The people who arrived in that first flying machine, the first outsiders that any living Seren-ilian had seen, brought surprises.
It was difficult to know how many of them there were, as they didn't all leave the machine together, and it was hard for the people of Seren-ila to tell them apart. Some people thought the number was as small as degtwi, others counted as many as quetwi. The strangers did not answer questions on such matters, and it was clear that their way of counting was quite different from the Seren Way.
The visitors said that they came from a great land on the other side of the mountain called Bartyronis, and the most important part of this was what they called a 'city', where many people lived close together, called Tyropolis. Although the Seren-ilians told them the proper name of their own land, the strangers always called it 'the Grabble-lands', and they called Greblara and its sisters 'the Grabble Mountains'.
Discovering that the language the visitors spoke had much in common with the Seren-ilian language was a surprise, and at first it seemed a good surprise. There was, in Seren-ila, still a small band of people who had always thought there might be other human beings over the mountains, but even they never imagined they would speak a language similar to the Seren-ilians. At first it seemed a good things. But Seren-ilians would learn that understanding the words of other people was not, by any means, the same as understanding the people themselves.
The Bartyronians were welcomed by the Seren-ilians with all the friendship and hospitality imaginable. The visitors were offered food and lodging, and in the first days, they were happy to accept all that was offered, and seemed to enjoy the taste of Seren food. But they wouldn't stay in the Hall of the Wise, although it was a pleasant and beautiful living space. They preferred to stay in their flying machine. This seemed strange. Why did they choose to live somewhere that must be cramped and uncomfortable? But the ways of outsiders were not their ways, they understood. It was always the Seren way to respect the wishes of others, even if it was hard to understand them, so long as respecting their wishes did no harm to anybody else.
The visitors asked many questions about Seren-ila, but they spoke little about their own land, except to say that it was far in advance of Seren-ila, whatever that meant. They were asked if they were members of their Counsel of the Wise, but they ignored the question. They would not be drawn on how their Counsel of the Wise was composed, or any other questions about how things worked in Bartyronis.
They were shown the original copy of The Great Story, the one from which all others were copied, and asked what they could add to it. They said that they would look at the document. They took it into their flying machine, assuring Elara, the Wise One who showed it to them that they would return it soon. This seemed strange to Elara, but she did not wish to offend the strangers, so she allowed them to take the only copy. Some of the other Wise Ones questioned this decision, but Elara felt that it went with the Seren Way.
The visitors were inquisitive. But about things that seemed unimportant. They wanted to know everything about the physical layout of Seren-ila, and in this the Wise Ones were happy to help. The visitors were supplied with maps, and they travelled to all parts of the valley. They made notes, using small machines that they carried in their pockets. They wanted to know where and how food was grown. They were surprised to discover that the Seren-ilians kept no animals, and especially that they did not kill animals for food. They asked much about the sort of rocks that the Seren-ilians had found in holes in the ground, and particularly wanted to know about a yellow rock, with which the people of Seren-ila were not familiar.
They were pleased to discover the Seren Middle Meadow, a large, open space, which Seren-ilians valued for its peaceful views, and the many wild flowers that grew there. They measured the space very precisely with the small machines they carried. A group of them could be seen walking around that space, and they seemed to gain enjoyment from it. As they walked, they looked up at the sky, often pointing in the direction from which their flying machine had come. The Seren-ilians thought that this might be a sign that they were becoming homesick, which would not be surprising.
They were particularly interested in wrist-flyers. They were very keen to know exactly how they worked. They asked everyone in turn for this information. Someone told them that it was Piacho who had long ago worked out how to make wrist-flyers, so he was asked to go into the Barty flying machine, just to chat about that, and other things that the Bartyronians wanted to understand. He went quite happily, one sunny summer's day, with the blessing of the Counsel of the Wise.
He did not return.
After many days, when people asked the Bartyronians where Piacho was, they were told that he was helping them. What is more, the Bartyronians said, they still could not quite understand how the wrist-flyers worked, so they asked if people could let them have some more sets, just to examine them. A few people volunteered to give up their wrist-flyers, and the visitors accepted them eagerly. Then they said that they needed even more sets, so other pairs were handed over.
After a few more days, the strangers asked that the Wise Ones gather in front of the flying machine, and they passed on a message from Piacho, in the form of a paper which he had signed. In it he said that in order for him to explain fully how wrist-flyers worked, the strangers would need to see all the pairs in Seren-ila. The strangers apologised, but they assured the Counsel that the devices would be returned very soon. After some talk, and bearing in mind that this was a message that came directly from Piacho, the Counsel decided that they should cooperate, although this was inconvenient. There were practical and pleasurable reasons that people needed wrist-flyers. Before they had been invented things had been much, much harder. Food had been scarcer, crops had been harder to plan, and travel around the valley had been tiresome and sometimes dangerous.
