The Totems of Abydos (55 page)

“It’s gone,” said Brenner.

“Come along,” said Rodriguez, and strode away, toward the center of the village. Brenner struggled to keep up with him. At the center of the village Rodriguez did not turn left to their hut, but made rather a quarter right toward the northeast part of the village. In moments they had come to the entrance of the temple. As it might be recalled, this was a long, narrow building of wood, much of which had earth banked about it. It had a painted, carved, ornate entrance, with wooden side pillars. A Pon was near the entrance.

“Rodriguez,” said Brenner. “This portal, the long axis of the temple. It is aligned with the string, with the platform near the cliffs!”

“Of course,” said Rodriguez. “Have you just noticed that?”

The Pon quickly placed himself before Rodriguez but Rodriguez, with one hand, brushed it aside. When it returned, to renew its protest, he seized it by the back of the neck and threw it a dozen feet to the side. Brenner, quite other than he would have been earlier, did not object.

“Come along!” said Rodriguez, eagerly.

Together, they entered the temple. There was no light within it. Rodriguez” torch illumined their way.

“There is little here,” said Brenner, following Rodriguez through a corridor.

Rodriguez’ light flashed here and there, revealing only heavy wooden walls.

“There will be something here,” said Rodriguez, grimly.

“The ceiling is high,” said Brenner.

“That gods may better walk here,” laughed Rodriguez.

This did not much reassure Brenner. Their footing seemed now to descend.

Rodriguez pressed on, the light darting about.

It was not unusual, of course, for the architecture of temples, with vistas, spacious expanses and lofty heights, to contrast vividly with that of lesser places. How often temples rose grandly above the hovels of the faithful.

“There is not much art here,” said Brenner.

“What do you expect of monkeys?” asked Rodriguez.

“There is some carving outside,” said Brenner.

“The corridor is widening,” said Rodriguez. “We are coming to some sort of room, or hall.”

They were now well underground, and probably well beyond the palisade.

They stopped before a large, rectangular portal, now closed, access to which would be obtained by means of two doors, each mounted on its wooden hinges; the interior edges of these doors, when closed, as now, would meet in the middle, and, when open, would swing to a side. These doors with their side pillars, and lintel, were carved, and painted, largely purple and yellow.

Beside the two doors were torches, unlit, one on each side.

Rodriguez, flicking on a lighter, an electric match, reached up and lit the torch to the right. He then snapped off the electric torch and hooked it on his belt. He then lit the torch to the left.

“Give me a hand here,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner went to one of the two doors of the portal and pushed against it, while Rodriguez pushed against the other. They swung inward.

Within, to one side, they saw a Pon. It seemed frail. Perhaps it was quite old. If so, this was of interest, because most of the Pons seemed neither young nor old. They just seemed Pons. Perhaps the thing in front of them was injured, or diseased. In the village there had seemed to be little, if any evidence, of injury or disease. Perhaps that was because the afflicted were hidden away, perhaps locked away in this very place. It was robed, and a hood muchly concealed its face. It was not more than a yard in height, and would not have weighed more than thirty Commonworld pounds. It put up its hands, in a gesture which was not a threatening one, nor one of prohibition, nor of warning, nor even one which was really defensive. It was more as though it were surprised, and wanted to reach out with its hands, as though to touch, to feel, to investigate.

“Do not be afraid,” said Rodriguez. “Come here.”

The tiny creature approached, its hands outstretched before it.

Rodriguez let it touch his face. Then, with two hands, he put back the hood.

Brenner suppressed a cry of horror.

“Who did this to you?” asked Rodriguez, sternly.

The Pon pulled back.

“Note the scarring about the eye sockets,” said Rodriguez, angrily.

“Yes,” whispered Brenner.

What had been done there had not been accomplished with surgical neatness. Brenner remembered the bones in the clearing, from the preceding afternoon, the cuts on them, the nicks, where the flesh had been scraped from them, perhaps in some unleashed communal madness, some social passion of mindless vengeance, in some holiday of horror. Brenner turned away from the little thing. He did not want to look at it. It was horrifying enough to look upon one of his own species who had been tortured, or mutilated. It seemed somehow additionally pathetic, if only because so pointless, that an animal, a Pon, should have been treated in this fashion.

“They did this to you?” said Rodriguez, bitterly.

The thing shook its head.

“Do not lie to me,” said Rodriguez. “It was done with deliberation.”

The Pon pulled the hood again over its head.

“No!” whispered Rodriguez.

The Pon backed away, a step.

“It did it to itself,” said Rodriguez, shuddering.

“Why?” asked Brenner.

“There could be many reasons,” said Rodriguez.

Rodriguez pointed to one of the torches beside the portal.

“You are going on?” said Brenner.

“Take it,” said Rodriguez. He seized the other.

“What do you expect to find here?” asked Brenner.

“I will show you,” said Rodriguez, the light of the torch moving ahead.

Quickly Brenner followed him.

“There!” said Rodriguez after a moment. “There! See!”

