Silent Songs (3 page)

The avian leader swiveled his long head to peer one-eyed at the solitary Hunter that had just dropped from her perch on the highest limb of the dead tree that clung to the edge of the bluff. The huge predator sailed effortlessly toward Taller's son, Lightning,

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and their small cohort, who'd just returned from a foraging trip. Taller still marveled at how devoted Thunder was to both Good Eyes and his son, as if they were her true parents.

He turned back to his human friend, wondering about her odd expression.

The seventy-year-old avian approached this alien he considered his partner, and, lowering his head, draped a massive white wing around her, pulling her close in a Grus familial embrace. His iridescent wings ended in striking black primaries, two of which were actually long, jointed fingers, part of a nearly palmless hand with a short black thumb. The rest of his body was as white as his wings, except for the elegant black facial markings that framed his face, neck, and black bill. Taller peered at Good Eyes with both of his round, golden eyes, as his red crown--a patch of bare, warty skin on top of his head that colored and stretched with his moods--shrank to show his concern.

He inhaled her scent and blinked, realizing for the first time that she no longer smelled like a fur-bearer, like the other humans did. She smelled like a real Person now, she smelled like him. He wondered why he hadn't noticed that before.

The human shivered, so he pulled her closer. Moving his other wing so that he could sign behind the screen of his embrace, he asked, "Did the See-Through Man give you bad news?"

Taller had faced the eerie holographic transmission only once, but it had been too disturbing an experience for him to repeat. He had announced, as regally as he could, that Good Eyes would forever after handle such discussions for him. To the nontechnological beings, the person in the holographic field seemed like a spirit. Good Eyes seemed pleased to spare him that discomfort. She said that was part of her job.

"No, not bad news...." she began.

"Has he heard something about Relaxed?" That was the name Taller had given the blond human called Thorn.

She stared at him. "I... I don't think we'll see him again."

Taller kept the woman under his wing. "Our people say that the best cure for a lost lover is a new one," he confided.

She smiled at his frankness and nodded toward the few humans living on the World. "Oh? Who did you have in mind?"

Startled, he pulled his wings in, fluffing his feathers out, then shaking them into place. Truly, there were no prospective suitors in that group.

"Matchmaking is best done by females," he reminded her. "We'll discuss this with Weaver."

"Private conference?" First-One-There asked, approaching.

Her human name was Margaritka Tretiak, but names like that

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were meaningless to the White Wind people. The gray-haired woman was Taller's age, with sparkling blue eyes, a wiry build, and an attitude that dared you to call her "spry." First-One had had something done to her ears so her hearing could be turned "on" or "off" by small gold balls on her lobes. Taller eyed them covetously. Anything that shiny had to be delicious.

"Rob say when his kids are coming?" First-One asked.

"They left today," the younger woman replied, "so we have two months to get a project lined up."

"Will the new
Crane
crew be sent soon?"

His partner nodded. "In a few weeks. And they're definitely going to enlarge the station."

Suddenly, Good Eyes' paternal grandfather stepped out from around Taller.

"Better put a limit on it," he advised the avian. The wizened old man stood as tall and straight as Good Eyes, in a sleek-fitting jumpsuit. Those un-Worldly clothes contrasted oddly with his short, silver braids tied with woven-grass thongs and studded with brightly colored shells. The old human had a weathered face that spoke of years of outside living. "If you don't, this place will get just like Grand Luna Station."

His long name was Grandpa Laughing Bear Bigbee, but Taller simply called him Old Bear, once he had learned that a bear was an animal like their ferocious Tree Ripper. Old Bear had received Taller's permission for an indefinite stay on the World. The avian had been happy to grant his request, and that of Good Eyes' maternal grandmother, Nadine Lewis, whom the people called "Teacher." Good Eyes needed her natural family with her.

Taller wanted the World to be her home. He wanted her to stay--forever, if possible.

