Silent Songs Read online

  K'heera could not read the Grus' expressionless faces, but she was sure they must want to avenge their dead. That was why they'd flown up to the shuttle, to see the creature that had so unjustly and shamefully caused the slaughter of hundreds of their innocent people. She shivered uncontrollably.

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  She wanted to race away, and ached for the loving touch of her mother, or to bury her face in the mane of her beloved uncle.

  The Interrelator and the flock moved as if they were one organism, as they surrounded Jib. His eyes widened, but he signed the appropriate greetings.

  K'heera felt depressed again.

  Suddenly the tallest avian stretched, and his head spun on his supple neck as his piercing golden eyes captured Jib's. The human stood, his own dark eyes never flinching from "the look." K'heera could tell that Jib had quickly passed, that the Grus believed he was an honest, honorable person. What would happen when they sought what was honest and honorable in her?

  The flock kept stealing peeks at K'heera, sometimes with one eye, sometimes with two--one Grus even dropped his head to peer through the others' legs to see better. Then, as she considered retreating back into the shuttle, one of them approached. This avian was also tall and stately, but his head and neck were a lovely brownish-red that gradually faded into white.

  The avian stood at the foot of the ramp, holding his neck in a tight S curve, which made him seem smaller. "Good Eyes says your world is heavier than ours." He paused, tilting his head. "Is it hard to fly there?"

  K'heera felt dizzy. What kind of question was that for the daughter of murderers?

  "Forgive me," the Grus signed, dipping his head even lower. "This is my first introduction. I'm Lightning, son of Taller of the White Wind people. I welcome you to the World, and invite you to meet my father."

  Why, he's just a child, K'heera realized. A child with responsibilities, even as she had. His guilelessness had thrown a blanket over her fear, smothering it.

  "It is an honor to be presented to your father," she signed slowly, then carefully walked down the ramp to join him. The doctor walked behind them, with Meg and Bruce following at a discreet distance.

  "You have lovely eyes!" Lightning signed casual y. "They're the color of a summer sunrise."

  Before K'heera could respond to the unexpected compliment, she found herself staring at a thicket of thin, black legs. Lightning addressed the tallest of the flock. "Taller, greet our new friend-- we can call her 'Sunrise.' "

  The young Simiu was startled. Had he really used the informal sign for friend? And to be given a name that alluded to the Sun Family was. .. well, it was an honor. She glanced at the Interrelator, but her face was as unreadable as the avians.

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  "And this," Lightning signed to K'heera, "is Taller, tallest of the White Wind people in these parts."

  Before K'heera could return a respectful greeting, Taller dropped his long neck, fixing her with a round-eyed stare. Burning with shame, she turned away. Without moving his huge body, Taller's face was before hers again, holding her eyes with his commanding gaze, his deadly bill inches from her muzzle.

  K'heera felt as though she were being challenged, and her crest rose for a second, then collapsed. She dropped her eyes, and Taller's crown stretched and grew redder.

  "I am sorry that your visit to the World has been so upsetting," the leader signed.

  His concern was more than she could bear. "I... am ashamed . .." she signed awkwardly, "of the pain my family has caused you. I am ... sick with sorrow and guilt for your loss."

  Taller's crown dulled. "No child bears the burden of a parent's crime. You've caused no pain, young one. Look at me." He held her violet eyes with his steely gaze. His forgiveness was too shameful. It would've been easier to confront his hatred. After a moment, she had to turn away again.

  "To see so much sorrow in young eyes hurts me," Taller signed. "Lightning is right, you need a new name. 'Sunrise' it is. Welcome to the World, welcome to you and Good Eyes' young brother, Jib. We are pleased to greet you."

  With that, he threw back his head and called, and all his people called with him. Even through her sound nullifiers, the power of their call sent vibrations ripping through K'heera's body, raising her fur and her crest.

  An old man she hadn't seen before suddenly appeared beside her, as though he'd always been there. As casually as one of her uncles, he squatted down, offering her some bright orange leaves. "These will help your. . . bad feelings."

