Phillip Jose Farmer - Dark is the Sun

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DARK IS THE SUN

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DEDICATION

In alphabetical order, to my granddaughters Andrea Josephsohn and Kimberley Ladd; my daughter,

Kristen; my grandson Matthew Josephsohn; my son, Philip Laird; my granddaughter Stephanie

Josephsohn; my grandson Torin Paul Farmer. And to any descendants of my wife, Bette Virginia Andre,

and of myself fifteen billion years from now, when this story takes place.

BLACK was the sun; bright, the sky.

Under the arc packed with dead and living stars, dark or blazing gas clouds and galaxies, on an Earth in

which lay the bones or over which blew the dust of seven hundred fifty-four million or so generations,

Deyv walked toward his destiny.

"Look for a mate and find a dragon" was a proverb of the tribe.

If you were a pessimist, it sounded ominous. If you were an optimist, it sounded rewarding. There were

good dragons and there were evil. Or so Deyv understood. He'd never seen one.

Like most people, Deyv's attitude depended upon the circumstances. At the moment, he was scared and

so pessimistic.

Deyv of the Red Egg walked away from the Turtle Tribe of the Upside-Down House. Towering behind

him was the House, a cylinder three hundred feet in diameter, made of indestructible metal. Its red,

green, and white checked walls slanted slightly so that the round base, ten stories above the ground,

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afforded an unimpeded view of the earth directly below. The conical tip was buried ten stories deep.

Once, according to what the old women said, the House had been entirely under the ground. But erosion

and numerous earthquakes had pushed it up ten generations ago.

To Deyv's left, in the center of the clearing, stood the soul-egg tree. Its gnarly trunk was bare of

branches for twenty feet, and then the branches began that formed a cone standing on its apex. The bark

gleamed red, white, green, blue, and purple, so heavily impregnated with quartz that it was hard as rock.

From the branches dangled the fruit, the soul eggs, each as big as Deyv's fist. Around the tree was a

circle of dry, pale dirt a hundred feet in diameter, and outside the circle marched four bowmen. Up in the

tower, near the base of the tree, were four watchers, each ready to beat on a drum if an enemy human or

a predator beast was sighted.

Behind Deyv came the rest of the tribe—men, women, children, dogs, and cats. All the people were

shouting the ritual encouragement, except for the appointed insulter.

"Yaaa, Deyv of the Red Egg! See how he has to be driven forth into the jungle! Does he go bravely like

our heroic foreparents or like his own great-souled father? Naaah! He goes trembling, legs shaking, his

bowels ready to loose themselves with fear, and that red egg .. . ! Ha! That red egg! It betrays the color

of his soul! It's green, green with fear! Rabbit! Mouse! March like a man, like a warrior of the Turtles.

Don't slink like a coyote!"

Gurni, the insulter, was having fun. He was also getting revenge for what Deyv had once cried at him

when he had gone out to get a mate.

Deyv looked down at the soul egg hanging from a leather cord around his neck. His face felt warm, and

he could see his body, except where the breechclout covered it, turning red. It was true. The translucent

stone, a pale scarlet when he was in a good mood, had become streaked with green. The green pulsed

swiftly as if it were connected with his hammering heart. Which, in a sense, it was.

How humiliating! How embarrassing!

"Don't pay any attention to that big-mouthed'blow-wind!" his mother shouted almost in his ear. "No man

or woman has ever gone out on a mate-hunt without showing some green. Except the hero Keelrow, and

that was five generations ago, and maybe if s all a lie about him, anyway!"

The shaman, Agorw, danced up alongside Deyv. He wore a bonnet of tall feathers; the cheeks of his face

and buttocks were marked with three vertical stripes, red, white, and blue; his breechclout was painted

with the crooked cross; his knees were bound in leather, from which dangled seven coils of human hair;

one hand was inserted inside a skull of a giant turtle and the other shook a staff from which hung three

empty turtle shells. His own soul egg was a deep blue shot with pulsating aquamarine streaks.

