “By the sacred robe it shall be. Farewell.”

“In the name of the white queen and the black,” replied Russell gravely, exercising his small knowledge of the strange idiom, “go safely.”

The warriors swung their pulpuls round, the two riderless creatures following them obediently, and cantered off back along the route they had recently taken.

Russell and Anna began to walk forward, hand in hand. It was a hot afternoon and there was plenty of time before sunset, so they were not inclined to hurry.

After a time, the greenness of the savannah and the stillness of the air filled them with lassitude.