Shame of Man (11 page)

He stalked her, wading in the center, moving to the side when she did, getting closer. He trapped her in an irregular corner of the pool, so that she would not swim to the side and avoid him. He grabbed—and she sank out of sight.

So he plunged his hands down into the cloudy water. But they found nothing. She had swum around him under the water and was free again.

He turned to spot her, determined to be on guard against that next time. He would grab for her legs, so she couldn't duck down. There were only so many tricks she could use.

He didn't find her. She wasn't in the pool. The murky water was still. But she wasn't on the bank either. There hadn't been time for her to run out of sight. She must have flopped over the narrow ramp of sand that separated the pool from the lake, and hidden among the reeds.

He waded to the edge and out. He certainly had not done well! And a real fish would be much worse. He stood staring out across the lake. This was actually his second day with the tribe; after tomorrow he would have to move on. He might skip the fish challenge, knowing it was useless.

“Hue!”

He turned. There Lee was, in the middle of the pool. She could not have come in over the ramp, because he had been looking that way. But how could she have returned so quickly from the land?

“Catch!” she called.

He forged back into the pool, determined to get this done with rather than giving up. Lee sank down again, disappearing. He paused near the edge, waiting for her to come up, watching the whole pool.

She didn't come up. This time he knew she wasn't fleeing behind his back. Where had she gone?

Had she drowned? Suddenly alarmed, he dived for where she had been, searching for her body. If he could pull her out quickly enough—

“Catch!” she said behind him.

He whirled, startled. There she was, smiling. “Lee drown no?” he asked, though it was obvious that she hadn't.

She laughed. “Lee below.”

Could she have held her breath that long? He was amazed. “Lee breathe?”

She approached him. “Hue see,” she said. She lifted the end of her long head hair and put it in his hand. “Hold.” Then she sank down again.

He held onto her tress, by this means keeping track of her though he could not see her in the dark water. She remained at the bottom of the pool,
her hands hooked in the muck; he knew, because one of her fingers was touching his toe.

Didn't she have to breathe? Alarmed, he tugged at her hair. But instead of coming up, she swam on around him, making him turn in a circle as she moved.

It was impossible for her to hold her breath this long! He let go of her hair and reached down to lift her out of the water. But she slipped through his grasp and swam to another part of the pool.

Finally her head broke the surface. “Breathe no,” she said.

Hue shook his head, bemused. She had proved it was possible to hold her breath much longer than he could, than he had thought possible. Thus she could dive into the murk and swim far away without being seen—just as a fish could. But he still couldn't catch her—or the fish.

He said as much. “Catch Lee no. Catch fish no.”

But she had an answer. “Fish axe.”

Use his axe? Not on Lee!

But she was more sensible than that. “Slow. Close. Axe. Fish smart no.”

He couldn't stab the fish if he couldn't get close to it. But she showed him what she meant. She floated on the water, like a lazy fish, on her back. She had him approach her slowly, with his axe ready. Whenever he moved too fast, she stroked away, and he had to start over. But he saw that this made sense; he could never catch the fish by trying to pursue it swiftly, but he could fool it by being slow. It was stupid; it thought slow things were harmless. Then a sudden stab with the axe could catch it. Patience and surprise: these were the keys.

Maybe he did have a chance. Lee really had shown him how. He was pleased.

Next day Hue tried for the fish. The man called Itt organized this, as he had the honey hunt; he seemed to be competent in special tasks. The water folk spread out across the lake and came toward the shore, splashing, driving before them what they could see and Hue could not: big fish. When one fish swam through the narrow canal to the pond, children quickly scraped sand to fill the canal, trapping it. They had indeed caught a big fish; it was almost as long as a man, and it circled the pond nervously, perhaps realizing that it was in trouble.

Hue entered the pond with his axe as many water folk watched. Among them were Joe, the leader, and Bil, the smart one, and of course Itt, the best swimmer. Also Lee, and Ann among the women. This was a diversion for them, as the women did not have to forage while the fish chase lasted. Actually he had noted that the water folk seemed to have more leisure than those of other tribes, as well as more security; they seemed generally happier and less pugnacious than the people he couldn't quite remember in
his home tribe. Their life-style seemed easier, which perhaps accounted for it.

