Ravenous Mother

A narrow, slimy conduit was the only barrier between Thandie and a horde of coprophages. Her hands slipped on the moist surface as she pushed forward, her labored breathing echoing in the tight passage. Hunger gnawed at her insides, but her survival instinct was stronger. She had to keep moving.

The clicking of legs on fossilized tissue grew more distant. Thandie slowed, finally allowing herself to catch her breathe. Two months had passed since she'd lost the chromograph. Two months spent amidst hunger, fear, and solitude.

She took a few seconds to breathe, wiping the sweat from her forehead and running her hand over her head. Her white hair had grown enough to hide any trace of her cartographer past. She dragged herself out of the conduit, emerging into a small circular cavern. She knew it already, having mapped it three days earlier when she'd discovered that a secondary vein crossed the north wall. She approached the exact spot, running her fingers over the membrane's surface.

Same as always, she thought, resigned to the strange behavior of the membranes compared to those on the surface.

Outside, nutritive fluid flowed upward, feeding colonies of fungi, vesicles, fountains, and a dozen other plant-like, animal-like, and hybrid protrusions. Along the Major Membranes, they climbed all the way up to the vault, nourishing the bio-lights. Down here, things were different. It was as if the sewers followed the same dynamics as the surface, but inverted sustenance descended, guided by air currents, the slow spasms of the conduits, and the humidity of the caverns.

It had been a painful discovery. During the first weeks, she had tried to apply knowledge learned during the Major Membrane patrols and had always, almost failed. She looked for veins that logically should have formed along precise trajectories, followed patterns that on the surface would have indicated nutrient abundance, but which here revealed only dead and dry membranes.

But she was learning. She'd noticed that in the conduits, nutrient veins tended to form along the darker folds of the membrane, not the lighter ones. She'd discovered that the sound they made when tapped with knuckles was different, not a dry boom, but a more humid and deeper reverberation.

With the tip of the organic caliber, one of the few tools she had left, she pressed on the membrane at the exact point where she had calculated the vein would be closest to the surface. The membrane yielded with a gurgling sigh. A stream of pinkish fluid gushed from the opening, rapidly filling the exoskeleton that Thandie had detached from a membrane of considerable size.

"Finally," she murmured, bringing the bowl to her lips.

The taste was bitter, but the sensation of fullness that spread through her stomach was worth any disgust. She had learned this too, in the sewers, one couldn't be picky.

As she swallowed the fluid, her gaze fell upon the small collection of tools she had managed to preserve. An organic caliber, a flow meter damaged but still partially functional, and a couple of virgin membranes she had recycled from dead ones found in the conduits. The rest she had lost or had been stolen, like many of her meals.

She had lost count of the times when, after finding food, she had to abandon it to escape from stronger or more numerous outcasts. Or worse, she had to surrender it reluctantly in exchange for a promise not to be killed. At least she hadn't been beaten savagely again, like when they had stolen her chromograph.

There was a social hierarchy in the sewer conduits. Solitaries like her occupied the lowest rung. Then came small groups, families, or friends who had fled together from the surface. At the top were organized bands, with defined territories and ironclad rules. This happened on the first level, richest in food and most dangerous due to the large bands. Even though most of the conduits seemed desolate, one could never know when entering someone's territory who didn't welcome competition. On the second level, there were far fewer people, but the dangers increased immensely. On the third level, even antibodies rarely appeared, but food was almost unfindable.

As much as possible, Thandie had kept away from the bands and their small underground kingdoms. Not out of fear, or at least not only that, but out of strategy. She needed to understand how this world worked before seeking alliances. And above all, she had to wait for her hair to grow enough.

But now time was running out. She had lost too much weight, and constant hunger was beginning to cloud her thoughts. Soon, starvation and fatigue would lead her to make a fatal mistake. She needed protection, and to find it, she needed someone who could mediate with the bands.

That's why she had decided to talk to Khulekani.

The former healer who had helped her during her first weeks in the sewers seemed to be well-known among the outcasts and, incredibly for a solitary person, lived quite well. They hadn't seen each other since he had helped her return to the surface, a lifetime ago.

