The Seething Springs folk were unusual in returning annually to
permanent buildings, instead of constructing temporary shelters wherever
they chanced to be. And this custom had grown up among them only because
their hibernation site was not too far from this village. No one had
challenged their occupation of it.
Quite simply and amiably, G’ung wondered what had brought the Merseians.
“We explained our reasons when last we visited you … with gifts,”
their leader reminded. His colleagues bore trade goods, metal tools and
the like, which had hitherto delighted all recipients. “We wish to learn
about your tribe.”
“Is understood.” Neither G’ung nor his group acted wildly enthusiastic.
No Domrath had shown fear of the Merseians. Being formidable animals,
they had never developed either timidity or undue aggressiveness; being
at an early prescientific stage, they lived among too many marvels and
mysteries to see anything terrifyingly strange about spaceships bearing
extraplanetarians; and Yowyr had enforced strict correctness in every
dealing with them. So why did these hesitate?
The answer was manifest as G’ung continued: “But you came before in high
summer. Fastbreaking Festival was past, the tribes had dispersed, food
was ample and wit was keen. Now we labor to bring the season’s
gatherings to our hibernation place. When we are there, we shall feast
and mate until we drowse off. We have no time or desire for sharing self
with outsiders.”
“Is understood, G’ung,” the Merseian said. “We do not wish to hamper or
interfere. We do wish to observe. Other tribes have we watched as fall
drew nigh, but not yours, and we know your ways differ from the
Towlanders’ in more than one regard. For this privilege we bid gifts
and, can happen, the help of our flying house to transport your stores.”
The Domrath snorted among themselves. They must be tempted but unsure.
Against assistance in the hard job of moving stuff up toward Mt.
Thunderbelow must be balanced a change in immemorial practice, a
possible angering of gods … yes, it was known the Domrath were a
religious race …
“Your words shall be shared and chewed on,” G’ung decided. “We shall
assemble tonight. Meanwhile is much to do while light remains.” The
darkness of Talwin’s clouded summer was pitchy; and in this dry period,
fires were restricted and torches tabooed: He issued no spoken
invitation, that not being the custom of his folk, but headed back. The
Merseians followed with Flandry.
The village was carefully laid out in a spiderweb pattern of
streets–for defense? Buildings varied in size and function, from hut to
storage shed, but were all of stone, beautifully dressed, dry-laid, and
chinked. Massive wooden beams supported steeply pitched sod roots. Both
workmanship and dimensions–low ceilings, narrow doorways, slit windows
with heavy shutters–showed that, while the Domrath used this place,
they had not erected it.
They boiled about, a hundred or so of every age; doubtless more were on
the trail to the dens. Voices and footfalls surged around. In spite of
obvious curiosity, no one halted work above a minute to stare at the
visitors. Autumn was too close.
At a central plaza, where the old cooked a communal meal over a firepit,
G’ung showed the Merseians some benches. “I will speak among the
people,” he said. “Come day’s end, you shall receive us here and we
shall share self on the matter you broach. Tell me first: would the
Ruadrath hold with your plan?”
“I assure you the Ruadrath have nothing against it,” Cnif said.
From what I’ve studied, Flandry thought, I’m not quite sure that’s true,
once they find out.
“I have glimpsed a Ruad–I think–when I was small and spring came
early,” said an aged female. “That you see them each year–” She
wandered off, shaking her head.
With Cnif’s assent, Flandry peeked into a house fronting on the square.
He saw a clay floor, a hearth and smokehole, daises along two sides with
shelves above. Bright unhuman patterns glowed on walls and intricately
carved timbers. In one comer stood a loaded rack, ready to go. But from
the rafters, with ingenious guards against animals, hung dried fruits
and cured meat–though the Domrath were rarely eaters of flesh. A male