"Shame on you, woman!" he cried. "The ghost of Keelrow will come to you in your dreams and put

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horns on your husband's head. And the child will drink you dry!"

"See these!" Deyv's mother yelled. "Do you think any baby, even if he were as big and fat as you, could

empty these?"

The tribe howled with merriment, and the shaman, his face red, stomped off out of Deyv's sight.

For a moment, Deyv forgot his fear and embarrassment. He chuckled. His mother was afraid of nothing.

He wished he were. But she was like him in that she had a quick temper and sometimes had to pay for it

The shaman would get back at her somehow. However, she would not regret her words. She was willing

to take the consequences. Especially in this situation, where her pride in her baby overrode anything else.

Deyv, her baby, was six feet two inches high, the tallest of the tribe. His shoulders were broad, but he

had the long legs and wiry build of a long-distance runner. His skin was a dark copper; his hair, black as

a fly and as wavy as a wind-rippled brook. The forehead was high and wide; the brows, beetling; the

nose, a hawk's; the lips, thick; the chin, round and clefted. By his features alone, any of the other people

for sixty miles around would have known he was a Turtle.

He wore a shell of the checkered turtle on his head, a scarlet breechclout, and calf-high leather boots. A

leather belt held a leather scabbard containing a slim sword with two cutting edges. Also held by the belt

was a stone tomahawk. Over one shoulder was a case holding a blowgun, a compression cylinder, and in

its pocket, twelve darts, the tips of which were coated with poison. A coiled rope was slung over the

other shoulder.

This was what every well-dressed man or woman wore when seeking a mate.

After entering the jungle, Deyv stepped behind a delta-shaped feathery bush and parted its fronds. The

tribe had turned away except for his mother and father and his dog, Jum. About twenty yards behind

them, lying down spninxlike, was his cat, Aejip.

Deyv waited until his parents had at last walked back toward the House. Then he whistled, and Jum,

who'd been waiting for this signal, bounded up to him. He was a large wolflike beast with big pointed

upstanding ears, a crimson coat, a tail edged in black, and slanting green eyes. He licked Deyv's calf

until he was told to quit, and then he sat down, his tongue hanging out. His forehead was as high as a

chimpanzee's and so was his intelligence.

Aejip was taking her time with all the nonchalance of any cat that had ever lived. When she stood, she

was two and a half feet high at the shoulder. Her glossy coat was tawny and rosetted in black. Above the

great yellow eyes were two vertical bkAck markings. Her forehead was as developed as Jum's.

Deyv thought of whistling for her, but the cat had made it evident that she wasn't going to accompany

her partner—no cat acknowledged a master—on his journey. Though she couldn't talk, she had put

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across the idea that she considered Deyv to be out of his mind. Besides, she was jealous because Deyv

had been paying so much attention to Jum these past two weeks.

So Deyv shrugged and turned, with Jum a few feet ahead of him, and proceeded down the jungle path.

Every step that took him away from the tribe was a pace deeper into loneliness and insecurity. If he'd

been accompanied by anyone on a hunt for food, one which he knew would see him back with the tribe

after a sleep or even seven sleeps, he would have been happy. But to go forth by himself for only The

Great Mother knew how long was to be shivering with fear, sick with aloneness.

Nevertheless, he was not numb. His eyes, ears, and nose were alert. Behind every bush or tree could be a

poisonous snake, a corps of the great ruddy cockroaches, the thing-with-a-nose-like-a-snake, a ghost-

with-venomous-urine, the toe fancier, or an enemy tribesman eager to remove his head and his soul egg.

There might even be an enemy woman out to catch a mate, though these were very few.

The wind was coming from ahead of him. Though it waved the upper leaves and caps of the tall trees, it

pushed gently along the path. Still, it should carry the scent of anything ahead to Jum's nose. Anything

except a ghost, and dogs were supposed to be psychically sensitive to those horrible things.

