HopeofEarthbyPiersAnthony

CONTENTS

15. Khan

16. Wall

17. Melody

18. Maginot

19. Dreams and Bones

20. Symbiosis

Author's Note

INTRODUCTION

THIS IS THE THIRD VOLUME of the Geodyssey series, following Isle of Woman and Shame of Man, concerning evolution, history, the nature of mankind, and the possible fate of the world. Each novel stands independently, so readers need not fear to try this one if they haven't read the prior two, and they don't have to read the volumes in order. Each book tells the story of a seeming family as it follows its course in both the personal and historical senses. The first novel traced three generations, or about seventy years; the second followed one generation, or about twenty years. This third novel follows six orphaned siblings—three brothers, three sisters, of varying ages—as they grow up and love and marry in the course of about ten years of their lives. The history they experience covers five million years. Thus they are Australopithecine—ape-man, if you will—when they start, and modern human beings when they finish. They are usually together, and their family relationships are always the same. So for convenience in reading, they may be considered to be the same folk, though that is not possible in reality. They always speak the language of their local setting, so nothing is made of that in the novel; for this purpose we don't care much whether it is ape-primitive or contemporary English or future Spanish. Language itself is a defining characteristic of mankind, as we shall see, but in this sense, one language is about as good as another.

What is true in reality is that all human beings are related, all descending from common ancestors and capable of interbreeding. The passions, fears, desires, and joys of all are similar, though there is much variation. So the family presented here is consistent in the human sense, and the transient details of appearance, such as skin color, hardly matter. Just think of the people herein as similar to those you know. They are, really. Yes, even in their differences. Some are healthy and handsome, but most are imperfect. So in this novel each major character has a difference or a problem. Sam is convinced he must marry an ugly woman, and he does, though not the way he expects. Flo gets really fat, and thus is considered quite attractive in one culture, and ugly in another. Ned is brilliant, but gets seduced by a wrong woman and suffers. Jes is lanky and plain, so prefers to play at being a man, yet underneath wishes she could be a woman. Bry feels inadequate, yet is not. And Lin is lovely—and has a six-fingered hand. No, this is based on reality; some children are born with extra fingers or toes, which are often surgically removed early in their lives. One famous woman with this affliction was Anne Boleyn, second wife of England's Henry VIII, mother of Elizabeth I. It seems to be a shame to cut off a working finger, so Lin kept hers, but always had to hide it, because people can be truly cruel to anyone who is different. So these people have curses that are echoed by many of us, which are really more shameful in our self-images than in reality.

This is a "message" series, and the message is that the qualities that enabled our species first to survive in a difficult and dangerous world, and then to prosper, are now in danger of destroying that world. There is for example no automatic check on population growth. Originally the panthers and other predators did it, feeding on human babies as well as on other creatures. There were also limits of food, so that when a species outgrew its resources it starved. There was disease, at times devastating. Mankind has been as successful as any species in overcoming such limitations, and now dominates the planet, driving other species toward extinction. If this is not curtailed sensibly, it will lead to a truly ugly finish, because the world is not limitless.

However, those who prefer straight entertainment can skip the italicized chapter introductions and endnotes and just read the ongoing story. The permutations of history are endlessly fascinating, and challenge and love are always in style.

Map 1

Chapter 1

COMMUTER

Five million years ago, in the western arm of the Great Rift Valley in Africa, the chimp that walked like a man was perfecting his stride. Australopithecus afarensis was forced to forage on the dangerous open ground because the forest had diminished and there was too much competition for the resources of the trees. To do this, he had to lift his upper body up and balance on his hind legs. The supposedly simple act of walking habitually on two feet—bipedalism—entailed a complicated series of bodily adjustments. The spine had to reverse part of its curve so that the head could be right above the feet, the pelvis had to be reshaped to support a torso that would otherwise sag, the feet had to straighten out the big toes and develop arches for shock absorption, and the knees had to lock so that prolonged walking would not wear them out. None of this developed quickly; probably at least a million years were required. But for the purpose of this story, it is assumed that the knees happened in a single mutation applying to the younger generation of a small roving band. Thus for the first time these folk were able to travel comfortably on two feet, and extend their range considerably.

But was bipedalism necessary? Why didn't mankind simply range out four-footed, as the baboons did? Why undertake the formidable complications of a change unique among mammals? This may at one time have been a close call. But Australopithecus, having descended from the trees with his head set vertically, had the ability to go either way, and there was one compelling reason that two feet were better than four. It would have been better for the baboons, too, had they been able to do it.

At this stage speech would have been extremely limited, with an assortment of sounds perhaps emulating the animals they represented, and a few key connecting words. But the expressions of chimpanzees in the wild are more varied and useful than some may credit, and the brain of Australopithecus was slightly larger than that of the chimp. So probably his vocabulary was larger and more effective than the chimp's, though not by much.

SAM RANGED OUT ACROSS THE eerie barrens. He was the eldest juvenile male of the band; soon he would be adult. But the adult members would not take him seriously until he proved himself. So he had to survive alone for long enough to prove his capability, and locate a good source of food; then he would be allowed to help protect the band and to mate with all its grown females except his mother. Mothers were funny about that; they would accept attention from any male of any age except the one they knew best. So now he braved the unfamiliar region, hoping there was something there. Part of the challenge was nerve; it took courage to go out alone, and courage was one of the differences between adults and juveniles, among the males, at least. He was nervous, but refused to turn back until he found something.

The sun was hot, very hot. Normally the band folk found shelter in the middle of the day, grooming each other's pelts, copulating, or merely snoozing. But Sam didn't dare relax while alone, because there was no one to watch out for him. A leopard could attack. Of course a predator could attack anyway, especially since Sam was alone, but was less likely to bother an alert person. So he forged on despite the discomfort. The heat made him tired, and he staggered, but wouldn't quit. He had to prove he was adult. Had to keep going, no matter what.

He followed the known path to its end, then cast about for some animal trail. Sam was not the band's smartest member, but he had a good eye for paths, and that had always helped him get around. People paths were easy to follow, and not just because they were close and familiar; the smell of people feet was on them. Animal paths varied; they could be discontinuous, or pass under brambles, or enter dangerous caves. But they were better than nothing, because any path led somewhere, and it was more useful to go somewhere than nowhere. Sometimes they led to water that wasn't otherwise easy to find. So he continued along the animal paths, going wherever the animals went. Until at last the ground became too dry and hard to show any path clearly, leaving him uncertain. The only path was now the trail of scuff marks his feet left in the dirt behind him. But of course that path led in the wrong direction.

The sun beat down on his fur, making it burningly hot. It was midday, and the heat blurred his vision. He thought he saw pools ahead, but knew from experience that it wasn't so. There was no water out here on a dry day like this. The thought made him thirsty, but still he refused to turn back in defeat. He was determined to find something, anything, and be an adult. So he plowed on through the blur, trying to ignore the heat and his thirst.

He felt tired, then oddly light. His feet moved slowly, but hardly seemed to touch the ground. It was as if they were detached from him, moving of their own accord, carrying him along like some separate burden. His head seemed to want to float from his shoulders. How long had he been walking? He didn't know, but it felt like days. Everything was somehow different. But he just kept going.

Something strange happened. The sun seemed to expand, becoming enormous. It bathed him in its fierce light, making him dizzy. A dreadful foreboding came, and then a horrible fear. Something terrible was happening:

The fiery fringe of the sun passed beyond him, enclosing him within its territory. Great vague shapes loomed within it, threatening him, glaring with eyes of flame and licking with tongues of smoke. Doom! Doom! they cried, saying the sound of warning, of terror, of grief. Sam wanted to turn about, to flee, but would not, though he knew it meant destruction. Anyway, he had no path to follow, so would only get lost if he fled.

Then he was falling, falling, for a long time, the barren plain tilting around him. He felt the shock of landing, but it was far away. He was down, and had to get up, but somehow he could not. Something awful was going to happen if he didn't flee, but his body would not move.

Why hadn't he fled back along his own path, while still on his feet? Because he had been unable to admit defeat. Now he had suffered that defeat anyway.

A long time passed. Then he discovered that the sun was down, and the cool of evening was coming. He had to return home—and he had failed to find anything.

Sam got up. He was logy, and his head hurt, but he seemed merely bruised, not injured. He brushed off his fur and started back, dejected, following his own spoor until he could pick up a suitable animal trail. He had failed to find food. He was not yet an adult.

He moved slowly back the way he had come, quiet because he lacked the vigor to be noisy. The land darkened around him. Then he heard something, and paused, looking.

Two warthogs were stirring in the bush. One grunted and snuffled at the other, its projecting teeth-tusks gleaming in the twilight. Sam looked warily around for a rock or stick he could use to try to beat the boar off, as there was no nearby tree to climb. But the hog ignored him. It scrambled up, putting its forelegs on the back of the other, who was squealing in seeming protest, and pulled in close. Oh—they were mating. No threat there, as long as he didn't try to interfere.

Mating. Which was what Sam wouldn't get to do, having been unsuccessful on his mission. Dispirited, he walked on. He found increasingly clear paths, which he could follow even in the darkness. So he would make it safely back, for what little that was worth.

When he reached the camp, his sister Flo was the first to spy him. She was almost as old as he, and would soon have to leave the band and find another band, so she could mate and have a baby of her own. It would be sad to see her go, for she was his closest companion and friend, but it was the way it was.

Flo ran to him, and hugged him. Her fur was sleek and fine. "Find?" she asked, making the general purpose query sound.

"Doom," he said, repeating the horror of the sun, and shivering, though it was not yet cool.

Now the other young folk clustered around, eager to know how he had done. They did not understand doom, because he had returned safely. "Find! Find!" they chorused.

So he tried to tell them what else he had seen, making the grunt and squeal of the mating warthogs. They laughed. "Sam grunt ugh!" The implication was that Sam wanted to mate with an ugly warthog.

But Flo did not laugh. Her face showed concern. She knew that he had sought experience and status. She knew he had failed. She hugged him again, trying to cheer him, but it was no good. Maybe the children were right. Maybe it was a curse on him, to suffer disaster and humiliation.

Flo tried once more. She brought him a fruit to eat. This was unusual, because normally sharing occurred only when a female mated with a male and took food from him, or when a female gave her young child food. The two of them would never mate, because they were band siblings, though neither was really a child. Oh, they could mate, as some other siblings did, but were not inclined; they were too close. He accepted the fruit, because he was hungry after his day without eating. Then he went to his favored tree and climbed into it to sleep. Maybe in the morning his shame of failure would hurt less fiercely, in the manner a cut toe eased as it healed.

Two days later the group of elder children was foraging in a deep valley when a storm threatened. They tended to forage together, because all of them were in that awkward stage between weaning and maturity, too old to be cared for by the adults, and too young to be adults themselves. Sam hated still being a child, but until he went out alone again and found significant good food for the band, he would not be accepted as adult. He couldn't do that yet, because of the overwhelming feeling of doom his first attempt had left him with. He seemed to be cursed, but he couldn't understand how or why.

They started to return to the safety of their camp, but the storm rushed in too swiftly. The clouds swelled and hurled down their rain in a sudden deluge. The drops were cold despite the heat of the air. They blasted the children and the rocks, thickening into a torrent. The water sluiced through the narrow cleft leading from the safe upper valley to the richer lower valley, making it into a turbulent river. The group had to retreat from it, bowing their heads before the onslaught; they could not pass that water.

Sam, staring at it, felt again the horror of his vision. "Doom," he said. The sky itself was chasing him, trying to hurt him. Now he was with the others, and it was attacking them all.

Flo heard him, despite the angry roar of the wind. She understood his sentiment. "Flee," she said, saying the word for running away from danger.

Sam hesitated, because that meant leaving the known path. It was always dangerous to leave the path when distant from the most familiar grounds, for only the path knew the way home. Yet that path was clearly impassable; no hope there. So, reluctantly, he nodded.

Soon the group was walking away from the cleft, deeper into the valley, though this was not a comfortable direction. There were animal paths that all of them could trace, but they led in the wrong direction. The great wide plain beyond was dangerous, especially at night, and they all feared it. Sam himself had been lucky to return from his venture onto it; there had been others who never came back. But it was not yet night, though the storm made it seem as dark; they would be able to return once it passed and the water drained.

There was a loud cracking noise and a great flash of light behind them. They all paused and turned to look. The storm was smiting the cleft!

Dirty water surged around their feet, as if it, too, was trying to escape. Then it thinned, spreading out. The storm passed, leaving bands of vapor rising into the sky.

They reversed course, walking back up the valley. But as they approached the cleft, they paused, staring with confusion and consternation. The cleft was gone! It had become a tumble of stone below a steep cliff. There was no way they could climb up that sheer ridge.

"Doom," Sam muttered. His vision had been true.

Flo was more practical. "Around," she said, speaking a more difficult concept. When there was something in the way, people went around it. They would go around the mountain, and get home another way. Sam agreed, because he had no alternative to offer.

They started out, walking swiftly, the two of them in the lead, the lesser children following. First they had to get all the way out of the valley, because its rocky ledges were impassable throughout. That turned out to be a longer distance than it looked, because as the valley widened and the sides curved away, more came into view. Fortunately there were good animal paths here, making rapid walking feasible.

Three of the children were trailing. Sam saw that they were the bent-knee ones. Most of them walked with straight knees, but some didn't. They never had. It didn't make much difference around the home camp, where there were always things to hold on to and places to rest, but now it did. The three were tiring, and couldn't keep up.

Flo saw him looking, and glanced back herself. Then she looked forward. He knew what she was thinking: they had a long way to go, to get around the mountain, and if they didn't go fast enough, they could be caught out here by night. Then the leopards would come, and the big snakes, and other things they feared without knowing.

So they didn't dare go slow. The bent-knees would simply have to follow at whatever pace they could, tracking the spoor of the others. Maybe they wouldn't be too far behind when the way home was found. When night came.

When Sam next looked back, he didn't see the three laggards. That made him feel uneasy, but he didn't know what else to do but keep moving on. He could tell that Flo was similarly disturbed.

At last the valley opened out into the frighteningly broad plain of the unknown. No one foraged alone this far out, because it was too far from their safe retreat. Now they had to.

It was hot out here, with no shade. The sun was near the top of the sky, with no clouds. Sam was wet with sweat, and he saw it matting the fur of the others. His sense of doom returned; the sun was dangerous. But so was the night, in the open.

There were bushes here, rich with ripe berries, and Sam recognized several good tuber plants. Excellent foraging! But could they pause to eat? He looked at Flo, and she looked at the sky, then shrugged. She glanced back again: maybe if they remained here a while, the three lost children would catch up.

They ate the berries, which were rich and juicy. Not only did this feed them, it allowed them to rest, and to cool. Had they known how good the foraging was out here, they might have braved it before.

Flo kept looking back the way they had come. She was hoping the bent-knee children would catch up. But there was no sign of them. They had probably returned to the head of the valley. Maybe they would find a way past the new rubble and cliff. It was better to think that, than to think of what else might happen to them.

Soon, somewhat restored, they resumed walking, this time not quite as fast, because of the awful heat. The animal paths were good, and this helped. The mountain curved on around, allowing them to head toward another great valley. There were trees at its end, and it looked passable. In fact, they discovered a people path leading there. Encouraged, they walked along it. Only to encounter hostile folk.

As they approached the trees, several bent-legged people came out led by a scowling man and a rather interesting woman. At first Sam thought the others were coming out to welcome them, but when they got close the man made gestures of striking with his fist and biting. Perplexed, Sam halted, and so did the others with him. What was the matter?

"Who?" he called, saying the recognition word.

"Bub," the man said, frowning. He gestured to the woman. "Sis." She smiled, but not nicely. Had she been a new member of the home band, it would have been nice to breed with her, but she evidently had no interest in doing it with strangers. Despite his fatigue, Sam regretted that.

"Sam," Sam said. He indicated Flo. "Flo." He indicated the four smaller children. "Us." It was a formidable introduction, but he managed it.

Bub pointed toward the plain. "Go!"

Sam tried to explain. "Far," he said, indicating the valley beyond them. That meant that they intended to go beyond the territory of this band, to reach their own band.

"Go!" Bub repeated. He bent down to pick up a rock.

Sam recognized the challenge. He would have fought, had he been grown. Had he not been hot and tired. Had there not been too many adults before him, and only children behind him. But as it was, he had to retreat.

He turned, and the children turned with him, weary but knowing they had no choice. Outsiders could not enter the territory of a hostile band without getting beaten or killed. So they started to walk away.

All except Flo. "Bad," she said, for a moment standing up to Bub, letting him know her sentiment.

Then something unexpected happened. Bub looked closely at Flo, sniffing, then grabbed her. She screeched in protest, thinking he was attacking her. He was, but not in the way she supposed. He wrapped his arms around her body, hauled her up, and threw her down on the ground. This was easy for him to do, because he was twice her size, being a grown male.

Sam leaped to Flo's defense, but another bent-knee male caught him and held him, pinning his arms to his sides. The male might not be able to stride as well as Sam on the plain, but he had more strength in his body than Sam did, and Sam was helpless. The children didn't dare even voice a protest. They could only watch what Bub was doing with Flo.

Bub dropped to the ground, holding Flo there. He hauled his body on top of hers. She screeched again and struck at him, but her small arms hardly affected his strong body. She lifted her head, snapping at him. Then he closed one fist and struck her in the face, stunning her. She stopped screeching and lay still, her arms and legs relaxing. He hauled his pelvis in close to hers and jammed in between her spread legs.

Suddenly Sam recognized what Bub was doing. He was mating with her. Not in the manner of a male of the home band, sharing joy with a grown female of the band, but as an act of aggression against a foreign female. He had smelled her dawning maturity and done it.

