Silent Songs (43 page)

Javier shook his head. He'd only done his part.

"Okay, okay! We'll see what she has to say, and decide then. Good enough?"

Javier nodded grudgingly, but as Martin walked away toward the others, the scientist had mixed feelings.

"Suppressing rebellion?" Meg signed, appearing beside him. Old Bear was with her, his young eyes seeming incongruous in his worn, old face.

Javier shrugged tiredly.

She linked an arm through his, while talking with the other. "Ever regret answering my invitation?"

He remembered how Weaver looked, flying to freedom on his feather grafting. He remembered, too, a dark figure in the water, pulling him to safety. "Whatever's happened ... whatever
happens
... I'm glad to be a part of it. I'm glad to be here."

"I wanted to say something to you about that meeting with Tesa. . . . She's been on Trinity so long she's . . . out of sync with humans. She must've seemed a little rough around the edges. .. ."

"Don't apologize for her," Javier insisted. "She doesn't have to cater to human needs. The Grus are her people now, Meg. She belongs here. She belongs to them. She's very lucky. Believe me, I only wish I could .. . offer her something she couldn't get from . .. her people. . .."

"What the hell does that mean?" Meg asked bluntly.

He turned away. "If I were ten years younger . . ."

She patted his scarred cheek. "Javier, dear, why don't you concern yourself with something
important,
like, will there be a free Trinity a year from now?"

"Ever try one of these?" Old Bear asked suddenly, handing the botanist a thin, orange leaf. "They're good."

Javier was so relieved to change the subject that he took the leaf and chewed it, barely giving it a glance. Citrus and mint flooded his mouth, the taste surprisingly familiar. The Interrelator had made him eat these when he'd gone light-headed. He'd never taste that flavor again without thinking of her. Why did that make his chest tighten up?

"The Wind people call it 'blood-of-the-World,' " Old Bear signed. "They say the Sun Family sent it, and eating it honors them. When

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I first came here, I ate it out of respect. But after a while I realized that eating something makes it part of you, so eating this plant could make me part of the World."

"Don't you miss Earth, Old Bear?" Javier asked. The Lakota, like traditional Navahos, had strong ties to their homelands.

"Yes. I miss my home, the Black Hills, my family." He thumped his chest.

"But I brought them with me in my heart."

Javier had nothing of Earth except the memories of other people's lives.

"Know what a
heyoka
is, son?" Old Bear asked.

"Yes, a contrary. You're a
heyoka?"

The elder grinned, his lined face youthful for a moment. "That's probably what keeps me here, when most men my age would rather be retired, taking it easy. My granddaughter's one, too."

He stared at the elder, surprised. He knew the Interrelator followed the old religion, but. . .

"Worst thing about it is," Old Bear confided, "you always end up approaching everything the wrong way. You say what you don't mean. Walk away from the very thing you should walk toward. Sleep in the arms of someone you never thought of making love to. We can't help it, that's just the way we are."

Javier watched the old man's signs, trying to figure out what he was really saying.

"You'd think Tesa would be out there with a young, handsome buck wrapped up in that blanket with her. But no, she's running this thing around and around her head, carrying it alone. . .."

It was a huge burden, Javier thought, to be the only Interrelator on an invaded planet. .. .

Old Bear moved away then, and tugged on Meg's elbow.

Before leaving, she stood on tiptoe to kiss Javier's jaw. "Want to know what to offer Tesa? How about your strength?"

The old Lakota looped his arm through Meg's, and together they

disappeared into the feathered crowd.

For years Javier had believed there was no point in letting others get too close when there'd always be barriers, physically and emotionally. He'd never been Deaf, and he would never be Hearing. He'd spent his life searching for something he couldn't find, couldn't even name, a sense of belonging, of being
part
of something. It was too improbable that he might stumble onto it on this distant planet, long after he'd given up searching.

Glancing about, he suddenly realized he wasn't alone. A group of White Winds had gathered casually around him. They seemed to vary in ages, one obviously just a yearling, the others of

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indeterminate years. Except for one. The tallest avian flanking his right had a dusting of cinnamon around his head. "You're Lightning," Javier signed confidently.