Old Bear now worked as First-One's assistant, and the two enjoyed each other's company. On Earth, the old man had had great powers. He'd been a contrary--what the Lakota Sioux called a
hey oka
--a person who'd been touched by the Thunder Beings and ever after had to do things the opposite from what others expected. Knowing this, Taller was not surprised when Old Bear appointed himself ombudsman for the World, freely advising Taller on the ways of humans. The avian respected the elder Sioux, weighing carefully whatever the old man told him.

"Is Grand Luna Station a terrible place?" Taller asked.

"Just crowded," Good Eyes interrupted.

She, too, had been touched as her grandfather had, and it had been her actions as a contrary that had enabled her to bring about peace between the White Wind people and the Hunters. For Taller,

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that was proof enough of magical power. The Hunters had preyed on his people for all the years they had existed. Good Eyes had to be a visionary being to change that.

Good Eyes had warned Taller that her grandfather didn't want to share the World with other humans. She said his knowledge of human history made him too pessimistic about their motives.

"Remember, Taller," Good Eyes signed, "the new people will stay on the station. They'll
never
come here without your approval, just as we agreed."

That agreement was all part of the many CLS "rules" Good Eyes kept telling him about, rules that were supposed to ensure the World's independence and safety. But Taller was not as concerned about the new humans as Old Bear wanted him to be. He trusted his partner to have his best interests at heart. And he wanted her to stay, not just because she helped him in his interactions with beings he couldn't always understand--but because he loved her. For her to be happy, she would someday have to mate. She couldn't do that if there were no new humans on the World.

The avian watched Good Eyes coolly with just one eye, remembering their previous discussion. "I think we need at least a
few
more humans here," he decided.

Suddenly First-One glanced at her wrist where a small red light flashed on her translation device. "It's Bruce."

Taller recognized the human name-sign for the man they called "The Fisher." The Fisher was known for his endless questions about fish, where they lived, what their lives were like. He was good at predicting the weather, too, but not as good as Taller's neighbor, Cloud.

First-One stared at the small wrist screen, signed a few responses, then turned back to the others. "Well, Bruce has a project for our StarBridge pair!

The satellites have reported something splashing into the sea near the southern coast. He's guessing it's a meteor. It survived entry, so he'd like to collect it after they arrive. He says that it's a real vacation spot, Tesa--tropical beaches, warm blue water, the works."

"Should be interesting," she agreed.

As the humans talked, Thunder, Lightning, the two-year-old Flies-Too-Fast, and the rest of their cohort approached, all signing rapidly. Taller marveled at the youngsters' ease in the raptor's company; it was as if she'd hatched next door to them. Still, the old leader kept one cautious eye on the avian.

Her eyes had recently turned red, which only added to her fierce appearance,

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even though her feathers remained a dull bronze. It would be years before her head and tail molted out to a brilliant gold.

Lightning had changed, too, in these last few months. There were still some cinnamon-colored feathers on the top ridge of his wings, on his head, and halfway down his neck, but the rest of him gleamed white. His crown peeked through pinkly as the short brown head feathers molted out. His facial markings were still undefined, muddy streaks, but his bill had darkened, and he had his black fingers and primaries. Standing beside the pure white, strongly marked Flies-Too-Fast, the difference in their ages was apparent, but in another six months, Lightning would be identical to his friend and his father--except that Lightning was just a bit taller, as a new leader would have to be.

Flies-Too-Fast was the oldest of the group, and Lightning somewhere in the middle, so the other six ranged in color from the pure white Hurricane to the cinnamon-and white Frost Moon. They were so young none of them had even found their voices. Their calls were irritating to humans, but not dangerous.

Taller realized he'd missed part of the discussion about the meteor. "I saw that star fall weeks ago," he told the humans. They watched him curiously. "I thought one of your satellites had failed. Where is it?"

"South," First-One signed. "A week's flight for you. Have you ever been there?"

"Where there's no winter?" Taller asked, concerned. "No, but our cousins the Gray Winds live there."

