“Leave,” she commanded harshly. “All of you—except Ushulubang.”
Without hesitation, the young humans filed from the hut, Joseph leading the way. As Rottu and Ghodha turned to leave, Ushulubang said to them softly:
“Gather the apashoc. Tell them the flails of the Pilgrims are now under the command of the Mother of Demons.”
Julius hesitated at the doorway, and turned back.
“I’m staying,” he announced firmly. Seeing Indira’s hard gaze, he shrugged.
“Indira, Joseph’s right. For years, we’ve been able to stay on the sidelines. A cozy little colony, in a cocoon. But all things come to an end. Whatever decision you make, we are going to plunge into the mainstream of history. To sink or swim. And if we sink, we’ll pull others down with us.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” she demanded angrily. “But why do I have to be the one to make the decision?”
“Because you’re the only one who can, love. Joseph’s right about that, too.”
“That’s nonsense!” shouted Indira. “The decision is obvious. Tactically, strategically—even morally.”
Julius shrugged. “Then make it.”
Indira opened her mouth, then closed it. Desperately, she looked at Ushulubang.
“How may I be of service?” asked the sage.
Indira whispered, “Do you understand?”
Ushulubang’s mantle flooded brown with grief.
“Yes, Inudira, I understand. You cannot bear taking responsibility for the future. You cannot bear being—the Mother of Demons.”
Tears began pouring from her eyes. “Let me tell you the truth about the future, Ushulubang, and its secrets. And its agony.”
She spoke for three hours, without interruption. Her words were disjointed, at times. She made no attempt to present her thoughts in an organized and scholarly manner. Had she done so, it would have made no difference, in any event. Much of what she spoke were names which were completely new and unfamiliar to the gukuy who listened.
So many names. So many, many, strange demon names. Names of places, for the most part.
Places of infinite slaughter:
Auschwitz. Dachau. Hiroshima. Tuol Sleng. Dresden. Nagasaki. Verdun. The Somme. Bokhara. Sammarkhand. Rwanda.
Places where the strong savaged the weak:
Rome, and its victims. Rome, sacked. Jerusalem, sacked, and sacked, and sacked. Magdeburg. The Mfecane. Amritsar. Wounded Knee. Nanking. Sharpeville. Vietnam.
Places where the rich battened fat on the misery of the poor:
The helotry of Egypt and Sumeria and Sparta. The slavery of Athens and Rome. The knout of the Tsars and the boyars. The Middle Passage. The plantations of the Caribbean and the South. The Belgian Congo. The sweatshops of the industrial revolution. The Irish potato famine. The coal mines of Appalachia. The German slave labor factories of World War II. The Gulag. The Great Leap Forward. The International Monetary Fund.
Names of cruelty:
Hitler. Stalin. Tamerlane. Ivan the Terrible. Pol Pot. Nazis. Einsatzgruppen. Ku Klux Klan. Inquisition.
Deeds of cruelty:
Kristallnacht. The pogroms of Russia. The lynchings of the American south. The Albigensian Crusade—and all the other crusades.
Name after name after name—in a babble, at the end, until she finally fell silent.
Throughout, Ushulubang had not even moved. Now, she stirred slightly.
“So. Truly, a terrible road. Worse than I had hoped. But not, perhaps, as much as I have sometimes feared, in the darkest nights of the soul. You are here, after all. On this world which we call Ishtar, because the name given to it by demons is one which we can all agree upon.”
Indira snorted. “Demons. It’s a good name for us. Who but demons could be so cruel?”
“Yes. And who but demons could be so courageous?”
The sage stared up at the ceiling of the hut. “It is such a wonder to me. To be so brave and powerful. To cross the Infinite Sea.”
Indira shrugged. Ushulubang gazed at her for a moment, before speaking again.
“Tell me, Indira. Is it true, as I have been told, that you did not flee to our world? That you came here of your own will?”
“Yes.”
“What was your purpose, then?”
She explained, as best she could. Of an Earth ravaged, but at peace. Of a humanity which was struggling to rebuild a planet. Of those few, among the many preoccupied with immediate necessities, who had yearned for the stars. Who had managed, after much labor and effort, to equip a single expedition to come to the one star in the vicinity of Sol which had been determined to possess a habitable planet.