At the end of the large, underground room, they had come to a heavy, broad platform, quite like the one in the open, at the foot of the cliffs. Behind the platform there was a large opening, which might have led into a cavern, or den, or tunnel. What Rodriguez had particularly called Brenner’s attention to was one of two stout posts, set at the front left and right corners of the platform. There had been nothing like these posts at the other platform, the one in the open, by the cliffs. Rodriguez stood at the front, right corner of the platform and lifted his torch. On the top of the post, carved there, painted, very large, indeed., life-size, was the head of an unnaturally huge, terrible beast. The head was broad, and feline. Between the eyes, set rather forward on the head, there were at least eighteen to twenty inches. The iris of the eyes, as the head was painted, was yellow. The pupils were black, narrow and vertical. The eyes had been painted rather in the appearance they might have borne in daylight, rather than at night. Not all features were the same, of course. For example, the head was largely purple, save for the eyes and teeth. Yet, despite such discrepancies, or artistic licenses, there was no mistaking the nature of the beast depicted. It was the same which Brenner had encountered in the forest, that which had followed him to the village. A similar head, carved and painted, surmounted the post at the other front corner of the broad platform. Brenner went and examined it, and then returned to the other side, to rejoin Rodriguez.

“Occasionally I had suspected some such thing,” said Rodriguez, “but then I would dismiss it.”

“What is it?” asked Brenner.

“Look upon the totem of the Pons,” said Rodriguez.

Chapter 24

“It is impossible!” said Brenner, looking up at the great, carved head on the post.

“Not at all,” said Rodriguez. “And that is the least interesting thing about the matter.”

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“Do you mind if I look a bit into this cavern, or tunnel, or whatever it is behind the platform?” asked Rodriguez. “Such things tend to make me a bit nervous.”

Brenner shook his head.

Rodriguez thrust his torch into a nearby rack, or holder. There were many such things about, particularly on the walls. At times, Brenner conjectured, the room might be well lit with such devices. This place did not have look of disuse about it which characterized the platform in the open. Rodriguez then removed the weapon from his shoulder and armed it.

“Come along,” he said. “I do not anticipate any danger.”

Brenner, holding up the torch, followed Rodriguez about the edge of the platform, toward the entrance, or exit, as it might be, in the back wall.

“If this is a cave,” said Rodriguez, “it is almost bound to be empty. If it is a tunnel, it is almost certain to be sealed off.”

“Where does it lead?” asked Brenner, after a moment or two. It did, indeed, appear to be some sort of tunnel, or, at any rate, a long, narrow cave, of some length.

“I don’t know,” said Rodriguez.

They had come to a stout gate of timbers. This was reinforced from the back and, on the side which faced out, away from the room, was guarded by numerous, projecting spikes of sharpened wood, each, at its base, as thick as the body of a Pon.

“The gate suggests that this is a tunnel,” said Rodriguez. “And, if so, there is probably a similar barrier at the other end.”

“It seems they do not trust their totem,” said Brenner.

“The gate, or gates, may not be to fend away the totem,” said Rodriguez.

“True,” said Brenner. He recalled the tawny brute which had carried away Archimedes, and the beasts in the pack, in the forest. There might be many varieties of creature in the forest, which reportedly teemed with life.

“I see no tracks on the other side,” said Rodriguez. “Nothing may have come down that passage in a thousand years.”

“Let us go back to the main room,” said Brenner.

Rodriguez disarmed the rifle, returned it to its harmless guise, and replaced it, by means of its sling, on his shoulder.

“It is an incredible animal,” said Brenner, in a few moments, again looking up at the gigantic, carved head, that on the post at the right, forward corner of the platform.

“It is a most beautiful and dangerous creature,” said Rodriguez.

“Yes,” agreed Brenner.

“Now it becomes clear why the Pons accepted with such good grace your disproof, so to speak, of the git as their totem. It was not their totem.”

“But this!” said Brenner, looking up at the monstrous head.

“It is not that unusual to pick a terrifying, dangerous animal as a totem,” said Rodriguez. “There are many points in favor of doing so. Better to be allies with such a terror than its enemies, or prey. Too, you must see the advantage of such an arrangement from the point of view of the Pons, from the point of view of the primitive mind. They are “children of the totem.””

“And no animal devours its own young,” said Brenner.

“Precisely,” said Rodriguez. “Such a belief, too, interestingly, might even give them some security from the totem. In its presence, they would not be likely to sweat the exudates associated with terror, or to betray fear by awkward, or uncertain, or uncoordinated movements, arousing curiosity and aggression, or to flee from it, inciting pursuit, and so on. And, of course, if a dangerous totem animal does attack one once in a while, or eat one, or whatever, that can always be explained as the result of some hidden fault in the victim, some secret violation of taboo, such things.”

“Of course,” said Brenner. Such closed belief systems, like circles without openings, not susceptible to clear refutation, existed in their thousands in the galaxy. Interestingly, they tended to be taken seriously by their devotees. Their imperviousness to refutation, their immunity to disproof, a natural consequence of their vacuity, tended to be taken by many as evidence of their truth.

“And it is certainly not as if they were consorting with the beast on a familiar basis,” said Rodriguez.

“No,” agreed Brenner.

“We had best be getting back,” said Rodriguez.

“Why did they conceal the true nature of their totem?” asked Brenner.

“That is not that unusual,” said Rodriguez. “The totem animal is sacred. Its relationship to the totem group is quite sensitive. It is to be protected, perhaps even against enchantments or spells. They may not wish the identity of the totem to be known, for fear enemies might try to harm it. The name of the totem may be seldom mentioned. If it is mentioned, it may not be called by its own name, and so on.”

“I understand,” said Brenner.

“In some groups it is forbidden even to look upon the totem,” said Rodriguez.

“The Pon we met within the portal?” said Brenner.

“I do not think so,” said Rodriguez. “The Pons outside tonight, those within the palisade, dozens of them, looked upon the beast. I noted it. I watched them. Too, there are two explicit carvings of it, in this very room. Presumably Pons enter here. It seems certain that there is no taboo, or, at least, no general taboo, against Pons looking upon the totem animal.”