sensation of Shammat was very strong now.
Everything in the valley was broken and spoiled. I knew that this was the valley I had looked down into from above, but could not now see the column anywhere. Yet it was here, I could feel it. Waves and pulses of Shammat came out at me and made me reel, but I held on to a young tree that had been half cut through at its base so that it had fallen, and lay forward at my height, making a sort of handhold. I looked and looked but I simply could not see the column I knew was there. Yet the centre of the valley where it had been was not two hundred paces ahead. And still the pulses came out, throbbing, deadly, sickening me. I sent my thoughts to Canopus in a plea for help. Help me, help me, I cried silently, this is the most terrible danger I am in, danger far too strong for me – and I kept my thoughts steady, like a bridge, and soon did feel a little trickle of help coming from there. And, as I strengthened, I did see it – a glimpse only – I saw the column. There was a jet, or narrow fountain there, sometimes visible, and then not, but coming in sight again. It was as if the air itself had thickened and become a very fine and subtle liquid, a crystalline water, jetting up and falling back on itself. But now I recognized it, and I felt that I would have done so before, if the idea had not been so far from my mind. I knew this substance! I summoned every kind of strength I could and walked forward to where this glittering column was, was not – and was again.
A few paces from it I stopped, for I could not go nearer: it held me away from it.
This was a substance recently invented, or discovered, on Canopus, Effluon 3, and that was why I had not expected to find it here. And no, it was not possible for Puttiora to have made it, for their technology was so far behind ours. And Shammat certainly could not. And so they must have stolen it from Canopus.
Effluon 3 had the property of drawing in and sending out qualities as needed – as programmed. It was the most sensitive and yet the strongest of conductors, needing no machinery to set it up, for it came into existence through the skilled use of concentrations of the mind. What Shammat, or Puttiora, had had to steal from us was not a thing, but a skill. This was too much for me to puzzle out now, feeling as I did, on the edge of losing consciousness, and besides there was a more urgent question. Effluon 3, unlike Effluons 1 and 2, did not last for long: it was a booster, no more.
From above I had seen a metal column, a thing of strength and durability, because I had been expecting something of the sort. But really it was a device which by its very nature soon would not be here at all. And yet it was hardly likely that Shammat would go to all this trouble – inviting reprisals from us, from Sirius (and possibly even from Puttiora, if this was, as it might well be, an act of defiance) – for some short-term gain.
Yet I could not be mistaken. It was a colleague on Canopus who had first thought of this device, and I had seen these evanescent columns of thickening air in all the different stages of their development. This could not be anything other than Effluon 3 – and it would not be here in a year’s time.
I realized that I had slipped to my knees, and was swaying there a few paces from the horrible thing – which of course could be health-giving and good-making, in other places and times – but my mind kept going dark, it kept filling with swaying grey waves, a painful shrilling attacked the inside of my brain and I could feel blood running down my neck from my afflicted ears. The snowy peaks, the sunny slopes of the valley, the smashed and splintered trees, the half-visible jet of glistening substance, all swayed and went, and I fell into a coma.
I was not there long and certainly would have died if not for my new friend who had been watching from a ridge above, holding on to a tree for support, in fear for his sanity, because his mind, like mine, was badly attacked. He saw me swaying on my feet, then on my knees, and then lying prone. He crept down from the ridge, forcing himself forward, until he was able to reach for my ankles. He turned me over on my back, so that my face might not be cut, and he dragged me away from the place and then lifted and carried me. When I came to, on the other side of the ridge, he was lying unconscious beside me. Now it was my turn to help him, by rubbing his furry hands and his shoulders, with all my strength, but he was such a big creature it was hard to believe these small ministrations could be enough to start life flowing again. As soon as he was himself, and we were both able to stand, we supported each other away and up into the mountains, to get away from the emanations we could both feel. He had a warm cave, heaped with dry leaves and larders of dried fruits and nuts. He knew about fire, too, and soon we were warmed and strong.
But while I had been unconscious, I had had a dream or vision, and I knew now the secret of the Shammat column. I saw the old Rohanda glowing and lovely, emitting its harmonies, rather as one does in the Planets-to-Scale Room. Between it and Canopus swung the silvery cord of our love. But over it fell a shadow, and this was a hideous face, pockmarked and pallid, with staring glaucous eyes. Hands like mouths went out to grasp and grab and at their touch the planet shivered and its note changed. The hands tore out pieces of the planet, and crammed the mouth which sucked and gobbled and never had enough. Then this eating thing faded into the half-visible jet of the transmitter, which drew off the goodness and the strength, and then, as this column in its turn dissolved, I leaned forward in my dream, frantic to learn what it all meant, could mean … I saw that the inhabitants of Shikasta had changed, had become of the same nature as the hungry jetting column: Shammat had fixed itself into the nature of the Shikastan breed, and it was they who were now the transmitter, feeding Shammat.
This was the dream and now I understood why Shammat needed its transmitter there only for a short time.
I stayed with my friend for some days, getting my strength back. I understood by now a good deal of what he knew and was trying to tell me. Trembling and fearful, he told me that a great Thing had come down from the sky, and set itself on the slopes of that valley, and then horrible creatures had come – and he could not speak of them without shaking and hiding his face as if from the memory – and killed everything and broken everything. They had lit fires and let them go out of control to rage over the mountain slopes, destroying and killing. They had slaughtered for pleasure. They had caught and tortured animals … He sat by me, this poor creature, whimpering a little, and tears ran down over the fur of his big cheeks, as he stared into the flames of our fire, remembering.
And how many of them?
He held up his hands palm out, then again, and then, clumsily, for this was not an easy mode of thought for him, once again. There had been thirty of them.
How long had they stayed?
Oh, an awful time, a long long time – but he put up his paws, or hands, to his eyes, and sat rocking and letting out small yelps of pain. Yes, he had been caught by them, and put in a cage of boughs, and they had stood round laughing and sticking sharpened branches at him … he lifted the fur of his sides to show me the scars. But he had escaped, and had let out from their cages many other animals and birds and fled away – all the animals and birds had left, and as I must have noticed, had not gone back. There were none of the creatures of the forest anywhere near that valley now. And he had crept back one dark night, and gone as silently as he could to the top of the ridge and looked over – and had seen nothing, but the emanations of the column had made him ill, so he had known that something was there … he did not know even now what it was, for he had not been able to see it, only feel it.
And the big Thing these terrible things had come in? Had he seen it or touched it?
No, he had been too afraid to go close enough to touch. He had never seen anything like it, he had not known that anything like this could exist. It was round – and he made his arms round. It was enormous – and he spread them till he indicated the whole interior of this very large cave. And it was – he whimpered and swayed – horrible.
I could not learn more than that.
But I did not need to.
I told him that I would have to travel very far from here. He did not understand ‘very far’. He would come with me, he said, and he did, but as day after day passed, he became silent and apprehensive, for he was a long way from the part of the mountains he knew. He was lonely, I could see that. But perhaps he had not known that he was lonely? Had there been others like him? Yes, there had been once! Many? Again he held out hands – once,