To expect to hear anything soft but sinister nearby was to be stupid. The jungle rang, shrilled, cawed,

cackled, hooted, tooted, chortled, drummed, whistled, and screeched. Most of the noisemakers were

hidden, but occasionally Deyv saw a bird, a gliding mammal, a fingered bear, a creature like a four-

legged blowgun, a troop of scowl-monkeys, or a live-alone cockroach; and once he halted while a

diamond-backed tortoise heaved its monstrous shelled bulk across the path. Though it was not his totem,

still it was a cousin to it, and so he addressed it politely and wished it well.

After it came a regiment of small yellow mouse-sized cockroaches, hoping to eat its dung or find a

crevice between flesh and shell into which to burrow. Deyv picked up a dry stick and beat a dozen or so

into paste. The survivors scampered off into the green while Deyv called after the diamond-back, "You

owe me one, O mighty sister."

Jum ate the corpses and sniffed around for more. He'd had his single between-sleeps meal, but, doglike,

he would eat until he burst if he got a chance. Though it was not distasteful to Deyv, he didn't share

Jum's food. Instead, some easily plucked large round yellow fruit, only half-eaten by the birds, tempted

Deyv. Holding two in one hand and eating a third in the other hand, he walked along. To find food was

no problem in his world. To avoid being food was.

Only thirty sleeps before, Deyv had been with the tribe at the Place of the Trading Season. Every forty-

nine circuits of The Dark Beast, the nine tribes in the area put aside war and gathered peacefully at the

Place. This was by a House occupied only by animals, birds, and insects, and possibly a nonmalignant

ghost, a House centrally located. At this time, by custom immemorial and unstained by truce breaking,

the tribes went down the paths and gathered at the Place. It was near a broad river in an overgrown area

that was cleared every Trading Season. Here the artifacts that one tribe had and the others didn't were

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traded. It was a long leisurely business, with much pleasant haggling interspersed with feasts, drinking,

smoking, eating of drugs, telling of erotic and sterculian jokes, athletic matches among the young men

and women, exchanging of hunting information, warnings of ghosts, and boasting contests.

Deyv's tribe traded turtle and tortoise shells, the harps made from them, a large gourd which grew only

in their area, a drug made from a plant and other ingredients which could evoke ancestors for brief

conversations but was, unfortunately, accompanied by devastating winds from the bowels, and an insect

whose bite assured the female bitee of a very pleasurable sensation. For some reason the bite caused

only an itching in the male bitee. The effects in both sexes lasted about one-fourth of the time between

sleeps.

For their trade items, the Turtle people got smoked meat of the checkered turtle, which they were

forbidden to kill and which could be eaten only at certain required times; a liquor which the Coyote

Tribe made from water seeping through a limestone cliff and a plant, the identity of which the Coyotes

had kept secret for ten generations; bone noseflutes made by the Holecat Tribe, the minute carved

decorations of which were beyond the artistic ability of any other tribe; a jungle pepper from the

Whistling Squirrel Tribe; a perfume jelly from the Crawling Tree Tribe; smoked bladders guaranteed to

bring good luck from the Nameless God Tribe; gourds filled with an exceedingly tasty paste from the

Ruddy Cockroach Tribe; from the Tree-Lion Tribe birds and monkeys which could mimic speech; and

soul eggs from the Red Skunk Tribe. The latter had found a burial ground of the ancients and had dared

to dig up the soul eggs and barter them. These were rare and expensive items, only for the hardy shaman

who was willing to take on additional ancestors and haggle for their power in his dreams.

Each Trading Season, a tribe was appointed to be the police. The men and the childless adult females

walked around with clubs and kept the peace. The unmated men and women of the tribes walked around

looking each other over. Only about 5 percent were serious, since most matings took place within the

tribe. But there were always those whose soul eggs did not match any eligible person of the other sex

within the tribe. These, like it or not, had to get their mates from one of the other tribes.

When a man or a woman did find a match in another tribe, a marriage was arranged. There was then the

problem of which partner would have to leave his or her tribe and go with the new mate. To give up

one's own people and live with foreigners was hard. But it had to be done if there was no other way out.

