Silent Songs (39 page)

She could hear him singing, calling for help, but there was no response from the barracks. Weaver lifted over the reeds, gazing down in the darkness, glimpsing her friends hiding there, seeing her partner poised with her weapon. She called to them, urging them safe passage, braying her thanks, even as the guard bore down on her. Weaver heard a twang, saw Tesa release her arrow.

The missile overshot its target and flew harmlessly through the sky. Weaver pumped harder, knowing she'd have to outrun the mechanical flyer now.

Then there was a scream behind her, and she turned her head to see the guard clutch his shoulder. Had he been hit? If he had, it couldn't have been more than a scratch. Slowly, the alien stiffened and fell into the black water below. Now, how had Good Eyes done that?

The empty sled soon overtook, then passed her, sailing into the distant horizon, perhaps, Weaver thought, enjoying its own freedom. She pumped her wings, aiming for the forest, surprised to find how eager she was to join with her sisters, the Hunters.

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Rain and river water streamed into Javier's eyes as he tried to count heads.

Martin's blond one was between him and Noriko; Moshe and Chris were standing slightly behind her. The Lakota woman was crouched on one knee in the pelting rain. It took a minute before he realized what she was doing.

As he stared at her stance and the tip of her skyward-pointing arrow, Weaver sailed over, a gleaming beacon in the hellish sky, moving as casually as if her people always flew through a deluge in the dead of night. The avian's call tore through the air, nearly felling him where he stood. Everyone but the Interrelator touched the nullifiers in their ears. To know Weaver was sending that call to thank them, to give them strength, lifted Javier's spirit as nothing else could have.

Suddenly an airborne Anuran guard drew up close behind her and Javier had to will himself to silence. There was no way Weaver, in poor condition and with borrowed feathers, could outfly that machine. He turned to the Interrelator, saw her arrow pulled back, held taut, her arms and leg muscles contracting even as the bow did. She wasn't serious? In the dark? In the
rain!

She released the missile and it shot through the night sky as the guard passed directly overhead. It was hard to see, but he could make out the light wooden arrow skimming near the sled . .. then over it until it disappeared in the rain.

Damn!
he swore silently.

The Interrelator had notched another arrow immediately, but the guard was now clearly out of range. Then, just as the Anuran was nearly level with Weaver's tail, he lurched, grabbed his shoulder, then plunged into the river.

The Interrelator clenched her fist triumphantly, and he realized the arrow had to have been poison-tipped. It must have scratched the guard. Weaver, pacing the now-empty sled, flew on unmolested toward the inky forest.

The Interrelator quickly unfolded her long legs and slipped back into the water, slinging the bow and quiver across her chest. She

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waved to draw them close, signing so rapidly in the dark that even he couldn't follow. She was his height, Javier realized dazedly, maybe a little taller.

He felt something shoved into his hands, and took hold. Some kind of rope, so they wouldn't get lost as they moved farther into the cover of the tall grasses. Javier blinked, suddenly lightheaded. Low blood sugar, on top of too much adrenaline after a day of purging. If only he could sit for a second . . . Suddenly the reeds, the river, his fellow humans, all seemed to recede as if he were being pulled backward down a long hallway.

He blinked as Martin shook him.
Did I pass out?

Then Martin was replaced by a pair of lovely light eyes in a dark face as the Interrelator peered worriedly at him. She held his face, and he could smell the sharp odor of the paint on her hands. She pressed something against his lips, pressuring his jaw to make it open. A fibrous wad fell against his tongue and when he bit down a sharp, citruslike flavor flooded his mouth. He smelled oranges and chewed. The tangy flavor revived him.

"You okay?" the Interrelator signed.

She was still touching his face and he focused on that, impulsively reaching up to cover her hand with his. Still chewing, he savored different flavors, unable to categorize them.

She grew aware of their contact and, looking uncomfortable, slowly drew away. He found himself strangely regretful.

"We've got to get out of here," she told him, glancing over her shoulder at the soldiers' barracks. Aliens clustered around the building, gesturing excitedly.

He wasn't sure what had happened, but it was obvious sleep time was over for them.