It was quickly over. Bub got up, leaving Flo lying on the ground, her limbs twitching. She turned her head from side to side, and groaned. She didn't know exactly what had happened.

The one holding Sam let go. The others were holding stones they were ready to throw. Sam went to Flo and put out one hand. "Go," he said, afraid that worse was coming.

She groaned, recovering her senses. There was blood on her nose, dribbling down the side of her face. Her eyes were wild. "Hurt," she said.

"Go," he repeated urgently. They had to get away from here, before the members of the hostile band fell on them and killed them all. Sometimes it happened, when band members got too far separated from their home band.

Flo evidently realized the danger. She took his hand, and he hauled her up. She took an unsteady step, and he grabbed her shoulder, stabilizing her. They walked away from the hostile band, and the children scurried along with them, frightened.

A stone landed near them. Sam broke into a run, hauling Flo along, and the children ran too. Soon they were out of range, because the bent-knees did not pursue them.

They slowed, finding a good path, resuming their striding, which was the best way to travel any distance. Sam looked back, but the hostile band members were gone. They had simply driven off intruders, as bands tended to do. Had Flo been older, they might have taken her captive, so that all the men could mate with her, beating her until she stopped objecting. Females often didn't seem as interested in mating as males were, so had to be encouraged. Sam had seen it happen, when his band had intercepted a grown female of a neighboring band who had strayed too far from her own folk. After every male was satisfied, they had let her go, and thought no more of it. It was her own fault for straying; no one had had any sympathy for her. If a strayed female remained after the first round of mating, and the males liked her, she would be allowed to join the band as a member. Then she wouldn't be beaten unless she refused to mate with a male who wanted to. That was how it was.

But this time it was different. Flo was young, and she was his friend. She had not really strayed or left her band; she had been cut off from it by Sam's bad fortune. She definitely had not sought to mate yet. He wished this hadn't happened to her. He wished he could kill Bub. But all he could do was flee.

"Doom," Flo said, trying to wipe the blood from her face. Her nose was swollen and she looked awful.

"Doom," he echoed, realizing that she thought this was part of the curse he had seen. Maybe it was. So it was his fault. Everything bad was happening since that vision in the sun.

They went on, their pace slowing, because the path was fading, the children were tired, and so was Flo, weakened by the attack on her. The sun was no longer beating down as hotly; it was hidden by a cloud. That helped, but not a lot.

They rounded another swell of the mountain, and entered another valley. But soon the band of this valley spied them, and charged out, screaming threats. They quickly reversed and walked back into the plain. The bent-knees pursued them.

This was trouble. Was every valley going to be like this? If so, they would never get home! They were already very hot and tired.

Worse, the sun came out again, heating their fur. Sam remembered what had happened when he kept walking into the sun. The sun would eat them all.

But one thing about the bent-knees was that they had even more trouble in the sun. Sam didn't know why, but it was the case. So he did something desperate. He found a new path and led the way not around to the next valley, where there might be more enemies, but directly into the breadth of the hot plain.

Flo and the children did not question him. They just plodded on, trusting him to lead them somewhere.

When the hostile band saw where the group was going, it turned back. The heat and fatigue were just too much.

Sam looked ahead—and saw something new. There was an outcropping of rock across the plain. Maybe that would do for a camp. So he chose another path and headed for it, striding more slowly now that there was no pursuit. The slower speed was better for all of them; they walked straight-legged and had no trouble despite their youth and tiredness. This was good, because the rocks were far away.

But when they finally approached the rocks, something came out from them. There were several hunched shapes, moving swiftly. Sam couldn't tell what they were. Should he turn back? If they were people, they might throw rocks or mate with Flo again. If they were animals, they might try to eat the whole group.

He paused, considering. The day was now late; they would not be able to return to the mountain before nightfall, even if they had the strength. So it was better to go on to the rocks and see what was there, hoping it wasn't too bad.

He moved on, and the others were with him, crowding closer because they heard the shapes ahead. They were afraid, and so was he.

Then there was a gust of wind, bringing a scent: baboon. This was a baboon lair.

Ordinarily people did not tangle with baboons. The beasts were strong and fast, and could be vicious. But they weren't as smart as people. Sometimes they could be bluffed.

He had seen bandsmen drive off baboons by throwing stones and making a lot of noise. It could work here, if there weren't too many baboons.

"Rocks," he said, casting about until he found a good one to pick up.

The children were uncertain, but did as he said. When all of them had stones in each hand, he led the charge. He lifted his arms and screamed. "Yah-yah-yah-yah!" He ran right toward the rocks.

Baboons were dangerous! Flo hesitated, and so did the children, but they were afraid to be left behind. So in a moment they joined in, screaming in a chorus and waving their arms.

The baboons looked at the charging group, and ran the opposite way. There turned out to be only four of them. This must be a mere fragment of their band, temporarily isolated from it; otherwise this charge would never have worked. When one showed signs of turning back, Sam hurled one of his stones at it. The stone missed, but did spook the creature, and it hurried on after the others. Soon they were gone.

Sam's knees felt weak. It had worked! They had bluffed out the animals. Maybe the baboons had thought that any creatures who screamed and charged like that had to have many more of their own kind behind them. Maybe baboons couldn't count. Regardless, it was a great relief.

The outcropping turned out not to be large, but it did offer a raised section shielded by surrounding boulders. It would be hard for the predators of the night to attack. Sam carried the heaviest stones he could manage, to shore up the retreat, and made a den under the overhang of the largest rock section. It wasn't as good as home, but it would do.

Night was coming. They found good berries all around the outcropping, because no people had foraged there recently, so they were able to eat well before darkness closed. There was a stream not too far distant, so they were able to slake their thirst. Then they entered the den and huddled together for sleep. The children did not seem to be too concerned; they trusted Sam to protect them. They were very tired, and sank rapidly into slumber.

Flo tried to sleep too, beside him, but she was groaning softly. Her bashed nose was probably hurting. Sam reached out to stroke her hair, and she settled down. Grooming always made a person feel better. But who was there to comfort Sam?

The key is heat. The African savanna was hot, and creatures that moved around too much in the heat of the day risked heatstroke. Antelopes have special networks of veins and heat exchangers associated with the nose to cool the blood for the brain; baboons, like cats and dogs, pant, and have enlarged muzzles that facilitate this. But mankind's ancestors had neither device; their noses were too recessed and puny to make panting worthwhile. They had to find another way. That way was bipedalism. Creatures who became vertical presented less than half as much surface area to the blazing sun as those who remained horizontal, and that made a significant difference in heat absorption. So it paid to become bipedal, if they went out into the burning plain at noon. Not just occasionally being on two feet, but constantly, while moving as well as while standing still. Because the beat of the deadly sun was steady. Since this was where chimpanzees were not foraging, because of that heat, it was richer harvesting for bipedal Australopithecus. Food was the great incentive; a species that might otherwise have been squeezed to oblivion was able to survive, here on the fringe of the Garden of Eden.

But it was dangerous on the plain, especially at night. So it was necessary to have a safe retreat for sleeping, and forage only by day, in the heat of the sun that restricted quadrupedal predators more than bipeds. It is unknown where Australopithecus slept, but it surely was not on the dangerous plain or by a treacherous river. Probably it was in caves or on ledges that were difficult for predators to reach. This was a problem, because the best foraging seems to have been on the open plain, far from the mountains where there were safe places to sleep. How could early hominids have both safety and food?

The answer seems to be that they became commuters. Each morning they left their rocky dens and strode across the terrain to suitable places to eat. Each evening they returned to the dens. Since the two regions might be many miles apart, efficient traveling was essential. Hence the importance of paths—and knees. Bending knees were like constant running, fatiguing to the legs and wastefully expending energy at slow speeds. Lockable knees enabled mankind to stride longer while generating less muscle heat. That made commuting in the heat of the day feasible. It wasn't necessary to seek the shade of isolated trees during the worst heat. Mankind, like mad dogs, could walk in the noonday sun. Thus mankind colonized what other apes could not: the open noon savanna. That greatly extended his foraging range, and was a key survival advantage. It wasn't that he preferred the heat, it was that he could handle it slightly better than rival creatures could, so it paid him to do so.

But becoming bipedal was only the beginning. This turned out to be an extremely significant change, setting Australopithecus on the course that was to lead to modern man, in ways the following chapters will explore. The one most relevant to heat adaptation is the loss of body fur. Though standing vertical cut down the heat from the noon sun, it was at first a marginal advantage; other creatures did have brain-cooling systems. But it enabled mankind to shed that fur, because the bulk of the body was no longer exposed to the sun's rays during the worst of the day. The relatively bare skin (hair remains on it, just much shorter and thinner) was a more efficient surface for sweat to affect, and mankind developed the most effective cooling system among mammals. Why was this necessary, when bipedalism and lockable knees had already enabled him to survive nicely? Because mankind was later to develop an organ that generated extra heat, and demanded extra cooling, lest it suffer: the giant brain. It probably couldn't have happened on four feet.

Map 2

Chapter 2

SCAVENGER

About two and a half million years ago, Australopithecus gave way to Homo habilis, the "handy" man, who was larger in body and brain, fully bipedal, and probably lightly furred. His occasional use of stones and sticks to defend himself against other animals was becoming more regular; he had the foresight to make collections of rocks where he might need them. In fact, he probably used a variety of wooden tools or weapons, which are unknown to archaeologists because they left no permanent residue; stones may have been incidental to his life-style. He still foraged, but the seasonal variation of the availability of fruits and tubers and grubs made for some lean times. His larger brain was also more demanding for protein. So Habilis had a problem: he needed a reliable source of richer food. The obvious source was meat, but that presented formidable problems. Habilis lacked the ability to catch and kill large animals, so had to go after the kills of others. That meant coming into conflict with leopards, hyenas, or lions: no pleasant business. The chances were that by the time he located and reached a fresh kill, virtually all the good meat was gone. There would be little remaining but gristle and bones.

Habilis found an answer. It probably took hundreds of thousands of years, but for convenience of illustration we shall assume that there was a single early breakthrough accomplished by a very smart individual. The setting is the east Rift Valley of Africa.

JES WALKED BESIDE NED, FOLLOWING their two elder band siblings. Sam was in the lead, as always, and Flo following.

Flo had a baby in her belly. At first it hadn't seemed so, but now she was fat in the middle, and she tired easily. She was always hungry, too, because by the time she reached a berry patch, the others had already picked it over. Sometimes Sam took her with him to a good patch, and growled off the others so that she could eat, but usually he didn't think of it. He was too worried about how they would survive since being cursed with isolation, and about the vision he had had of warthogs copulating, suggesting that he was destined to mate with an ugly woman. Jes knew about all this, having seen it happening and overheard it being told. The elders thought she didn't understand, but she had seen the ways of things in the tribe, and knew what was what. She had heard Sam's awful vision, and she had seen Flo get raped by the hostile foreign band chief.

When they had first been separated from their band, and had to forage alone, Flo had tried to help the younger ones. Now the two youngest children were trying to help her. Ned was still not a man, small for his age and not aggressive, but he was smart and quick with his hands. Jes was big for a girl, and homely, and knew it; she would not be popular when she became a woman. The two of them tended to stay together, neither snubbing the other; they might have mated when grown, if they hadn't been band siblings. Jes knew that no other band would treat her as well as this group of band siblings did. As well as Flo had. They had known each other all their lives, and looked out for each other. So when Flo's form and strength diminished, Jes saw her as closer to herself in nature, and associated more frequently with her. Flo was a woman, and Jes was a large child, but Flo was not in a position to protest.

On this day they traveled far in the heat, following the best animal paths and marking their trail so there would be no hesitancy on their return, only to discover that the good berry patch had been savaged and was useless. Saber-toothed cats had made a kill here, dragging down a beast, and in the process flattening the berries. They had come here for nothing. What the cats hadn't eaten, the scavenging hyenas had; a hyena skulked away as the band approached. Obviously it was a laggard, and largely sated, or it would have stood and fought them. Not even the berry squishings remained; the ants were finishing them off.

But the siblings made what they could of it. The good meat was gone, but there were still some bits of flesh sticking to the joints and tendons. Ned had a small stone with a sharp edge he carried with him; now he used that edge to cut away some of the meat left by the animals' teeth. The two smallest children simply put their faces down and chewed directly on the bones, gleaning what little they could.

Ned handed Flo a small string of meat he had severed. She thanked him with a smile and took it. Jes knew it was tough, but Flo had good teeth, and it was clearly much better than nothing. Flo had helped the rest of them so much when she could, that it was natural for them to help her when they could.

Ned picked up a bone and looked at it. Jes followed his gaze. This bone had been crushed, probably by the powerful jaws of the hyena, so that it had split open. Jes smiled; that animal must have been really hungry, to chew on a bare bone. What sustenance was there in bone?

But Ned wasn't satisfied. He poked a finger into the split bone. It was damp inside, and reddish. He sniffed it. Jes watched, having nothing better to do at the moment.

"Hyena," Ned said. "Food."

Maybe a bare bone was food for the hyena, but it wasn't for people. Their teeth were not nearly as strong as those of the hyena, or any other predator. They would merely get aching teeth if they tried to eat that bone.

But Ned still wasn't satisfied. "Why chew?" he asked.

"Meat in?" Jes asked.

Flo laughed. Of course the meat was on the outside, not the inside. But Ned didn't laugh. "Inside," he repeated, shaking the bone. A bit of reddish stuff fell out.

Jes snatched it up and put it in her mouth. She chewed, smiling. There was something edible in the bone. The taste was strange, but it seemed to be like meat.

Now Ned got serious. He looked around until he found a large rock with a flat surface. He found a smaller rock, the kind good for throwing, and hefted it in one hand. He put the bone on the large rock, then smashed the small rock down on it. What was he trying to do?

The bone bounced off the rock. Ned put it back, and bashed it again. Of course it bounced off again, so this time Jes grabbed it by the end and held it in place for him. She didn't know what he had in mind, but he was their smartest member, so she might as well help him do it. Ned smiled, thanking her, and bashed it once more. Jes felt the shock, but it didn't hurt, and the bone stayed in place. So Ned bashed again. And again. Finally he managed to crush it so that the split in the end widened. He wedged with a narrower stone, until the bone opened into two parts.

They peered in. There was more of the reddish stuff. Ned pulled at it with his fingers, and it came out in a soft muddy mass. He put it to his mouth. He chewed. Then he smiled, and offered it to Flo. She was doubtful, so he offered it to Jes.

Jes already knew it was edible, though odd. She took it and bit into the softness. She took another bite, liking it better. It was definitely food. Then, catching Ned's warning glance, she paused. He didn't want her to eat it all.

Jes handed the rest of it to Flo, because she was plainly hungry too, and needed food more than any of the rest of them. The woman tasted it, bolder now that she had seen Jes eat it with evident pleasure. Then she ate it slowly, becoming reassured. They had indeed found food in the oddest place, inside the bone. Jes had never imagined anything like that. Only someone as smart as Ned would ever have thought of it.

Flo got up and went to Sam, who had been chewing on a joint, not paying attention. Sam was their strongest member, and a good guy, but not the smartest person. "Food in," she said, pointing to another bone. But he looked blank.

Ned got a larger bone and put it on the rock. He smashed at it with the smaller rock, but it was too tough to crack. So Jes got help. "Sam," she said. "Do."

It took a while to make Sam understand, and Jes and Ned had to demonstrate several times with smaller bones, but finally Sam took the rock from Ned and smashed it down hard on the bone. The bone cracked open, and the reddish stuff showed inside. Ned pried it out and gave it to Sam. Sam tasted it, and his face lighted. "Food!"

After that they cracked open all the bones they could, and all of them ate the stuff inside. It was their first really good meal in several days.

Θ

The next several days they traveled and foraged as usual, following their familiar paths, but now they had a new awareness: there was good food to be had at predator kill sites. They had ignored or avoided such sites before, but now they looked for them. The best early indication was the vultures; if they were circling, there was a carcass below. They were easy to see in the sky. So when the gross birds signaled a find, within striding range, the six of them set out in that direction. This time, knowing that they could encounter predators, they carried staffs. These were long poles fashioned from sapling trees, handy for support when walking became tiresome, and more useful when baboons attacked. Stones were good, but there might not be enough good ones in the vicinity. They had caches of stones in convenient places, but they could not anticipate exactly where the kills would occur, and stones were too heavy to carry along with them all the time. A carried staff, however, was an effective weapon.

It turned out to be a wise move, because the kill was recent and a small pride of big tusked cats was still there. Sated cats seldom attacked, but the people didn't care to risk it. So they settled down to wait for the cats to finish and depart, keeping their staffs ready in case a cat decided to rout them. This was a region with tubers, so they found smaller sticks to use to dig the tubers out of the ground. Ned used his sharp-edged stone to make points on the ends of their digging sticks, so that they worked better. Then, thoughtfully, he started carving a point on the end of his staff. Jes, seeing that, had him sharpen hers too.

Several hyenas appeared, and settled down to wait similarly, on the opposite side of the carcass. They knew better than to try to drive the cats off, because it seemed that hyenas did know the difference between one and several, but they would fight any lesser creatures for the rights of first scavenging.

Fortunately the cats soon moved on without attacking. Now the party of people walked in on the carcass. But so did the hyenas. There were six of them, so they were a force equivalent to that of the people.

This was where the staffs came in. They were good for fending off such creatures. Normally it was just a matter of holding the staff out ahead, crosswise, so that it was hard for a creature to pounce and bite without getting blocked. But they could be swung hard to deliver painful blows. And now, Jes saw, Ned was holding his staff with the sharpened end pointing forward, like a tusk of a saber-toothed cat. That could be more effective. She pictured what it would feel like, if she were a hyena, trying to spring at a pointed staff, and maybe getting stabbed in the snout. She winced. She would surely back off. But animals weren't as smart as people; they might see it differently.

