The Space Between (15 page)

The air was cool, the sounds of the night a
gentle chorus.

Near midnight, Tuki stopped for the first
time, resting on the crest of a tall dune, the desert stretched out
around him in all directions. He wriggled his large toes in the
sand, stooped and let the fine grains sift through his fingers. He
lifted a handful and threw it into the air, watching as the
silicates caught the moonlight and flared like a thousand new stars
for a moment, before raining down around him. Tuki closed his eyes
then, breathed in the crisp presence of the desert, letting it fill
his being.

As he stood, silent on the dune, Tuki felt
something change, as if the drift of the world had slowed. He
looked at the night and the desert. The desert remained as still as
ever, but the sky was ablaze with the light of a new moon. Except
it wasn't a moon. It moved like a meteor, flashing across the
darkness for three heartbeats, four. It seemed to look into him as
the desert had earlier. But it was not like the attention of the
desert. It was not like a friend or mother.

Then suddenly, unspeakably, the meteor
changed direction, zagging back across the sky like an errant
firefly.

Tuki stared. He shivered, suddenly cold and
fearful, and wished he had some clothing to cover his nakedness.
But he had nothing, no way he could hide from the penetrating gaze
above him.

As suddenly as it had come, the comet was
gone, hiding behind the glare of a real moon, revealing the stars
once more, all exactly where they should be — a few days short of
their Midsummer Night's position. For a long time Tuki stood
staring at the sky, waiting for something to happen. But nothing
did happen, and he started to run again. The beauty of everything
around him was forgotten, the joy washed away by a residue of
fear.

* * *

Millennia earlier, a dozen moai communities
had dotted a five hundred kilometer length of Dry River. The
furthest east had been just twenty kilometers from human lands. The
furthest west had been located at the point where the snaking gully
of Dry River met the feet of the Fargo Hills and curved to the
south. Now, only one village remained.

Danyon Ford, halfway between those two
outposts, had always been the largest village and was the natural
congregation point for survivors when populations started to
dwindle. A hundred moai had once resided within Danyon Ford, but
that number had swollen to more than five hundred several centuries
earlier. Now the population stayed at a worrying, almost constant
level. Danyon Ford was home to one hundred and twenty seven moai:
all that remained on Kiva as far as anyone knew.

Tuki could not see the village from his
vantage point atop the dune, but three wisps of smoke from the
first of the breakfast fires were drifting up out of the trees four
kilometers from where he stood. With a deep breath he started to
jog down the long slope, angling slightly westwards, toward the
place he left his clothes five days earlier. He did not realize how
tense the sighting of the comet had made him, but it was unusual to
be so far off course after such a short run. And with home in sight
he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his
shoulders.

As soon as he reached his robe and sandals
Tuki snatched them up and scrambled down the bank of Dry River and
into the welcoming shade of the trees. He did not stop to thank
Poti, as was proper, nor did he wait until he was dressed. Instead,
he struggled into his sandals as he hurried along the winding, hard
packed path, then arranged his short toga over his right shoulder
and tied the rope belt about his waist. He was still adjusting the
folds of material when he came upon the first of the other
villagers. A go'shin, wearing his toga wrapped about his waist to
show his married status, was clearing clumps of weeds from a narrow
irrigation channel that took water from a well to the vegetable
gardens. Tuki wanted to relate his tale to a mo'shi as soon as
possible, but he was forced to stop when the other man rose to his
feet.

"Tuki," the go'shin said as he wiped his mud
caked hands on his toga. His name was Ulani, and he was a few
months younger than Tuki. "You were not expected back until
tomorrow."

"I know, go'shin." Tuki examined the ground
as he spoke and continued to toy with his clothing. "I completed my
pilgrimage, but have run non-stop to return."

"Where did you go, Tuki? Did you find
anything?"

"Yes, go'shin, I found a village fifty
kilometers beyond the Konane Line, and there was something there."
Tuki shifted from foot to foot. He looked up briefly and saw that
the go'shin already had the first Shin tattoos on the right side of
his upper body.