First-One cleared a spot in the russet and blue vegetation and drew an image of a fat, broad peninsula.

"Yes," he admitted. "That's the way it's been described."

She added a circle for forest, and lines of savannah and marsh. Then she cut in a wide, twisted river that slashed through the land from east to west, but did not cut through to the west coast. "Do you know anything about this river?"

Taller blinked, his feathers standing straight out, then settling down with agonizing slowness. His crown flared red, spreading in alarm. Good Eyes'

expression changed subtly with his signals. "Why do you want to know about that River?"

'The Fisher wants to go there, to look for that fallen star, the meteor," First-One explained.

Why anyone would want to find a submerged star Taller could not begin to guess. And to search
this
River!

"What is it, Taller?" Good Eyes asked. "What's wrong?"

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"That is the River of Fear. It flows through the Land of Confusion."

The humans glanced at one another.

"How did these places earn those names?" Good Eyes asked.

All Taller knew were stories passed on from people he trusted. "The River is prime territory, riven with deep channels and shallow sandbars. A safe place to feed, to nest, yet no one goes there. None of the Gray Winds will even
land
there. Hunters don't breed there, though the trees are tall and strong, and could hold a big nest. Around the River, there are many large, dangerous animals, yet even the largest, the Quakers, won't drink or wallow there."

The sign for the huge, mammothlike creatures mimicked the quaking of the ground, the vibrations made when the elephantine herd beasts thundered over the land.

"Why not?" Good Eyes asked.

"That River holds the Spirits that never reach the Suns, keeping them in misery and loneliness. In vengeance, the Spirits reach for the living. Their singing sends terrible dreams. They can make you forget how to fly, forget to eat. They pull the Hunters out of the sky. No one lives there. Only the dead travel that River."

Taller watched the humans, knowing his speech couldn't mean to them what it meant to his own people. The humans were a people who had to see everything for themselves.

"You still want to go there?" He already knew their answer.

As usual, even the elders left the talking to Good Eyes. "If you forbid us, we'll respect your wishes," she assured him.

"It's not for me to restrict your flight," he answered.

"It'll be a short trip," she signed, trying to reassure him. "I'll go with the Fisher, and the students coming from my old school. The River Spirits will see we're not-of-the-World. When they discover we can't hear their song, they'll leave us alone."

That might be true for the other humans; they were not of the World. But Good Eyes was different. The River Spirits would recognize her as a real Person. He couldn't risk that. "If you go," he finally signed, "the White Wind people will go with you."

"Thank you," Good Eyes replied, her expression easing. She turned to the cohort, who'd been watching the exchange with mixed reactions. "If you all came with us, Lightning could introduce us to the Gray Winds that live nearby. And we could make some diplomatic contacts among Thunder's people on the way." She stared at the young avians. "Unless you'd rather not."

Taller watched the youngsters crowd together to lend one another courage.

They stretched their necks tall and flared their crowns. Not

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go? Where on the World would Good Eyes go that they wouldn't follow? His story would frighten them, but their devotion to her, and the respect they would earn for even attempting the trip, would be worth any danger.

"Would this be like a flyaway for the newcomers?" Lightning asked, referring to the Wind people's coming-of-age journey.

"A little bit," Good Eyes signed. "You know, we might find a way to appease the River Spirits, find some way to keep them from confusing us. And our machines might help."

Taller considered that. The thought of his youngest son, his partner, and his flock's finest juveniles braving those capricious, jealous Spirits didn't please him. But there had been a time when he would've never believed the Hunters would leave his people in peace. If anyone could pacify these singing River Spirits, it would be a contrary like Good Eyes. That thought should have reassured him but he found little comfort in it.

"In
Grus,
please," the brown-skinned man signed.

"I
said,"
the Simiu repeated manually, "I'd rather study than waste time at a .. ." she groped for the sign, "celebration."

She still won't make eye contact,
Jib thought tiredly. "It's traditional to have a Captain's Night when the ship leaves port. We have a month to study before hibernation."