The hyenas prowled around, considering. They were hungry; they wanted those bones. They were formidable fighters. But they didn't like fighting aggressive creatures, and they didn't understand the staffs. So they were cautious.

The people advanced on them in a tight formation bristling with staffs. One hyena decided that staffs were not lions, and charged. This was the test.

It came right at Jes. Before she knew it, her staff was thrusting out, striking the creature on the nose and drawing blood. Then Sam's staff came down on its head, hard. The hyena scrambled back, hurting.

But another moved forward. Again Jes's staff thrust out to intercept it, knocking it on the ear, scraping the fur. It snarled and backed off. The staffs were working!

Finally the hyenas lost their nerve, and loped away, leaving the bones to the seemingly stronger force.

Jes felt weak with relief. Had the animals realized that the group consisted of four children, one weak woman with a baby in her belly, and only one strong man, they would have charged and perhaps prevailed. Staffs were good, but not that good. For one thing, if a staff got knocked to the side, a hyena could get in a good bite without penalty. One bite would be more than enough; their jaws were horribly strong.

Yet during the actual fight, she had not been very much afraid. Her weapon had led the way, striking as if of its own volition. She had been thrilled to feel the contact with the flesh of the enemy, and feel the shock of the blow in her hands. Sam had fought more effectively, having far more mass and muscle, but Jes had done her part. She was a fighter too.

They had won the carcass. But this was an exposed place, and a stronger force could come at any time. More hyenas could appear, augmenting the original group, making them bold again, or a large pack of dogs could spy them. The dogs couldn't crack open the bones, but they could scatter them widely as they chewed on them for their external bits of meat. So it wouldn't be smart to settle down to crack open the bones and eat the marrow here, because trouble was bound to come before they got into many of the tough ones. They had known this when they set out for this site.

They took rocks and bashed at the joints connecting the bones, breaking them apart. They collected all the best bones, wrapped their arms around bundles of them, and carried them toward the nearby river. That was safer, because most predators did not like to fight in the water, especially when there were crocodiles there. But staffs would drive away crocodiles too, if the animals weren't too hungry. They had a large cache of stones there, making it far more defensible. The whole business was somewhat chancy, but the reward was great: an excellent meal that would invigorate them for days. Jes knew that Flo, especially, appreciated it, because the first meal of marrow had strengthened her enormously, and she had lived and slept better after it.

They carried the bones to the river, where they drank deeply and set up the stones to crack them open. All of them worked at it, though the two youngest children weren't able to do it by themselves, and needed help. The inner meat was delicious; they all had rapidly developed a taste for its richness.

At last, sated, they marched back to their home cave, following their marked path so that there were no missteps. There they lay down and slept, though it was not yet night. They rarely ate here, because it was too much work to haul food all the way back from the plain. But they did have a pile of stones by its entrance, and a number of staffs inside. They felt secure here.

Jes was especially pleased. Their experiment with the vultures was a success; they had located a fresh kill, and gotten all the marrow from it. Animals were always getting killed, so there were likely to be more such opportunities on other days. In between they could forage, as they always had. Their situation had improved. Because Ned had figured out that there was good food in bones.

Θ

Jes woke when Flo got up early and left the home cave. Jes, sensitive to her sister's condition, got up and followed her. Flo had evidently thought to go alone, because of what she had to do, but seemed to be glad to have her younger sibling along. Flo was heavy on her feet, and the descent from the high cave was precarious despite the clear path they had made. Paths were good, very good, but if they made the one to their lair too easy, other animals might use it. Like hyenas. But with Jes helping her, Flo made it down without mishap.

"Baby come," Jes said as they walked out onto the plain, holding their staffs.

"Baby come," Flo agreed. "Keep no."

Jes was surprised. "Keep no?"

"Need man," Flo said.

Because a baby was just too much to handle alone, Jes realized. Flo might die trying to maintain it, and the baby would die too. But if she threw it away, Flo could grow strong again, and live. Jes understood another reason Flo didn't really want to keep the baby: it had been put in her by the rape. It seemed to take a man to put a baby in a woman, and the baby of a bad man was not worthwhile.

They followed the path to the dying place, where old people were left when they stopped walking and breathing, safely away from their normal sleeping and foraging regions. This distance stopped the smell, and allowed the dead to be forgotten quickly. Jes didn't see any bones lying around, but she wasn't looking for them. The hyenas and dogs would have scattered them anyway. She didn't much like death when it happened to people.

Flo found a by-path leading to a forested section, and within that region was a pleasant grassy glade. This was suitably private and comfortable. She put her hands on the trunk of a small tree at the edge of the glade, and held on to it, supporting herself. She spread her feet wide, straddling a declivity between two large roots. She squatted, letting her hands slide down the tree. Then she began to breathe deeply and push her breath out slowly under great pressure.

Jes stood somewhat awkwardly, not knowing what to do. This process frightened her, but she wanted to know about it. She knew that babies came out of people, but had never actually seen it happen. Was it like defecating? It did seem to be the same general region of the body. That was where the bad man had put it in.

For some time, nothing seemed to happen. Flo continued to squat and breathe, facing the tree. Then she started pushing harder, and the cleft between her legs widened.

Suddenly there was a rush of fluid from her, splashing on the ground. Alarmed, Jes stepped forward, but Flo didn't seem to be concerned. Her eyes were closed, and she was still breathing heavily, bearing down. It didn't seem to be blood, so maybe it was all right.

Flo began to groan, and the groans rose in pitch to become small screams, but still Jes didn't know what to do. She stood on one foot and then on the other, as if she could walk to wherever she needed to be to help.

The screams faded. Flo opened her eyes. "Moss," she said, as if this were routine.

Jes ran around the glade, gathering up handfuls of the spongy moss that grew at the bases of trees. She brought back an armful. "Where?" she asked.

"Under."

So she dumped it under Flo's spread bottom, and straightened it, realizing that it was to cushion the fall of the emerging baby. The baby would be left here to die, but maybe Flo didn't want to hurt it directly. Jes could understand that; the idea of hurting a baby appalled her.

As Jes finished, Flo started breathing deeply again. Jes remained on her knees, not knowing whether to retreat. Flo bore down, screaming—and her cleft widened into a circle. Something dark appeared in it, pushing through. It was the baby's head! Jes reached out to catch the baby, so it wouldn't fall headfirst on the ground. Flo screamed again, and heaved, and the head pushed slowly through. It seemed impossible that the hole could open wide enough for a whole baby to pass, but it was happening. Then, much faster, the rest of the baby came, dropping into Jes's hands. It was so warm and wet and slippery that she almost dropped it; she grabbed harder, and must have hurt it, because it shuddered and then gulped and began to cry.

"Cut," Flo gasped, still holding on to the tree.

Now Jes saw the cord extending from the baby's belly back up into Flo. She laid the baby down in the damp moss and brought out her bit of sharp stone. She sliced it across the cord several times until the cord separated. Then, remembering what she had heard, she looped the length of cord around and knotted it near the baby's little belly.

Flo, meanwhile, hauled herself up, took a few steps to another tree, then strained again. More was coming out of her, and now it looked like blood. Jes started to get up, but Flo cried, "No!" So Jes took some dry moss and used it to mop and clean the baby, wiping the blood and waxy smears off it. Now she realized that it was a girl, tiny but perfectly formed. How awful to leave her here to die! But she reminded herself why: Flo had no mate, and their band was weak, and so they could not support a child. If she kept it, the baby would die, and Flo might die too, trying to nurse it when she was unable to forage enough to feed herself. That would hurt them all. So it had to be left here. Jes hoped they would not be able to hear its crying, from the home cave.

Jes cleaned the tiny feet, and saw a mark between the first and second toes of the left foot. It looked like a bit of leaf caught there, and she tried to clear it out, but it was actually a discoloration of the skin. Well, no one would notice it, there. Not that it mattered, in a baby destined to die. But it was sad, somehow, to think of trying to hide a baby's blemish, and it not living long enough for it to matter. Jes felt her tears starting. She wished that she could take the baby, but knew that it would be even worse for her to try, because she had no breasts and couldn't nurse it.

Flo finished her business, and cleaned herself off with some other moss. She came over to look once at the baby. She was crying too. Then she turned around and walked away, back along the path.

Jes took one more longing look at the baby, then got up and followed Flo. They cried together as they returned to the cave. As they came in sight of it, Flo paused to wipe her fur and face clean. Then she put a neutral expression on her face and marched on. Jes did the same.

But as they were about to enter, Flo stopped. Her tears flowed again. "Can't," she said, and turned.

Jes didn't argue. She followed Flo back to the glade, secretly relieved. Maybe she could help forage for the baby. Maybe it would be her child too. At least it wouldn't die. Not right away.

But when they came up to the place, the baby was gone. The stained moss remained, but there was no sign of the tiny girl. Someone or something had already taken her.

Flo uttered a muted sob and searched all around the glade, but there was nothing. That meant that a person must have taken the baby, because an animal would have devoured her, leaving blood and bones. So maybe the little girl would live after all, having a mother who could support her.

At last Flo gave up her fruitless search and turned again for the cave. She was crying, but not in quite the same way as before. There was a tinge of hope in it. Jes hoped that hope was justified.

Homo habilis had made a fundamental shift of lifestyle. He had found a more reliable source of high-energy food, but it required special abilities. He needed to spot fresh carcasses, and to reach them promptly enough to get whole bones, and to crack those bones open. This meant fighting off some of the other predators, and represents the first consistent use of tools we know of: the stone used on the bones. Probably stones were the least of his technology, as noted before; wooden tools and weapons would have been far easier to make and use. Would a sharp stone actually have been used to cut an umbilical cord? That is a stretch, but a creature smart enough to carve meat might do it. Scavenging also meant carrying, so as to be able to complete the operation safely. Because bipedalism freed the hands for such things, it was possible; but more intelligence was needed for such organization. There was now a greater premium on brains. That meant the body's mechanisms for cooling body and brain had to become stronger. Thus sweating increased, and fur thinned further, as it could afford to do as long as the species remained vertical, catching the wind while avoiding the noon sun. The prior "Geodyssey" volumes assumed the validity of the Aquatic hypothesis, wherein a period in water caused mankind to shed his fur and develop subcutaneous fat; this one does not. Mankind appears to have become furless in order to cool his burgeoning brain. But there were further complications of both bipedalism and loss of fur, leading to other remarkable developments.

Map 3

Chapter 3

TRIPLE PLOY

When mankind became bipedal, he surely didn't anticipate the chain of consequences. A major one related to the female of the species. A baby takes perhaps twice as long to learn to walk on two feet as it would for four feet, and this extends the time it is dependent on its mother. She had to carry it much of the time, nursing it as she held it in the crook of her arm. The larger brain and slower development of the child extend that time of extreme dependency further. This places a burden on the mother. As the species progressed, this burden increased—and eventually human women started having babies at shorter intervals than other species did, so that there could be several children dependent on one mother. Nursing drained her physically, and she had to take in more nourishment herself to provide for her baby, while having such a family restricted her from going out to forage. At the same time, Homo habilis progressed, about two million years ago, to Homo erectus, with a division of labor occurring. The male went out to hunt and fight; the female foraged and took care of the children. It was no longer possible for a mother to raise her child by herself. She had to have the regular help of a male, for protection and food for herself and her children. She may have needed a monogamous relationship, or at least a way to be sure of the regular presence of a male, in addition to the support of the tribe. While it made reproductive sense for a father to facilitate the survival and progress of his children, this was not a notion that came naturally to the average male. His reproductive strategy had always been to sow his seed as widely as possible, sniffing out the fertile females, and leave the care of the offspring to their mothers. But it made little reproductive sense to sire many offspring who died because the mothers were unable to support them. Thus it was necessary for the woman to find a way to compel the man's constant attention despite his polygamous instinct, and necessary for the man to modify his ways somewhat. This was, in its subtle fashion, the onset of a battle of the sexes that continues today. Men and women are not really at war, but they do have fundamentally different strategies of survival and reproduction, and compromise is essential. For this engagement, the woman set aside the compulsion of periodic pheromones and developed perhaps the most formidable arsenal of visual, emotional, and behavioral devices any species has seen. It was the triple ploy.

New evidence is pushing the dates of Homo erectus much further back, as far as 1.8 million years ago in China and southeast Asia. Scavenging may have led naturally to hunting—why wait for your carcass?—and hunting enabled mankind to obtain food anywhere he went, as long as there were animals who could live on vegetation that human beings couldn't eat. So this change of strategy may have opened much of the rest of the world to mankind. However, those groups that lacked the numbers or ability to hunt effectively could still have done well enough by scavenging, the old stand-by, so probably Erectus did both. If the forward fringe of settlement advanced just one mile per decade, in a hundred thousand years it would extend 10,000 miles. Thus Homo erectus could have colonized virtually all of habitable Asia in that time, and may have done so. The setting is Java, 1,500,000 years ago.

FLO FOLLOWED THE PATH EVERY day to the glade, but there was never anything. Jes went with her, understanding her need. But in time they had to give it up. The baby was gone.

Sam brought meat and shared it with the others, and Flo recovered her strength. She put more time into foraging, and the foraging was good, and they all did well. Still, she knew that they would not have done well if she had kept her baby; she would have been weaker, and would have needed more, and it would have put an unconscionable strain on the band. She felt guilty for their success, purchased at the price of her baby.

But they were too small in number to be a band. They were six band siblings who had gotten separated from their original band, and now they had their own cave in the vicinity of several other bands. Their time spent struggling to survive on their own had bound them together in a way they had not been before. Sam and Flo were grown, and Ned and Jes were growing, while Bry and Lin remained children. They were like a large family, and they all looked out for each other, and they didn't want to separate.

In some bands, the males went out to seek females in other bands, and joined those bands. In others, females went out to the other bands. But the six of them had resolved to remain together, bringing both males and females in, if they could. They had a good location, with adequate foraging and hunting, and they knew how to crack open the bones to gain the most from the animals they killed. But they needed more members, so that no other band could come and drive them off.

Sam was big and strong, and had gotten more so recently, but he had a problem. He believed he was cursed to mate with an ugly female, because he had seen ugly animals mating. So he wasn't eager to find a woman. But Flo knew that there had to be mates, because they could never be a true band without couples and children. One day when she was foraging for roots with the others, while Sam was out searching for a carcass to scavenge, she brought up the subject. They were of course busy eating what they found and dug out, but since more time was spent in searching and digging than in eating, there was time for words.

"Sam need woman," she said, speaking each word carefully so that they could understand. When anyone spoke too rapidly, the words ran in together and became incomprehensible, so time had to be taken.

Little Lin put her fingers in her mouth, stretching it wide. The effect was exaggerated because of her deformed hand. "Ugly woman," she said.

"No," Flo said firmly. "No ugly."

Ned agreed. "Sam fear ugly. No mate."

"Tell Sam," Lin said.

That was the problem. Sam believed his vision, and did not listen when Flo or anyone else tried to tell him that he didn't have to mate with an ugly woman.

"Flo need man," Ned said.

"Man no mate Flo," Flo said with resignation. She knew that she was cursed, because she had been raped and then lost her baby. What man would want her after that?

"Man mate Flo," Ned said.

"Tell Flo," Bry said, imitating Lin's tone, and the two laughed.

"Man no," Flo repeated.

Ned faced her. "Tell man baby no," he said seriously. "Man know no."

Flo was astonished. It had never occurred to her that the people of other bands wouldn't know of her problem. But smart Ned was right: How would a man know, if she didn't tell him? If the others didn't tell him? Her body had resumed its early form, and her cleft had narrowed, so that there was no sign that a baby had passed through it. "Tell no?" she asked, looking at each of the others. This was a phenomenal new concept: that of pretending to what wasn't true. Always before, what wasn't true had no meaning; could it now have benefit?

"Tell no!" they chorused. That meant that none of them would tell. She would seem to be an ordinary woman, without the curse of a lost baby. Ned had found the way.

They discussed it further, as they completed their foraging, and decided that Sam and Flo should go out together to look for mates from another band. Sam should have no trouble, because of his evident size and strength, but even without the curse, Flo would surely find it difficult, because she wanted to bring a man back here. So she was resigned to likely failure. But she would make the effort, because it was a pretext to make Sam come with her, so he could find a woman. He wouldn't go alone; despite his size and power, he lacked certainty by himself, and was largely helpless. Some woman might talk him into joining her tribe.

As they returned from their foraging, with a few extra roots to share with Sam, they saw him approaching the cave with an armful of bones. He had found a carcass, and brought back the leg bones for them to crack open and share. So it would be a good evening.

Flo broached the subject after they had eaten all the marrow. "Sam find woman. Flo find man. Sam Flo go."

"No," he said.

"Yes!" all the others cried.

Sam was physically strong, but had trouble with intellectual debate. So he shrugged.

Next day the two of them set out. Ned was left in charge of the cave; he was clever at finding ways to make it difficult for any stranger to enter. He could balance rocks so that they fell at the slightest touch, landing on tender feet, and he was adept at putting sharp thorns in unexpected places. He would make any foreign raid during their absence awkward. Even so, Flo didn't like leaving the four children alone, but she saw no alternative. They had to remain to maintain possession of the good cave.

They took a devious path, and walked on past the territory of their nearest neighbor band, because they knew that there were no suitable mates there, and the others knew too much about them. They needed to approach an unfamiliar band. Their band's path linked to the neighboring band's path, becoming less familiar, but it was all right because all people had a common interest in connecting to others. Otherwise how would mates ever be found? As long as they stayed on the path and kept moving, they would probably not be molested.