"Really? An uncharted village? Are you
sure?" Ulani's wife, Ko'uka, had drawn four symbols on the dark
skin of his right pectoral.

"Yes, go'shin, I am sure. I may only be a
go'gan, but I know the location of all the human villages."

"Of course, Tuki." Ulani held up a placating
hand. "I was not questioning your knowledge. I was merely
surprised. No new villages have been found for centuries."

"I apologize, go'shin."

"No need to apologize. You have a right to
defend your honor."

"Thank you, go'shin." He glanced up to look
along the path towards the village.

The married man laughed slightly. "You look
as if you want to be somewhere else, go'gan."

"Yes. As I said, I did discover something,
and I wish to speak with a mo'shi as soon as possible."

"Oh? You really did discover something?
Other than the village?"

"Yes, go'shin."

"Well, come with me. Ko'uka may only have
married me a week ago, but she is a mo'shi. She is in the weaving
hut at the moment."

"Thank you, go'shin."

"We used to be friends, Tuki," Ulani said,
"you can call me by my name if you wish."

"Thank you, go'shin, but it would not be
proper."

Ulani shrugged and, wiping his hands some
more, led the way towards the village — his back was still bare,
but would not remain so for long. Tuki hurried along behind,
ducking under low hanging branches without thought, trying to calm
himself before meeting a mo'shi.

He examined his own tattoos, as if that
might help. All it really did was remind him that he had seen
nineteen summers and still had no markings on his right hand side.
He did not yet have a wife to mark his skin.

On his left pectoral was a triangle, sides
curving inwards. On his shoulder and dipping down his arm, were
leaves from the Tree of Life. The leaves seemed to be chained in
place just below his shoulder by the six Links of Creation. And on
his forearm were hundreds of tiny ants, crawling across his dark
skin.

He still had a small spot on the back of his
hand to fill before he would stop. After that, it would be up to
the Goddess to decide if any other parts of his body were to be
marked as well.

He would be able to do his own face, if he
undertook important duties for Poti, though it was unusual for that
to happen to any man. The rest of his body? Tuki sighed and thought
of Keala for a moment before shaking his head and turning his
thoughts out to the real world.

The center of Danyon Ford was only fifty
meters from the northern bank of Dry River. The half dozen
buildings to the south of the plaza were the dormitories for the
go'gan. The structures, built from carved logs and thick thatch,
were supposed to house more than one hundred people. Now, most of
them were silent apart from the thatching whispering to the breeze.
With day still coloring the sky, the unmarried men were all working
and the narrow alleys between the buildings were still and lifeless
as well.

The unmarried women, the mo'by, were working
in the plaza, talking quietly as they did. Some were grinding meal
between smooth glass stones; others were preparing fruits to be
preserved. Keala was there, her thick braid a stripe of black
across her tattooed shoulder and pale wrap. Tuki watched her,
noting the play of light across her cheek, before catching himself
and returning his attention to Ulani's broad back. He heard a
snatch of laughter from Keala's friends and his face warmed with
embarrassment.

On the far side of the plaza were the houses
of the mo'shi. Tuki and the other unmarried males were not
permitted beyond the shin-high stone wall that marked the boundary,
so he was forced to wait in the shade of a haver tree beside the
ceremonial gateway while Ulani continued forward to find his wife.
He did not have to wait long. He counted only 52 green haver nuts
before she arrived.

Ko'uka was a small, slim woman, not even two
meters tall. Her hair was piled in a grand bun on the top of her
head, marking her as married. A sunrise was tattooed on her chest,
a tree skink on her left shoulder, and the Skeleton constellation
on her right. Around them all swirled the whorls of the Life Mist.
She would have marriage tattoos as well, though none but Ulani
would ever see them. Her face already carried the calm certainty of
her position. Tuki watched as she stepped up to the fence and
nodded slightly.

"Thank you, Mother, for coming to see me."
Tuki risked a glance up from the ground. Though she had not held
the title of mo'shi for very long, the change in Ko'uka was
noticeable. The playful glint Tuki had known well had disappeared
from her eyes.