He stalked the fish. But the fish's circling around the pond had stirred up the mud, and the water was opaque, so that he couldn't see it. Every so often he saw a ripple as it moved near the surface, but he knew it wouldn't be there by the time he approached it in slow motion. This was a complication Lee hadn't thought of. She had stood, or floated on the surface, so that he knew her location. What could he do?

Then he realized that time would fix it. If he stood still, and the fish relaxed, the water would gradually clarify, and then he would be able to see the fish. So he moved to the center of the pond and stood, axe in hand, waiting.

But the fish did not relax. It continued to swim rapidly around the pond, keeping the mud stirred up. So Hue moved slowly back to the edge, so as to intercept the fish as it circled. He was getting a notion of its position, because it swam at a certain speed, and the ripples suggested where it was and in which direction it was going. If he could guess just when it would pass him, he could stab at it blind, seeing it with his mind rather than his eye.

But the fish was too canny for him. When he reached the edge, it changed its course to pass farther inside, remaining out of reach. His motion had alerted it, because he had moved too fast, thinking it couldn't see him any better than he could see it.

The watchers began to fidget. Hue was taking too long; it was clear that he didn't know how to get the fish. He shrugged and moved out of the pond, giving it up. He would have to leave this tribe. He didn't mind doing that, but he did mind failing.

Lee came to join him. That reminded him: he could still join, by mating with her. But he still didn't want to do that. But he wouldn't be able to stop her from coming with him, because he still owed her. That wasn't ideal either.

Itt took a step toward the water, but Joe stopped him with a gesture. “Watch,” Joe said. He waded into the water himself.

Hue watched as the man took a stance near the fish's circle. He held his axe in one hand, and trailed the fingers of the other hand just slightly into the water. He stood so still he seemed dead.

Suddenly he moved, striking into the water with his axe. And he hit the fish! It thrashed, and blood colored the water. Joe grabbed it and tossed it out onto the land. Then he looked at Hue. “Hue do?” he asked.

Hue realized that the man must have sensed the fish with his fingers, picking up the vibration of its passage the way a man could put his ear to the ground and hear nearby large prey walking. But Hue was not trained for this; he had no such sensitivity. He could not see the fish with his fingers. “No.”

Joe shrugged. He had given Hue another chance, but Hue couldn't take it. He had failed their challenge, and was not qualified to be one of the water folk. He turned away.

Then he saw a large shore bird flying close. It passed over the pond, winging up toward some distant perch.

Hue hurled his axe at it, using his favored arm, which wasn't the same as those of most other men. The axe spun as it sailed, glinting in the slanting sunlight. It curved, intersecting the bird. Then the axe struck the bird on the wing. The bird squawked and flopped down, landing in the pond.

Hue waded into the water to fetch it. He caught it as it struggled, wrung its neck, and tossed it beside the fish. “Bird eat,” he said.

He left the pool and went to recover his axe, where it had fallen beyond the pool. There was blood on its sharp edge; he wiped that off in the dirt and returned it to his pouch.

Only then did he realize that the tribesfolk were staring at him. Itt's mouth was locked open. Had Hue done something wrong? Should he have tried to use his other arm, to be more like one of them?

Bil shook his head, seeming amazed. “Day day day,” he said, and the others nodded agreement.

Hue had been granted his extension after all! “Bird easy,” he protested. “Fish hard.”

Several of the men shook their heads. “Bird hard,” Joe said.

Now Hue understood. His tribe was apt at throwing; any man could bring down prey by air, if it was close enough and slow enough and small enough. The farther a man could throw with force and accuracy, the better valued he was as a hunter. Hue had not been the best or the worst thrower, but he was competent. The water folk were apt at swimming and hunting in the water; for them it was easy to track a fish, but hard to bring down a bird. So their routine fish hunt was beyond him—and his routine bird hunt was beyond them. But they respected his prowess as a hunter, now that they had seen it.

