The Color of Distance (11 page)

Juna unfolded the computer. It came alive with a polite chime as she activated it. Relief flared on her skin. At last she could record her observations. The computer would be a powerful tool to help her unravel the aliens’ language. Spiral’s ears lifted and it flushed pink in surprise. Juna smiled, then frowned as she realized a working radio would be more useful than a working computer. The Survey had tried for years to incorporate a radio into the nanocomps, but they needed too much power, especially on a planet like this, where radio reception was problematical at best. Even if the radio had worked, she probably couldn’t have reached the base. At least she had her computer.

Juna brightened the screen and peered at the familiar menu of configuration options, a status report on the computer’s condition, and the time and date.

“Perkele!”
Juna muttered in Finnish as she saw the date on the computer screen. It was much later than she had thought. She checked the activity file, fighting back a wave of fear. The clock had not been reset since she had first arrived on board ship. In desperation she scrabbled through Oliver’s pack, and checked the date on his computer.

The clocks were running within a second of each other. The survey flyer had crashed in the jungle sixty-four days ago. Base camp would be dismantled in a week’s time. In another three days, the mother ship would leave orbit. If she didn’t hurry, she would be marooned here forever.

Anito paused to catch her breath. They had been traveling for five days now. Ninto had been right. She should have waited a few more days before leaving. Her body was still changing, drawing on her scant energy reserves. Even the creature’s cautious pace exhausted her. Her body ached all over. She wanted to hide somewhere and sleep for a week.

During the allu-a Ilto did with the new creature on its first night in the village, he had dampened its panic response, and improved its reflexes. It no longer froze in terror when it looked down, but it was still learning to trust its new reflexes. Driven by the sudden urgency that blossomed when the creature found that noisy dead-but-alive box, it learned quickly. Every day it traveled faster, moved with more confidence. Unfortunately, the new creature was learning faster than Anito was healing.

Anito’s tired body protested as she leaped to the next tree, where the creature was waiting for her. Slanting bars of golden light pierced the canopy. It was getting late. Anito could smell the rich sour scent of a nearby tree full of ripe geramben. She was intensely hungry. If they stopped here for the night they would eat well with relatively little effort. Tomorrow morning they could gather supplies for the next few days of the trip. It would give her a chance to rest and recover her strength.

Anito put a hand on the creature’s shoulder, communicating by gesture and skin speech that they would stop here. She led it to the geramben tree, showed it how to recognize which fruit were ripe, and left the new creature to gather fruit while she hunted. Hanging her bag of gear on one of the branches, she took with her a gathering bag and her blowgun and darts.

The hunting was good. Here in the wild spaces between village territories there were no restrictions on what she could kill. She soon bagged two fat ooloo and was stalking a garban when she smelled the other Tendu. He was male, and had passed this way very recently. She shot at the garban and missed, then began tracking the Tendu, following his scent through several trees. She heard a rustling behind her and then something brushed her shoulder. Startled, Anito leaped up to another branch before looking back. It was the Tendu she had been tracking. He was taller than any Tendu she had ever seen. Judging from his height and the length of his muzzle, he must be extremely old. Ripples of laughter coursed across his body.

“I am Ukatonen,” he told her. “What takes you from Narmolom so soon after werrun? You should be home resting.”

Anito drew back her head in surprise. He had the fourfold name sign of an enkar. The enkar passed from village to village, settling disputes. They were hundreds of years old, and reputed to have strange powers. They moved through the forest more silently than the wind. He had approached her without her knowing; that hadn’t happened since she was a tinka. He even knew what village she was from. She was impressed and a little frightened.

Anito had seen only a few enkar. One had come after their last chief elder died. She had chosen Ilto to fill the chief elder’s place. Once in a while, one would show up at the village, stay a few days, and then move on. They were treated with great respect and given the best that the village had to offer. To do otherwise would mean great loss of face for the entire village.

“What’s your name?” Ukatonen asked.

“You don’t already know?”