The decision of which person must go to the strange tribe was quickly made. A shaman from a third

tribe spun a stick with a spear point on each end into the air. If the prospective groom's point stuck in the

earth when the stick landed, then he took the bride to his own tribe. If the other point plunged in, that

meant that he had to go to her House.

Deyv had wandered through the Place of the Trading Season. And, as was the age-old custom, when he

saw an unmated woman, he introduced himself and then sat down to talk to her. It did not matter

whether or not he found her attractive or vice versa. He must talk to her in the trading language until

their soul eggs began to flash matching colors in synchronization. Or until it was evident that there

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would be no phasing-in.

Deyv had been relieved when he had not matched up with any of the eligibles. There were some pretty

women among the candidates, but otherwise he hadn't been attracted to them. Among the girls who

would be old enough next season he'd spotted two rather likable good-lookers. All he had to do was to

wait another forty-nine circuits of The Dark Beast. Then, if his egg matched one of theirs, he could

marry. There would still be the agony of not knowing whether or not he'd have to go to a strange tribe.

But that would be over quickly.

In the meantime, he wouldn't be sexually frustrated. The Turtles, like the other tribes, had plenty of

volunteers from older women, widows usually, who would like to satisfy the unmarried youths. One of

these was chosen by the shaman's wife or husband and given a ritual name. Thereafter, the woman lived

in a hut in which she entertained the young men. Her prestige was high, and she was always given a

place of honor during the feast days.

Those young women who'd not yet found a match were similarly entertained by an older man chosen in

the same manner. If any pregnancy resulted, the child was the woman's, and when she got married her

husband formally and gladly adopted the child.

Deyv had grown fond of the woman who was taking care of him and was looking forward to spending

more time with her. But a few days after he'd returned to the House, his father had called him aside. He

hadn't looked happy.

"The men's councils of the nine tribes met during the Trading Season. They decided that it was time for

new blood to be brought into our land. So, each tribe must send out those young men or women who

found no soul-egg mates during the Season. You are the only one of the Turtles who failed. That means,

my son, that you must go, and very soon, to the lands beyond our land. You can't come back unless you

bring with you a woman whose egg matches yours."

Deyv had been so shocked he hadn't been able to say anything.

"The same thing happened in your grandfather's time," his father had said. "It was decided that the tribe

needed new blood. So his friend Atoori was sent outside the area to get a woman. He never returned; no

one knows what happened to him. Another young man, Shamoom, was then sent out, and he returned

with a woman from a tribe far in that direction."

His father had gestured with his left hand. "She was much lighter skinned than we, and she had yellow

kinky hair and blue eyes. She gave birth to two babies, Tsagi, who died before you were born, slain by a

warrior of the Coyotes, and Korri, the shaman's wife."

Deyv had gulped and had said, "I've heard the story, Father, but I didn't think much about it."

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"You'd better think about it now." Tears had rolled down his father's cheeks.

"It is hard to see your son go into the unknown dangers of the land beyond the nine tribes. The known

dangers are bad enough."

"Is that why Mother has looked so sad the last few days?"

"Yes."

His father had begun weeping and sobbing, and Deyv had had to hold him for a few minutes until he had

recovered. Then Deyv had stumbled off weeping to be consoled by his mother, only to end up consoling

her. That evening he'd gone to Pabashum, the young unmarried-men's woman, only to have to console

her.

His dog, Jum, couldn't talk, though he did whimper a lot, but Deyv had wet him with his tears, and when

Jum licked his face Deyv felt that he was finally being consoled. It hadn't been as satisfying as he had

wished, however. His egg had been filled with roiling black clouds and dark-green streaks for days

afterward.

SO here he was in the jungle, with no idea of where he would go or just how he would do what he had to

do when he got there. First, though, he had to get out of the land of the nine tribes. It was now a bad time

to be alone in the jungle. After fourteen sleeps of the honeymoon, the bridegrooms had to sally forth to

kill a dangerous beast or an enemy tribesman and bring the head back and lay it at the feet of their

women. This period would start just when he had to set out on his quest. The tribe might at least have

considered this and allowed him to wait until the headhunters had gone home.