  The doctor seemed puzzled. "I've already given her . .."

  The old man waved a hand. "She needs a little help from the World. Go on, try it."

  K'heera glanced suspiciously at the leaves, but then the old man stuck out his tongue and showed that he was eating one. Tentatively, she took a leaf and chewed it. Sweetness and a refreshing sharp flavor flooded her mouth and sinuses. The Simiu felt color rise to her face; her crest lifted.

  The old man winked at her and smiled.

  "The fishing is different down south," Thunder signed early next morning as Tesa packed her sled. The raptor perched

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  on the highest object lashed to the hovering machine, climbing ever upward as her human friend attached more bundles. "The fish are much bigger, and some of them fight back! Sometimes . . ." the Hunter glanced around as if to make sure no one else could see her signs, "sometimes . . . they win. My mother told me so."

  "Your mother would know," Tesa agreed. Rain, Thunder's mother, had gone south to find a mate. "I hear the water's warm there, too."

  "Yes, and clear," Thunder replied.

  Tesa could tell that beneath the avian's casual conversation was an underlying worry. "You don't have to go."

  "But then you'd have only the White Winds to guard you!" Thunder seemed shocked. "I have to go." She ruffled her feathers, dust and fluff exploding around her. "Besides, I don't believe a spirit can pull a Hunter out of the sky."

  "Neither do I." Tesa swallowed a smile as she pulled her star quilt high up on her shoulders. Father Sun was coming up first these days, but even so, the temperature was dropping. She took her Clovis-point spear, feathers from Earth and Trinity dangling from its shaft, and wedged it securely onto the sled.

  "You're not taking that?" Jib signed to her from his own sled. The two of them had gotten up early to pack, enjoy the sunrise, and share a few moments alone.

  "I'm not leaving without it!" Tesa insisted. "We're not on Disney Planet. This has saved my life on two occasions."

  Jib turned away. "If K'heera sees that, she'll have a fit."

  Tesa stared at the young man. "Then, she'll have one. This spear is the only weapon we have, except for the repulsors we're allowed to use to ward off predators. And those are just scare tactics. She must really be getting to you."

  "You haven't been walking in my moccasins, tuahine," Jib signed, calling her "sister" in Maori. He told her briefly about the incident with the spicy Simiu food, which had led to K'heera's humiliation by the drum dancers. "I felt so bad for her, she had to see the pity in my eyes. She must hate me."

  Tesa nodded. "No one said this would be easy. First thing you should do is stop feeling sorry for her. .. and yourself."

  He turned to her, surprised.

  "You didn't come here to save the World," she reminded him.

  "Funny--that's what I said to K'heera before all hell broke loose at Captain's Night." He leaned against Tesa's floating sled,

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  his expression sober. "I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have been so quick to agree to this assignment."

  She met his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Jib shrugged. "This last year, Tesa, I've been working with telepaths, with Shadgui. Now, language, spoken or signed, seems so restrictive. Those are the people I should be working with. I'm not going to be much help to K'heera ... or you."

  "Well, you definitely won't with that attitude," Tesa agreed. "You sure. .. there aren't other reasons you're having regrets?" />
  He seemed a little embarrassed. "Well. . . sure ... I miss my tahu, my girlfriend, Anzia. You'd real y like her, Tesa."

  The young woman finally got tired of evading the issue. "Jib, I talked to Rob."

  He stiffened instantly. "He ... he told you? He had no right to do that!"

  "I thought I was your tuahine, your sister," she reminded him. "I thought there were no secrets between us."

  His hands hung in the air, then he sagged. "Of course you're my sister.

  There aren't even any tests for TSS, so how can they be sure I have it? It's just a title they've made up, the disease of the year." He peered at her intently. "They tried to tell me I don't really love Anzia. They're telling me it's this TSS, not my own honest emotions. Do you have any idea how that made her feel? We've been separated for months now. If my feelings for her were only from TSS, wouldn't they have faded by now? Well, they haven't! I feel the same way about her today as the day I left. Tesa, they're wrong about this."