"Yes, First-Light," the youngster responded.

"And you are ... ?" he asked an older one on his left.

"Flies-Too-Fast," the avian signed, lifting his head.

"I am None-So-Pretty," a small female near Lightning told him. "And this is Frost Moon"--she indicated the yearling with her bill--"Snowberry, Hurricane, Winter Bloom, and Scorched."

Interesting,
thought Javier, as he struggled to memorize their subtle physical differences. This was the Interrelator's cohort, the avians she flew with, her most loyal companions. "It is
nice
to meet
you,"
None-So-Pretty told him.

Frost Moon jostled the little female and stared at her oddly. "How do we know
that!"

"We don't have to know it," Scorched signed, ruffling the gray tertial feathers that gave her her name. "Good Eyes told us to say it to new humans. It's a human
policy."

"You mean
courtesy,"
Lightning corrected smoothly, and they all peered at him, their crowns spreading, acknowledging his superior knowledge.

The group walked together for a while until Javier asked, "Where are we going?" They were clearly steering him.

"Weaver wants you," Lightning signed.

"It's nice to be wanted," Javier agreed, making the youngster's crown shrink.

"Good Eyes said you fixed Weaver's severed feathers," FliesTooFast commented. His signs implied that he'd discounted the story as propaganda.

"She said you made Weaver fly again."

"I helped," Javier told him.

"That's good, to be able to fix broken feathers!" the big male, Hurricane, told Lightning, as though this talent had just elevated him into the ranks of sentient beings.

Lightning seemed to reserve judgment, asking instead, "Is your mate dead?"

Every member of the cohort stared down at him.

"Excuse me?" Javier responded, nonplussed.

"You're a mature human. You should be mated. Is she dead? Or did you abandon her on Earth?"

"Wait a minute," Javier begged. "I've
never
had ... a mate. I've had
friends.. ..

You know about human friends?"

"Of course!" Lightning signed haughtily, as the cohort's attention returned to him. "I grew up with humans. I understand their relationships thoroughly.

Before I was hatched, First-One-There

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had a friend, Puff. Now, Old Bear's her friend. And Good Eyes has had
lots
of friends. Jib, for example."

"He still
is
her friend," Flies-Too-Fast reminded him.

"Yes, but at StarBridge, he was such a
special
friend, he and Good Eyes shared a
shelter]
Of course," he addressed this to Javier, "humans share shelters casually. Good Eyes has often shared shelters--with Jib, Relaxed, the Fisher.. .."

"Really?" Javier asked, intrigued.

"Don't forget First-One-There, the Healer, Teacher, and Old Bear, too!"

Snowberry chimed in.

"And what about all those strangers sharing her shelter last night!" Winter Bloom added.

Oh,
Javier thought, finally remembering how many different relationships the Grus sign "friend" covered.

The entire group suddenly seemed quite disapproving as Lightning stared at Javier. "Usually, only the
cohort
shares that shelter with Good Eyes. .. ."

Threw you guys out of bed, did we?
He mulled over the Interrelator's many

"friends," and wondered if any of them were
really
special. Then he wondered why he should care.

"We're
Good Eyes' most special friends of all," Flies-Too-Fast insisted. "She
flies
with us!"

"It would be hard to beat that," Javier admitted.

"Haven't you ever flown with anyone?" Lightning asked.

"No, afraid not."

The cohort exchanged private signs, probably pitying him, he thought. Never having mated, never having flown with a loved one. He should have been amused as they defined his sudden innocence, but instead he felt surprisingly despondent.

"But Good Eyes says you're
old!"
None-So-Pretty announced with an impatient ruffle of feathers. "You must have had a mate
once.
Don't you know how to court?"

"I thought the people only mated when they found the one partner in all the World that was right for them?" he asked. The cohort agreed that that was true. "Well, humans can be like that, too. That's why I haven't mated."

The avians discussed this among themselves.

"Did the Interrelator ask you to find this out from me?" Javier finally asked them, trying not to seem hopeful.