Thinking this, but not so deeply that he wasn't alert, Deyv walked on. After a while, he emerged into a

wide open area on the hillside. Here the path led downward through plants that were only waist-high.

These had slender stalks topped by flowers with a black center, a blue iris, and twelve tawny sword-

shaped petals. Those near him turned their flower tops toward him as he passed.

Deyv urged Jum to run. The plants, detecting a possible victim, released a perfume that signaled to

swarms of a large stinging insect. If they stung him to death, they would burrow into his corpse and lay

eggs in it. The plants would put forth roots, which would eat his flesh.

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Suddenly a heavy, heady odor rose about him. But he and the dog had reached the jungle before he

heard the clicking sound. He kept on running for a while, since the insects were known to occasionally

chase their prey a little way into the trees. As soon as he was beyond pursuit, he slowed down. It was

dangerous to run in the jungle. The noise warned predators or enemies that someone was coming.

Presently he emerged into another open space on a hillside which had once been overgrown by the

vevshmikl plant. A score of gigantic beasts were moving slowly down the hill, devouring the plants.

Their legs were black columns. Their bodies were massive yellow pods. Their necks were thick but long,

and at the ends were heads with long drooping lips and a pair of twin horns above each eye. Their big

blue fan-shaped ears flapped slowly, and their blue tails flipped back and forth.

Deyv and Jum moved down the hill, giving the beasts a wide berth. If you didn't bother them, they didn't

bother you.

Almost three-quarters of the plants were gone. In the stands still left, their heads were turned toward

their oncoming doom, though it was doubtful that they could "see." From the bases of the stalks came a

loud clicking, the insects striking their horny antennae in unison. They, too, were doomed. They would

rush out when their floral partners disappeared into the gaping mouths of the atadeym, and they would

try to sting through the thick hides. But the great feet of the beasts would crush them, and after a while,

there would be neither plant nor insect symbiont.

Grass would move in and flourish for many sleeps. Then, slowly, the seeds of the vevshmikl would

sprout, and in time the open area would be filled with them. The fookooki insect eggs would burst, and

the space would again be dangerous. Then the atadeym would saunter out from a jungle trail and begin

eating once again.

The sky was still white, so bright that Deyv could go blind if he stared directly into it for several

minutes. The wind swooped down over the trees and across the hillside, cooling his sweating body

somewhat. Behind him, black clouds were beginning to build up. Before the next sleep, heavy rains

would come.

In the opposite direction the first of the strange forms drifted. It was high in the sky and approaching

against the wind. Ever since he was a baby, Deyv had seen such colossal black things over the tribal

area. They came every twelve sleeps without fail, though they couldn't be seen if there was an overcast

sky, of course.

Soon the first figure was close enough so that Deyv could make it out. It floated parallel to the earth, a

form that had to be longer and wider than the clearing in which he stood. Much larger. It was composed

of two parallel lines crossed by two more: J.

Then the second figure came into view, and when it was close enough it was revealed as: S.

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The third was: O.

The fourth: X.

The fifth: H.

On they came, but Deyv went under the trees and could not see the forms, the ceiling of the jungle was

so thick.

The shaman had said that these were the words of The Great Mother, and the person who could

understand them would become as one of her divine children and would have great power.

However, a woman from the Avadeym Tribe who had married a Turtle had a different explanation. She

had said that they were boats sent out by The Mother. When the time came that the sky grew too hot and

bright for life to endure here, the boats would come down so that the people could board them. Then

they would carry their passengers to a far-off place where it would never be too hot and where no

dangerous beasts existed and people would live forever and always be happy.

Deyv believed the shaman. What would an Avadeym know about such matters? And why should the

Avadeym be allowed to live in such a place? What had they done to deserve it? Weren't they enemies of

the Turtles? The Turtles would go there, if there were such a place. But the Avadeym? Never!

