Harry Harrison - Return to Eden

“Don’t even say it out loud!” She laughed at the two hunters who were now demonstrating how the Tanu wrestled. “Even the thought of the Paramutan drinking porro is enough to make me want to flee.”

There were more shouts and a loud thud as Kalaleq showed them that, even for their size, the Paramutan were strong wrestlers as well.

“I have been thinking about many things since we came here,” Kerrick said. “I have made some important decisions. The first decision is to make you happier.”

She held to his arm and laughed. “I could not be happier, we are together.”

“Not completely. I know that there is a thing that bothers you — so I tell you that this is now finished, over. Arnwheet has many friends, but I have forced him to come with me to talk to the one on the island. And you hate that.”

Her smile was gone now. “I do. But you are a hunter and I cannot tell you to do one thing, not another. You do as you must.”

“I have been wrong. When we return I will see that the boy stays far away from the one you call a marag. But the marag is my friend and I take pleasure in talking to him. But Arnwheet can do as he wishes. If he wishes to forget how the murgu talk — he will forget.”

“But you have said many times how important it is that he knows these things.”

“I do not think that way any longer. They are of no importance. I have been blind to what the world is really like. I look Tanu, but I think like a murgu. No longer. The world has not changed. Just the way I see it has changed.”

Armun listened in silence, not understanding, but knowing that what he was saying was terribly important to him. He smiled at her attentive, silent stare, touched his finger to her lips.

“I think that I am not saying this right. The idea is clear in my head, but does not come out in the correct way. Look there, look at the Paramutan, at the wonderful things they make. Their ikkergak, the sails that move it, the pump for water, their carving, everything.”

“They are very good at making those things.”

“They are — but so are we. Our flint knives, our bows, spears, the tents we sleep in, we make all of them. Then think too of the Sasku with their pots and looms, woven cloth, crops…”

“And porro — we must never forget that!”

They laughed together while the wrestling on the beach grew even wilder. Two of the Paramutan were so absorbed in the match that they were engulfed by a wave — which everyone thought very hilarious.

“What I have said about making things is important,” Kerrick said. “Even the porro is important. Because this is what we do. We make these things with our hands. The artifacts that we construct cannot die — because they have never lived. A spear is as good in the snow as it is in the jungle.”

“This is true. But is it important?”

“To me — it is the most important discovery. I have been thinking like a murgu too long. The murgu make nothing. Most of them do nothing either — other than live, eat, die. But there are those few of the knowledge of science and they can control living things. I don’t know how they do it — I have the feeling that I will never know. But I have been so stupid in thinking only about the things that they grow. How they do it, why they do it. Everything that I have planned, everything that I have done, has been done in the murgu way. I have tried to think like them always. This was a mistake and I now turn my back on them. I am all Tanu, not half marag. When I say this I see the truth. Let the death-sticks die. They are of no importance. I have made them important and others have believed me. But no more.”

She was frightened. “Don’t say that. Without the death-sticks we die to the south — and there is only winter to the north. You cannot say this.”

“Listen and understand. I am one hunter. I may be dead tomorrow, I could have died yesterday. Because of me we use the death-sticks. When I lived among the murgu I saw how they used them to kill anything that attacked them, no matter what the size. I saw this and realized that if we had death-sticks as well we could also be able to survive in the south. And we have done that — but our lives now depend upon the death-sticks — and that is not right. We must find a way to do without them, a way that is natural to us. If our lives depend upon them, why then we are half-marag — and all are like me. But no more. I and all others must be all Tanu. The answer is right before us.”

“I do not see it,” she said, bewildered.

“Do you not remember the murgu island? How you lit the fire and Kalaleq killed the ship-creatures in the sea?”

“Yes, that is what happened.”

“Then he will show us how to kill murgu the same way. We will learn to make takkuuk. That is the black poison in the bladders that makes you sick if you smell just a little bit of it. But on the spears it kills the largest marag. Do you not see the difference? Things that we know how to make can never die — like the death-sticks which sicken and die. The knowledge of the making cannot die either because many have it. We will make the takkuuk and live where we wish.”

“I think that I understand now — understand that this is a very important thing for you. But maybe we will not be able to make takkuuk. Then what?”

He pulled her to her feet beside him. “We will be able to understand how it is done. We will ask now. Because what one can make another can make. We are not murgu, remember. And we must not try to be like them. Perhaps some day we will have their knowledge of the way living things are. Some day. But we do not need this knowledge now. Let us ask Kalaleq.”

The Paramutan was lying back on the sand, gasping as he chewed a bit of raw liver, blood on his hands and face. His stomach was distended with feasting — but he wasn’t going to give up yet.

“Greatest eater among all the Paramutan!” Kerrick called out.

“It is true! You have said it. And I am the greatest hunter as well…”

“Then you can do anything?”

“Anything!”

“You know how to make takkuuk?”

“Kalaleq knows everything there is to know, makes takkuuk that kills the biggest ularuaq.”

“Will furry Paramutan of wisdom then tell simple Tanu how it is done?”

“Never!” he shouted, then roared with laughter and fell feebly back onto the sand. Neither Kerrick nor Armun thought this was very funny. Only when the laughter had died away and he had finished chewing and swallowing the last of the liver, did he explain.

“It is important and very hard to do. My father taught me, I will show my son Kukujuk how to do it when he is older. You are old enough to learn now. But you must trade for this secret knowledge.”

“That is fair. What do you want?”

“The price is high. It is — one knife of stone with sharpest blade.”

Kerrick took his knife out and handed it over. Kalaleq ran his thumb along the edge and muttered with happiness. “Now I will tell you, then I will show you. For not only must you mix the blood and entrails of certain fish, bury them in a warm place to rot. Dig them up and seal them to rot some more, but you must then mix in the juice pressed from the roots of the tall flowers that blossom only on these shores. That is one of the reasons we return here to trade. Trade and dig these roots. They must be in the takkuuk, they always have been. They help it to kill. Will you also fish with the takkuuk?”

“We are hunters. We want it for our spearpoints when we meet the largest murgu in the forest.”

“It will kill them easily, have no fear.”

“We have had very much fear,” Armun said, then smiled. “But no longer.”

And she no longer had her own private fears. That Arnwheet would become more murgu than Tanu. That fear was gone now. Kerrick would go alone to see the marag on the island. He would talk to the creature as she talked to the Paramutan. That was all. And one day the thing would die and that would be the end of it. Now there could be an end to fear.