"Too bad we have to go," Carlotta signed, nodding toward the milling soldiers, "looks like the party's just starting."

Tugging the rope, the Interrelator led them deeper into the dark reeds. She must have created some disturbance. Javier thought about four barracks of soldiers disrupted, and smiled.

Repeatedly, through their watery march upriver, they were forced to submerge and wait for troops to pass. It seemed hours before they could leave the tall grass and slip into the even darker forest. By then, his legs were shaking with fatigue.

Once the black forest surrounded them, Javier felt the night enclose him like a fist. He wondered if he was in a time warp, if this was a night that would last two or three times as long as it should. He felt the sky should be streaked with light, when he knew that it was hours yet before dawn.

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Now that they were on land, the Interrelator picked up the pace. Just when Javier thought he couldn't jog blindly on for even one more minute, they finally halted. There in the darkness sat four alien flyers, parked as casually as if they were in a public park. Their rescuer hurriedly turned them on, and one by one, the a-gravs hovered. He stared at the woman's dark form, wondering how she'd managed to get them.

She gestured at Martin to get on and he complied; Chris peered at the controls curiously as he climbed on in front of the engineer. Carlotta tugged Javier up behind her and he was happy to let her take the controls. The Interrelator shared her sled with Noriko and Moshe, as they moved forward, single file through the woods, only a meter above the forest floor.

Clever,
he thought. They'd make better time if they flew above the trees, but they'd be spotted in an instant. No doubt the only thing masking their electronic readouts was all the soldiers searching for them, soaring around on the same machines.

As Carlotta ably handled their machine, Javier wondered what awaited them at the end of the trail.

It was dawn by the time Tesa and her band of exhausted Terrans returned to the savannah where the flocks of Grus waited. The rain had ended hours ago, but she was saturated anyway, and the day promised to be hot and steamy. And now she had to figure out what to do with her new charges.

Maybe she was just tired, but all she wanted was to return to the embrace of her Grus family and leave these humans to one another. Jib could handle them, she decided.

Preoccupied, Tesa stepped off the sled, but her foot dropped into a hidden animal burrow, and she stumbled. A steadying hand caught her arm, saving her from a twisted ankle.

"Thanks," she signed, turning to face her helper.

First-Light nodded curtly with barely masked concern. His shadowed, dark eyes fastened on her paint-streaked face, making her feel self-conscious.

She must look like an oversize feral child with her blackened face and arms, clothed in nothing but a worn camisole, bow and quiver slung crookedly across her chest.

I'm not used to humans anymore,
she decided. Unless it was his eyes that made her uneasy. She was used to the golden eyes of the Grus, Thunder's red ones, Meg's bright blues, or Bruce's gray ones. But this man's were hooded and as black as the ice on a bottomless lake, giving nothing away, no key to his soul.

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She pulled her arm gently from his grip. It was the second time he'd touched her, and the second time it'd unnerved her. He turned away, obviously realizing he'd made her uncomfortable.

Before she could worry further, their whole party was surrounded by White Winds as the cohort dropped from the sky. Lightning, Flies-Too-Fast, and the rest pushed past the other humans and surrounded Tesa, enveloping her with their wings. Young Frost Moon nearly knocked First-Light off his feet.

"You're so
rude"
she admonished them gently, losing herself in the warmth of their feathers. "Did Weaver arrive?"

"She flew in with an escort of Hunters just a short while ago," Lightning assured her. "She and Taller have been dancing ever since." He pointed at the pair with his bill. They were bowing, leaping, and twining their necks like two-year-olds.

"They act like new lovers," she signed, and that odd notion made the youngsters' crowns shrink up tight.

First-Light also watched the pair, and Tesa remembered the way he'd cared for Weaver. "She's safe again," she signed, "thanks to your feather grafting."

His mouth turned up slightly.

That was when Tesa noticed the gold ball in his ear.

"Are . . . were . . . you deaf?" she signed. In her surprise, she used American Sign Language instead of Grus.

He paused, then nodded, answering her in the same language. "Yes, but they could only give me hearing in this one ear."

