“So, Broadtail,” he says, “tell us this amazing discovery of yours. We are all eager to hear you.”
Broadtail seems almost larger than usual. When he speaks there is none of his customary hesitation and overpoliteness. He crawls briskly to the end of the room and begins to speak, occasionally pausing to get a new reel from the pile beside him.
“I announce a discovery,” he says. “A very important discovery. There exist creatures capable of adult speech, the use of tools, and the construction of buildings and waterways. But they are not adults, or children, or any creature known in the world. They come from outside the world. A group of them are camped no more than a hundred cables from here, in the ruins of the City of Shares. These reels record my impressions of them, and some conversations with them.”
“Are you inventing stories?” asks Sharpfrill. “How can something come from ‘outside the world?’ ”
“I recall similar confusion myself. Think of swimming up to the very top of the world, where the ice is. Now think of chipping off some ice. This is something which is done, correct?”
“Correct,” Smoothshell puts in. “In the highlands they use nets filled with ice to lift weights.”
“Now imagine chipping, and chipping, tunneling up and up into the ice. Where does it end?”
“Many reels speculate on that,” says Sharpfrill. “They say the ice extends infinitely far, or that the ice supports impenetrable rock.”
“More to the point,” says Roundhead, “the archives of the Two Rifts Kingdom recount a project to do just what you describe. In the reel the workers tunnel nearly six cables into the ice before abandoning the task as pointless.”
“According to the beings I speak of, the ice extends twenty cables. And beyond it is—nothing. Emptiness, like the interior of a bubble. And that emptiness does extend a great distance. I am not sure how far. Possibly infinite.”
“Then where do these beings come from?”
“Within the vast emptiness are other worlds. They pass through the emptiness in things like moving houses.”
“Broadtail,” says Longpincer. “This is all quite incredible. Have you any proof?”
“Here!” Broadtail takes an object from his belt and passes it to Longpincer. “A tool made by the strangers. Can you even identify its substance?”
“I remember something tasting like this,” says Longpincer tentatively.
“You do! Remember the specimen at the vent? Remember our dissection in this very room? These are the same type of creature. But they can speak! And they make tools! They are adults.” He passes out more objects. “More samples of their work. Can any animal do this?”
“Broadtail, this claim is most extraordinary,” says Sharpfrill. “You are surely aware that it requires more proof than a few strange artifacts.”
“Of course. My studies are by no means complete, and I plan to make another trip to the site. I invite all to come with me.”
“I suppose you must go ahead and prepare?” asks Sharpfrill.
“Not at all. Let us all go at once if you wish.”
“There is no need to rush off unrested and unfed,” says Longpincer. “Let us listen to the rest of Broadtail’s findings—reserving our comments and questions for another time—and let him show us the site after sleep and a meal.”
Broadtail awakens and for a moment is unsure of where he is. Then the flavor of the water reminds him: Longpincer’s house. Someone is standing nearby.
“Broadtail,” says Longpincer. “Come outside with me. We must speak privately.”
Broadtail follows his host out of the house via a small passage, not the grand entrance-chamber he remembers using. Once outside they swim to one of Longpincer’s boundarystones. Neither speaks until they stop.
“Broadtail, your account of the strange creatures worries me.”
“In what way?”
“I have two worries. The first is for you. Are you absolutely certain these creatures are as you describe? They really exist? Intelligent beings capable of speech and the use of tools? You are sure this is not a mistake or a hoax?”
“I am sure. It cannot be a hoax. There are the artifacts, and the creatures themselves—you remember dissecting one. It requires a hoaxer much wealthier than yourself, with experts in all the sciences. The Bitterwater Company cannot create such a hoax. Is there a greater company of scholars with more resources?”
“Perhaps the Long Rift confederation of scholarly companies.”
“And can you think of a reason for them to travel thousands of cables just to trick one landless adult?”
“I cannot,” Longpincer admits. “Well, if you are certain of what you remember finding, then I have no more fear for you. But that leads to my second worry. If—as you maintain—these things are real, and come from someplace beyond the world, why are they here? What do they want?”
“I do not know,” admitted Broadtail. “I propose that we ask them.”
“I recall thinking about this before coming to you,” says Longpincer. “Do you remember them fishing, or quarrying? They are at the Sharers ruins. Is the vent active again? Do they claim the land for themselves?”
“The city vent does not flow,” says Broadtail. “And I do not know if the strangers even need ventwater. You recall the great heat of the specimen at the dissection? Their house gives off warm water. I believe they somehow generate their own heat.”
“Well, they must want something,” says Longpincer. “Otherwise why come here?”
“I do not know. I cannot remember discussing it.” Broadtail feels slightly embarrassed for not thinking of it.
“I suggest you do so at your next meeting with them. Bitterwater is the nearest vent to the Sharers ruins. If these creatures claim territory, I must know of it.”
“I understand.” Broadtail does sympathize with Longpincer’s concern. Even villages fear invasion, and Longpincer’s property is smaller than most villages. He is vulnerable.
“There is one other thing to discuss,” says Longpincer. “I am reluctant even to speak of it, but—what is your attitude toward these beings?”
“I am curious about them, of course.”
“Are you their friend?”
“Longpincer, I remember you taking me in and supporting my studies despite my being landless and outlaw. I am your guest and your ally. I do not imagine that changing.”
“I am glad. Your announcement is so strange it makes me wonder about, well, everything.”
“I remember thinking the same way.”
“I suppose we should rest now, before we eat and travel.” Longpincer leads the way back into the house.
The company dines in Longpincer’s house before setting out. The food, as always, is delicious and abundant. Bags of roe, a rockscraper with the shell removed, and stimulating venomous threads from cold water. Broadtail explains a few more things as they all eat.
“I recall saying the creatures speak. Actually it would be more accurate to say they tap. They know a few dozen words from the dictionary, and can tap out the numbers for them. But they do not seem to understand actual speech. One of them can make out a little, but not reliably.”
“They tap to each other?”
“No, not that I remember hearing. Rather they communicate among themselves with simple howls and grunts, which I believe represent words to them, much the way numbers do in the dictionary.”
Sharpfrill is skeptical. “But to organize words by numbers in order to tie reels—or tap shells—one must have the words in the first place! How can creatures incapable of speech understand that it even exists?”
“I cannot explain it. I only report my own experiences. Come hear for yourself.” But Broadtail wonders: is he tricking himself? Are the creatures no more than imitative animals, repeating his movements and shell-taps? Their narrative could be nothing more than Broadtail’s own brain finding patterns in random noise.