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approve."
Kopporu repressed a whistle. One of the old warriors had made the mistake of lecturing Guo, a few
days earlier, on the impropriety of allowing her preconsorts to remain in her mantle once they were out of
the Swamp. The necessity of protecting the little males could override custom in the swamp, she had
allowed, ponderously, but once they were out of it well. It just wasn't done. They were not, after all,
properly wedded.
Guo's answer had been short, to the point, and very rude.
It reallyisn'tproper, thought Kopporu wrily.But I'm afraid it's too late, anyway, to save Guo's
morals. I've heard the noises she's starting to make at night. With her preconsorts nowhere in
sight. Not even mature neither she nor they! She'd deny it, of course, but I know the truth.
They're starting to practice.
A strange noise was coming from the Mother of Demons. Her face was twisted into a bizarre shape.
Humor. That must be the way the demons whistle amusement.
"People are often foolish, Guo. My own husband" the demon gestured toward a large,
roundish-shaped demon nearby "is my closest adviser also. And, always, the dearest to my heart."
Guo's mantle was suddenly tinged with green. Slowly, her own arms began to return the caress of the
Mother of Demons.
Kopporu knew, then, that her people would live. And forgave Guo all of her many, many, many sins.
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Chapter 25
By the end of the first eightweek, Indira knew that the critical moment had passed. There was still much
to be settled, and much,much more to be done. Her life seemed to have become nothing but an endless
round of meetings and discussions, and she knew that there was no end yet in sight.
But the details details!she thought were not important, now that the central concept for which she
had battled had been accepted by all parties.
They would become a single people. United, as one flesh, within the shell of this strange new idea the
Mother of Demons had brought to the world, from beyond the sky. The nashiyonu,she called it.
Already, Indira knew, in all the valleys of the Chiton, the strange new word was being spoken, from the
siphons of gukuy from many different tribes and peoples. Many of whom most of whom had barely
begun to learn the Enagulishuc from which the word derived.
A strange demon word, belonging to a strange demon language. What other word could describe such a
strange idea? A people which is not a people. A tribe which is not a tribe. A prevalate in which no clan
prevails. (Even, it was whispered, in which the clan themselves barely exist.)
Who, then, is a part of this nashiyonu?Anyone who chooses to belong. Yes,chooses . It has nothing
to do with clan status or birth.
Anyone.Evenowoc.
Indira repressed a grin. The gukuy who were squatting in the command circle were all very intelligent
beings. Even the recently arrived tribespeople were rapidly learning to interpret human facial expressions
and body language. Ushulubang and Rottu, she knew, were already mistresses of the art.
When it came to diplomacy, humans had the great advantage of being naturally adept atshoroku . Indira
had no intention of losing that advantage, so she allowed no signs of her feelings to show. But it was
difficult not to grin, thinking of the owoc.
In truth, the owoc had not really chosen to become citizens of the new Nation. The concepts would have
meant absolutely nothing to them. Indira had simplydecreed that all owoc were nashiyonuc by nature.All
owoc, everywhere in the World-That-Is-A-Clam, not simply the owoc on the Chiton.
She had expected some resistance to the idea, especially from the Kiktu. The tribespeople venerated the
owoc, true. But, as Indira had suspected, the veneration stemmed from ancient totemic concepts. It had
nothing to do with any notion that owoc wereequal to gukuy.
But Ushulubang, as she so often did, had immediately supported Indira's proposal. Very vigorously. The
Kiktu had been uncertain, but they had acceded to the wishes of the old sage and the Mother of
Demons.
For a moment, Indira's eyes met those of Ushulubang. The sage was, as always, squatting across from
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her in the command circle. The two of them were careful not to give the impression that they were acting
in collusion. Which, in the narrow sense of the term, they were not. Indira met privately with Ushulubang,
but no more often or for longer stretches of time than she did with Kopporu, or Guo, or the Opoktu clan
leaders.
The fact remained that they were conspirators. The vision toward which they were each groping was
different or, perhaps more accurately, seen from different angles. But their goals, in some fundamental
sense, were identical.
The question of the owoc illustrated that unity of purpose perfectly. Goloku, in her teachings, had often
spoken of the need to cherish the owoc, and to oppose their oppression. In this, as in so many things,
most Pilgrims interpreted her words simplistically. As a statement of ethical principle.
As such, of course, it was an excellent principle one of which Indira heartily approved. But Goloku's
teachings also carried a more subtle and sophisticated thought, under the simple morality of the precept.
If you allow the weakest to be oppressed, you open the valves to your own oppression. If you flail
one who is weaker than you, you will be flailed yourself, by one who is stronger. Do not complain
then, fool. Was it not you who blessed the flail in the first place?
Indira had, finally, accepted the awful responsibility which had fallen on her shoulders. But she took this
much grim satisfaction in the taking whatever else, she would ensure the survival of the owoc. It might
well be true, as Julius often said, that all species were doomed to extinction. So be it. But the owoc
would be granted their rightful time in the universe, to live out their gentle lives in peace, free of fear.
Indira knew what forces she was unleashing on this planet. Those forces would do much that was good.
But they would also wreak havoc and destruction. Often, she would wake in the night, trembling. Julius
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