Hal Clement - Cycle of Fire

Kruger looked over these factors and nodded to himself. Then he turned back to the rest — his captors had stopped, with remarkable complaisance, to let him finish his examination — and asked the individual with the pack, “How often do these — —?” He had no word for the verb he wanted, but swung his hands up and outward in a fashion that was clear to everyone but Dar. The leader answered without apparent hesitation.

“No law. Sometimes once in two or three years, sometimes two or three dozen times a year.”

“How high?”

“Sometimes just overflows, sometimes tree-high. Lots of noise, lots of steam.”

There was nothing surprising, of course, about geysers in a volcanic area. However, Kruger had an impression that savage and semicivilized races usually avoided them, and he spent some time wondering whether the answer he had received told him anything about these beings. He decided ruefully that for practical purposes it didn’t.

By the time he had reached this conclusion the journey was almost over. They had crossed the clearing where the geysers were located, and in the jungle on the far side was a collection of structures which proved to be the “city” of their captors. It told a good deal more about the creatures than their words had.

The buildings were plain thatched huts, somewhat more complicated than the ones Kruger had built during the midsummer seasons along their route but much simpler than some that may be found in African kraals. The leader called out as they approached the village, and what turned out to be the rest of the population emerged from the huts to see them arrive.

Kruger had read his share of adventure novels and acquired most of what he thought he knew of primitive races from these. As a result he became distinctly uneasy about one aspect of the crowd which gathered about the captives. They were all the same size, as nearly as his eye could distinguish. The first impression this gave the boy was that this was a war party, with women and children strictly left at home. He relaxed slightly when he saw that only those who had been in the party that captured him and Dar were armed. However, the silence of the newcomers rather affected him after a while. Logically, they should all have been asking questions about the captives; instead they were merely staring at Kruger.

It was Dar who broke the silence, not because he particularly minded being ignored in the circumstances but because he was worried about his books.

“Well, when do we see these Teachers of yours?” he asked. The eyes of the being who had the pack swiveled toward him.

“When they say. We plan to eat first, but while food is being prepared I will report our return to them.”

One of the people who had not been with the party spoke up. “It is reported; we heard you coming and could tell by the alien’s voice that you had succeeded.”

Kruger understood enough of this sentence to see why the villagers were less surprised at their arrival than might have been expected. The party must have been sent out to capture the wanderers; Dar and he must have been seen crossing the clearing to the city. The times involved were reasonable.

“The Teacher who answered said that the party and the captives might eat and that both captives were then to be brought to him.” Neither Kruger nor Dar made any objection to this, though the boy had his usual doubts about the food.

Some of it, which was served first, was vegetation; it came in great baskets which were placed on the ground. Everyone sat around them and helped himself, so Kruger had no difficulty in selecting what he knew to be safe for him. While this was going on, however, a number of villagers had gone out to the geysers carrying other baskets containing cuts of meat. They returned with these and replaced the empty vegetable containers with those they had carried, and Kruger found to his dismay that the meat was hot — too hot to handle comfortably. Apparently it had been cooked in one of the springs.

Both he and Dar were still hungry, but neither dared try the meat after Kruger’s earlier experience. They watched gloomily while the villagers gulped it down, until a point struck the boy.

“Dar, these people are the same as you. The cooking doesn’t spoil the food for them; why don’t you eat, at least? One of us should keep his strength up.” Dar was a little doubtful about his identity with the villagers, but the other point touched his sense of duty and after wrestling with his conscience for a few moments he agreed that his friend was right. His uneasiness as he ate was clear to the people around him and seemed to cause more surprise than Kruger’s appearance had done.

Inevitably, he was asked what the trouble was and the surprised eyes turned back to Kruger as Dar related his unfortunate experience with cooked meat.

“I do not understand how that can be,” remarked one of the villagers. “We have always cooked our meat; it is the rule. Perhaps your friend used a spring which had poison in the water.”

“He did not use a spring at all. There was only the river, which was cold, and we had nothing to hold water — at least, nothing big enough.”

“Then how could he possibly have cooked the meat?”

“He held it over a fire.”

The sudden buzz of conversation which greeted this word seemed to Dar to represent the first reasonable reaction he had obtained from these people, but he quickly found that he had been misunderstood.

“Was the fire near here?” was the next question. “We are ordered to tell the Teachers whenever a volcano other than the ones near the Great City becomes active.”

“It was not a volcano. He made the fire himself.” The eyes swiveled back to Nils Kruger and a dead silence ensued. No one asked Dar to repeat his words; the average Abyormenite had too much confidence in his own hearing and memory to suppose that he might have misunderstood such a simple sentence. There was a distinct atmosphere of disbelief, however. Dar would almost have wagered his books on the question that would come next. He would have won.

“How is this done? He looks strange but not powerful.” The last word did not mean purely physical power; it was a general term covering all sorts of ability.

“He has a device which makes a very tiny fire when he touches it properly. With this he lights small bits of wood and when these burn he uses them to light larger ones.”

The creature had doubts. So did most of the others; there was a general grunt of agreement when he said, “I will have to see this.” Dar carefully refrained from giving openly his equivalent of a smile.

“Will your Teachers be willing to wait until he has shown you, or should this thing be shown to them also?” This question caused some rapid discussion among the villagers, which culminated in a rapid journey by one of them to a small hut which stood near one side of the cluster of dwellings. Dar watched with interest as the fellow disappeared inside, and endeavored to decipher the faint mutters of speech that came out. He failed in this attempt and had to await the messenger’s return.

“The Teacher says to bring wood, such as the strange one needs, and let him see the building of the fire.” The natives scattered at once to their huts, while Dar filled Kruger in on the numerous items he had missed in the conversation. By the time this was accomplished wood was arriving from all directions.

None of it had come straight from the jungle; it had evidently been cut some time before and been drying in the huts. There was no reason from the shape of the pieces to suppose that it had been originally obtained for firewood, and every reason from the background of the people to suppose that it had not, but there it was. Kruger selected a few pieces and shaved them into slivers with his knife, then made up a small armful of larger material and stood up, signifying that he was ready. Dar started to lead the way toward the hut where the messenger had gone.