They did not encounter anyone. That wasn't surprising, because there were not many bands. Their own had come from another place, moving into new territory, and others had closed in around them similarly. The other bands were larger, so could hunt more effectively, and got the best animals first, which was why their own band had to scavenge more often than not. Where the elder generation had come from they didn't know, but Flo's impression was that it was far away. Whenever things got crowded, some people moved; it had always been that way.

Of course the other bands would be aware of their passage. Every band kept watch over its territory. Little Bry had sharp eyes and was always alert for motion or traces; he knew when strangers passed near, but never showed himself. It would be the same with any band. Foreigners were not to be trusted; only when they became sufficiently known were they accepted, grudgingly. That was why mating was difficult; it was not fun for a woman to join an unfamiliar and tacitly hostile new band. Especially at first, when she could be sexually tried by any or all males who desired her, before one decided to make her his own. But it had to be done, if she wanted to breed.

And Flo was making it even more difficult for herself, seeking to make a man come to her band. Yet such a thing was not unknown, if there was a man who wanted to move, or a woman who was uncommonly appealing. Was Flo appealing enough? Her body had matured with the experience of having the baby, and now her breasts were large and her hips wide; she was well fleshed. She remembered seeing adults like that, before the six of them got separated from their original band, and they had attracted the interest of many men. She had learned to walk in a way that accentuated her qualities, attracting male eyes. She had practiced it, before the curse of the rape and lost baby, and Sam had said that if she hadn't been his band sibling he would have found her matable. She had had to cover her head to garner that opinion, because otherwise Sam could not even entertain the notion. Band siblings were family. She knew how it was, because when Sam covered his head, she could see that he was a good mating prospect, but otherwise the question never entered her mind.

She thought again of her lost baby, as she tended to do when not actively distracted by something else. She had had to leave the baby girl to die, then changed her mind, but someone else had taken her. Not anyone in the immediately neighboring bands; it was generally known when a woman had a baby, and all new children were accounted for. But a traveling woman from a more distant band could have taken her. So Flo's eyes were open; maybe she could find her daughter while visiting farther bands. Then—

That was where her mind always balked. She still couldn't take care of a baby. Her milk had dried up, so she couldn't nurse, and without a man to bring her occasional meat she couldn't have supported a baby anyway. So her child was lost, regardless. Yet still she longed for her! Maybe at some point she would see a baby with a scarlike mark between her toes, and know it had been hers.

They strode rapidly, staying mostly on the level paths and in open regions where possible, making no effort to conceal their presence. Of course this warned away game, but that was the point: They were not hunting or foraging for more than they needed to sustain them on the way; they were traveling. The folk of other bands would recognize that, and leave them alone. Since there were few reasons to travel, others would understand their purpose. When they entered the territory of a band in need of mates, contact would be made.

By the end of the day they were near the edge of their familiar range. They foraged for berries and grubs, then made a camp amidst a thicket where no large animal could approach without making a commotion, and slept. It wasn't easy, sleeping in the field, but there was little choice when traveling. Certainly Sam would protect her, if anything came in the night.

In the morning they grubbed for edible roots, drank water from a stream, and resumed travel. Now they were heading into strange territory. Flo hoped that there would be a band here looking for mates.

And in the afternoon contact was made. They approached a fording place in a river, guided by the path, and there was an old woman. She stood directly in their way, and that was signal enough: female meant she was no threat to anyone, and old meant she was not looking for a mate herself.

They came to a halt before her. "What?" the woman asked. It was the general purpose query about their business here.

Sam stared at her, until Flo nudged him. Then he remembered. He tapped his chest. "Sam need woman." He lifted one arm and flexed a muscle, showing his capacity to support a mate.

Then it was Flo's turn. She brushed back the longer fur of her head. "Flo need man." She stood up straight and inhaled, showing her capacity to interest a mate. Then she added. "Man go Flo band."

The old woman looked sharply at her. "Flo go man band."

"Man go Flo band," Flo repeated firmly. "Small band, good hunting." Or at least it would be good hunting, if they had the men for it, so they could be first instead of last after the prey.

The woman peered more closely at her, especially her full breasts and broad hips. Then she shrugged. She turned and walked up the slope, taking a path that surely led to the band camp. They followed at a respectful distance. Due deference was by far the best course, in foreign territory; men would be watching.

The camp was much like their own, with several caves above, and a glade cleared of brush below. The band members had turned out to see them. It was much larger than their own; there were eight grown men, nine grown women, several old folk, and too many children of all ages to count. All of them stared curiously at the visitors.

The band leader stepped forward. "Joe," he said. He gestured to another more slender man who stood beside and a bit behind him. "Bil."

"Sam," Sam said. He indicated Flo. "Flo. Siblings."

"Siblings," Joe repeated, understanding. That meant that they were not mated to each other. Their business here was now obvious. "Where?"

Sam pointed to the west. "Days." That meant they had traveled more than a day from that direction.

Joe nodded. He glanced at the old woman, and he and Bil rejoined the other men. The formalities of peaceful introduction had been accomplished.

The old woman described their business. "Sam need woman." She glanced at him, and Sam flexed his muscle again. There was definite interest by several of the elder girls. "Flo need man." Flo inhaled again, and spread her legs somewhat apart, and there was interest by all of the men, though that was deceptive because those already mated weren't eligible. "Man go Flo band."

The atmosphere changed. It was clear that the men had a good band here, and no man wished to leave it and be a stranger in a foreign band. "Man go no," Bil said.

"Flo band," Flo said. She had made her decision and intended to stick to it, though it cost her a mate.

But there was a cunning look about the old woman. Sam was oblivious, but Flo could see she was planning something. Not anything hostile, but definitely something. "Wona," she said.

Bil nodded, evidently understanding the ploy. Bil seemed to be the smart member of this band, like Ned in her own band.

From behind the women came one who had remained in the background. This must be Wona. She was a stunningly beautiful young woman. Her fur was light and fine, her breasts large and firm, and her hips were wide. She moved lithely, showing no weakness of body anywhere. Her face was so sweet that it was almost impossible not to like her at first glance. But Flo made the effort, knowing that there was a catch somewhere.

Wona came to stand before Sam. She smiled at him and inhaled. Sam's intake of breath was audible across the glade. He was well impressed. His penis was lifting. He had feared he would have to mate an ugly woman, and here was an absolutely lovely one being offered to him.

The old woman waited until she was sure Sam was hooked. Then she spoke again. "Dirk."

A man hobbled forward, clutching a bamboo staff. He was not using it as a weapon but for support; he was almost too weak to walk without it. The reason was hardly obscure: he had been badly injured. His ribs were bruised on one side, and were probably broken, and there was a large fresh scar on one leg from a wound that made the use of that leg painful, as each wincing step demonstrated. It would be some time before this man was much good at hunting.

Dirk came to stand before Flo. "Dirk go band," he said, with an apologetic grimace. He knew she would not be interested.

Now the old woman made her point. "Wona Dirk go band."

Sam shook his head. He was not so dull as not to see that Dirk was no bargain. He did not want to stick Flo or their band with him. "Wona yes, Dirk no."

The woman shook her head. "Band siblings. Go, go."

She meant that if Sam wanted Wona, Flo would have to take Dirk—the one man who was willing to join a new band. Because he was no longer welcome in this one, being unable to hunt. He was a liability.

What were they to do? Wona was the embodiment of Sam's wildest dream. Dirk was a disaster.

Yet Flo herself was not as she was presented, because of the secret of her rape and lost baby. And in time Dirk should recover and be able to hunt again. His rueful look had a certain perverse appeal; he didn't like being foisted off on another band like this, but had no choice. He had to do what this band wanted, or be cast out to die. He was not a bad-looking man, apart from the injury. And obviously he would be no threat to Sam's leadership of the band.

Flo knew she was cursed anyway. She had lost her most precious quality, her innocence, and her most precious thing, her baby. Now she would lose her most precious dream: that of a handsome, strong, excellent provider. Maybe it was better to accept her lot, for the sake of the joy it would bring Sam.

She stepped forward and kissed Dirk on the mouth, embracing him and pressing her breasts against him. She was accepting him. She saw his eyes widen with amazement, and heard a murmur of surprise and pleasure pass through the other members of the band. They had expected her to reject the deal, but were pleased that she had not.

Sam, released by that second consent, leaped at Wona and swept her into his embrace. The woman accepted him, returning his embrace emphatically. She wrapped her legs around him, and they dropped to the ground, immediately mating. This was part of the ritual: by mating, they established their commitment to each other in a way that all understood. Of course it wasn't normally done in the direct presence of the band, but at least this way it served as entertainment for the children.

Flo had to mate similarly with Dirk. Fortunately she was female, and so could pretend interest, having no member whose lack of stiffness would give her away. She walked with him to his sleeping site, at the edge of a shallow cave, nominally private. She went down on the ground with him, and as his disbelief faded his penis did stiffen. He winced from his injuries as he tried to mount her, so she mounted him, fitting herself to him in the way that her prior bitter experience had made familiar. But there was one essential difference: this time she was not being raped, even if this was not her ideal of a partner. She was in control, and that enabled her to fit his entry so that it did not pain her, and to govern the motions they made together. Actually, she had little to fear from anything as small as the male member, after something as huge as the baby had passed through the channel. That almost made the act pleasant. She liked knowing that she had this power over a man, to make him respond to her, to do it her way. She liked having a man grateful for her participation, as Dirk plainly was, even if she did not get the same joy from the act itself that he did.

The completion was rapid. She felt Dirk spurt inside her, and knew that Sam was doing the same in Wona, there before the band. She lay with Dirk for a while longer, until he shrank out of her; then she disengaged, cleaned up, and helped him to get back to his feet. They returned to the glade, where Sam and Wona were waiting.

"Eat," Joe said approvingly. The visitors were now welcome here, though soon they would be leaving for their own band.

They had a good meal of tubers and nuts from the band's store of food, then returned to the caves to sleep. Flo knew that Sam was eager for more of Wona, and she couldn't blame him. The weight of his feared curse had been lifted.

But it was different with Dirk. She preferred to talk with him, getting adjusted to his accent. She wanted to get to know him, hoping that he had a good personality, now that she was committed. "Dirk hurt how?" she asked.

He smiled ruefully. "Woman."

Oh. He had fought another man over a woman. Such things happened. Normally mating was by mutual agreement, but sometimes it wasn't. She questioned Dirk further, and learned that a pretty girl had come to the tribe, couldn't make up her mind between two men, so agreed to take the better fighter. Dirk had been doubtful about fighting, because the other man was a friend of his, but the other had had no doubts. So Dirk had lost, as much from conscience as from lack of power. The other man had thus proved to be better. Now Dirk did not care to remain in the band and watch the girl become a woman with the other man and bear his babies.

It seemed to Flo that this spoke better for Dirk than he knew. He had been weakened by indecision, not wanting to hurt a friend, despite his interest in the woman. Flo could live with such a weakness. She had felt it when trying to leave her baby to die. Life was easier for those without doubts, but they were not necessarily the nicest people.

Then Dirk added something that thrilled her. "Flo better girl." He was saying that she was a more attractive woman than the one he had lost.

Flo didn't want to spoil it, but she was getting to like Dirk; he had a number of ways about him that appealed as they became evident. So she told him the truth. "Flo better no. Man Flo rape. Baby lose."

He stared at her. Then he shook his head. "Flo better," he said, dismissing it.

She was so pleased that she moved into him, kissing him and wrapping her legs around him, inviting him to have more sex. He did so, pleased in turn. It was slower yet better than before. Then they slept.

Θ

In the morning they set out on the trail for home. Dirk made a good effort, but his leg pained him with every step, and when the exertion made him breathe faster, his ribs pained him too. Flo could see it; he would not be able to keep any good striding pace. So she took action.

"Sam Wona go band," she suggested. "Dirk Flo slow." She was inviting the other two to move on at speed, while she and Dirk would proceed at whatever pace they could manage.

Sam hesitated, not wanting to leave her. But Wona encouraged him to do it. She smiled at him. "Sam Wona go." Sam melted. He was soft mud in the hands of this beautiful woman. Soon they were on their way, and Flo was alone with Dirk. "Flo good," he said.

"Flo help," she said. She put an arm around him and matched her step to his, so that their inner legs moved together. That enabled her to take some of the weight of his injured leg on her own leg, and to steady him so that he did not have to struggle for balance. He was considerably larger than she, but well balanced, so she did not actually take much of his mass. It worked well, and they were able to make much better progress.

But it was not possible to come close to matching the pace of healthy individual striders, and they remained far from the home band as night came. So they paused to forage, finding a log with a number of delicious fat grubs. But there were no suitable caves near, and no dense thicket; they would have to sleep in the open, a prospect Flo didn't relish. It wasn't because of the bugs that would come; they could eat those. But there could be predators in the night.

Then Dirk went to a large bramble patch and sat down beside it. His fingers were surprisingly nimble as he took the prickly vines and wove them into a kind of mat. He propped the mat above the ground with several forked sticks, then crawled under it. He had made a shelter! It wouldn't stop rain, but any large animal that tried to poke into it would get stuck with thorns.

Flo crawled in with him. She gave him sex again, carefully, because too much motion would push them against the thorns. And they talked some more. She told him how she and her band siblings had gotten separated from their original band and had to forage for themselves. That was why they insisted on staying together; they had been through hard times and trusted each other. She told him of the other members: how Ned was smart, and Jes was ugly for a girl but loyal and hard-working, and little Bry was very reliable and little Lin was ashamed because she had an extra finger on one hand, but was otherwise very pretty. And that none of them was ever supposed to tease any other about such things.

Dirk in turn told her about the special things in his band. Then he hesitated. "Dirk Joe band no," he said.

"Dirk Sam band," she agreed. He was changing loyalties, because of his mating with her and his agreement to go with her. Band loyalty was important, because lives depended on the cooperation of band members.

"Dirk say bad."

He had something bad to say? But she knew that he was not a mean person. "Bad?"

"Flo tell no."

Something private. Secret. She had better hear it. "Flo tell no," she agreed.

"Wona—" But he didn't finish. He had conflicting loyalties.

"Wona beautiful," she said.

"Wona ugly."

A shiver ran through her. Obviously he wasn't referring to the woman's appearance. But he was from Wona's band; he had to know her well. How was she ugly?

But here the vocabulary failed them. There was something intangible about Wona for which a word did not exist. But it made her ugly.

And Sam was cursed to mate with an ugly woman. Now there was nothing to be done about it. But at least Flo had been warned; she would keep watch, until she learned what it was Dirk knew about the woman.

The thorn shelter served well; no animal bothered them in the night. They slept well, sharing fur in the cool darkness.

In two more days they made it safely to the band camp. The children were glad to see them. It wasn't that they didn't appreciate the way that Sam guarded them, but Flo served somewhat as a mother to them, and they liked her nearness. Actually Sam wasn't in evidence; it seemed that Wona had taken him off somewhere for more delights. The children hadn't wanted to try to go foraging alone, so were hungry.

Well, Flo would take care of that. The day was late and she was tired, because she had been bearing some of Dirk's weight as well as her own, but the children had to eat. She took them all out, Dirk included, to the nearest best berry patch, which had many ripe berries because it hadn't been picked for two days. This also served to show Dirk this key path, so he would know it hereafter. It would take him time to learn all the local paths, but it would happen, because that was part of the strength of a band. Its people knew its paths, while strangers did not.

They feasted. And while they did, the children began to get to know Dirk, warming to him as Flo had. He was cheerful despite his pains, and the quickness of his hands impressed them. He showed them how he could flip a berry up and catch it in his mouth, and soon Bry and Lin were trying it, with less success but more fun. Flo saw that Dirk liked children: another good sign.

Θ

Seasons passed, and Dirk healed. They were fortunate that the time of his weakness was in the berry season, when food was plentiful. By the time that passed, he was much stronger, and he was good with a sharpened staff. He actually threw it at small game, and connected often enough to bring in meat fairly regularly. It was clear why the other band had tolerated his weakness; when well, he was an asset to any band. But since he had wanted to leave, they had supported him by forcing the deal to get him mated out. But none of them had thought he would be accepted by as well formed a woman as Flo, he said. Her appearance there had been fortunate for Joe's band.

Flo had not wanted to take him, but soon had become satisfied, and now was quite pleased. It was apparent to all the band siblings except Sam that Dirk was the better acquisition than Wona, who was often irritable and tended to shirk her responsibilities to the group. She got away with it because Sam could see no evil in her, and made excuses for her, or did her work himself. Flo did not remark on it, but she was coming to suspect that Joe's band had wanted to be rid of Wona more than Dirk. How cleverly they had reversed it, demanding that Dirk be taken for the privilege of getting Wona! Certainly that ploy had fooled Sam—and Flo herself.

Both Sam and Dirk delighted in their mates, and before long both women had babies within them. This time the band was strong enough to support new children. With two grown men, hunting was good, and Ned was big enough to help them scare out game.

As both Flo and Wona grew fat with their babies, their men lost interest in sex with them. This could have been awkward, for Flo knew that grown men never lost interest in sex itself. But Dirk was devoted to Flo, and remained close to her and treated her well throughout, and Sam remained hopelessly fixed on Wona. It was apparent that neither man had any inclination to stray.

Jes, not yet a woman, took more of a hand in managing the foraging as Flo's ability to get around diminished. Jes had had experience at the time of Flo's first baby, so was competent. The children, remembering the hard times of the past, worked hard too. So their band of eight remained viable. In fact, Flo gained more than enough weight. This time she would not be impoverished by the birth of her baby, and she would be competent to nurse it and care for it. She would not have to give it up, this time. That pleased her.

