XXVI
The Trial
As the heat increased we again moved backward, and stood there in a pause of indecision; at least my own mind hesitated, and hers had closed, as it would when she sought decision from a too-difficult complexity.
At last I asked her, “Had we not better follow the example which the lizards set so promptly? There is nothing here to do, and the Killers seem too appalled for movement. As the fires die, their consternation may give place to fury. I have lost my axe, and my knapsack, and all it held. The bow is burnt, and were it not so, my right arm is useless. I think we should make a sudden rush for the gate, for it is only speed which will save us.”
She had a javelin in her hand, and she spun it in the air, and caught it lightly as it fell, before she answered.
“Should the Killers try again, there is one that will sorrow. But I think differently. It is with the Dwellers only that this game is played from now onward. Perhaps it may be well to go. It is hard to say. But you have not thought of the Bat-wings.”
No, I had not thought of the Bat-wings. It was not clear why I should. It seemed to me that if we thought of ourselves we were sufficiently occupied for the moment.
But I could not avoid the thought when she raised it, for they were making a clamour which the hissing roar of the fire itself could not entirely silence.
“I don’t see that they concern us,” I answered, “unless you think that we should release them before we leave. They are not very attractive animals, but I don’t know that I want them to be burnt to death. Still, your Leader said they ought to die.”
“That is just the point,” she replied, “it was the order that they should die, and I am of no mind to go, and leave them living.”
“I suppose your Leader meant that if we drove off the Killers, we should do wrong to release them, and I have no wish to do so. But the Killers are still here to boil them, if the fire should prove more merciful. Surely that is sufficient. I did not think you so bloodthirsty. Besides, the circumstances are different from anything that your Leader could have foreseen.”
“Yes, the circumstances are certainly different. I think, where you are concerned, they always are,” she answered drily, “but it is in my mind that the Killers will not be here much longer. I think, also, that my Leaders see very far, and that when we have gone a different way we have not found it a good one. It seems to me that it is a thing that we cannot leave to the chance that the Killers will remain, or of the flames falling. We have this to think. We are in the land of the Dwellers, where we have no right to be. They had judged these Bat-wings, which were theirs, and they had given them to be used at a Feast which will very surely not be held, through our doing. They had not judged them to burn. I think we should see that their will is done, if we are able.”
I saw that she regarded the fate of the Bat-wings no more than that of a shoal of cod that she might guide to the fish-tanks—or, indeed, less, if she compared them, for the cod would be innocent of anything worse than feeding when hunger urged them—but that her feeling was as that of one who has unavoidably trampled his neighbour’s garden, and would smooth it over, as best he may, before leaving.
I said, “I see your view, and for you it may be right. But though you regard me as a lower creature than yourself, and addicted to violence, I am not willing to throw wretches into the boiling tank—which seems your purpose—for faults which I have not judged, and the guilt of which I am unable to estimate. Neither am I willing to release them, lest they might do us mischief, or desire our company. Nor do I think the fire will reach them, for the steam will quench it.”
She answered equably, “Of steam and fire I know something, though not on the earth’s surface, and this is not the time for the telling. But I think that the killing-pens will burn to the water’s edge as the heat increases. As to the Bat-wings, I have lived for many centuries, and I did not know that creatures of such baseness are, or had been. I care nothing for them, except that they should cease to be, and it seems best to me that it should be done quickly. I know that my Leader’s mind is more farseeing than mine, and that she thought so also. But I think that we have done so much harm that it might not be easy to increase it. I can see that we cannot go on together unless we find some reconciling way when our thoughts differ. Let us do this. We will go to them, and they shall say for themselves what they can say, to which one of us shall answer, and the other shall judge their fate. Which is to question, and which to decide, shall be their own choice; and we will both agree to take the judgment of the other, which we know will be fairly given.”
I said, “Come quickly, for the fire increases,” and we ran together.
We went round to the entrance, where the sound of my axe-stroke had roused the sleeping guard, the night—it seemed so long!—before, and finding none there to stay us, we climbed some stairs to a platform-grating which extended between the pens. There were five aside. The floors of them were of loose bars only, and were somewhat higher than the grating on which we stood, so that the Killers could pull out the bars without stooping. The water steamed and bubbled beneath them, and we looked down and saw it below the grating on which we stood. Beyond the pens we saw the open tank extending on every side but that by which we entered. At the farther end was the stone pier which I had seen previously, reaching far out into the deep water.
Four of the pens on the left hand were occupied. In each was one of the judges. They crouched dismally on the bars, with wings extended. The heavy dark bald heads, with their cruel horny beaks, were drooping hopelessly forward. Their eyes followed us with an intelligence that seemed afraid to hope, but begged for pity.
On the other side, there were three like them, and then two others that could move their wings, and these two were not still, but flopped unceasingly from side to side, sometimes almost reaching to the roof, and then coming down with clumsy flappings.
My companion addressed the one with the largest beak, and reached her point very promptly. “My Leader told me of you. It appears from your own tale that you are unfit for life. Do you agree?”
He answered, “She was very treacherous, for she let us tell all before she gave any sign that she had a Dweller’s mind.”
“I also may have a Dweller’s mind,” she answered coldly, “but listen, for your lives are balanced on the choice I give you. There is one with me who is not as I. You may think him more of your kind. I do not know. I think that you should die quickly, but he is less willing.
“Neither of us has heard your defence, and we will do so fairly. Your choice is this. One of us will question you to show that you should be in the tank below, and you shall reply as best you may. The other shall judge, and all shall accept the issue. It is yours to choose the one that shall judge you. You can also choose the one that shall speak for the rest, but it must be one only, except that the two who were the accusers can speak separately, if they will.”
Then the nine closed their minds from us, and disputed for a long time (as thought is counted) among themselves. Then the one to whom we had spoken told us, “We are all agreed that we shall argue this thing, and accept your verdict. The two wish to speak separately. We are not agreed on who shall speak for the seven, nor which shall judge us.”
My companion answered with patience, “It is necessary that you should agree quickly, but we cannot make you do so. In two minutes from now, if you should still be in this difficulty, we will drop one of you into the tank, and perhaps you will find that six agree more easily. If not, we will make further reductions as long as this assistance is needed.”
He looked at us with eyes that were naturally hard and cruel, but were now flaccid with misery, and a cunning gleam was in them, as he tried to probe our minds to find which would be the first to be sentenced, but my companion baffled him.
It was but a few seconds later that he answered, “I am to speak for the seven. You will argue against me, and the Prehistoric will judge us. So we have decided by a majority, for fools are many.”
“You may be right in that,” my companion answered, “but I think that it will make no difference.”