Silent Songs (40 page)

Behind him, he saw other members of his family draw near. Good Eyes moved slowly, weary from her dangerous mission. His son, Lightning, stayed close by her, ready to lend his support. The other member of their odd trio, Thunder, had already returned to their enemies' camp, despite the danger.

The Hunter was Good Eyes' sharp-eyed observer, and nothing that had happened tonight could have occurred, but for her. Flies-Too-Fast, who had been as steadfast as a son these last weeks, walked on Good Eyes' other side. Their young companions milled around them in a knot of white feathers and long black legs, signing excitedly to one another, peering at something Taller couldn't see.

As soon as his human partner approached, Taller hurried to drape a wing around her, hugging her in unbridled joy. He buried her under his feathers, calling joyously, while Weaver's voice joined his.

The human's grimy, painted arms hugged him in return, her tiny fingers burrowing under his soft undercoat. She pressed her flat face against the base of his throat in her own alien sign of

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affection, a sign he'd come to crave once he'd learned to love her. Taller thanked the Suns again for the blessing they'd bestowed upon him by making her his partner.

Finally, she extricated herself. "I want you to meet. .."

Just then the cohort parted, revealing a strange human male hidden in their midst. To the Grus leader, it was as if he'd appeared from nowhere. The newcomer was as tall as Good Eyes, and dark, with fierce black eyes. The human stepped forward, closer to Good Eyes. Too close.

Taller's hormones were in full bloom. His head spun in the strange male's direction, his eyes widening, his crown flaring red in challenge. But the human was intently regarding Weaver, and he ignored the warning. Obeying instincts as old as his people, Taller's feathers flared in anger, his wings and neck stretched forward threateningly. Impulsively, he attacked.

Weaver bleated an alarm call, but Taller ignored her. Dimly, he was aware that Good Eyes' face twisted in alarm and she lurched forward as if to stop him, but he was too quick.

The enraged avian lunged to strike a killing blow, but the human male finally saw him and reacted. Instantly he dropped to one knee and bowed his head, flaring his elbows wide. It was the most submissive posture a White Wind could assume, placing his life in the will of his senior. The gesture stopped Taller cold. Of all the aliens he had met, only Good Eyes had ever copied the people's postures. Furious and confused, Taller struck the ground, tearing out a divot of sod and flinging it in the air. The human male never flinched, never moved.

With a flash of white, Weaver was suddenly between him and the stranger.

To Taller's amazement, she shoved her mate rudely with her body, poking his back hard with her graceful bill.

"What
are
you
doing!"
she demanded angrily.

"Protecting my family from this challenger," Taller insisted, making himself tall. The human was still locked in the submissive stance. He did not seem like a challenger now.

"This
is no stranger! This is my
friend,"
Weaver informed him irritably, giving the sign a special, intimate twist.

Taller's crown blazed red.
Her friend!

"This is the human who asked for the feathers, who helped Good Eyes attach them. Without him, I would not be flying. And before that, he... cared for me when we were separated. He... even caught food for me when I had no will to eat, no will to live."

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Taller was incredulous. "He caught food for you?" This
male
. . . ? He stared again at the stranger, his crown flaring with jealousy.

"Taller," Weaver signed, "I wouldn't be here if not for
him.
Besides," she moved so that only Taller could see her signs, "he is
different
from other humans; I could see this even in my despair. He understands the World, the people. He has a
real
name. And see how he watches Good Eyes."

Good Eyes?
Taller felt baffled by the turn in conversation.

"When you and Good Eyes flew over the enemies' colony, First-Light saw her in the sky, flying boldly with her cohort. His eyes ... lit from within. And then my heart
knew.
Remember? Just a few months ago
you
told
me
to find Good Eyes a human mate!"

Taller stared at his partner with new understanding. He glanced sideways at Good Eyes, then back at the male. "He's not as tall as she is," he signed grudgingly.

"He's tall enough," Weaver replied, closing the subject.

This is why matchmaking is better done by females,
Taller decided grumpily, having no idea how to save face in this awkward situation. He forced his crown to shrink.