But she did still wonder what had happened to her first-born. In her mind she saw the baby growing into a beautiful child, with hair as black and glossy as obsidian, and with dark eyes in which knowledge of the spirits lurked. A pretty child, who would surely one day be a beautiful woman, and nice in personality. A perfect child; a joy to her family. One who would always make a good impression.

Flo found herself crying, as she usually did when thinking of her first baby. She knew that the girl was probably ordinary, if she survived at all. But Flo's fancy was free to picture her as ideal, and the image would not fade. She hoped that whatever family had her was a good one, that would appreciate her and love her. As Flo would have, had she been able.

The time of birthing came. Wona was first, which was not surprising considering Sam's eagerness to have at her. She did not want Sam near for the occasion, and Sam, incompetent in any such matter, was satisfied to go out hunting with Dirk and Ned. Flo and Jes attended her, and it was just as well that they had experience, because Wona was difficult to deal with. She screeched constantly in pain when her belly contracted, and accused the two of them of making it worse. She didn't want them to touch her, but she couldn't seem to get the baby out by herself. In fact it was as if she didn't want to part with it; she closed her legs and said she had changed her mind. But she couldn't stop the contractions. Finally Flo and Jes consulted, then acted together. Flo caught Wona's arms and held them up over her head so they could not get in the way, and Jes used her feet and hands to wedge Wona's legs apart and keep them that way. Jes kneeled, watching for the baby, and then took careful hold of its head and pulled it slowly out. Wona's screams must have echoed to the camps of the neighboring bands. But they got the baby, and cut its cord. It was already crying, but could hardly be heard above Wona's cries. Then Jes lifted it clear, and got out from between Wona's legs, and the legs closed again, as if not aware that what they had enclosed was already out.

Flo let go of Wona's arms. "Done," she said. "Girl." Jes was cleaning the baby off with moss and rocking her to try to quiet the crying.

Wona's eyes narrowed. "Girl? Boy."

She might want a boy, but she couldn't change what she had. "Girl," Flo said firmly.

Jes brought the baby to her, and they finally prevailed on Wona to let her nurse. But the woman was scowling. She blamed them for letting a girl be born.

Sam was thrilled. He said the baby looked just like her mother. He named her Wilda. He held her and carried her around with him for some time, displaying a devotion that surprised the others. But of course he had never had a baby before, so there had been no chance for him to show such a side.

When the moon cycled back to a similar form, Flo bore her own baby. Wona was nowhere near, which was just as well. Jes attended her, and so did Dirk, and the birthing was easier than the first one had been. Flo neither screamed nor protested, as a matter of pride, and soon had a baby boy.

She was almost disappointed, because she had hoped for a girl just like the one she had lost. But a boy was good too.

"Good," Dirk agreed. "Flint."

"Flint," Flo agreed as she nursed him. Dirk had done what Sam had, and given a name similar in its initial sound to that of the mother. It was a compliment.

Dirk was no less devoted to Flint than Sam was to Wilda, though he didn't carry him around a lot. Instead he did his best to facilitate Flo's caring for him, bringing her everything she needed. But she did not need much; she had been through this before, and experience was a wonderful guide. How glad she was that she could keep this one!

Thus the triple ploy: sex appeal, romantic love, and attachment. Instead of putting out pheromones to compel the service of all males in the vicinity at the time of ovulation, as most animals did, the prehuman woman shifted to visual signals and reversed her reproductive strategy, actually concealing her moment of fertility. This was not done to make her sexually unapproachable, as most animals are to their mates most of the time, but the opposite: to make her continuously appealing. Developed breasts became objects of sexual interest, as did the fleshy buttocks and the outline of her body. (Some disagree, believing that only the fact that these parts are normally covered makes them of interest. Nudist camps go far toward nullifying the appeal of concealment. But most men of most cultures are definitely turned on by the firm flesh of young women, and "peepers" do spy on nudists. Why bother to cover those parts in warm weather, if they are not critical?) This meant that a given male did not have to shop among a dozen females to indulge his chronic sexual appetite; he could be satisfied by a single woman, who could accommodate him any time or all the time; there was no limit. That was the carrot. There was also the stick: if he did travel between females, he could not be sure of siring offspring with any, because no one could tell when it would take. In fact, if he spent time with one, but left her alone for a day, some other male might come and fertilize her that one time—and that one would take. So there was no way to be sure of impregnating a given woman except to remain with her all the time, allowing no other man access to her. And if he couldn't leave her even briefly, how could he go out to sire anything with any other woman? He was locked in. Thus love: complete devotion to one partner, even when she becomes temporarily sexually unappealing in the advanced stages of pregnancy. Such love may seem exhilarating, but nature has a cynical agenda, leading the polygamous male to monogamy, lest his line die out. A contemporary study indicates that such romance typically loses half its force in eighteen months, and most of it in about four years—just long enough for the woman to conceive, gestate, bear, and nurse the resulting baby. Which means that the father gets to know his offspring before his infatuation with the mother fades. Such acquaintance leads to commitment, which is a different kind of love. It has no sexual component, but can be quite strong; men will commonly risk their lives to protect their children, once they know them. Even if their relationship to the mother breaks up, their commitment to their children can remain. Thanks to the triple ploy. Current research indicates that there are actual hormones in the brain that govern these stages; it is not mere imagination. Nature leaves little to chance. Of course women too can be interested in sex, and fall in love, but their commitment to their children always existed, perhaps a woman's strongest emotion; it is the men the triple ploy evolved to handle. It is the men who are most dazzled by sex, and who plunge most heedlessly into love. Even with modern intelligence and knowledge of consequences, men are still governed by it. This is shown also by its negative aspects: prostitution, rape, stalking, abuse, and murder of a given woman, rather than lose her. A man may throw away his career and life, because of his unwise fascination with a woman who wishes to separate from him. Love is a two-edged sword, and extremely powerful. Sex, love, attachment: there is little else like the triple ploy.

One possibly confusing sidelight: Homo erectus at this time developed a sophisticated stone tool tradition, notably the Acheulean chipped hand axes, that served him in good stead for more than a million years. Flint was a prime material for this. Thus the name of one character. But as it happens, no Acheulean tools have been found in east Asia, because Erectus migrated there before their invention. Flint as a stone existed, however, so the name is not actually a mismatch, though in this volcanic region obsidian would have been preferred.

Map 4

Chapter 4

ARMS RACE

The prior volumes assumed that mankind had an aquatic stage, which was when the fur was lost and women became permanently breasted. This volume assumes that there was no water stage, and that breastedness was an aspect of the female family strategy. The increasing size of the brain drove the species to shed the last of his fur, to make his cooling system as efficient as it could be. But this leads to some questions. What happened when the weather got cold? This must have been the original reason for clothing: to replace the warming effect of the lost fur. But that stage would not have been necessary if the brain had not continued to increase, forcing such an extraordinary measure. Why did that brain keep growing far beyond the point required for efficient survival? For the capacities of the brain of modern mankind, which are still being explored, developed when he was primitive. It seems like vast overkill, for the life he led at the time. But nature does not waste her energy. There had to be a compelling reason. And there was: the arms race. The setting is the southern end of the Great Rift Valley of Africa, 150,000 years ago.

THEY SAW THE CURL OF smoke in the sky ahead, and veered to intercept its source. Fortunately there was a good side path leading that way, for they were in unfamiliar territory. Small smoke on a clear day, in contrast to large smoke, was a sure sign of a human being, and they were looking for a band in this vicinity with which to trade.

It turned out to be a boy of about ten, three years younger than Ned. He was tending a small fire, over which he was roasting a tough root. He stood as the two of them approached. He seemed to have a bad scar across his forehead, as if he had been burned there and the color had not faded. They stopped at a respectful distance, and Ned spoke. "Here is Ned," he said, enunciating each word carefully as he tapped himself. "Here is Jes." He tapped his sibling on the shoulder. He did not identify her as female, as she normally concealed her gender from strangers. She was tall, bony, and homely, like a man, so this was more comfortable for her, and safer.

"Here is Blaze," the boy said, tapping his chest. "Blaze make fire," he added with pride.

"Pot make fire," Ned said, showing he understood. Fire was hard to make, but easy to keep, if a person nested it in sand and dry moss to keep an ember going. So each band had its cultivated hearth, where the fire never quite went out. When it was time to cook something, the fire tender would bring dry leaves or grass and blow on the ember, and get a flame from it. When the fire had to be moved, they would pack an ember with its sand in a hollow stone and carry it. It was surprising, however, to entrust such a responsibility to a child.

"Blaze make fire," the boy insisted. "See." He got down on the ground, where he had several fragments of stone. He lifted one and banged it against another, making a spark fly.

This was intriguing. Could he really make fire without an ember? Ned and Jes got down on the ground and watched closely.

Blaze made a little pile of very fine dry moss, then banged his rocks together so that more sparks flew. At first they missed the pile or faded out before reaching it, but then one landed directly in it and made a little scorch mark. It was possible!

"Blaze make fire," Ned agreed, impressed. "More sparks will make a fire."

The boy glanced at him, perplexed.

Ned realized that he had spoken too quickly. Some people could not distinguish fast sounds, and some did not understand tense. He repeated what he had said, this time carefully separating each word.

Blaze broke into a smile, understanding. "Blaze make fire," he said once more. "Many sparks."

It took many sparks to accomplish it, because of their random nature, Ned saw. But the principle was there. "Show Ned make fire," he said.

Blaze hesitated.

Jes brought out a swatch of fiber net. She stretched it between her hands, showing how it was flexible yet strong, its strands intricately looped to form patterns of circles. Such netting was precious, because few women knew how to do it this way. Their family had learned to harvest, cure, and soften certain tough vines so that they were thin and flexible even when dried out, and could be woven into durable nets. "Trade," she said. "Net—make fire."

Blaze smiled, delighted. Maybe he had simply wondered whether they were serious. Now they had shown they were, for a trade deal was a serious matter.

They turned over the valuable swatch, and got to work on the fire. Ned took the stones, and banged them together, but no spark came. Blaze took them back and showed him how: two shiny sections had to strike each other to produce the spark. Ned took them again and finally got a faint spark, not nearly as big as the ones the boy routinely made. It would take practice. But it was clear that it could be done, with experience, time, and patience.

Ned questioned Blaze about where such rocks could be found, and learned that they were actually stones with flint embedded, from the same mine as the flint used to make tools and weapons. Ned hadn't known about this aspect; he would certainly explore it when they returned to their home band. This was a most significant discovery. While their band had been learning to make fibrous strands and netting that would support moss, fern, and other insulating substances, so that they didn't have to depend entirely on animal pelts for warmth at night, Blaze's band had been learning to make fire, so that they didn't have to depend on cultured embers. That knowledge was at least as important as net, Ned thought.

"May Ned and Jes share Blaze fire?" he asked.

The boy was glad to agree. But he had a qualification. "Root small."

Jes smiled. She got up, looked around, and went on a root hunt. She had sharp eyes, and she had always been good at foraging, as well as finding faint paths. The home band used similar roots, gathering them and bringing them in to the fire, because they were too tough to eat raw. She knew what she was looking for. And soon she found several, and used her pointed staff to pry them out of the hard ground.

Blaze was amazed. "Man good forage," he said as she brought them back.

Jes smiled again. "Secret," she said. "Do not tell."

Blaze looked perplexed, but crossed his arms before his chest, promising to keep the secret.

Jes opened her net cloak, showing her small breasts and furred memberless cleft. "Woman!" Blaze exclaimed, astonished. "Thought boy."

"Secret," she repeated. "Woman forage."

Blaze nodded. Men typically hunted, while women foraged, so women had the better eye for plants. She had explained her ability to find roots. But she often hunted with the men, and she could use her staff as a weapon when she chose to. But she made no point of that now, as that was a secret of another sort.

They cooked the roots, and shared water from their water skins, and talked, keeping the words slow and distinct. Blaze told how he was his band's fire tender, despite being young, because he had a natural way with fire. He touched his forehead by way of explanation: he had been born with the fire mark. He told how he had a friend who was a girl named Ember, who also liked fire. He liked her a lot, but knew he would not grow up to mate with her, because they were band siblings. That made him unhappy, but he couldn't change it. Jes said she sympathized; she expected not to mate, because she was too ugly to dazzle a man.

Blaze laughed. "When Blaze man, Jes come," he said gallantly, touching his forehead again to remind her that he was ugly too, and also touching his bare penis, not yet furred.

Then Jes did something Ned had not seen before: she blushed. She was touched by the boy's offer, because there was no artifice in it; Blaze liked her. But of course their bands were distant from each other, and it would be two or three years before Blaze was a man, and that was a long time. Nothing would come of it.

Ned explained how they had come to trade net for flint, the precious weapon stone. "Band have flint?"

"Yes." But the boy frowned. "Bub Green Feather band have pelts."

Ned felt a chill. Their band had encountered the Green Feather band once before, long ago, when they were traveling. Bub had raped Flo and then driven them away. But he did not reveal his recognition. He and Jes were unlikely to be recognized, because the episode had been brief, and the two of them had grown since then.

So Bub might not want to trade, as a pelt was better than netting. It was where pelts were rare that net was useful. "No trade, Ned Jes go other band," Ned said.

Still Blaze was uneasy. "Secret."

Ned and Jes exchanged a meaningful glance. There was something they should know. Then both crossed their arms in front, agreeing not to tell.

"Man come, have salt," Blaze said. "Bub take salt, no trade. Man go."

So Bub had been true to form. He had robbed the visitor instead of trading for his wares. Some bands were like that. They might trade fairly with nearby bands, because those were capable of attacking in force, but would cheat individuals from more distant ones, who were powerless. If such a person protested, he could be beaten or killed. This was a grim warning.

But Ned had an idea. "Flint mine near?"

Blaze smiled. "Blaze show path," he said eagerly. He pointed out the direction of the place where the flint was found, and described how it was mostly in scattered chunks amidst chalky rock. They didn't actually need to try to trade with Bub's band; they could find their flint directly.

Ned was pleased. "Let's give him more net," he said quickly to Jes. At that velocity he knew that Blaze would not be able to understand it. He spoke this way so that Jes could demur if she disagreed, without embarrassing either of them.

Jes smiled. "Thank Blaze," she said slowly. She drew a full length of netting from her bundle and presented it to him. "Keep." And she kissed him.

This time it was the boy who blushed, overwhelmed by the gift and the manner of its giving. "Blaze happy," he said, looking dazed.

Now it was late, and they had to go their ways. Blaze doused his fire with sand, and Ned and Jes set out for the flint mine. They would probably never meet again, but it had been a pleasant and profitable interlude.

But they did not go far. "The ashes of that fire are very fine," Ned remarked.

"But cooling," Jes said. "Too late to save any of that fire."

"I want them cold."

"Ned, I'm not stupid, but I can't follow your mind."

"Good. Then others won't follow it either."

So they went back to the site Blaze had left, and found the ashes warm and dry under the sand. They took several handfuls and put them in their tightest leaf-shielded net bag. They smoothed more sand over the place so that there was no evidence that anything had been taken. Then they resumed their trek toward the mine, ferreting out the best paths.

They were cautious. This was unfamiliar terrain, and it was possible that Bub's tribe would have a possessive attitude about the flint mine, though obviously no person had authority over any feature of the land other than the game it supported. So they left the main path and approached the region from a different direction. Here their ability to locate faint paths really helped, because they did not want any stranger to be able to follow them. But darkness was closing, so they found a secluded large tree and climbed into its branches for the night. They put on extra layers of dry grass and leaves bound by netting to shield themselves from the cooler air of night, and from the mosquitoes.

"How she feel, being woman?" Ned inquired. Their own more sophisticated language had words that stood for other words, and these were surprisingly useful in two ways: they eliminated the need to constantly name people, and they made it less intelligible to outsiders. When he had suggested that they give "him" more netting, Jes had understood that he meant the boy. This time "she" meant Jes.

"Nice," she said. Normally no man looked at her as men looked at Flo, because of the angularity of her body, the smallness of her breasts, and her homely face. But the boy Blaze had accepted her as a woman, once he had seen the proof of it. There had been a subtle shift of attitude, perhaps unconscious. A softening of tone, a hesitation of gaze, as if she were a person he wished he could impress. And of course the blush when she kissed him. "Young," she added with regret.

For if Blaze had been older, and if his judgment of her were not different when he had the passions of a man, he would have been a suitable prospect to bring to their band. But as it was, his destiny was elsewhere. So her chance to feel like a woman was fleeting, and she would continue to masquerade as a boy. Ned regretted that, for Jes was capable in the things required of women, and deserved to be treated as one.

In the morning they foraged as they explored the mine area, eating berries that were handy. They found where bits of flint had been pried from chalky sections. When they came to a likely spot, they used their staffs to pry at the stones, and in due course did find several fragments of flint. These weren't useful in their present form, but some careful pounding would produce pieces with sharp edges. They put these in a finely woven net bag. They had accomplished their mission.

Then they set out for home. But they were still cautious, so sought the slightest paths that would allow them to pass unscathed. "Think Bub knows?" Ned asked. They were lapsing increasingly into the full range of their language, no longer needing to school themselves in pidgin so as to be clear to others.

"He saw Blaze with net," she said. "Make him tell." And the boy would have to tell of his meeting with the two of them. He wouldn't tell that Jes was female, but the rest was regular information. If Bub were inclined to intercept them, he would do so at the place where they had to use a narrow pass between mountains.

But Blaze had also told them of a more devious route from the mine. One that he had explored with his friend Ember. It wound up the mountain much higher, and could be cold, but it was possible to get to the far side using this path.

"Alternate route," Ned decided, and Jes nodded agreement.