She finished her meal, then gathered her tools and hid them in the intricate system of pockets she had fashioned from her tattered robe. It was time to move. For two weeks, she had moved to the second level, where the number of people was drastically reduced, but there hadn't been a night without coprophages attempting to attack her, and a couple of times, she had risked encountering antibodies. She hoped that the information obtained from the few outcasts who had let themselves be convinced to help her in exchange for food was accurate.

Khulekani couldn't be far. The day before, she had passed a cavern overflowing with purple fungi; she must now be in the ex-healer's personal territory. She knew she would never find him herself, but hoped he would want to talk to her.

She hid twice, flattening herself against damp walls when she heard groups of outcasts approaching. Once she almost got swept away by a wave of fluid when a conduit above her suddenly burst.

She emerged into a wide, dark chamber with several platforms in the center, surrounded by an abyss. She smiled, remembering that it was in a chamber just like this that she had first seen Khulekani. She hoped it was a good omen. The vault was covered with blood-red bio-luminescent striations that emitted a faint pulsating glow. She had no idea what form of life they were; many things on the second level were both disturbing and beautiful. She jumped from platform to platform, reaching the center of the chamber. In the last one where she landed, she found a pool of blackish liquid that slowly boiled, emitting vapors with a sweet smell. She sniffed the air, trying to determine if the vapors were toxic. Satisfied that they were merely disgusting, she sat down on a rocky outcrop, deciding to take a break. Here, coprophages would never reach her, and she saw no reason why an antibody would bother to appear and annoy her. She lay down, took her backpack, and placed it under her head, then fell asleep with the knife in her hand.

Hours later, a noise woke her from the torpor into which she had fallen. A figure emerged from one of the side conduits, dragging something behind it.

"Look, look who's still alive," said Khulekani with his sing-song voice. "The young cartographer has returned."

Thandie stood up, observing the man and putting away her knife. He hadn't changed since the last time, still thin to the point of emaciation, with disheveled hair and those wild eyes that seemed to see inside the Mother herself.

"I was looking for you," she replied, sitting cross-legged.

Khulekani dropped the gasterophore he was holding by the antennae. It had a soft, irregular body that pulsed rhythmically. Having fallen to the floor, the animal partially retreated into its shell, while its antennae nervously agitated in the air like small tentacles searching for dangers. The man sat down in front of Thandie, crossing his legs as well.

The girl nodded toward the gasterophore. "Aren't those things poisonous?"

"Only if you don't know how to handle them. And Khulekani knows," he patted the shell, and the gasterophore's antennae trembled with fear. "It has a good taste if you cook it while it's still alive."

"How do you make it edible?"

Khulekani smiled at her and raised his hands in the air, as if to say; it's a secret I won't reveal to you. Instead, he said, "What does the heretic want from me?"

"I need your help."

The man let himself fall to the side, resting his head on the gasterophore's shell.

"Everyone seeks Khulekani when they need something. No one ever comes to hear his stories, to share his infinite wisdom," when the animal tried to move away, Khulekani grabbed it by the antennae and violently pushed it back. "So, cartographer without a chromograph, what brings you to my humble abode?"

Surprised, Thandie blinked. "How do you know about the chromograph?"

"Oh, news travels fast through the levels. Such a precious instrument doesn't go unnoticed. Now it shines in Buthuma's collection, one of the strongest band leaders on the first level."

Thandie felt a stab of anger. "Is he the one who sent those men to rob me?"

"You give yourself too much importance," replied Khulekani, shaking his head. "From what I know, they hadn't been tracking you. You just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people. But I could be mistaken. To travel fast, news loses pieces and gains new ones. Certainly, anything interesting that gets stolen in Buthuma's territory ends up in his hands, sooner or later. I'm hungry."

He stood up, extracted a rope from his satchel, and bent over the gasterophore. With a quick gesture, he passed a noose around its shell. He dragged the animal to the pool, then tensed the rope and hurled it in. The gasterophore squealed in pain, writhing as the slurry burned it. Blackish splashes reached the edge not far from Khulekani's feet, while enormous bubbles swelled along the body. The spasms slowed more and more until stopping completely. Then it sank.