Weaver moved away from him, and touched the Terran on the arm, urging him to stand. Boldly, she draped her wing over him, conspicuously using the wing with the grafted Hunter feathers.

"Taller, my partner," she announced formally, "this is FirstLight-of-Day, my special. . . friend."

Good Eyes appeared completely nonplussed when Weaver deliberately treated this stranger as if he were a family member.

Weaver signed coyly to the human male, "I warned you he wouldn't be happy about those fish."

Taller fixed the newcomer with a cool stare, but First-Light gazed back confidently, easily bearing "the look." The Grus leader would never easily accept anyone's interest in Good Eyes but. . . for her happiness . . . he'd have to endure it. But Weaver had better be sure about this. Taller would allow no one, especially no mere human, to cause Good Eyes unhappiness.

"Welcome to the World, First-Light," the leader signed stiffly. "Perhaps someday I may be able to show my gratitude for... the help you've given
both
my life's mates."

"You owe me nothing," the human replied. "I did what any friend would do.

When our enemy has been driven from the World, perhaps you'll give me permission to study with your people."

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Taller stared with one eye. "What can the White Wind people teach a race of beings who fly without wings, and build shelters where there is no heat, no air?" His mate's eyes bored into him, her crown flaring in annoyance, but he ignored her. First-Light's steady gaze never faltered. "I want to study all the things that grow on the World--which plants are used in healing, which are for weaving, which for food...."

"First-Light," Taller signed, wondering if the human was mocking him, "the study of all the things that grow on the World would take more than your lifetime and mine combined."

The human's expression never changed. "Then, with your permission, I hope to start soon."

Taller lifted his head. This human was asking to live on the World forever!

The avian paused, then finally signed, "Let us both hope you can start your work soon." First-Light's eyes softened, and Taller knew he'd just granted this Terran's most heartfelt wish.

The avian glanced back at his human partner. There was so much he had to tell her, so many things had happened since she'd left, but if he shared his news with her now, she wouldn't sleep, and she needed rest more than anything. His news would wait.

"My friend," he signed to her, "it's been a long night. We all need sleep.

There'll be stories to tell after our rest."

First-Light was regarding Good Eyes, too. The change in the male's face was more subtle than in most humans', but the Grus leader could sense his concern. Could Weaver really know humans so well?

"You're right," Good Eyes admitted. "I'm beat. I guess we all are." She gazed at the male Weaver had chosen for her as if she only now saw the exhaustion etched clearly around his eyes. "Let's collect the others. I'll show you where we can wash up, then we'll all have to sleep in my lean-to. It'll be tight, but... who cares? We'll build more shelters later."

Tiredly, Good Eyes bid good morning to her partners and led First-Light and her cohort away. Taller watched them until the great mass of his people swallowed them up and they were lost to sight. Weaver also watched them leave together, then twined her neck around his, preening the feathers at the back of his head that he could never reach.

"He's the one," she signed smugly. "You'll see."

Six hours later, Tesa cared a great deal more about the close quarters of her lean-to. She woke drowsily, sweating in the humid

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afternoon air, feeling trapped. Blinking, she glanced around. She was lying on her right side, facing the back of a stranger.

Oh, yes, Carlotta.
She could see Noriko just beyond her. It was so odd that the first thing greeting her sight wasn't one of her cohort's feathers, that she felt disoriented and stared at Carlotta's back, trying to remember all that had happened in the last twenty-eight and a half hours.

Then she realized someone was holding her. Who had crawled in behind her? Oh, yes, First-Light. Martin Brockman was on his other side, with Chris and Moshe fitting in on the end. First-Light must've slung an arm around her in his sleep and was now pressed tightly against her back, his breath pulsing steadily against her ear. Did he think she was Carlotta? She swallowed, embarrassed and unsure of what to do. She had to have been completely wrung out not to have been startled awake when it had first happened. From the dull ache in her side she guessed they'd been like this for hours.

Tesa breathed steadily, not wanting to wake him, but not wanting to stay like this, either. He'd be embarrassed, too, especially if he was having a relationship with the other woman. She fidgeted, hoping he'd roll over in his sleep, but he only tightened his embrace and sighed. She rolled her eyes.