"Why would I not, Tuki?" she asked.

"I don't know, Mother. I am sure you are
busy."

"What is it that you want? Did you complete
your pilgrimage?"

"Yes, mo'shi. But while I was in the desert,
something happened that I wish to speak of." Tuki had a quick look
about for Ulani, but the other man had already returned to his
work.

"Yes?"

Tuki was very uncomfortable. He could not
remember a time when he had been alone in the presence of women.
There were not even any girls about. "I saw a meteor, Mother," he
said softly, eyes once more focused on the ground at the mo'shi's
bare feet. He bit his bottom lip as he tried to control his
twitching hands.

"A meteor?"

Tuki glanced up and the glint had returned
to Ko'uka's eyes, though it was more like the glint of steel than
the warmer flash of sunlight off glass that he remembered.

"You saw a meteor, Tuki?" The woman laughed.
"Don't be ridiculous. The mo'min has said nothing of a meteor."

Perhaps it hadn't been a
meteor, but he had seen
something
.

"A meteor! Would you like me to tell the
mo'min what you have said?"

Tuki continued to examine his feet.

"And what else would you like me to tell
her? Perhaps I could let her know that the Poti will rise in the
west tomorrow?"

"No, mo'shi."

Ko'uka cocked her head to one side. "You
want to say more?"

"The meteor, it changed direction."

"The mo'min has said nothing of a meteor,
Tuki. And the rest..."

When Tuki looked up, Ko'uka had gone. He
turned about himself, and quickly made his way towards the
dormitory that was his home. 15, 20, 24 Mo'by in the plaza. That
was all of them. Every one. They were watching him as he hurried
away.

Tuki climbed the stairs onto the dormitory's
front porch and sat down against a wall, head in his shaking hands.
He would be lucky if he ever married now. Why would Keala want
anything to do with him? Why would any of them? And he had not even
told the mo'shi about his vision.

10: Old Rules

Tuki was ready for the extra duties. It was
not punishment, the mo'min would never prescribe such a thing, but
more like a way to tune himself back into the well being of the
village. He had set off along Dry River that morning, glad to have
the opportunity.

Since then, with time to give the matter
some thought, he had decided he was wrong to mention the meteor. If
it existed, the mo'min would have seen it in her nightly
correspondence with Poti. Such a thing did not just appear
unexpectedly. And if she had seen, then the mo'min must have had a
reason for not speaking about it. Tuki was either mistaken in what
he saw or was poking his nose into women's business, a place where
it most definitely did not belong.

As he trudged east, Tuki tried to put the
whole incident from his mind. That, and the vision shown to him by
the green ewer. He still wished to speak with someone about it but
doubted he would get close to even a small girl without her
breaking into fits of laughter.

Tuki continued to walk steadily for the rest
of the morning. He could have run the distance quite easily, but he
enjoyed the time alone to think. Unfortunately, time and again, he
found his mind returning to the meteor. Its very presence scared
him.

But he had already sorted
that out in his mind. He
had
.

But if he had imagined the meteor, why had
he imagined that it changed direction? Was it a sign of some kind?
Was it the Mother Blower telling him to change his ways? Or change
his life? And if the meteor were real, and the mo'min had chosen
not to mention it, that seemed to be much worse. A meteor that
could change direction? A divine message that was too frightening,
ambiguous, or secret to be passed on to all the moai in Danyon
Ford?

Reaching the next village, abandoned long
ago, Tuki waited a long time near the edge of the trees. Humans
ventured down Dry River as seldom as moai entered the realms of
man, which was almost never, but still, that was too often for his
liking.

Finding no evidence of anything other than
animals of a base nature, Tuki made his way between the buildings,
stealing with a twinge of guilt between the dormitories of the
mo'by. He could not even understand young girls, so he most
certainly did not want to pry into the secrets of the unmarried
women lest something deeper be revealed. Entering the plaza, he
crossed to the low wall on the northern side. There was nothing
stopping him from stepping through the gate, but he stopped
nonetheless and glanced about as if a mo'shi might step forth to
remonstrate with him.