They moved swiftly—but not swiftly enough. Because as they found the alternate path, they saw a man on it. Right where it narrowed between rocky ledges so that there was no other way to pass. He had a stout staff, and was not foraging. They did not need to inquire his business. Obviously Bub had anticipated this alternative, and acted to block it as well as the main path.

They exchanged a silent glance. Bub was evidently dangerous, because he was smart as well as unscrupulous. But was he smart enough?

They retreated quietly, until they were safely out of earshot. "We do not know how many men there are," Ned said. "One in view, one or two in ambush, I think. We must make them show themselves."

"They will stop us," she said. "And beat us, or kill us. We can communicate better, but we can't fight better."

"I want you to do two things," he said. "It is warm enough. Give me your netting and bag. Take this." He handed her the small bag of fine ashes.

"You want me to walk naked past those men?" she asked, not pleased. "They may not find me beautiful, but they will put the bag over my head and rape me. Remember Flo."

"Yes, I think they will. Walk in the manner of Wona, so that there is no doubt of your nature. Stand erect and take deep breaths. I will walk behind."

"Ned—"

"Must I explain?" he demanded with mock severity. "Remember what Lin did?"

A light dawned. "When Bry teased her about her hand? Now I understand!" She quickly removed her net cloak and folded it so that he could carry it. "But I can do better than naked. I'll don the net skirt."

"Wonderful!" he agreed. He helped her wrap the band of netting around her, forming a skirt that hung low on her hips and covered just a bit more than her bottom. "You look truly evocative."

"Thank you," she said, pleased. Then she took two handfuls of ashes.

Soon they resumed their walk, proceeding heedlessly up the path. Jes was bare except for the string skirt, which concealed absolutely nothing. Of course that was the point of it; only available women wore them, to enhance their sexuality. She was swinging her closed hands and her hips with seeming abandon. Her small breasts bounced, calling attention to themselves, and the tassels on the skirt flounced, drawing eyes to her belly, thighs, and bottom. She was not well endowed, but her motion and the provocative skirt made her extremely sexy. She was his sister, yet when he squinted so as to fuzz her familiarity, those strings over her twinkling buttocks almost made him hunger for her. In fact he had to unsquint, lest he suffer a reaction. So Ned followed, several paces behind, carrying all the nets over his shoulders, and their two staffs with them. Obviously the two of them had no thought of encountering anyone on this remote path; they were complete innocents, perhaps looking for a suitable place to indulge in mating play. The man in the path came to attention. He stared at Jes.

"Woman!" he exclaimed in amazement. Obviously Blaze hadn't told that aspect, as he had promised.

A second man lurched out of hiding. "First!" he cried, staring similarly: first hands on the woman. They hadn't even noticed her homely face, as Ned had hoped. But maybe they wouldn't have cared anyway, as obviously they just wanted to rape her and throw her away.

Ned looked wildly around, as if surprised. "No!" But he seemed to be too stupid to drop his nets and grab his staff; he just watched the two men advance on Jes. They didn't seem to regard him as any kind of a threat.

So there were only two. Jes had sprung the trap. Good. The first man grabbed for Jes, the second coming at her from the other side. She shrank away, not having to feign alarm, but both of them pursued her. She raised her hands as if to ward them off with her little fists.

Then she flung both hands out, swiping at their faces. But her hands didn't touch them.

Both men cried out and staggered back, clutching at their eyes. She had scored on them with the fine ashes. She ran on past them and up the path. Ned followed with his burdens. The men didn't even try to stop them.

Ned knew that by the time the men got their eyes clear enough to see again, it would be too late for any effective pursuit. Probably the men would report that the quarry had not passed that way, concealing their embarrassment at being duped. Bub might not believe them, but it wouldn't matter; the escape had been made.

When they were sure they were safe, they paused, and Jes donned her more solid netwear and took her staff and her share of the burden. "That was almost as much fun as making Blaze blush," she said. "You do make me feel like a woman."

He smiled, letting the matter pass. His band sister was indeed a young woman, with many qualities to recommend her. But most men could not see beyond the face and the too tall, too thin body, so she had little chance to act the part. Had she not caught the two tribesmen completely by surprise, they would soon have seen how small her breasts were, and that the string skirt covered mannishly slender hips. They would have raped her anyway, but with less gusto. He wished he could help her to find a good man. But maybe she would get lucky, as Flo had, taking a seemingly inferior man and having him turn out to be very good. Flo was now somewhat fat, after birthing her son, but Dirk didn't seem to notice. Was there a good man who would appreciate an angular woman?

They made their way through the high pass, glad of the clothing to shield them from the cutting winds. The path was difficult, and it was late by the time they crested the ridge. They ate from the dried fruit they carried, and drank from their water skins, then bundled themselves in all their remaining netting and lay down back to back to sleep. They knew that no man would come upon them during the night, because it was too cold for others to handle. In any event, they slept lightly, and any suspicious noise would wake them.

"Something I must tell you," Ned said. "You were so much like a woman, it excited me."

"From behind," she replied, calling out the flaw.

"So I could not recognize you as my sister," he said, bypassing the flaw. "If I met one like you, but not you, I think I would not care much about her face."

She twisted in her wrappings and kissed his ear. "You give me hope," she murmured, very pleased.

In the morning they did some spot foraging, finding a few good roots to chew on, and moved on down toward the warmer valley beyond. They got a nice view of it, spread out before them: a grassy plain surrounded by the forest that grew on the slopes. And saw something problematical in that plain.

"A camp of men," Jes said, shading her sharp eyes with one hand.

"Right where we have to cross the valley to return to our regular route home," Ned said. "They are on the main path. Dare we gamble on their purpose?"

"No. They are either of Bub's band, or have a pact with it. There may be others spaced along the valley. I suspect that someone is really angry with us."

"And really determined that we not show it is possible for folk to mine their own flint and depart without getting robbed," Ned agreed. "I think we had better not be caught."

"They might get confused and rape you and murder me," she remarked, smiling grimly.

But they did have to cross that central valley plain, and there seemed to be no way to do it without being spied by the lurking men of the camp. That was why the campers weren't even trying to hide; they weren't the ones being pursued. They would either catch the fugitives as they crossed, or keep them confined to the slope beside the plain until they were spied and caught by other searchers there. It might be hard to catch fugitives in mountains or deep forest, because there were alternate paths and hidden ways, but it was easy in the open.

"I think a handful of ashes will not suffice, this time," Ned said, not seeming much dismayed.

"If not the ashes, perhaps the fire?" Jes inquired, following his thought.

"It would be a distraction."

So they worked out their plan in detail, knowing that any failure could be disastrous. Jes foraged for tinder while Ned brought out two suitable flint rocks and experimented with striking them together in the manner he had learned from Blaze. It took some time, but he was able to start a fire. Jes made a bed of sand, and they got a small fire going. Of course the smoke would give them away, but it would take time for anyone to travel this high up the mountain.

Then Ned damped down his little fire, so that it was mostly hot embers, and transferred it with its bed of sand to a section of leaf-and-sand-padded netting. He made a bag of it that he could carry. The first part of their strategy was ready. His setup was clumsy compared to that of a regular fire handler, but it would not have to last long.

They angled down the slope, leaving the path. This was for several reasons. There might be enemy men coming up that path to attack them, and they needed to get lost in random territory, and they needed to intercept the wind at the right spot.

But when they reached the place where the wind entered the valley, there was a man posted. He wasn't even looking for them; he was just waiting, and watching the plain.

"He will have to be distracted," Jes said regretfully.

"Briefly," Ned agreed. "But you will need a sure escape."

"You get that fire going soon, and I will have it," she said. "You will need it too."

He nodded. Then they prepared themselves. They spread out all their untraded net cloaks, then wrapped them around their feet and legs to the knees. They tied them in place just above the knees, so that the knees could still flex. Their legs looked enormously fat, because of the leaf padding between the nets. Then they took their water skins and poured them carefully out onto the padding, making it wet. They saved a little water for refreshing their leggings later. Of course this left them nothing to drink, but they knew there was a river in the next valley.

Now Jes made her way carefully around the position the enemy man guarded. When she was far enough from Ned, she moved with less caution, until the man heard her. He stood and called out. "Who?"

Jes did not answer. Instead she hurried on away from Ned. The man called again, going after her, trying to get a good glimpse through the trees and brush.

Now Ned went to the edge of the plain, where the grass grew tall, and opened his fire bag. He blew on his embers, feeding more tinder to them, and in a moment had an open fire. He set it down amidst the driest tangle of grass and fed in more fuel. The fire spread swiftly, eagerly consuming the grass around it. It reached up, catching the incoming wind. Ned stood back, watching the flames eat into the field. Fanned by the wind, they grew and traveled quickly. Smoke billowed up, announcing the fire's presence. The people in the center of the valley would see it soon enough, and would have to move, because the wind was carrying it right toward them.

There was a cry from the man who had been pursuing Jes, as he discovered the fire. He ran back—and spied Ned standing at the edge of the forest. He stepped toward Ned, then hesitated, uncertain whether to chase the man or try to deal with the fire.

Jes hooted behind the man. He turned to go after her again—and Ned hooted. They managed to make the man turn several times in confusion before he got smart and focused on just one of them: Jes. He charged after her. And she ran directly into the spreading fire.

The man stopped and stared. He did not realize that her wetted leggings protected her feet from the heat of the flames. He could not follow her, for his feet and legs were bare. He did not know what to do.

Ned hooted again. The man whirled, reminded of him. He charged. And Ned strode blithely into the fire himself.

Now he held his breath and ran as rapidly as he could, getting beyond the burning section. He found Jes there, waiting for him. The smoke was blowing at them, but they were able to duck their heads low and breathe freely, crossing the plain close to the fire. With luck there would be no man to block their way; all the men should be running for the other side of the plain, to avoid getting cut off by the fire. They would assume that Ned and Jes were still waiting to cross, rather than being already across. Because they would not be thinking very clearly, during the considerable distraction of the fire.

But one man was on the far side of the field. Bub had been cunning enough to keep one man back, just in case. The fire was behind them, the man ahead. He had them—he thought. He made gestures at them with hips and fist, as of raping and bashing. He was big enough to handle both of them.

They paused to pour the last of their water on their leggings. Then they ran back into the fire, holding their breath again. They knew that the actual region of burning was narrow; the flames ate what they could and moved on, leaving soot and ashes behind. So they were able to run through the burned terrain, and the man could not follow. In fact he could not remain where he was, for the fire was bearing down on him. He fled.

They ran to the forest edge and hid themselves. Just in time, for their leggings were hot and charring on the outside. When the strings burned through, the leaf padding would spill out even if it remained wet, so they had to watch it carefully. They retreated into the safety of the forest cover, then paused to remove their leggings and beat out the smoldering sections. They had made it through thanks to their alertness and readiness to innovate. Ned was, in the process, coming to appreciate his sister better than ever; he was known as the smart member of their band, but she was staying right with him. If there ever should be a man who was interested in courage, loyalty, and intellect, instead of a pretty face and buxom body, Jes would be a rare prize.

They made their way toward the path that led up through the next pass, pausing to dig out any edible roots they spied along the way. They were somewhat worn after their chase through the fire, for they had been carrying their burdens of flint rocks as well as suffering the weight and clumsiness of the leggings. But they knew they had to keep moving, for the fire would not last long, and then the pursuit might resume.

They intercepted the general trail to the next pass—and suddenly there was a man ahead of them. They turned, and there was another behind them. They had after all walked into a trap. Thinking themselves beyond pursuit, they had let down their guard when they shouldn't have. What were they to do now? They could try to run back the way they had come, but that led nowhere, and the men were obviously fresher than they were. They couldn't escape.

"Fools. Caught," Ned said with deep disgust, speaking slowly and clearly in the foreign tribe manner.

"Thought. Here. No," Jes agreed in the same mode, for the benefit of the foreign males.

"Move toward the man in front," Ned said swiftly, in a low tone, knowing that the syntax and detail made this unintelligible to the others. "When he grabs you, bite his hand. I will stab him from behind. Then we must turn together on the other, without pause. Without mercy. Without remorse. Only desperate and forceful action will allow us to prevail. You know the consequence of failure."

"I understand," she said grimly. There would be no forbearance on either side. This was a fight for their lives. Then, for the men to hear: "Escape. No." She made a shrug of obvious hopelessness as she walked toward the lead man. Ned followed her, with similar show of resignation.

"Girl," the man said, smiling without niceness. Evidently the word had spread.

"Girl," Jes agreed, opening her netting to show her breasts. She inhaled, to give them more substance. Ned knew she was imitating Wona, who constantly flaunted her nice body. "Spare nice girl?"

"No. Make scream." The man grabbed for her, leering. She caught his leading hand with both of hers and hauled it into her mouth. She bit hard on his fingers, at the same time hauling him around so that his back was to Ned. She might be slight in the womanly curves, but she was strong in the manner of a man.

The man howled with pain, and tried to strike at her with his other hand. But now Ned was on him, thrusting at the man's exposed neck with his flint blade. The point dug in just above the bones and muscles of the shoulder. Ned pulled the blade back, and jammed it in again, trying to cut the tendons of the neck. It wasn't easy to do.

"Ned—behind you, coming fast," Jes said urgently. She still hung on to the man's hand, trying to bend his fingers backward, her teeth bared for another bite. Yet she was evidently looking beyond him, too.

Ned didn't turn his head to look. He jerked out the blade and whirled, throwing himself to the side. The second man lunged in, crashing against Ned's shoulder. And Ned stabbed him in the near eye. He felt the softness of it as the blade sank in, and the hardness as it came up against the bone of the eye socket. Hot fluid spurted onto Ned's hand.

The man fell, screaming, clutching at the other man. The two went down together, both badly injured, neither quite knowing the identity of the other. Ned and Jes drew away and fled, knowing that there would be no instant pursuit by these two.

When they were sure they were beyond immediate danger, they paused to hug each other. "I never did that to a man before," Ned said, his eyes flowing, the horror of it overwhelming him.

"You did what you had to," she said. "You did well. You did well. You are a man." But she was comforting him more in the manner of an elder sister, or a mother, now emulating Flo. Nonetheless, it helped.

In the prior volumes it was assumed that syntax was the key element that multiplied the effectiveness of human speech, facilitating the expression of complex concepts of time and condition: "Tomorrow, if you don't see me here, look for me in the next village." That is probably so, but this volume considers another aspect: velocity of speech. Suppose all concepts are expressible, but in one culture the language is slow, while in another it is fast. The fast one would have a distinct advantage. In fact all human languages are fast, the words proceeding so rapidly as to represent a liquid flow without many interruptions. Try listening to a foreign language to realize how confusingly swift it is; words can seldom be distinguished at all. The human brain had to develop the capacity to make sense of this phonic stream so that speech could proceed at jet speed, as it were, instead of walking speed. This was surely a potent innovation, taking time to perfect, and may have marked the difference between modern mankind and all others, such as Neandertal. Even in something as basic as physical combat, this linguistic velocity could make a significant difference, as shown here, and would have been a formidable survival trait. Of course it probably happened over the course of tens of thousands of years, and each increase in speed may have been slight, but the advantage was evidently sufficient. However it happened, there seems to be little doubt that the engine that powered mankind's phenomenal increases in brain size was language.

Clothing was surely also vital. Mankind lost fur and went erect to facilitate cooling, but when the weather changed that could have become a liability. But clothing would have more than made up the difference, because of its versatility. It could shield the human body from cold—and even on occasion from heat. It could be removed as convenient, or bundled on double. Thus it enabled mankind to go further yet in sacrificing his body fur; cold snaps no longer put him into dire straits. In fact, it enabled mankind to travel out of Africa, following Erectus, without suffering unduly from the colder climates there. With enough clothing, he could handle it better than lightly furred Erectus could. Travel to cooler climes had enabled Erectus to handle the excess heat production of his brain without having to sacrifice any more fur, and that was fine, for most of two million years, but not the best strategy for the long term. Thus his body itself had to change to adapt to the brutal cold of ice age Europe, while modern mankind had far less trouble there, or anywhere else. Because he changed his clothing instead of his body.

With that final loss of fur he also became largely immune to parasites such as fleas, which surely improved his health. He retained hair only on his head, which still needed shielding from the sun, and in the groin, for adults. Why did pubic hair exist, in a region readily covered by clothing? Apparently to facilitate the aeration of genital hormones and odors. Perhaps particular men and women knew each other in the darkness by their individual smells, and were encouraged to make the effort of breeding when those smells were strong. At any rate, clothing may have been far more important to the final evolution of the species than has been recognized. By making it possible for that burgeoning brain to survive both extremes of heat and cold.

Worked furs and hides were surely the first clothing. But in time mankind discovered alternate ways to clothe himself. First he must have figured out how to salvage vines, as described, and work them into baskets, nets, and items of clothing. Later he found thinner fibers, but they were too short, so he found out how to twist them into threads, and threads into string, and then to knot the string into finer nets. This was the first primitive stage of what in time would become the weaving of cloth. Also, string twisted into rope would have been extremely useful, and nets could have served in lieu of skins in the manner shown here. The technology was as yet clumsy, and it left no trace in the early archaeological record because it rotted away, but surely full-fledged cloth did not spring fully developed from nothing. The artifacts of vine fiber may have served for a hundred thousand years before the refinements of cloth developed. The string skirt itself has survived from three or four thousand years ago, but we know it goes back beyond 20,000 years because its semblance appears on the "Venus" figurines (of which more later). It was as described: a stunningly sexy outfit for nubile young women, and a great enhancement for the triple ploy strategy in the covert contest between men and women. Who needed cloth, at this stage? But eventually the marvels of cloth would come. Whether any such thing as the string skirt was used 150,000 years ago is wildly conjectural, but it is possible, given the nature of the triple ploy. Today it manifests as the provocative miniskirt.