The enkar rippled laughter. “If I did, then I might know why you are out here in the wilderness so soon after werrun. Your sponsor should be ashamed.”

“Ninto tried to make me stay!” Anito protested.

“Then why didn’t you listen?”

“I had a promise to keep. It involved my atwa.”

“It couldn’t have waited a few more days?”

“No,” Anito told him. “But I was going to spend tomorrow morning resting and gathering supplies for the rest of the trip.”

“Stay with me tonight,” Ukatonen offered. “My nest is already built, and it would be easier to enlarge it than for you to build a new one. I can help you gather supplies tomorrow. Where are you going?”

“To the coast, near Lyanan.”

“In that case, we can travel together. I’m heading there also.”

Atmo
paused. It was tempting. The new creature was terrified that its [[
rwmpkt]]
would leave it behind. If they did, then Anito would be stuck with [[::]] as her atwa. The enkar could get them to Lyanan faster. Anito would [[cam]] a lot traveling with an enkar. Besides, she couldn’t refuse the enkar’s [[J6nr]] without causing her entire village to lose face.

“Thank you, en,” said Anito, using the most formal form of address, [[3am rm]] not traveling alone. My companion is—unusual. It might give [[inHHmse-]] Perhaps you should meet it before you decide whether to give us mir gift of your company.”

Ulcatonen’s ears went up. “This sounds interesting. Please lead me to jew companion.”

It was growing dark when they reached the geramben tree. The new (Oiracure was watching two hananar birds flutter in their courting dance, [[ihe]] female’s golden throat feathers gleaming in the fading light. Disturbed [[fcc]] their approach, the two birds flew away, piping alarm calls as they [[
wbol
]]The new creature turned toward them, giving Ukatonen a good look at its flat, small-mouthed face and tiny ears.

Ukatonen’s head went back and he flushed an excited pink. “What kind of creature is it?” he asked Anito.

“I don’t know. We found it dying in the woods. Saving its life cost the lives of two of our elders. One of them was my sitik.”

“Why are you taking it to the coast?”

“Its people are near Lyanan. I’m taking it back to them.”

The new creature approached, purple with curiosity, occasional flickers of ochre concern blotching its skin. Anito flushed a reassuring ieep blue and the creature relaxed.

“It speaks!” Ukatonen said in excited tones of dark magenta on bright pink.

“Not really,” Anito told him, “but it can communicate, and it understands some of what we say.” Anito felt the weight of her exhaustion. She longed for a big meal and a chance to rest. “I mean no offense, en, but I im very tired, and the creature doesn’t travel well after dark. Could we go to your nest? I can tell you more about the new animal when we get there.”

“What?” Ukatonen said. He had been watching the creature with an excitement so intense that he glowed. “Oh, of course. I apologize. Here, let me help carry some of your things.” Blue-green amusement rippled down Anito’s back. She liked this enkar. His fascination with something new reminded her of Ilto.

Ukatonen had built himself a neat and cozy nest at the top of a tall quinjara tree. He hung a chunk of glowing fungus on a branch to provide some light and began enlarging the nest to accommodate his guests. When Anito moved to help, he told her to rest. Relieved despite herself, Anito settled her aching body against the branch.

The new creature nudged her gently, and offered Anito a geramben. Anito refused. It would be rude to eat before the enkar did. The creature offered her the fruit again. She could see that it was concerned for her. She must look as tired as she felt.

“Go ahead, Anito,” Ukatonen said. “You need to eat. Save your formal manners for banquets.”

“But—”

“I’ll eat when I’m done.”

Anito accepted the fruit, peeled it, and bit into it. It was delicious. She flushed a brilliant turquoise, and closed her eyes, savoring its sweetness. This was a truly exceptional strain. She should save the seeds. She opened her eyes and saw that the new creature was also eating. Anito glanced anxiously at Ukatonen, but he was busy weaving branches into the end of the nest. Anito let the creature go ahead and eat; she was too tired to stop it.