"The black compound is a powerful caustic agent," said Khulekani. "It interacts with the gasterophore's muciparous cuticle, denaturing the proteins and inhibiting the neuromotor response. In a few minutes, its muscle fibers relax and the endogenous toxins degrade. Thus it becomes safe to eat." He turned to look at Thandie with a grin. "Clear?"

"I didn't grasp a single word," she said.

"Every profession has its secrets. Big words serve to maintain them. Just a bit longer and it's ready."

He waited, whistling a cheerful melody. Several minutes later, he took the rope with both hands and pulled it toward himself. What emerged no longer had anything in common with a gasterophore. The shell had liquefied, and the flesh was a mass of blisters and bubbles. Khulekani stepped back and let the body drag itself across the floor, while several bubbles exploded, scraping against its protrusions. The slurry detached from the gasterophore with a sudden hiss, leaving the body colorless. Thandie was speechless, seeing that the slurry slowly returned to the pool, as if it had a will of its own.

"Hungry?" asked Khulekani, well knowing it was a rhetorical question. He cut the flesh with a sharp petroclast, with skillful movements cut two enormous steaks, and threw one to Thandie.

They ate without speaking, in the air were only the sucking sounds from Khulekani, who seemed to particularly enjoy the meal. Thandie also ate eagerly, but the taste of the gasterophore left much to be desired.

A free meal, she thought, don't complain. Then she looked at the man, frowning. There's no such thing as a free meal.

Khulekani finished his portion, noisily sucking his fingers, then took a long rolled membrane from his bag and spread it on the floor.

"So, what do you want?" he asked, while cutting more strips of meat and placing them on the membrane.

"I need your help," said Thandie, cleaning her hands on her tattered pants. "I can't live alone in the conduits anymore. I need protection, I need to belong to a band."

Khulekani stared at her with penetrating eyes. "And why should I help you?"

"You tell me what you want," she replied. "You saved me from the first coprophages I encountered and you helped me return to the surface. Evidently, you glimpsed a possible advantage."

The ex-healer smiled, revealing blackened teeth. "What a brilliant mind, the little cartographer. Yes, I helped a desperate girl who was about to be devoured. A foolish impulse, perhaps, but Khulekani is so kind-hearted. Helping you enter a band? This is a much greater favor."

There was a long silence, broken only by the gurgling of the boiling pool.

He's already raising the price, without having made an initial offer, thought Thandie.

"So, what do you want?"

Khulekani lay on his side again, leaning on one elbow and cleaning his teeth with the other hand. "Prestige," he said. "I can introduce you to Buthuma, recommend you as a cartographer. My name carries some weight on the first level, and it would increase even more if I mediated a good agreement between you two. But Buthuma doesn't accept just anyone; you would need to prove your worth."

"How?" asked Thandie, wary.

"There's an area, east of here, with a series of conduits that lead to a red pit. Along one of those conduits, I found a lymphatic network, but a few days later it began to decrease in size. Now, when a lymphatic network shrinks, it means it's expanding somewhere else, right?"

Thandie nodded, and Khulekani continued. "I want to know where it's expanding. It should be easy for a true cartographer."

Thandie frowned. "A true cartographer?"

"No offense," said Khulekani in a musical tone. "I've never seen you at work. For all I know, you could be the spoiled, illiterate niece of a cartographer, from whom you inherited only the crest. Find me that network, and I'll take you to Buthuma."

The girl considered the offer. It was clear that Khulekani was getting everything immediately, while she would still have to earn Buthuma's favor, with no certainties.

"I want my chromograph back," she said. "Part of the deal must be that Buthuma returns it to me."

Khulekani laughed raucously. "I have no authority over a band leader, little cartographer. I can't force him to return anything to you. But if you want your precious instrument, you must first have the opportunity to speak with him. And for that, you need me."

Thandie sighed, feeling powerless. "How far east, exactly?"