Lightning fluffed out, shedding a tiny cinnamon feather that drifted lazily toward the ground. "Oh, no! She says humans think we're 'prying' when we ask personal questions. We . . . have a difference of opinion on this."

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"Taller wanted to know," Flies-Too-Fast volunteered.

Lightning seemed alarmed. "I don't think you were supposed to tell him
that."

The older avian seemed confused. "What difference does it make? He doesn't have a mate. That's all that concerned Taller."

Suddenly the youngsters stopped and Javier found himself facing Weaver.

Her beauty filled his heart.
Good work, kids.

Taller preened nearby, as if he had no interest in this human, but the leader's casual actions covered a keen eye that stayed trained on the human.

"First-Light, what a surprise!" Weaver signed, as if she weren't responsible for his arrival here.

Helplessly entranced by her, he dug in his pocket for a gift. Wrapped in a broad, sturdy leaf were two delicate flowers he'd found. Wonderfully fragrant, the tiny, trumpetlike jewels were a rich purple brightly accented with a splash of yellow.

"Oh," she signed, genuinely surprised, "they're lovely!"

Suddenly the entire cohort
and
Taller were staring at them.

"These are too beautiful to eat!" Weaver insisted.

"Not too beautiful for you," he signed brazenly.

As Weaver touched the blossoms, her mate stabbed the ground, flinging sod in the air. Javier pretended not to see that.

"You'll get us in trouble with your courting, First-Light," Weaver scolded halfheartedly.

"I'll be more careful," he promised with equal insincerity.

"You need to turn that romantic charm on someone worthy of your attentions," she told him. "Some
unmated
female."

"You think I give my heart away so easily?" he asked.

Ignoring that, she folded the protective leaf around the flowers. "I know someone who might name this plant for you."

He thought she meant one of the Gray Wind healers as she wrapped her wing around him, then turned them around. When she dropped her wing, he saw that they weren't in the center of the huge flock, as he'd thought, but on its rim. A vast, autumn-colored savannah stretched before him, empty.

No, not empty.

Herds of large animals grazed in the distance. Between the flock and the herd stood something colored like Trinity, but different... brighter. With a start, he recognized the familiar star quilt. The Interrelator was out there on that grassy plain, wrapped in her blanket, struggling to make her difficult decisions. Her aloneness tugged at him.

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"Good Eyes could name your flower, First-Light."

"Weaver," he signed flatly, "this won't work."

The avian didn't respond, simply stared at him.

"She doesn't want me."

"She doesn't know what she wants," Weaver assured him.

"We're too different. . . ."

"Are human males and females
supposed
to be the same?"

He grew exasperated. "Our ages . . ."

Her head shot up; she was annoyed. "I'd heard humans were peculiar, but really, First-Light, you insult my partner!"

"Weaver, please, try to understand. . . ."

"I understand
this.
Taller and I have lived with Good Eyes, raised a child with her, perhaps our last child. She could not be closer to us if she hatched from our own egg. Her spirit suffers from loneliness and the burden of her station, a condition we can't relieve."

"I know. But..."

"And all those days you and I spent together, enslaved, the nights we passed in conversation. . . . Did you think I learned nothing about you in all that time? Do you think that my people are simple because our wings can't leave our World?"

He'd offended her, and that hurt him. "I wouldn't have come here to learn from you if I thought that. . . ."

"Do you find Good Eyes unattractive?"

"No! She's very attractive!"

"And
brave]
Don't you think she's brave?"

He sighed. He had lain in the dark the night she'd leafleted the camp, asking Weaver question after question about the Interrelator. When the woman herself had actually appeared later, he'd wondered what primal magic the avian had called on to bring her to them. "I would be a liar if I said her courage didn't win my heart the first day I saw her."

"I knew that!" the Grus signed triumphantly. "I just wanted to see you say it.

Then, why won't you .. . ?"

Suddenly Taller loomed into view. "Friend of mine, are you
begging
this
stranger
to approach our partner?"

"I'll handle this!" she snapped. The Grus leader stepped back, stunned.