Wrist-flyers gave the Seren-ilians a good view, enabling efficient plans for planting crops, as well as helping to understand the movement of large animals in Seren-ila. Occasionally a flyer would spot somebody who was trapped on the rocks, or in some other sort of danger. And then there was the pleasure that people got from flying above the level of the trees, and the pleasure that those on the ground got from seeing their aerial displays.
Trentaya, was an experienced and very skilled flyer. Flying was a great pleasure for her - a pleasure that was also tinged with sadness. It reminded her of how things used to be when she flew with Ralkino. Trentaya was not a member of the Counsel of the Wise, but she was known as someone who understood the world very well, so her opinion was always listened to carefully.
After some weeks without wrist-flyers, Trentaya spoke to members of the Counsel, and asked that they send someone to the visitors to explain how important it was that Piacho, and the wrist-flyers, were quickly returned. The Counsel was worried at first that this would seem to show the strangers that they lacked trust in them, and cause offence, but Trentaya insisted, and they agreed. They also wanted the copy of The Great Story returned.
Selentaya was chosen to talk with the Bartyronians.
Selentaya was a senior Member of the Counsel, a full Trowster, entitled to wear the Trowster robes. She was one of the younger of the Wise Ones, with only fifty or so summers to her life. Tall and lean, with long, black flowing hair, she was known by some as the 'Wise One who Ran', because every morning she ran que times around the Seren Lake. In the warmest days of summer, she would run deg times around the lake, then swim from north to south.
Selentaya was not afraid of questioning any decision, and always argued her case with both respect and force. She was the right person to approach the strangers.
So, on an early Autumn evening, she approached the flying machine, fully robed. The colours she had chosen for her Trowster cloak were dominated by a bright green background, with Seren-ilian swirling patterns in contrasting reds and purples. Like all Trowster robes, it was impressive, but something about the way in which Selentaya wore it made it even more so. Selentaya looked calm and dignified as she approached the machine. A small crowd of people, including Trentaya and Liana, watched and listened.
Selentaya approached the machine, the door of which was at the top of a small set of steps. She looked up. Climbing the steps while wearing the robes would be awkward. It would be better if she could get the visitors to come out and talk to her. So Selentaya called, in her strong, melodious voice:
'Honoured Guests! I am here on behalf of the Counsel of the Wise. There is a matter we must discuss!'
Everyone waited. There was no answer from inside the machine. Then there was a sudden burst of laughter. Then silence again.
Selentaya tried once more:
'Visitors from across the mountain! My name is Selentaya. I am a Trowster of Seren-ila, here to represent my people. I must talk to you. We need to...'
The door of the flying machine made a heavy clanking sound, then opened. A figure appeared, framed in the doorway, dressed from head to foot in some sort of shiny fabric unknown in Seren-ila. The hat this person wore covered the head, with a transparent panel at the front, through which it was just possible to see a pair of eyes.
'Why are you here, old woman? Are you bringing us some more of your food? If so, just leave it in front of our craft, and our people will collect it later.' The voice was a man's voice, harsh and loud.
'No, that is not why I'm here.' Selentaya replied, pleasantly. 'Of course, if you want food, we will supply it, honoured guest. But I am here to ask something of you and your friends.'
'Very well, old woman. What is it that you want from us? Speak quickly, we have work to do.'
Selentaya remained calm, though she was not used to being spoken to in this way.
'Honoured visitor, the people of Seren-ila hold your people in high regard, and are grateful that you have crossed the great mountain, Greblara...'
The Bartyronian figure seemed irritated by these words. He held up his hand and barked at Selentaya:
'Quiet, old woman! If you have something to say to us, just say it. We don't need all this "Honoured visitor" stuff that you Grabblers are always going in for. Don't waste time. Say what you want.'
This word, 'Grabbler', was new to the Seren-ilians, but they were to hear it more and more from then on. Selentaya stood still and tall, and spoke again:
'Very well. I am here to speak to our honoured friend Piacho. We have not seen him for many days, and we must reassure ourselves that he is well. There is also the matter of our wrist-flyers, which we rely on for the care of people and the land. You must know, from your conversations with Piacho, that much labour, including the gathering of a rare herb, goes into the making of wrist-flyers. You now have all of our flyers, and this is causing us much inconvenience. You are welcome to a few, as a gift from our people to yours, but the rest must be returned.'
