“Presumably, too, it was the claws of the beast which had torn open the boards, and furrowed the posts, at the other platform, that by the cliffs,” said Brenner.
“Undoubtedly,” said Rodriguez.
“But you seemed to dismiss that possibility at the time,” said Brenner.
“For a very good reason,” said Rodriguez.
“Why?” asked Brenner.
“One mystery we may have solved here,” said Rodriguez, “is how the Pons have survived in the forest.”
Brenner regarded him.
“Such creatures as Pons can exist only in gardens of flowers,” said Rodriguez, “and then they had best not look into the grass, or between the stems of the plants, lest they see the jungle there. They live in a world of sunlit, benevolent trivialities, without risk, without challenge, without adventure, sunning themselves like turtles until they die. Such creatures are weak, worthless, soft. They cannot live in a real world unless they are guarded by lions. It is the lions which make their little flower worlds possible.”
“And the beast is their lion?” said Brenner.
“It makes such things as Pons possible,” said Rodriguez.
“But there have been Pons for thousands of years,” said Brenner.
“That is one of the mysteries,” said Rodriguez.
“There have been “lions,” too, for thousands of years,” said Brenner.
“Or things like them,” mused Rodriguez.
“Lions,” said Brenner.
“No,” said Rodriguez. “That is not possible.”
“It frightens me,” said Brenner, “that such a thing might once have walked in the village, when the gate had been left open.”
“It may have been left open by intent,” said Rodriguez.
“Doubtless as a gesture of hospitality,” said Brenner, bitterly.
“Possibly,” said Rodriguez. “But surely you do not think the palisade would be sufficient to keep out that beast, if it wanted in?”
Brenner shuddered.
“Consider its size,” said Rodriguez. “It could push through the palings. Consider its agility. It could leap over the fence. Consider its jaws, and the likely might of their grip. It could seize and uproot such palings, such wretched sticks.”
“Quite possibly,” said Brenner, uneasily.
“Consider, too, its paws, their unusual nature,” said Rodriguez.
“I did not notice them,” said Brenner.
“I did,” said Rodriguez, “this afternoon, and, again, tonight, in the light of the torches. Too, I have seen such things before. They are not the common sort of paw you would expect on a predator. You might have noted the digits, their length, their jointing, the positioning of them.”
“What are you saying?” asked Brenner.
“That the paws can grip, not just strike, and hold and tear,” said Rodriguez.
“They are prehensile?” asked Brenner.
“With such paws, said Rodriguez, “it could, if it thought in such a manner, push apart palings, snapping them, it could pull them from the ground, it could even reach between them to slide back the bars.”
“Do you remember, in the forest, when we first left Company Station, months ago, how the Pons were at first uneasy, even frightened, and then, a little later, proceeded with confidence?”
“Of course,” said Rodriguez.
“The beast?” said Brenner.
“Undoubtedly,” said Rodriguez. “It was then with them, their secret companion, the angel, secret, dark, and terrible, which would accompany them in the forests.”
“The forest was then so quiet,” said Brenner.
“It knew more than we,” said Rodriguez. “It knew, as we did not, what moved amongst its trees. It was frightened, and hid itself.”
“You may have seen it,” said Brenner.
“Now, in retrospect, interpreting shadows, movements amongst trees, what seemed, briefly, to appear, an evanescent silhouette, and such, I think I did,” said Rodriguez. “But, as with the tracks in the village, the marks at the platform, I would not acknowledge that to which the evidence pointed.”
“Why?”
“It did not seem to me possible,” said Rodriguez.
“You know this sort of animal,” said Brenner.
“Yes,” said Rodriguez.
“It is interesting that Pons could manage to train such a creature.”
“Such things cannot be trained,” said Rodriguez.
“Obviously the Pons have trained it.”
“Such things do not train,” said Rodriguez. “They kill their keepers.”
“Perhaps if taken when young?”
“No,” said Rodriguez.
“Something like that must be the case,” said Brenner.
“No,” said Rodriguez.
“Then we have a fascinating example of zoological symbiosis here,” said Brenner.
“No,” said Rodriguez.
“Like the warning bird, nesting in the coat of the Chian buffalo, whose cries warn it of the approach of intruders, like the scavenger eels swimming in and out of the mouth of the Abderan shark, cleaning its teeth.”
“No,” said Rodriguez. “Such relationships involve reciprocities. Each partner derives a benefit. It is clear that the protection of the beast is much to the profit of the Pons, but what possible profit in this accrues to the beast? It does not live with them. They do not shelter