But why such a giant brain? Once mankind managed to forage in the hot savanna, and to scavenge for richer food, he would seem to have had enough intellect to survive. Once he adapted his mating scheme to provide support and protection for women, the better to ensure survival of offspring, no further intelligence was required there either. Why keep building the brain beyond any likely need to compete with other species? This is where the arms race figures. Mankind did have constant competition for the resources of his ecological niche: variations of his own kind. They were constantly fissioning off, setting up rival communities, and they had much the same abilities he did. So who prevailed? That subspecies that could do it best. For a time it seemed that bigger and stronger men were the answer, but in the end it seems to have been the gracile ones with more versatile intelligence and speaking abilities. So the race was between brains, and in the end the best brain won. Ours.

Map 5

Chapter 5

NUMBERS

Numbers are important. If there are too few members of a given species, it dies out, lacking a viable breeding community. If there are too many for the habitat to sustain, there is apt to be competition and starvation. But even between those extremes, there are dynamics that make a real difference. This is especially true for mankind, a social creature. A lone person may survive for a year. A band of twenty-five is viable for perhaps 500 years if it interacts with other bands so as not to become inbred. A band of 100 is apt to fragment, because of internal quarreling. So most bands of hunter-gatherers range between twenty and seventy people. That may be considered the basic unit of human society. But there must be exchanges between bands, for breeding, trade, and information. Thus they will be part of a larger group, or tribe, whose total number seems most viable at about 500 or 600.

Suppose some way were found to increase the size of human bands, so that internal dissent did not break them up when they became larger than the normal range? A larger band would have more leverage than a smaller one, and might be able to take over the best hunting and foraging territories, and prosper further. Such an advantage of numbers would enable particular bands to survive better, especially in competition with others of their kind. And it seems that such a way was found.

In the prior volumes there was a mystery: why did physically modern human beings emerge from Africa about 100,000 years ago, then remain in the Levant for 50,000 years before proceeding farther? Now it is known that they did not pause, physically, and probably not linguistically. They moved on to southeast Asia, where their traces have been dated back to about 70,000 years ago, and on from there. They seem to have stayed generally clear of the coldest or most mountainous terrain in that 50,000 years, however, which may explain their absence from Europe and central Asia. Perhaps they preferred to follow the convoluted coastlines of southern Asia, whose climate was more like that of the continent they had left. The setting is India, 90,000 years ago.

LIN HELD UP THE FINISHED skirt, pleased. It was a fine piece of work, consisting of a waist cord made of tendon, and long sections of leaves descending from it, with a pattern of alternating colors. She was still a child, but no one could tie leaves as prettily as she could.

"Put it on," Bry said.

Lin put the cord around her slender hips, and wrapped it twice around her small waist before tying it, so that the leaves overlapped, forming the skirt. She adjusted them so that the layers complemented each other. The colors brightened in the sunlight.

"It's good," he said. "Make it move."

She flexed her knees and did a bit of a dance, making the skirt swish aside, showing flashes of her thighs and bottom. Her body wasn't grown yet, so this lacked something, but she enjoyed pretending.

"You must model it at the gathering," he said.

"I couldn't," she said quickly.

"But you made it," he protested. "You should show it. You're pretty enough."

She held up her left hand, the fingers splayed. All six of them.

"Oh, yes," he said. "I forgot. But it's too bad. Someone will have to show off that skirt, so we can trade it well."

Lin shrugged, eyes downcast as she removed the skirt There had been a time when Bry teased her about her hand, and they had fought, and she had flung dirt in his face. But Flo had talked to him, about the need for siblings to defend each other, and Ned had remarked on misfortune, which was Bry's own private dread. Bry believed that each member of their sibling group was cursed in some way, and that his curse was to suffer bad luck in whatever was really important to him. He had taken heed of their concerns, recognizing his affinity with Lin, and now he helped her hide her embarrassment. He had become socially conscious in a hurry, and she appreciated it. She needed a friend who really understood, and he had become that friend. Just as Ned and Jes were friends as well as siblings, and Sam and Flo. The distinction was important, just as it was between friends and lovers.

"I'll ask Ned," he said, and ran off to find their band brother.

Lin carefully coiled the skirt, making it look like a simple bundle of leaves. She was proud of her handiwork, but had never been able to present her art in public. It was hard enough just foraging. It was all right with Sam's band, though Sam's wife Wona would stare deliberately. But when they encountered folk of other bands, Lin always withdrew, even if she had to go hungry. It just wasn't worth the humiliation.

Bry came running back. "Ned says cover your hands! With skirts."

"Skirts?" she asked blankly.

"Little ones to match the big one. It will be a nice ploy. They will laugh, but like it."

Lin went still, which was her way when a revelation came upon her. She could cover her hands with miniature skirts, and her extra finger would not show! Then she could appear in public without embarrassment. Ned, always the smartest member of their band, had come through again.

She took some scraps of tendon left over from prior projects and tied small leaves to them, alternating colors. She wrapped them around her fingers, pinning them with thorns. Now she had two temporary little skirts that would conceal the main parts of her hands, leaving only the thumbs free.

Then she realized that this wouldn't do. "Why should I cover my hands, if there's nothing wrong with them?" she asked rhetorically.

Bry took off again. Lin gazed at her impromptu gloves, wishing she could use them, covering both hands so as not to draw attention to the defective one. She couldn't weave with her fingers covered, she couldn't eat, she couldn't forage, but she could model skirts, and she could even make gloves to match what she modeled, enhancing the effect. It could be so nice, if only she had some obvious reason that wasn't the real one.

Bry came charging back. "Ned says because your fingers are stained with dye, and you don't want to ruin the impression." He gulped a breath. "Also, make them match the skirt, for the art of it."

And she did use dye, gathered from berries and roots and different kinds of dirt. It was no good for leaves, but it could make the fur clothing distinct, and that appealed to many people. She usually made the body paint for this family, too. It was a job to find out what wouldn't wash out the first time it rained, but some juices worked better than others. And the best ones did stain her fingers for several days. The stain did not wipe off on other things, but most folk would not know that, and anyway, different dyes were different; some might wipe off. So Ned had given her another good answer. And a good backup answer, using the hand skirts to enhance the main skirt. She had actually thought of that aspect herself, before Ned suggested it, which made her feel extremely smart. She could be in public.

She grabbed Bry by the head and kissed him hard on the cheek. "Hey, what's that for?" he demanded.

"For Ned," she replied. "Take it to him."

He laughed. "You'll have to do that yourself. I don't do kisses."

"I will," she said, and set out to find Ned.

Θ

They were all there at the gathering: the members of Sam's band, and the members of two other larger bands. Joe's and Bub's bands. Joe's folk were generally all right, but Bub's could at times be mean. Dirk and Wona, the mates of Flo and Sam, had come from Joe's band, so they knew most of the people there. But Bub's Green Feather band had a private grudge against Sam's band, and especially against Ned and Jes, who had outmaneuvered them on a trading deal. So there might be trouble, though there was supposed to be no fighting at gatherings.

The trading was brisk. Bub's band had assorted flints, chipped into serviceable knives and tools. Joe's band had fine pelts from unusual animals, worked until they were quite soft and flexible. Sam's band had assorted dyed hides, leaf skirts, and reed-woven baskets. Lin walked around, with one of her skirts on her torso, and the miniature matching skirts on her hands, and when someone wished to trade for one, Jes would remove the one Lin wore and hand it over, and put another on her. "You are doing well," Jes murmured to her. "You make the skirts look better."

Lin was pleased, because if she could do this well as a child, how much better she should be able to do when she was grown. She was pretty now, and would be lovely then, if she could hide her hand. This was the first time she had been able to model the skirts for trade, instead of letting Wona do it. That was a real satisfaction.

But there was another purpose to these gatherings: women. Young women needed to find new homes, and men needed to obtain mates. So there was a good deal of looking around. Lin looked around too. She was as yet too young, but not by all that much, so she had an interest. Of course no man would consider her, once he saw her hand, so speculation about the future was idle. Still, it was nice to pretend.

As evening came, the trading slacked off, and Lin no longer modeled the skirts. She removed her hand skirts, closed her left hand tight, and looked around. The nudity of her body did not bother her; it was standard for children, but her hand was always a concern. She saw that someone had started a large fire. It seemed to be a boy, which surprised her, because this was normally a man's job. So she went over for a closer look—and was further surprised. It was a girl! Rather, a woman, for she had her baby parked nearby.

The woman saw Lin looking. "Hello, girl," she called. "Do you like fire?"

"Yes," Lin confessed.

"Well, come help me build this up," the woman said. "It needs to be big enough for everyone to sit around."

But if she started using her hands, her extra finger would show. So Lin tried to demur. "I—"

"Or would you like to hold Crystal while I fetch in more wood? I don't like to leave her alone."

"Oh, yes," Lin agreed. She loved holding babies. Then, belatedly, she introduced herself. "I'm Lin, of Sam's band."

"I'm Ember, of Joe's band," the woman replied. She picked up the baby, passed her to Lin, and followed a path out to forage for more wood.

Lin sat holding the baby girl, gazing into the fire. She liked Ember, because Ember trusted her with her precious child. And babies didn't care how many fingers a person had.

But there was a woman staring at her. Lin knew who she was, from memory and descriptions: the notorious Sis, Bub's sister or consort; it wasn't quite clear which. That was one case where the distinctions between sibling, friend, and lover seemed seriously blurred. By all accounts Sis was a beautiful but sharp-edged creature, who would do whatever she thought she had to, to get her way or her brother's way. She must have noticed Lin's hand, and was contemplating some mischief. But she did not approach, and after a while went elsewhere, to Lin's relief.

A man advanced to the fire, carrying a huge armful of wood. He dumped it down beside the sticks already there. He glanced at Lin. "Why, hello, Ember," he said.

"Oh, I'm not Ember," Lin protested quickly. "She went to fetch wood."

He paused, seeming surprised, looking at her more closely. "Oh, I thought you must be Ember, because you are holding Crystal."

"No, I'm Lin, of Sam's band. This isn't my baby. I'm not old enough to have one."

"But pretty enough," he said. "Are you looking for a man?"

"No!" she exclaimed, fearing a frightful misunderstanding. Didn't he see that she was a naked child?

But he laughed. "I shouldn't tease you, Lin. I am Scorch—Crystal's father. I am glad to see you taking good care of her."

Lin just stared at him, flushing, not knowing what to say.

Ember returned with more wood. "Are you teasing innocent girls again, Scorch?" she asked as she set down her load.

"Only the pretty ones," Scorch said. "See what a fine baby this one has."

"But I'm not pretty," Lin said, hopelessly flustered. "My hand—" Worse yet. She shouldn't have mentioned that.

Scorch glanced at his wife, evidently realizing that his teasing had gone awry. Ember squatted before Lin, but didn't take the baby. "Look at this," she said, stretching out one arm. There was a long ugly burn-scar on it. "And this." She showed a knee, blotched with scar tissue. "I have such marks all over my body, because of my trade. Does that make me ugly?"

"Oh, no!" Lin cried. "But—"

"And Scorch has worse marks. But I think he's handsome, and he thinks I'm beautiful. Are we mistaken?"

"But you got those marks from fire," Lin said. "They are normal."

Ember reached out and took Lin's left hand. "I see several perfect fingers here. Who is to say what is normal?" She glanced at Scorch. "Would you mate with such a woman?"

"One as pretty as that?" he replied. "I wouldn't even notice her hands."

"But others—"

Ember nodded. "But I take your point, Lin. There are those who judge by the wrong things. Keep your hand hidden, if you wish; we will not discuss this further." Then she took back her baby.

Lin remained by the fire, liking these folk, who had gone out of their way to reassure her. Maybe there would be a man for her after all, when she came of age.

When the fire was high, the others took places around it. It was time for the entertainment, while several men roasted a slain ox and carved off hunks of the meat for all present to eat. Others set up a vat made from a hollowed log, filled with water and a number of squished fruits and berries to flavor it. Each person could dip a cup in it to drink. Lin was intrigued by the tang of it, and not long after she drank she felt pleasantly/slightly dizzy. That made the activities that much more fun. The nubile girls came out to dance, forming a ring around the fire, showing their breasts and kicking their legs high so that their leaf skirts parted and showed the men of other bands what they had to offer. Jes was there, and she looked pretty good in the skirt, but she was too tall and spare and homely, compared to the other girls. Which was too bad, because Jes was a really nice person.

"But one is missing," a woman said. It was Sis. "That girl should join them. She's pretty enough." She pointed to Lin.

And Lin didn't have her hand covers now. She would stand exposed to all the folk of the gathering. She would embarrass herself, and her band. Which was what Sis intended: to shame the band her brother disliked. To turn Lin's prettiness against her by exposing her deformity.

She wanted to demur, to get out of this, but all eyes were turning on her. What could she do?

Then Ember spoke. "Isn't that Lin, who modeled the skirts, enhancing them with matching hand sets? Yes, she must dance for us—with the three skirts together."

Lin called down silent spirit blessings on the woman for that considerate suggestion.

Flo got up and hurried across to Lin, carrying the things she needed. Sam followed her, evidently having been advised what to do. "Yes, the dance of staff and hands," Flo said.

Suddenly Lin realized what they intended. They did have a dance they had devised without hand decorations. Now the little skirts had been made a part of it.

In a moment the skirts were on, and she was facing her band brother, the leader of their band. "We will show them how we dance," Sam said somewhat grimly. He was angry about the spot they had been put in, but his anger was not directed at Lin.

And so they danced, as the nubile maidens gave way to leave them room. Sam was massively muscular, and he carried his heavy staff, potentially deadly as a weapon. But he used it in the way they had when relaxing as a tribe alone, swinging it grandly at her, low, so she could nimbly leap over it. She did so, her skirts swinging around her body and hands as she turned.

Sam swung again, this time at her head. She raised her hands in foolishly inadequate defense—and the staff bounced off her crossed wrists. There was a murmur of surprise from the folk watching; Sam had made it look real, as they did in the game. He could make his muscles bulge with the force of his strike, yet Lin's touch would deflect it. It was part of the game they played. Now it made the miniature skirts seem magic.

The audience loved it. It did not take the people long to figure out the device, but the notion of a little girl having such power against a huge man was hilarious. And Lin realized that the two of them were good at it; it was a dance, because their moves were practiced. He had the power and balance of the effective hunter he was, and she had the nimbleness of the child she was.

They circled the fire once, then finished with a flair: He aimed a huge blow at her, but she pranced in close and kissed him on the cheek. He staggered back, as if suffering a mortal blow, while she lifted her hands in victory. Everyone laughed.

Then they sat down, and the regular show continued. Lin had been too nervous to be dizzy while afoot, but now she was giddy with relief and flushed with success. She had danced, and not made a fool of herself. Now she could enjoy the rest of the gathering without fear.

A hand touched hers. It was Bry, giving her a friendly squeeze. "You were lovely," he. murmured.

"I think I was," she agreed, appreciating his appreciation and support.

"They were laughing with you, not at you."

"Yes." That was what made it so good.

When the girls were done, a man with a good voice led the group in singing hunting songs. Then came a storyteller, who held all the children and a number of adults rapt with his tales of the history of their tribe, to which all three bands belonged, speaking the same language. He told how they had come from a huge wonderful land under the setting sun so long ago that even the sun hardly remembered it, and followed the paths along the line between the mountainous terrain and the great restless sea, until they found this, their homeland. He told how life had been wonderful, until the land dried up and the game fled, so that they had to flee too, staying always near the water. But now they were in the land the spirits liked, and were doing well.

Lin had heard the tales before, but they always fascinated her. Normally there was just her band, the women foraging in their territory while me men hunted, with occasional contacts with their neighboring bands. But this gave her a much larger view, and she realized that they were part of a people whose ancestors went way back to that strange good land where the sun set, and that if that land hadn't dried up, the people would still be there. That was an awesome concept.

At last it was time to sleep, and the three bands withdrew to their sections, and the people lay down under their blankets of leaf mat and fur. Some of the young women, Lin knew, would get under the blankets of men they had encountered today. The men really liked that. Tomorrow the bands would return to their own territories, and resume ordinary life. Until the next gathering, with other bands.

It was fun, yet routine. But Lin had gained something precious, this time: hope for her own future.

When groups of people exceeded a certain size, the rivalry and quarrelsomeness of the males became disruptive. This effectively limited the size of individual bands, and of tribes. But there was a counterforce that seems to be unique to mankind: the arts. The human species appreciates such arts as song, dance, tale-telling, and tapestry weaving, and this appreciation enables larger groups to assemble without quarreling unduly. People can sit and watch a performance, their attention diverted from their immediate rivalries or grudges, and can participate in group arts, their energies expressed positively. Thus the bands of people who appreciated the arts grew larger than the bands of those without art, and they had more power. If a band of ten encountered a band of twenty, competing for a given resource, the band of twenty would normally prevail. If a tribe could muster more and larger bands than another tribe could, it was likely to prevail. So the arts may have been mankind's secret weapon. Art may be what distinguishes our species from all others, and what enabled us to marshal sufficient cooperating numbers to conquer the world.