She stiffened, recalling all the arguments she'd had with Rob and her parents, because she'd decided against having that same surgery

performed. Those arguments were what had brought her to Trinity. Tesa no sooner wanted hearing than she'd want to be another species. Being Deaf was part of her identity.

The Interrelator had no idea what to say to this man. He was suddenly more than a stranger; he was a person who had once been Deaf, but now no longer was. Did that change explain his expressionless face? Deaf people used their faces in their language--was First-Light's dourness an attempt to put that part of his life behind him? Did he think of himself as Hearing? And why shouldn't he? She stared at the small gold ball, thinking of all the soul-searching and conflict with loved ones that it represented to her.

Her dismay must have been plain on her face because First- Light signed, "It bothers you that I had my deafness corrected." He wore the same casual expression; his face revealed nothing.

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"No! Of course not," she lied. "You had every right. .. ." She could see in his eyes that he knew she was lying.

"The first time I met another Deaf person, I was twenty-four," he explained.

As he signed in ASL, she realized that signing had not been his first language. "I lip-read.
He
signed. We needed voders to communicate. It inspired me to learn ASL .. . but most of my life has been spent on the periphery of the hearing world." He shrugged, as if it weren't that important.

"A year ago," he continued, "my doctor suggested this reconstruction surgery. On Earth, I worked with people of primal cultures, many of whom weren't comfortable with the high-tech equipment I needed for interpreting. I thought this would be more convenient than the hardware I had to carry around with me. Well... it didn't take in my left ear, but it works well enough in my right. All of that was before I saw Weaver's cloak . .. and knew I'd be coming to Trinity. Try not to hold it against me. Our lives ... were very different, Ms. Wakandagi."

She should say something reassuring to him, let him know he didn't need to justify his actions to her. But all Tesa managed to sign was, "You know so much about my life?"

He gave her a wry smile.
"Everyone
knows about
your
life."

She was embarrassed again.

He changed the subject, and returned to signing Grus. "May I greet Weaver?

I'd like to check those grafted feathers."

Tesa nodded, relieved to be on another topic--any other topic. "I'll introduce you to Taller, first. I'm sure he'll want to thank you personally for all your help."

Then she remembered the other Terrans. Turning to the sleds, she found Carlotta deep in discussion with Scorched, None-So- Pretty, and Snowberry.

Whatever they were talking about had the humans captivated, as Carlotta scribbled translations in a patch of sandy soil she'd cleared--except for the young pilot, Chris, whose fatigue had caught up to him. He was curled up on a parked sled, sound asleep. Tesa caught Snowberry's eye and asked him to keep the group near the sleds. He waved agreement and rejoined the conversation.

How long can we maintain such crude communication?
Tesa wondered as Carlotta wrote on the ground.
And what kind of relationship does Carlotta
have with First-Light? Could she be his wife? And why the hell should I
care?

Pushing away her jumbled thoughts, Tesa beckoned to First- Light and together they approached her partners. Lightning, FliesTooFast, Hurricane, and Winter Bloom strode along as well,

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brazenly examining the Terran male, then staring wide-eyed at Tesa. He accepted their perusal good-naturedly, imitating them, gazing back in turn, and exchanging a few signed pleasantries.

As they walked, Tesa found herself stealing quick glances at him, just as her friends were doing. He was interesting, she thought. Not handsome in the limited way humans defined the term, but tall and wiry, with a strong, straight stance that to the White Wind people was much more important. His serious demeanor was . . . different. In some ways, he reminded her more of a Hunter than a White Wind. She was curious, too, about how he'd received the vivid diagonal scar that marred his right cheek.

Taller shot straight into the air, then fanned his wings to drop slowly to the ground. As soon as his toes touched the World, Weaver bounded around him. They danced closer, touching keels, their necks intertwining, then they were in the air again, bobbing, weaving, dancing their old courtship rite anew.

The Grus leader felt like a youngster. The despondency that had crushed him had evaporated when his people announced Weaver's return. Waves of sound had rippled from a thousand throats, as she flew to him under an escort of Hunters. Weaver was free! Free, and his again. Taller wanted to dance for days, as he had when he'd first courted her, so many years ago.