The Deep Gods Read Online Free PDF

others, like birds. The music went on and on, increasing.
    Now he was no longer an individual being; he had become a particle of light, an atom in a single great being. The creature of which he was a part sang in one voice now; the chant was a cry of joy at aliveness and being. The creature was made of human swimmers, and of dolphins, and of smaller creatures as well; of beings from the rooted sea anemones on the muddy floor to the giant orcas that sailed around the circle’s rim. And it was One; rejoicing in itself, in the sunlight that poured down through the water, in the spinning earth.
     
    It was impossible to tell when or how the dance had ended. The swimmers had staggered wearily ashore, one by one, and scattered to their houses; the sun had gone down and the mist had risen heavily on the bay.
    Daniel woke and saw a faint greyness at the window. He was sprawled across the bed, only partly covered by the skins. His skin tingled with the salt rime that had dried on it, but it was not unpleasant. And he saw his breath, misty in the cold; but he did not feel chilled.
    Ammi slept, half-across him, one arm about his neck. In the dimness he could see only the pale hair and a vague shape; but he could hear her slow, contented breathing. A sharp, pleasant odor of salt came from the hair that lay across his shoulder.
    He stared at the window, trying to remember.
    He had wondered why the Vanir had nothing that seemed to be a religion; it seemed to him that almost all primitives had myths and gods. Now, Daniel realized, they needed nothing as simple as an idol.
    He tried to recall what he had read of ancient Hindu ideas, Buddhist theology, a whole scrap pile of fragments from books from the world he had lost. None of it had made much sense, Daniel remembered; muddy notions about the unity of life, about time and space and the ocean of Brahma. Now, he thought, he was beginning to see what they had all been talking about, back there. And why they’d never been able to explain it all clearly.
    Or reach the thing they talked about, either, he thought grimly. The image of the world of his birth rose, sharply clear in his mind, bright and terrible; a world of steel and glass, where the sun shone dimly through a poison mist on the surface of a dying sea.
    We hated everything that lived, Daniel thought with an inner shiver. Because we couldn’t speak to the others, they had to be enemies.
    An airplane dove and fire slashed out; an eagle exploded into a cloud of bloodstained feathers.
    The bones of bison lay, mile after mile, beside the railway tracks.
    A great iron ship opened a gaping door, like the mouth of a monster; steel cables drew a dying whale in while the stink of death fanned out behind the ship, across the sea.
    Daniel blinked and rubbed a hand across his eyes. The girl made a faint sound and shifted a little; her eyes opened sleepily.
    “At least we didn’t leave ourselves out,” Daniel muttered aloud, looking at the girl. “We killed each other, too…”
    But he had spoken in English. Ammi stared, uncomprehending; then she lifted herself on one elbow, to face Daniel.
    “You were speaking in your own language,” she said in a low voice, her eyes on his. “Were you… thinking of the other? Of your own woman?”
    He grinned slowly. “You’re my woman,” he said; his hand came to her smooth shoulder. But she stayed, her face expressionless.
    “I do not blame you,” she said. “I, too… I thought of the other.” But he noticed that she had not used Egon’s name now. He smiled at her again.
    “I was not thinking of any other woman at all,” he said. “And certainly not then.” He made a playful grab and laughed. “As if any man, with you, could have time or wish to think about another woman.” Suddenly her mouth came to his. When he could, he added, “Or strength enough, for that matter.”
    Later, Ammi said, “I do not care, Daniel.”
    “About what?”
    “If you have others,” she said. “As long