Map 6

Chapter 6

SPIRIT GIRL

Mankind traveled the path of least resistance and best food supply, the boundary between land and sea. There was always vegetation there, and fish and clams. Such association with the water inevitably led to the development of rafts or boats, which were extremely useful for carrying possessions as well as people. Such boats would gradually become more sophisticated with experience, and increasingly seaworthy. Their advantages of convenience and safety could have been such that a culture evolved that was tied into them; women and children would remain in covered boats, rather than in any landbound dwellings, and much foraging could have been done directly from them. When a storm threatened, they would have brought the boats to shore, perhaps beaching them and tying them to trees—and remaining in them as shelters. Such folk could have traveled extremely rapidly, as human migrations go, and quickly traversed all the available coastlines of the world, and explored the larger rivers. They did move on down to Australia perhaps 50,000 years ago; increasingly earlier indications are being found. Since Australia was not connected by land, they had to have been able to cross some open sea. Thus we know they had boats 50,000 years ago, despite having found no direct evidence of them. Similar boats could have taken them on up the east coast of Asia—all the way to Beringia, the land that once connected Siberia to Alaska—and on down the American west coast, and on to the east coast, by circling South America or crossing the narrow land in Central America and resuming water travel on the other side. No barrier of ice would have balked them, because they would simply have boated around it, bundled against the cold and drawing their food from the sea. Until they reached the warmer latitudes, and foraged again from the land as well. It could have happened—but did it? The setting is the east coast of South America, 33,000 years ago.

"STORM," JES SAID TERSELY. "GET to cover."

Bry looked. She was right; clouds were looming ahead, piling high above land and sea. Clouds always seemed un-moving when looked at, but could expand alarmingly when not watched. He grabbed a paddle, and so did Jes. He was a child and she was a woman, but he knew how to use his paddle, and she was much like a man in physical structure, so they were able to help. They stroked from either side, balancing against each other, making it efficient.

Ned turned the rudder, causing the long boat to turn toward land. Sam hauled harder on the oars, driving it swiftly through the water. He had more arm power than the rest of them put together, and was the main propulsive force.

The other boat turned similarly. Dirk was rowing that, while Flo steered. He saw his sister Lin in the other boat, watching out for rocks. She was too small to be of much help with paddle or rudder, but she had sharp eyes and her clever fingers were excellent when weaving baskets or tying skirts. The other women and children stayed out of the way. None of them wanted to get swamped in a storm.

But they ran afoul of a bad current that tried to carry them back out to sea. This was unfamiliar territory, so they did not know the local problems. The water had its paths, just as did the land, and once they were known they were useful; but when they were strange, they were treacherous. Ordinarily they could simply work their way around the adverse current, but at the moment they couldn't afford the time. The storm was advancing rapidly.

"There is a fair current behind us," Ned said. "Turn; it's our best chance."

Sam lifted his oars, panting, while Bry and Jes paddled in opposite directions, causing the craft to turn about its center. The boat looked clumsy, but wasn't; it had an outrigger to stabilize it, and a keel to steady its direction. They had traveled far in it, forging on northward toward new shores. Because the old shores to the south were losing their vitality, getting fished and foraged out. It was always necessary to move on after a time.

They started moving back, while Ned searched for a suitable emergency harbor. He called out the new direction, and the boat moved toward it, followed by her sister craft. But the storm came faster, and now its winds reached out and tried to suck them into the darkness of it They pushed the craft aside, away from the proper course.

"Rock!" Ned cried in alarm.

It was on Bry's side, almost submerged. He stuck out his paddle to push against it, to ease them by it without damage. All of them were versed in such emergency measures, because hidden rocks were a common threat to fragile boats. But a wave crashed into them from the other side, half swamping them, and the sudden force of the current jerked Bry's paddle out of his hands. He was off-balance, his support suddenly gone. He screamed as he fell into the rough water.

His head went under before he got oriented and stroked for the surface. He was a good swimmer, of course; all the shore folk were. But a fierce current caught him and hauled him around beyond the rock and out to sea.

He had just one lucky break: he saw his paddle floating beside him. He grabbed it and hung on as the full fury of the storm struck. He knew his family in the boat would not be able to help him; they had to make it to shore in a hurry, or all would perish. So he didn't even concern himself with that. He simply clung to his paddle, knowing that it would help him float without wearing himself out. He was in trouble, but knew that the danger would be much worse if he lost his common sense. Right now he had to focus on staying afloat.

The storm beat down all around him. But he had been in rough water before. He relaxed, his arms locked around the paddle so that it kept his head lifted, and held his breath each time the waves got too bad. He could ride it out, because he mostly floated up and down with the waves, letting them carry him where they would. He hoped they would not take him impossibly far out to sea, because if he couldn't see the land, he wouldn't know where to swim. However, he did know that the land was toward the setting sun, so he might find it anyway.

There was a jolt, and pain in his side. He had been swept into a rock. He looked, and saw no blood in the swirling water, which was a relief. It was just a bruise, not a wound. It was not good to bleed in the water, because that attracted sharks and crocodiles. If one of them came, he would be quickly finished.

Could that be the realization of his curse? To get cut in the water, so that the predators of the sea would tear him apart? Bry tried not to think of that, but it was impossible not to.

As it happened, the storm soon passed, and daylight remained, and the land was not far distant. He looked around, hoping to spy a boat, but there was nothing. He didn't know if they had made it to shore, or sunk, or been carried out of sight. But the boats were tough and stable; probably they were all right, somewhere. All he had to do was find them.

First he had to get to land, because it wasn't safe in the water, now that it was calming. He oriented his paddle for swimming, and started toward the shore.

Ouch! His left side hurt the moment he tried to stroke with his arms. His ribs had been bashed in, and though it didn't hurt much when he breathed shallowly, any greater effort quickly brought warning pain.

He experimented and found that he could still kick hard with his feet without suffering unduly. So he did that, and made slow progress toward the shore.

It was almost dark by the time he waded onto land. Mosquitoes formed a cloud around him. But he knew how to handle them. He searched until he found one of the plants that repelled them. He took a leaf, chewed on it to break down its surface, and rubbed it across his face and body. The mosquitoes still hovered, and landed, but no longer bit; they couldn't get by the juice of the plant.

He saw no sign of the others. If they had come to shore, it wasn't here. He heard nothing: no sounds of camping, no calling. He knew better than to walk the shore alone at night; his paddle would serve as staff and club, but there were creatures who could come at him in the darkness.

His side was aching, now that he was out of the water; the effort of walking aggravated it He had to get into a protected place where he could rest and sleep safely. Maybe the others would come looking for him next day, or maybe he would see the boats passing. He knew they wouldn't simply let him go without a search; the family always looked out for its own, ever since they had been orphaned four years ago. But sometimes they did get separated, and had to look out for themselves.

He found a good tree, and lifted his hands to haul himself up into it. But his side hurt intolerably, and he couldn't. He would have to find one much easier to climb, or stay on the ground. He didn't like that.

Bry retied his loin-band and walked along the beach, peering at trees as the darkness shrouded the forest, but he didn't see anything suitable. The beach curved, until he was heading west; he must be at the mouth of a great river. He dipped his hand in the water and tasted it: yes, it was fresh. That was good. But fresh water was where the crocodiles were, and they did not necessarily stay in the water if they saw prey close by. He had to find a good tree.

Maybe there would be a path leading inland. He did not want to go far from the shore, but he had to find a place to safely rest and sleep. The others would know to look for him along a path; people never strayed far from paths, because paths gave direction and competence to their travels.

Then he saw something. It was an outrigger boat, similar to the ones his family used, but smaller. Then there was a figure walking toward it—a woman, in a brief skirt. He had found his family! "Ho!" he called gladly, walking toward her.

The woman looked his way—and he realized by her stance and manner that she wasn't anyone he knew. She was a stranger, and that could mean another kind of trouble.

He stopped.

Then the woman walked toward him. She was lithe and lovely, every motion elegant. She had flowing brown hair and eyes to match. Her breasts were perfectly formed and balanced. In fact, she was the most beautiful woman he could remember seeing. He was eleven, not yet of age to get serious about women, but he was stunned by this one.

"You're a boy," she said, as if surprised. Her accent and inflections were strange, but clear enough. So she was not from a close tribe. "What are you doing alone? Where is your family?"

"The storm—the boats—I don't know."

She smiled understandingly, bringing a thrill to his pulse. "And your ribs are bruised. You floated in with the paddle. I thought at first it was a spear. Who are you?"

"Bry," he said. "Of Sam's family."

She cocked her head, thinking. "I don't know that name. But you could have come from beyond our range, in the boat. I am Anne, of Hugh's family. We have two children."

So she was married and with children: no prospect for romance even if he had been of age. It was amazing how well preserved she was. "I was looking for a tree for the night," he explained. "One I could get into without climbing."

"Lift your arm," she said. When he obeyed, raising it as far as he could before the pain increased, she stepped close and touched his bruised ribs. Her pressure brought a surge of pain, but also pleasure, for even her fingers were beautiful. "Not broken, I think," she said. "But that will take time to heal. You will not be able to paddle for a moon or more."

"Yes," he agreed wanly.

"Come with me." She turned and walked away. Her buttocks under the skirt were as well formed as the rest of her. She was one healthy woman throughout.

He followed, glad that she knew of a suitable tree. But she led him to a path, and followed the path to a shelter built on a rocky outcropping. It was her house.

Two naked children emerged: a boy of about five, and a girl of about three. They stared at Bry.

"This is Bry, of Sam's family," Anne said. "He will stay with us while he looks for their boats." The children smiled in tentative welcome. "And this is my son Chip," Anne continued, indicating the boy, who lifted a hand in formal greeting. "And my daughter Mina." The little girl smiled again, this time brilliantly. She had black hair and dark eyes, and was a beautiful creature in her own right. "Get him some fruit."

Both children scrambled back into the house, and emerged a moment later with ripe fruits. Bry accepted them gladly, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. Mina touched his hand for a moment, staring into his eyes. He was taken aback; there was something special about her.

Anne led him into the house. "Make him a bed," she told the children, and again they scrambled.

He was to stay in their house? "But you don't know me!" he protested. "I am foreign."

Anne turned her gaze directly on him. "Do you seek to harm any of us?" she inquired. In that moment he realized that she was aware of her power over him. His slack expression must have given him away. He could neither hurt nor deceive such a lovely woman, ever. Or those she protected.

"Never," he said sincerely, and all three of them laughed. "Mina decided you were all right," Chip said. "She knows."

The little girl had made the decision? Certainly Bry bore this family no malice, and much appreciated their help, but this was strange indeed. How could they be sure she wasn't mistaken about a stranger?

"She never is," Chip said, and they laughed again at Bry's expression. "We got her from a dead place, and she knows the spirits."

"A dead place?"

"She had been left to die," Anne said. "We took her, and the spirits have been kind to us ever since."

Bry looked at Mina again. Could it be? Flo had left her first baby, because she had no man and couldn't support a child then. Three years ago. The time was right. Yet that had been far away, south along the coast. So it couldn't be. Yet if he looked at the child that way, he could see an aspect of his big sister in her. Flo had been attractive when younger, before she got fat, and the dark hair matched. How nice it would be if Flo's child had joined this nice family!

Mina met his gaze again, smiling enigmatically. "Maybe," she said.

This was eerie.

"Bed's ready," Chip announced. "Try it."

Obligingly, Bry lay on the leafy bed. It was quite comfortable. He hadn't realized how tired he was. He bit into the fruit, relaxing.

Θ

He woke in complete darkness, realizing that he had slept without even finishing his fruit; it was still in his hand. So he finished the fruit, and went back to sleep.

In the morning he saw that there was one more in the house: a man. That would be Hugh. He must have been out hunting until late.

Hugh was already awake, and beckoned as he saw Bry stir. Bry got up and followed him outside, leaving the others asleep.

"You have a problem," Hugh said abruptly. "We have a problem too. Mina thinks you are the answer to ours. Perhaps we can be the answer to yours."

"I need to find my family," Bry said, somewhat diffident in the presence of the husband of as lovely a creature as Anne. Hugh must have some very strong ability that didn't show, because he was ordinary in appearance and manner. "And my ribs make me weak."

"Yes. We feel you should not travel alone at this time. Your ribs must heal. You can watch the water for boats from here as well as from anywhere, and it is safer. What we offer you is a safe place to stay while you heal and look. Foraging and fishing are good, so you will not go hungry."

"But I thought—only for the night."

"Mina says it will be half a moon before your boats come. They must make repairs, and there were other injuries."

"But she's a little child! How can she know?"

"Have you looked into her eyes?"

Bry spread his hands, acknowledging refutation. That little child was like none other he had encountered. "What you offer me is generous beyond anything owed a friend, let alone a stranger who can't work hard to help," Bry said. "What is there I can do for you in return?"

"We are entertainers. We make music and dance, and are rewarded with gifts. We travel in a circuit along the banks of the rivers, from family to family, staying a few days with each, teaching them what we do. When we finish, we have only a short distance to go to return to our house here, which is centrally located. Then we relax for a moon, before starting again. The children travel with us, and help in what we do."

"They dance?"

"And more. But word has spread of an ailment that is passing through families. It makes children sicken and die. We do not want our children to be visited by these malign spirits."

"But how—?"

"The spirits seem to move from child to child. They do not move between families that have no contact. So if our children do not go there, they will not sicken. But we are a small family, and have had no one else to protect and care for our children. Now you are here. We ask you to do that."

"But I am a child myself!" Bry protested. "And with my weakness, I can not protect them."

"Mina believes you can. The spirits give her information. But your boats may appear in half a moon, while our circuit will require a full moon. We ask you not to leave until our return. You will not be able to paddle well then anyway, so perhaps it is not too great a sacrifice."

Bry was somewhat awed by the prospect. "If you think I can do it, I will do it until you return. I know my family will understand."

Hugh clapped him on the shoulder, with a very light touch so that the ribs did not react with a jolt of pain. "Then it is agreed. The children will show you where things are and what to do. And it should not be bad. Mina said there is one bad time, and a lot of work, but that the rest is good. And she wants to meet your sister."

Did she mean Flo? What a weird business! "It is agreed," he said.

"Now we shall celebrate the agreement in our fashion," Hugh said. He brought out a wooden flute and began to play.

Bry was amazed. The man was good—very good. The notes fairly tumbled over each other, beautifully, like miniature cascades in a steep stream, making a melody as intricate and lovely as the spirits of nature themselves. Bry had heard music before, many times, but had never known that it could be that beautiful. The man was a true master.

There was a stir at the house. Anne emerged, in a different skirt, this one made from grass tied together at the waist. She was dancing, her bare feet stepping to the music of the flute, and when she spun the grass flung out and up, showing her thighs, and her hair spread similarly, showing her dainty ears. What a woman she was!

Behind her came Chip, his legs marching, his hand beating time on a little drum he carried. And Mina, in her own little grass skirt, rising to her toes and spinning just as her mother did.

The three of them made their dancing way down to the spot where Hugh was playing, and finished with an accelerated cadence of drum beat and feet, and a double whirl that made the skirts rise until they were almost flat disks around the woman and the girl. The effect was not only artistic, it was marvelously seductive; Anne surely had devastating impact on grown men, despite being clearly beyond her maiden stage. Then suddenly everything stopped, together, and all was still.

Bry realized that his mouth was hanging open. Never before had he seen an act as coordinated and beautiful as that. They were all so good at what they did!

"Of course the children are still learning," Hugh said. He played a sudden riff of notes, and Chip brought out a little flute of his own and was able to play only a few of them. Anne moved her hips as if her torso had turned to liquid, then did a high kick with her toe reaching the level of her shoulder; Mina wriggled her body and kicked as high as her waist. That was still better than Bry could have done, on any of it. Once again it made him realize that he would be a man before long.

"Now we must be off," Hugh said. He and Anne fetched hide packs from the house, slung them on their backs, lifted staffs, and walked down to the river.

"Already?" Bry asked, dismayed.

Mina set her little hand on his. "They will return in a moon," she said reassuringly, as the two hauled their boat into the water, put the packs into it, and changed the staffs for paddles. They started paddling efficiently, and soon disappeared upstream. The children waved them bye-bye, smiling bravely.

But in this, too, Mina wasn't perfect. Bry saw the tears in her eyes. He put his right arm around her and squeezed reassuringly, though he had substantial doubts of his own.

"They don't want us to catch fever and die," Chip explained. Then he swallowed and changed the subject. "Let's fish."

There were spears in the house. This was something Bry did know. They went down to the river's edge and waited with spears poised. When a fish swam close, Bry stabbed suddenly with the point of the wooden pole. His ribs gave him a jolt of pain, but he was lucky: he speared the fish. He brought it up flopping. He pulled it off and set it in the basket Mina provided, then used a stone edge to sharpen the point again.

Chip tried for the next fish, with his smaller spear. He missed, and missed again, but kept trying. "Aim where the fish will go, not where it is," Bry suggested, and next time Chip managed to snag one, off-center. It was another lucky thrust, but it did make it look as if Bry's advice had helped. The truth, he knew, was that no one could be sure of spearing a fish with any particular thrust; much patience was necessary, and if every third or fourth thrust nabbed a fish, that was good.

The children showed him where the best foraging was, along the edge of the forest, where there were fruit trees, nut trees, berry bushes, and herbs. The grubs were fat in fallen wood, too. Paths went to all the good places, showing the truly human nature of this region. It was evident that they would be eating well; the parents had selected this site for its ready access to food, and had prepared it well.

In the evening they gathered wood and brought up the fire. They didn't need it for heat, but for dryness and comfort. They stared into it, and Bry told stories of his family to entertain the children. They were fascinated by the way the six children had been orphaned by a terrible storm, being on land while their parents tried to bring the boats to shore. Sudden storms were the bane of shore boaters. Bry told how the eldest, Sam and Flo, had assumed the job of the lost parents, and after lean times the six of them had finally gotten established as a wider family itself. But he didn't speak of Flo's rape and the child she left; the implications were too uncertain.

At last, talked out, they slept. Chip made a point of sleeping in his own bed, but Mina moved close enough to catch Bry's hand for reassurance. She was a remarkable little girl, but also, after all, very young.