  The anguish on his face spoke volumes of what he'd been through. Could he be right, and Rob wrong?

  "I write Anzi every night," Jib told her, more calmly. "I know I won't be able to send these letters till the next ship comes, but when I can, they'll be there to prove my feelings, even though we're apart."

  "She loves you?" Tesa asked.

  "She says so. When we're together... it's ... like we think with one brain. We know what the other's going to say before we say it. I don't mean to rant on, but I really miss her. And TSS has nothing to do with that."

  "I believe you," Tesa assured him, meaning it. She felt a pang of jealousy at him for having someone to share that with.

  A hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned to find Old Bear. "Grandfather! I should've known you'd be up early. Everyone else still sleeping?"

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  "Yeah. I left the coffee on for them." He smiled enigmatically as he offered them orange leaves.

  They each took one; Jib eyed his warily as Tesa popped hers casually in her mouth. It was one of the Grus' favorite herbs and they used it for many things, including scenting their feathers and cloaks. The plant was cal ed "blood-of-the-World" because it grew everywhere. Its bright blue berries poked out of the light snow they had here in winter, but its leaves were especially good in the fall, when they were in full color. Its minty sweetness made her hungry.

  "I had a dream last night," Old Bear signed casually, glancing quickly at Jib.

  Tesa stopped chewing, feeling the hair on the back of her neck rise. Her grandfather's dreams weren't something to ignore-- and she'd had a beauty of her own last night. There'd been terrible images of a river running thick with blood and she'd jerked awake, gasping. She wondered, not for the first time, if she should tell him. "What was it about?"

  "Your trip." He stared out over the bluff as if recalling the images and framing their story. She realized then that he didn't want to speak in front of Jib, someone he barely knew.

  Tesa noticed that Thunder had stopped preening and watched the old man intently. Jib glanced between her grandfather and herself, looking a bit skeptical and uncomfortable.

  Finally, Old Bear spoke. "I dreamed . .. there were spirits in the sea. I couldn't see them because the water was all churned up, but they were big."

  "And fierce?" Thunder asked, stretching her neck.

  The old man laughed and shook his head. "No, not fierce. Not these spirits."

  He stared at his granddaughter. "I dreamed the sea spirits would touch you, Good Eyes. I dreamed you would hear them." He grinned at her.

  Tesa smiled back. "Very interesting. Anything else?"

  He sighed, his smile fading. "No . . . just... be careful, honey. I worry about you."

  Thunder drew herself up tall, a behavior she'd picked up from the Grus.

  "Don't worry. I'll be there to protect her."

  The old man nodded, and touched the raptor reverently. He was proud that one of Tesa's companions was a living Thunderbird.

  There was something about the dream he wasn't telling her, Tesa knew. She knew also that there was no point in trying to drag it out of him, so instead she hugged him, kissing his cheek. "I'm always careful!" That made both of them laugh.

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  "By the way," asked Jib, gingerly chewing his leaf, "what's in these things anyway?"

  "Some complex sugars," Old Bear signed, "vitamins, calcium, oils. At least, that's what Meg tells me."

  "That's all?" Jib seemed surprised, obviously remembering K'heera's almost miraculous recovery after eating one.

  "Not quite," replied the old man. "It also carries the blood of the World. That's powerful medicine, son."

  Old Bear sat on the edge of the bluff, watching the mismatched group fly south. The rattling vibrations of powerful Grus voices washed over him as the flock called good wishes to their friends.

  Meg joined him on the bluff, resting her shoulder against his. Such a fine woman, this blue-eyed Russian. Intelligent, curious, funny, and so attractive.

  He'd be a lucky man if she fell in love with him.

  The dark shadow of his dream passed behind his eyes again, and he wondered again if he should've told Tesa all of it. No, he'd done the right thing. The part he'd told her had been the first part of the dream, the good part. If he'd told her the rest, she would never have left him.

  He had dreamed that Tesa had heard the song of a sea spirit. He had no idea what that meant, if anything, but that wasn't what concerned him. No, that part made him glad, because it meant that she would not be here when. ..