Deyv and Jum came to a small river. Jum drank thirstily; Deyv swallowed one mouthful. At this point

the bank sloped down to a thin sandy beach. On the sand there had been some tall white big-beaked

birds and a huge long-tailed pale-blue riverbeast with long jaws and big teeth. When Jum came out of

the foliage ahead of his master, the birds had trumpeted-and then flown off. The riverbeast, which

looked big enough to handle a dozen men, had croaked and then slid off into the water.

Deyv knew that the athaksum wasn't scared of them. It was in the river now, the eyes on top of its head

looking at them, hoping they'd try to cross the stream. It would eat humans, but it craved dog. Jum knew

this, which was why he was whimpering.

The waters were fairly clear, since it hadn't rained for about thirty sleeps. A swirl showed where the

athaksum had dived. It would be somewhere near the bottom now, waiting for them to enter its domain,

its eyes sharp and its flesh-buried ears receptive to any disturbance in the water. Then it would slide

incredibly fast through the liquid, its tail waving side to side, its webbed paws digging into the water, its

jaws closed but ready to open just before it sank its many sharp teeth into flesh.

Jum was looking at Deyv, and he was still whimpering.

Deyv patted him on the head. "Don't worry, we'll get by it."

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Jum quit making sounds of distress, but he looked as worried as his lack of facial muscles would allow

him to look.

There was a lot of driftwood on the beach and the bank, detritus of floods. Deyv dragged two trunks

down to the river's edge, and then he cut lianas from the trees with his sword. It took him some time to

bind the logs together. Meanwhile, the tall birds returned to the beach but stayed about ninety feet from

him. Once, the knobs holding the eyes of the riverbeast appeared, looked coldly at its intended victims,

and then sank again. Some time later, Deyv glimpsed the athaksum a few feet below the surface. But it

was quickly gone from sight.

When he was ready, Deyv told Jum to get on the forepart of the logs. The dog walked out cautiously and

sat down. Deyv pushed the two-log raft, if it could be called such, out from the sand into the water. He'd

intended to launch it, and then to jump onto its aft end and sit down. Immediately thereafter, he would

draw the blowgun from its case and fit a dart into it.

But just before he slopped through the shallow water and seated himself on the logs, he felt a faint

trembling of the sand under his feet, followed by a violent upthrust of sand. Something cracked like a

whip. By this time he was in the river. The sand was replaced by mud, which lifted and sank, lifted and

sank. The river suddenly rose, churned, and swept in a small wave toward him.

He thought, Earthquake!

It was too late to return to shore. Besides, if he was anxious and uncertain, the athaksum would be too.

On the beach opposite, about nine hundred feet away, the trees dipped and waved, and the sand swelled

as if it were the skin of a heavily breathing animal.

Deyv gave a yell, which was half-fright and half-bravado. He shoved the logs out, hopped up on them,

and then straddled them. Jum was too scared to whimper; he was standing up, poised, his hairs bristling.

The raft slid outward, rose as a wave lifted it, then dipped.

"Hang on!" Deyv shouted. Later, he was to think that this had been nonsense advice, since the dog had

no hands. But he had to say something; that was the essence of a human being. Say something, even if it

means nothing, because as long as one is talking, one is alive.

Though he was shocked, he still had enough sense to pull the blowgun out of its case. A moment later,

he had the dart in the barrel.

The riverbeast always rose to the surface just before it plunged again to seize its prey from under the

water. Or so Deyv had been told by the hunters of his tribe.

He planned to point the gun in the direction from which the beast would come. Just as it raised its eyes

clear of the surface, he would blow the dart into the nearest eye. Then the mighty creature would be

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DARKISTHESUNDARKISTHESUNCopyright©1979byPhilipJoseFarmere-bookver.1.0DEDICATIONInalphabeticalorder,tomygranddaughtersAndreaJosephsohnandKimberleyLadd;mydaughter,Kristen;mygrandsonMatthewJosephsohn;myson,PhilipLaird;mygranddaughterStephanieJosephsohn;mygrandsonTorinPaulFarmer.Andtoanydescendantsofm...

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Phillip Jose Farmer - Dark is the Sun

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