'Grabbler woman, your man is staying with us. He wants to stay. He told me. Just this morning, he said he's enjoying life with us so much that he might never come back to live in your people's huts.' The man laughed. 'As for the wrist-flyers, as you call them, we are taking charge of them. You have no right to these objects. They do not belong to your people anyway. So go away. Now!'
The people were all shocked at what the man had said. Could Piacho really have decided to stay with the Bartyronians? Even if he had, wouldn't he have spoken to people before he made such a decision? And how was it possible that the wrist-flyers that had been made by Seren-ilians could not 'belong' to the people. All things belonged to all people. Things that were useful should be used by those who needed them. That was the Seren Way, and they knew no other.
Selentaya spoke again: 'Visitor, Piacho is a valued and senior member of our community, and it would be a terrible sadness if we were not to see him again. Of course, he is free to stay with you if that is his wish. But we must speak to him.'
It was not possible to see the face of the Barty man, but from his voice it seemed to Liana that he was smiling, or perhaps even laughing.
'Crone, is it really true that we have all of your wrist-flyers? Every one?'
'Yes that is the situation,' Selentaya said, thinking that now that the Bartyronian understood, it would be an easy matter to get the precious things returned. 'You must also return...'
The man interrupted her. 'Oh. How terrible for you. Do you wish to come and recover these things?'
Selentaya looked relieved.
'I would be happier if you just brought them out here.'
'No. I insist that you come into our craft and collect them. There are other things that we wish to show you, Grabbler.'
'My name is not "Grabbler", guest, it is Selentaya,' Selentaya replied, calmly. 'Perhaps one day I will accept your offer to visit your craft. I am sure that there is much my people can learn from yours. But today I must recover the wrist-flyers which our people need, to speak with our friend Piacho, and to collect our original copy of The Great Story, to be put back in its ceremonial place.'
'You Grabblers are very stupid.' The people watching gasped at this. 'You don't even know that you are Grabblers, but you will soon learn. Grabblers, Grabblers, Grabblers. All of you.' His face surveyed the people gathered watching this scene, and he waved his hand dismissively. 'Now, if you want these things, you must come up these steps and get them.'
Selentaya spoke again, but this time there was irritation in her voice. 'Visitor, whether or not I am stupid, and whether or not I am what you call a "Grabbler", I cannot climb the steps wearing my robes.'
'Then take off those stupid rags, woman. It's warm enough here. You don't need to wear that ridiculous cloak. I'm surprised you haven't tripped up on it already'.
'Visitor, it is a sign of the honour I show you and your people that I wear the Trowster robe. It signifies friendship and respect from our world to yours. Removing the cloak would...'
'We have no need of friendship or respect from you,' the man interrupted, 'but don't worry. You won't have to climb the steps...'
Selentaya smiled, thinking that her request had been agreed to. But it hadn't.
The man jumped in the air. He rose high above the crowd, moving in a fixed, straight line, as though being pulled on a rope. Then he moved sideways to his left, then forward. People looked hard at him, and some saw that he was wearing wrist-flyers. It looked like an early, old pair, with designs that were less intricate than those that had been made later. The old pairs flew just as well as the newer ones, and in fact were easier for a beginner to control, but they couldn't be used for complicated displays. But this Bartyronian was not intending anything too complicated.
The man descended and landed in front of Selentaya. He grabbed her around the waist, and threw her over his shoulder. Selentaya screamed in pain and fear. The man then flew up again, high above the flying machine. He wobbled, and looked like he was going to drop Selentaya. On the ground, people could just hear another muffled scream from her. Then the man held his arms out in front of his shoulders. Selentaya was balanced precariously over his back. He straightened up again, and began to descend until he got to the level of the door of the flying machine. It opened in front of him as he turned and hovered.
Then he moved very quickly through the door, banging Selentaya's head on the hard metal as he went through. Another cry of pain.
The door closed behind the man.
The people who had gathered were silent. What did this mean?
Then the door opened again. A man came out. It may have been the same man, or a different man. In their shiny costumes, they all seemed to the Seren-ilians like machines, not people.
The man spoke.
'Grabblers – off with you!'
Liana stepped forward and spoke.
'Where is Selentaya?'
'Selentaya?' The man asked, puzzled.
'The woman who was just taken into your craft. Our Wise Counsellor.'
'You must be mistaken. No women in here. Go back to your huts. You'll hear from us soon.' And back into the machine he went.
This was the Seren-ilians' first indication of the true nature of the Bartyronians.