Footfall

An empty-eyed skull showed through the slowly churning compost heap. It was almost conical, an animal’s skull, with knots where the tendons of the trunk had been anchored. Jeri ground her teeth with the need to get out of here before John Woodward brushed against the glass! Carrie must be hanging on to her sanity by her teeth! Yet she looked and sounded as calm as any early Christian about to face Nero’s lions.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

“He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of rightousness for his name’s sake.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy stall they comfort me.

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

She turned toward the fithp, aging but ageless, a woman of farms and fields. “You can’t hurt him now. He’s in the arms of Jesus.” She raised her hands high. “Deliver me from mine enemies, O God. Defend me from them that rise up against me. Deliver me from the wicked doers. Stand up, arise, awake, O Holy One of Israel, and be not merciful unto them that offend these little ones!

“I say it were better that a millstone were tied about their necks, and they were cast into the sea! Thou, Lord, shall have them in scorn. Consume them in thy wrath, consume them that they may perish, and know that it is God that ruleth unto the ends of the world!”

She fell silent.

What will they do? They can’t be afraid of curses. God, my God, have you forsaken all of us? Are you there? Are you listening? Can you listen?

Tashayamp waited.

God, let us out of here!

“Return to your place,” Tashayamp told them. “Follow the guards.” She herself departed with the Bull and the Priest.

“Eat them. Rage and eat them, that they will die and know that God leads everywhere. That’s as near as I can translate,” Tashayamp finished.

“You see!” Fistarteh-thuktun trumpeted. “Of course we might have learned something by dissecting the creature, but this we would have lost! We have never before witnessed such a ceremony.”

“And what do you think you have learned?”

“I was wrong,” said the priest. “Despite their shape, they are not totally alien. We can lead them. Herdmaster, do you see it? They have no Predecessors. None lead them, they must lead themselves. They have made for themselves the fiction of a Predecessor!”

Pastempeh-keph signaled assent. “It must be a fiction. This God would hardly have tolerated our incursions. I wonder how they see him? Does their God have thumbs? And they give him male gender …”

“I cannot make myself care. They seek a leader greater than themselves! Tashayamp, did you render that phrase accurately? ‘Fear God?’ ”

“I think so. We have a book of words from Kansas. I will examine fear.”

They had reached the bridge. The warrior on duty covered his head. “Herdmaster, a message. Chintithpit-mang wishes to spea to you.”

“I hear.”

“We shall be their Predecessors,” Fistarteh-thuktun said. “I must learn more. I wish I could go down to Africa.”

“You may not. We need you here. Get your data from Takpusseh-yamp. Tashayamp, is your mate—”

“Easily distracted, but at your service,” Tashayamp said, an the mating scent thickened in the air.

The Herdmaster left them there. The bridge was busy; some site in Africa was about to get a consignment of meteors. The Herdmaster settled onto his pad and tapped at the console.

Chintithpit-mang was a brown ball in the center of his cell. The Herdmaster watched him for a bit. Huddled in his misery, he might have been asleep but for his nostril and digits, which moved restlessly, as if they had independent life.

Eight days! Give him credit, that’s a tough-minded fi’. The Herdmaster said softly, “Chintithpit-mang, speak to me.”

The fi’ started convulsively. He looked toward the camera. “Herdmaster, I will speak to the dissidents.”

“You have done so. I recorded our last conversation, and broadcast it. What would you tell them?”

“Fathisteh-tulk said that human help would be beyond price in the conquest of space, with their ambitious plans and their smaller food intake and dexterous digits. Winterhome must be conquered and the humans broken into the Traveler Herd.”

“This is what you said an eight-day past. What have you to add? You should have helped Fathisteh-tulk.”

“Herdmaster, I would have joined the argument against the Advisor. The human attacked first.”

“You let him die.”

“He would have destroyed the dissident cause.”

“He has. You have no other to speak for you. Why did you hide the corpse?”

Chintithpit-mang’s digits were tight across his skull, as if welded. “I was in shock! The Advisor betrayed us! If the human were caught, he might repeat Fathisteh-tulk’s words!”