The search for the lymphatic network was surprisingly quick. Thandie had always had an almost supernatural sense of direction, even by the high standards of cartographers. In the conduits, this ability allowed her to never get lost for more than a few hours, and only once did she risk her life, when a dermoplast detached from the wall where it had been camouflaged and lunged at her face. Thandie managed to dodge it only at the last moment, losing several heartbeats from fear.

She moved quickly through the corridors, reaching the red pit. The depression was similar to those she had seen on the surface, near the Major Membranes. The smooth walls descended for about ten meters, forming a funnel. The name derived from the reddish liquid that periodically seeped from cracks in the walls, creating streams that converged at the center. It wasn't just the color that resembled blood, but also its dense consistency. Thandie was quite happy to settle there for a few days; the fluids of the red pits were toxic to many animals, including coprophages, which always kept their distance.

With the few tools at her disposal, she carefully mapped the conduits leading to the pit, traversing them one by one with meticulous attention. It was a strangely peaceful period for her. Without humans to bother her and with most predators far away, she found herself doing her old cartographer work in relative safety. It was like a vacation.

Five days later, Khulekani came to visit her, curious to know how far she had progressed with the search.

"Have you found it?" he asked, greeting her.

"Yes," replied Thandie, "but it's not what you think."

She led him through one of the conduits, moving with confidence. Khulekani followed her in silence, observing her with growing interest. They arrived at a wall where a lymphatic network several meters in size pulsed frantically, pumping fluids downward through transparent veins. The ex-healer emitted a cry halfway between admiration and excitement.

"Finally!" he exclaimed, approaching the radial formation. "Do you know what this means? Pure fluid, uncontaminated. For days I'll be able to nourish myself, and who knows, perhaps I'll even be able to barter some."

Thandie shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. This network will disappear by evening."

Khulekani turned abruptly, furrowing his brows. "How do you know?"

"The first clue is the radial shape, indicating a mature network. Then the pulsation is irregular and see the more intense coloration at the center?" indicated Thandie, as if it were obvious. "This is a transitory network, very large and very unstable. It's already preparing to withdraw."

The ex-healer stared at her, incredulous. "It's not enough," he said after a moment. "It's not enough to earn you the meeting with Buthuma."

"I'm not finished," Thandie interrupted him. "I've mapped where the network will reappear in the next two weeks, at five different points, on specific days. There's a 93% probability that the first appearance will occur exactly as predicted. The probability progressively decreases for the others."

She extracted one of the virgin membranes from her pocket and handed it to him. She had traced a rudimentary map of the surrounding conduits, with five points marked in sequence and a series of calculations in the margin.

Khulekani took the membrane, studying it carefully.

"I recognize only the numbers and some glyphs," he said with a confused air, "and none that makes sense in this order."

"Every profession has its secrets," replied Thandie. "Big words serve to maintain them."

Khulekani's eyes widened, and he remained open-mouthed, staring at Thandie. Then slowly he began to laugh, and in a few seconds he was giving himself hearty slaps on the legs, with tears streaming down his face. He quickly embraced Thandie, who stiffened at the sudden physical contact.

"This is it," murmured Khulekani, moving away and wiping his tears. "This is the true knowledge of cartographers? You predict the movements of the membranes, you don't just map them."

"Mapping a membrane means precisely predicting its movements," said Thandie. "If we had limited ourselves to tracing drawings, we might as well have been called illustrators."

"You're not lying to me? These predictions are accurate?"

Thandie rolled her eyes upward. "No, Khulekani, I'm not lying to you. So, about Buthuma?"

The ex-healer slowly rolled up the membrane, with a smile curling his lips. "I do believe Buthuma will be very interested in meeting you. Very, very interested."

He turned to retrace their steps, then stopped and looked at her with a strange, almost respectful expression.

"I will never underestimate you again, little cartographer. Never again."

Thandie didn't respond, but felt a shiver run down her spine. There was something disturbing in the way Khulekani now looked at her, as if he were evaluating how to sell each of her abilities to the highest bidder.

Why am I surprised? He's doing it now with Buthuma. And I'm letting myself be sold.