If it weren't so warm, she might've taken comfort from the friendly contact. It'd been a long time since she'd slept spoonlike with a warm human body.

Normally, Lightning and Flies-Too- Fast crowded into the lean-to with her.

To have a human's body pressed along her own was unsettling .. . yet rather pleasant. As the seconds ticked by, she grew more and more aware of their odd intimacy--the warmth of his hand, the strength in his arm, his mouth so close to her ear. A blush crept up her neck.

He must've wakened then, because he tensed. Carefully, he slid his arm away, and she was surprised to feel disappointed. Well, there wasn't any point in pretending it hadn't happened. She rolled over to face him, and he smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry," he signed. "That was the first pleasant dream I've had. .. since the
Brolga's
capture."

She smiled back. "It's okay." She inclined her head in Carlotta's direction.

"Did I move into the wrong place?"

First-Light seemed confused, then shook his head. "Carlotta and I only met on the
Brolga.
I... uh ..." He schooled his face, then continued, "I have no partner." He presented it casually, but that simple statement changed things, somehow.

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Rays of sunlight splashed across them, making him appear more attractive than she'd first thought. The shadows highlighted the scar on his cheek. The sudden lack of dialogue felt awkward, so Tesa signed the first thing that came to mind. "What other languages do you use besides ASL and Grus?"

"English. Spanish. I can read Navaho, but don't speak it."

"I thought you might be Navaho, but I wasn't sure."

He nodded. "My father was, my mother Costa Rican. That's where I grew up, in Costa Rica, in the city. I fell in love with the rain forest there, with the endless variety of plants I didn't

see the Navaho nation until I was in my teens. But the first time I saw a Blessing Way ceremony, I knew I wanted to study the way native people used plants." He was watching her as he signed, then his expression changed subtly. He seemed surprised, and drew away slightly.

"What is it?" Tesa asked, wondering if she'd gotten all the war paint off. "Do I look
that
bad in the morning?"

His eyes softened, but the odd expression was still there. "No, you look fine.

I... just never realized how young you are."

What difference does that make?
she thought, irritated. To the White Wind people, once you dropped your juvenile feathers, age was irrelevant. He moved, and sunlight glinted off the gold ball in his ear. She stiffened, felt her own expression close down. "How old was I supposed to be?"

He shook his head, plainly regretting his words. "I didn't mean that. Look, I've been reading about you, reading the papers you've written. ... I knew you came here from StarBridge, but I didn't think ,. ." He stopped, pulled his thoughts together. "I didn't mean to offend you. I was just surprised. If I wasn't half asleep I'd have never spoken so bluntly."

"We like people who speak bluntly," she signed, trying to hold back her growing annoyance. "It only makes
humans
uncomfortable."

Before he could respond, Tesa crawled out of the lean-to. She had too much to do to be lying around, engaging in idle chitchat. She needed to eliminate, change clothes, and get these people fed. Then she had to find Jib, and make plans to rescue the Singers. There was a war on, damn it!

She had to force herself not to look back at the ethnobotanist as she greeted her cohort. Javier, however, felt no such compunction, and she could feel his black eyes boring into her as she lost herself among wings, long necks, and shimmering whiteness. Why did he bother her so much? Was she so

alienated from her own kind that

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they couldn't even have a simple conversation without reading more into it than there was?

Tesa tried to move away from the cohort, but found herself still surrounded.

There were multitudes of Grus here, both white and gray. The people were massing in such numbers, Tesa wondered distractedly how long the food here would hold out. She turned to go in another direction, but the cohort blocked her again, and she lost her patience, nudging Lightning to make him move.

Suddenly the group obliged en masse, and a space opened up in their center. There, in the grassy circle they'd vacated, stood Old Bear, smiling, holding out his arms to her. Tesa stared as if focusing on a hologram. It was him, and yet not him. He seemed leaner, if that was possible, and older, but his skin still had that bright ruddiness, and his eyes the old sparkle. The flood of conflicting emotions inside her spilled over into her eyes.