“Learn water,” Joe said. “Woman show.” He looked at the women seated around the pool.

Several of them got to their feet. One of them was Ann, the one with whom he had shared the fish. Lee went to join them. Hue realized that more was expected of him, in the next three days. He had to learn more about the water, and one of these women would teach him. These were the ones who were willing to do so. All were breasted except Lee, but none of them had babies. So they were probably unmated. Just what were they supposed to show him? He suspected that their willingness to do this meant that they found him to be acceptable for mating. Because of his unexpectedly demonstrated prowess for hunting.

He had become accustomed to their bareness and breastedness, and to their somewhat fleshy legs, but still was not eager to mate with any. Yet Lee
was no better, despite being furred and almost flat of chest. He was beginning to see women through the eyes of the men of the water folk, and if he had to mate with any, it should be with a fully adult one who did not remind him strongly of his sister. Of course he could depart the tribe at the end of the time, not mating with any.

He was an outsider. One of the women was outcast. That was an affinity, of a kind. So he pointed to Ann.

She looked surprised. She looked around, as if to make sure he hadn't indicated one of the others. She had been willing to teach him, but hadn't expected to be chosen. So he spoke her name. “Ann.” And smiled.

She smiled too, and came to him. The others turned away, except for Lee, who looked disappointed. But not grief-stricken. That was reassuring; it meant that mating was not what was expected.

Ann came to stand close before him. “Ann thank,” she murmured.

He decided not to try to explain his reason for choosing her. But he appreciated her thanks. “Show?”

“Forage.” She glanced up at him, and away, as she spoke. “Child forage. Woman forage. Man hunt.”

But he had not been a child among the water folk, so had not learned how to forage their way. So he had to get that experience, if he wanted to join the tribe. They assumed that joining was his ambition. “Hue forage,” he agreed. He would learn woman's work. After what he had seen of their way of catching a fish, and their stick shelters in the water, he knew that there was much he did not know, and he did want to learn it, because he was curious about everything.

She led him to the edge of the water, where other women were resuming work. Lee followed, evidently unwilling to give up on him yet. Hue wasn't clear why she hadn't been working before, but suspected that her job had been him: guiding him, keeping him out of mischief, so that no one else had to bother. If she got him to mate with her, all right, but until that time she had been responsible for him. Now it seemed Ann was responsible, so Lee had to resume ordinary work. But she could do it where she chose, and she chose to do it near Hue.

Ann kneeled in the shallow water, facing the shore, and leaned forward. Hue saw how her breasts became globular, almost touching the surface. Yet she wasn't nursing! He knew now that it was the way of the water folk, but he kept being surprised anew, and a bit repelled. Surely it was not pleasant for a woman to seem always as if she had a baby near.

Ann plunged her hands into the muck. She moved them slowly around. Hue imitated her, not sure what the point was. All he found was mud. Lee joined them on the other side, doing the same.

But after a time, Ann raised one hand, holding a clam. She showed it to him, then put it in her pouch. Oh—they were clam hunting. Hue had never done this before, because the mountain streams near his tribe didn't have
clams; they had traded with neighboring tribes for them. This was interesting. He searched with vigor, now that he knew what he was doing. And soon he found a clam himself.

By early evening they had each found several clams, and Hue's back was sore from the constant bending over. They brought the clams to the cookfire, where they were added to those brought by other women. Roasted clam was a pleasant change from the constant fish. But there was also roast bird, because of Hue's throw, and there seemed to be much demand for that. Hue realized that the water folk didn't get to eat bird often. Probably the fowl of the water were wary of them, and were not as stupid as the big fish were.

Then they went to the island stick shelters for the night. But this time Hue went with Ann, not Lee. She had a different alcove in the women's and children's dome, but otherwise it was the same. She did not try to sleep against him, or to tempt him into mating, but the region was small enough so that they had to lie touching. Actually that did make it a bit warmer, in the absence of blankets.