  He didn't want to remember, didn't want to see the terrible vision, but it was in his mind's eye and he couldn't shed it. There had been a shadow on the moon, on Father Moon, like blood, and it had grown, rich and red, mottled with bright blue arterial blood. The blood had dripped onto Trinity, spattering and spreading. It had covered the bluff. And he, Meg, Grandma Lewis, and Szuyi were swallowed by it, completely devoured.

  Slipping an arm around Meg, Old Bear watched their friends fly south and prayed that his dream was nothing more than the wicked workings of a tired mind.

  "Thank you, Arvis," Atle sang as his son finished oiling his skin. "That was very relaxing." He held out his arm to be helped into his garment. "I don't get to relax much, anymore."

  The amiable servant blinked his appreciation as he tugged at his father's sheer, one-piece outfit. It was tailored perfectly for the First, designed not only to help retain warmth and humidity,

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  but to keep the poison patches open and visible, and to match, exactly, the wearer's mottled skin coloring.

  Atle had had clothes designed for his Industrious children, but they never looked right. Where Atle's clothes complemented his wrestler's physique, Arvis's always made him seem oversized and lumpy and the dull color of his impotent patches made him appear ill. His sister, Sine, didn't wear hers much better.

  The First had been much younger than Arvis was now when he'd earned his name, given him by his powerful mentor. He had earned it wrestling males twice his size and winning. In those days he'd loved to fight more than anything--but then he'd met Dunn.

  "How's your mother?" Atle asked. "I haven't seen her since this morning."

  The boy looked downcast. "No matter what we say to cheer her up, sir, she's still sad."

  Atle's throat quivered as he patted his son consolingly. "Well, you keep trying. You and your sister are all she's got."

  "Yes, sir," the servant sang, pleased.

  "Tell your mother I'll have dinner with her this evening. After the staff meeting. Will you remember?"

  "I'll remember, sir."

  The First left his personal bath, taking an a-grav transport to the conference hall. While traveling through the ship's corridors, he scanned the computer's latest updates.

  The Flood had parked herself behind the largest moon of this world and had sent her last two robots onto its surface. For the past month, as this planet measured time, they'd observed the comings
and goings of the tiny space station and its planet.

  Their discoveries excited his staff; morale soared. Then, halfway through the month, the ship had detected a new player entering the theater. A moderately sized spaceship had headed for the station as casually as an egg delivery service. A small shuttle had taken off from the ground camp and been swallowed by the station just before the newcomer had docked with it.

  A short time passed, then the shuttle had returned to the planet as the spaceship disengaged from the lock.

  Atle stopped his flyer near the conference hall. Inside was the Council, the collected leaders of the different groups that represented a cross section of their society. As he entered, all music hushed. Everyone squatting around the low, circular table lifted to their feet. The First motioned them back down.

  "Who wishes to speak?"

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  "I do," sang Dacris, Second-in-Conquest. "These beings have a stardrive far superior to our own!"

  "You think so?"

  "I do. That ship traveled quickly. It wasn't a sleeper like the Flood."

  "I agree," Atle admitted, looking around the table. "We could make good use of such an efficient stardrive." He sang this softly, this massive understatement.

  "Then we'll pursue the ship before it leaves the solar system," the Second asked eagerly, "before it engages its drive?"

  "No."

  Dacris' throat quivered with surprise. Around the long table other eyes glanced back and forth. The Troubadour was well liked among the

  scientists.

  "You disagree?" Atle asked.

  "Respectfully, First, I do."

  "What would you do?" Atle asked, honestly curious.

  "Overtake the ship." The Second's mottling glowed with the passion of his convictions. "Capture it. Commandeer its passengers and crew. Discover its secrets."

  "Who agrees with this?" asked the First quietly.

  "We do," sang Gillat, a Flat-Spine, indicating the scientists at her end of the table. The mathematicians and physicists were hungry to get their fingers on a new spacedrive.

  "What about you?" Atle asked Rand of the Hooded, squatting at the other end of the table.