Ruins (Pathfinder 2)

In all his life, Rigg had never seen a place so empty of a human past. He had heard other people say, “It felt as if we were the first people ever to walk there,” speaking of some wild patch of wood or meadow, but of course Rigg knew that there was hardly a place in Ramfold where no human had ever been, or which no human had seen.

Here, though, it was literally true: No human eyes had seen this view, no human feet had walked this hill, descended into this glen, found toeholds in this rock. Rigg couldn’t decide whether to be proud of bringing the first human paths into the land, or to regret spoiling its pristine clarity. For wherever they went, five bright and recent paths glowed behind them.

It was not all silence. Olivenko spoke from time to time, conversing with Param or Umbo, or asking Rigg a question. And Param, though she tried not to complain, had to speak up now and then to ask for a rest. She was truly unused to such traveling, hour after hour on their feet, moving forward, up and down, sometimes climbing with hands and feet.

The rests were not wasted. Rigg used the time to find water. He was learning that the native animals knew which water was infested with facemasks, and avoided it; where many animals had drunk over a long period of time, and recently, Rigg felt safe to take water without boiling it. He drank it himself first as a test. That was only right. And when they stopped longer, or for the evening, Rigg would find animal paths and set snares, so that by morning there would be meat. He would string the small animal carcasses over his back, letting them drain as they walked, then let Olivenko or Umbo cook them that night as he set snares for more. Rigg also found nuts, berries, edible roots—enough variety that the meat did not become tedious. Providing for five took more work than providing for himself and Father, but not much, and Rigg felt more than a little pride that no one went hungry while in his care.

Rigg felt bad for Param, who had obviously never climbed so much as a tree in her childhood; and he could see that her shoes would not last the journey. He would have to make her some moccasins, and he saved several pelts for that purpose. He also knew that Param did not like walking directly behind him—he supposed the sight and perhaps smell of the dead animals he wore across his shoulders bothered her. She had not seen the animals she ate being killed before, had not seen their carcasses still shaped like the living animal, but headless and skinless. If she didn’t like seeing them now, there was no reason to insist that she look. She would get used to the cycle of life soon enough.

What oppressed Rigg, what weighed on him with every step, was the silence from Loaf, and the way Umbo stayed near the man with the mask, holding his hand as if to guide him, as if he were blind. Loaf’s eyes were covered but they were not blind; he saw more unerringly than anyone, his hands finding every hold when they had to climb, ducking under every branch or pushing it out of the way. Without seeming alert, Loaf saw and heard everything. But he said nothing. Umbo mumbled things to him from time to time, but Rigg did not try to hear what passed between them. They had spent a long time together, apart from Rigg, and Rigg would not insert himself between them. How could he? It was Rigg who had allowed this terrible thing to happen to Loaf. Umbo did not accuse, but he didn’t have to. Rigg accused himself.

The high escarpment to their left bent to the east, and they turned with it, staying below it. It reminded Rigg of Upsheer Cliff, of course, since it had been caused by an identical starship crashing into the ground at the same angle and velocity eleven thousand years ago. Since Vadesh and the first colonists had built a tunnel and track from the city into the mountain, Rigg wondered now if there had been another tunnel and track leading out the other side. Why hadn’t he asked when he was there where the ship’s computer could answer him?

And were there tunnels in the other wallfolds, ways to get deep into the heart of the mountain without climbing the high cliffs? There was so much he wanted to know.

Most of all, though, he wondered what he could do to resist the humans from Earth when—or if—they came, and if they needed to be resisted at all. What if they came only as rescuers, and when they found that the people of the colonies on Garden had survived for longer than all of human history on Earth, they would marvel at the fact, and then peacefully

negotiate with the people of each wallfold, and let the worlds become acquainted with each other. Why shouldn’t it be that way?

Only Rigg knew that the expendables were right to fear the coming of the humans. In the eleven thousand years of human life on Garden, there had been no change in the deep nature of human beings, not in Ramfold, anyway—it was eleven millennia of war, of empires that rose and fell, nations that burgeoned and shrank, languages that developed and disappeared. Vadeshfold was only different in that the facemasks were involved, and history ended in the death of all humans. Death and mutual destruction had come close in Ramfold’s history, too, a couple of times. It was in human nature, and if a hundred and twelve centuries on Garden hadn’t been enough to breed hatred and war out of the human character, Rigg could hardly hope that in the eleven years that had passed on Earth there would be any improvement. They would find that there was something strange here and they would be afraid. Fear would create enmity. It would be mutual. But the people from Earth would have technology that the expendables had not allowed any humans on Garden to match.

And what do we have to counter them? We can hold hands and flee back in time. That will make them tremble!

Rigg could only hope that there was something in some other wallfold that would allow the people of Garden to protect themselves. Yet if there was, why would the people of that wallfold believe Rigg about the danger that was coming? For that matter, why should Rigg believe in it himself? It’s not as if the expendables had been unfailingly honest with him. Could he say that he knew, for himself, that there was some danger coming? No. And yet he must persuade them to help him, to work together with the other wallfolds to find some way to protect the world, to meet the people of Earth as equals, with strength enough not to invite conquest and destruction.

And what if, in one of the wallfolds, there was some variant of humanity that was far more dangerous than anything that might come from Earth? What would Rigg do then? Leave their Wall in place, of course, if he could. But it was just as likely that any such powerful race would overwhelm him before he could give any command to the ships. They would take the jewels from him and rule the world and then it would be up to the people of Earth to protect themselves from the monsters of Garden.

Or none of these things. What if many wallfolds were empty? What if Ramfold was the most advanced of the wallfolds, and there was nothing but this feeble gift of time manipulation?

That would be easy, then. Rigg and Umbo and Param had only to keep silent about their gifts, and let the humans from Earth rescue the people of Garden as they surely expected. There were too many here to take home to Earth, of course, but they could provide the ancient technologies and bring us back to the level that human civilizations had reached on Earth, when they achieved the power to reach out beyond their own star system. Then their coming would be a gift.

Or a curse. They might conquer us, rule over us. But was that anything new? Would it be worse than when the Sessamids came with their mountain warriors and conquered the people of Aressa and all the lands drained by the Stashik River? One harsh ruling class would replace another. Wasn’t that the course of human history? What difference would it make, that one group of humans was in the ascendancy for a while, until they fell to another?

In that case, we’re on a fool’s errand, thought Rigg. Why go from wallfold to wallfold?

Because we can, he answered himself. Because for the first time in eleven thousand, one hundred ninety-one years, humans can go through the Walls, and find out what has become of our once-identical cousins on the other side, and what we humans can do, we must try, or why are we alive?

Rigg saw that Param wasn’t with them. He went back a short way and found her.

“I can’t go on,” said Param.

“Time to rest then,” said Rigg. “This isn’t good ground for a camp, though. Can you go a little farther to see if the ground levels out above this rise?”

“No,” said Param. “I don’t mean it’s time to rest. I mean I can’t go on.”

Rigg looked at her. It was true that she looked tired and bedraggled and she could use a bath and her clothes could use a washing and her hair wanted combing, but what of that? They’d been trekking for nearly three weeks.

“You mean you want to go back?”

“No,” said Param. “I don’t want to go at all.”

Rigg was nonplussed. “You want to stay here on this slope until you die?”

“It won’t be long.”

“Actually, you ate and drank only a few hours ago. So if you stay here it will take several days for you to dehydrate enough to die. And then you’ll fall and roll down the slope, so you won’t actually stay here until you die.”

“She’s got a point,” said Umbo. He and Loaf had followed at once when Rigg went back for Param. “Where are we going? How far is it? Do you have any idea?”