Hothouse - Brian Aldiss [96]
To add to Yattmur’s impatience, the odd trio now stopped. Although she called to them to come on, they ignored her. They stood perfectly still on the flooded hillside – and gradually one of the human figures blurred round the edges, became translucent, disappeared!
Both tummy-bellies and sharp-furs, obviously impressed by Yattmur’s threat, had fallen silent. At the disappearance, they set up a murmur, although the sharp-furs showed little surprise.
‘What’s going on over there?’ Yattmur asked one of the tummy-bellies.
‘Very much a strange thing to take in the ears, sandwich lady. Several strange things! Through the nasty wet rain come two spiriters and a nasty catchy-carry-kind creature having a nasty carry on a number three spiriter in the wet rain. So the sharp-fur gods are crying with many a bad thought!’
What they said made little sense to Yattmur. Suddenly angered with them, she said, ‘Tell the sharp-furs to keep quiet and get back into the cave. I’m going to meet these new people.’
‘These fine sharp gods do not do what you say with no tail,’ the tummy-belly replied, but Yattmur ignored him.
She began to walk forward with her arms outspread and her hands open to show she intended no harm. As she went, though the thunder still bumped over the nearby hills, the rain petered to a drizzle and stopped. The two creatures ahead became more clearly visible – and suddenly there were three of them again. A blurred outline took on substance, becoming a thin human being who stared ahead at Yattmur with the same watchful gaze as his two companions.
Disturbed by this apparition, Yattmur came to a halt. At this the bulky figure moved forward, calling out as he came, pushing past his companions.
‘Creatures of the evergreen universe, the Sodal Ye of the catchy-carry-kind comes to you with the truth. See you are fit to receive it!’
His voice had a richness and fruitiness, as though it travelled through mighty throats and palates to become sound. Moving under the shelter of its mellowness, the two human figures also advanced. Yattmur could see that they were indeed human – two females in fact of a very primitive order, utterly naked except for elaborate tattoos over their bodies, and expressions of invincible stupidity upon their faces.
Feeling that something was called for by way of reply, Yattmur bowed and said, ‘If you come peacefully, welcome to our mountain.’
The bulky figure gave out a roar of inhuman triumph and disgust.
‘You do not own this mountain! This mountain, this Big Slope, this growth of dirt and stone and boulder, owns you! The Earth is not yours: you are a creature of the Earth.’
‘You take my meaning a long way,’ Yattmur said, irritated. ‘Who are you?’
‘Everything has a long way to be taken!’ was the reply, but Yattmur was no longer listening; the bulky figure’s roar had precipitated activity behind her. She turned to see the sharp-furs preparing to leave, squealing and jostling, pushing each other as they swung their sledge about until it pointed downhill.
‘Carry us with you or come running gently beside your lovely riding machine!’ cried the tummy-bellies, darting distractedly about and even rolling in the mud before their fierce-featured gods. ‘Oh please kill us with lovely death only take us with you running and riding away from this Big Slope. Take us away from this Big Slope with the sandwich people and now this big roaring scratchy-carry-kind. Take us, take us, cruel lovely gods of sharp gods!’
‘No, no, no. Gup gup go away, sprawly men! Sharpish we go, and come back in a quiet time for you soon!’ cried the