Ukatonen finished the nest and beckoned them into it. Anito settled against the leafy pile with a contented ripple of weariness. She wanted to sleep till next month. Ukatonen sat down beside her, spurs upward, asking for allu-a.

With an effort Anito shook herself awake. Her arms felt as heavy as boulders. She could barely summon the energy to clasp arms and link with the enkar. Ukatonen’s presence rushed over her like the current of a river. Anito was caught up and swept along by his strength. Even Ilto, whose presence had been as warm as the sun and as constant as the rain, could not compare with Ukatonen’s strength. Ilto had taught her to read other living creatures, but she had never been able to read herself this clearly. Every cell of her body stood out in sharp focus. Anito wondered whether this new clarity was due to the changes brought on by werrun, or Ukatonen’s skill.

She relaxed and allowed Ukatonen to clear the fatigue from her blood. After five days alone in the wilderness, contact with another Tendu felt wonderful. She hadn’t realized how lonely she had been until she felt Ukatonen’s presence within her. Even so, it was strange to be in allu-a with a Tendu who was not from her village. She had linked with strange bami only a few times, when her village was on migration. It had felt all wrong, like finding a tumbi fruit on a yaminay vine. That wrongness had frightened her. With Ukatonen, she was too overwhelmed to be afraid. She had no choice but to yield to his power.

At last Ukatonen broke the link. Anito, dazed and bemused by the impelling force of his presence, sat motionless for a few moments, gathering her scattered thoughts.

“Anito, are you all right?” Ukatonen asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. His words were tinged with concern.

Anito touched the enkar’s hand to reassure him, flushing a faint brown in mild embarrassment. “You have a very strong presence, en.”

To Anito’s surprise, Ukatonen browned in embarrassment. “I spend too much time alone.”

Uncertain what to say, Anito rippled a deep blue wave of reassurance at the enkar.

Ukatonen handed her a geramben fruit. “You must eat. The strength I gave you won’t last. You need food and rest to rebuild your strength.” The enkar began butchering the game they had killed. He handed rich juicy pieces of meat to her and the new creature to eat while he prepared the meal. Anito ate until her stomach hurt. Still, she felt restless and hungry.

“Here,” he said, rummaging in his bag, and coming out with a large sheet of yarram. “Chew on this, it’ll ease your craving.”

Anito shook her head, startled that he would offer her such a delicacy. “No. I’ll be fine. Really.” Despite her denial, Anito’s nostrils flared at the scent of the dried seaweed, and her mouth watered.

“Go ahead. You need it, and we’re headed to the coast. It’s not so precious there. Your sponsor should be feeding you plenty of yarram and bibbi. You need a lot of it just after werrun.”

Brown with embarrassment, Anito took the yarram. Ninto had placed a packet of yarram in her pack the night before she left. Anito had quietly slipped it underneath a pile of hunting gear, ashamed at being given so much of this delicacy. She tore off a piece of the tough, leathery seaweed and began to chew. Her restless hunger faded, and she felt better than she had in days.

“Tell me about Narmolom. Is Ilto still the chief elder?” the enkar asked.

Anito’s skin darkened to a stony grey. “He was my sitik. He died saving that one’s life,” she said, gesturing at the new creature. Her old resentment flared for a moment; she was surprised at its intensity.

Ukatonen touched her arm with his knuckles. “I’m sorry to hear that. He was wise. He would have made a good enkar.”

Negation flared on Anito’s skin. “He loved Narmolom too much to leave it.”

“Do you know who will succeed him?”

“No,” Anito said. “No one knows, en. Everyone thought it would be Kirito, but she died before he did.” With a flicker of shame, Anito realized that she had been so shaken by Ilto’s death that she hadn’t thought about what it meant to the village as a whole.

“When I am through at Lyanan, I will go to Narmolom,” he told her.

“Thank you, en,” Anito said. She spoke in the complex, formal patterns of high speech. Even though she was barely out of werrun, she was an elder representing her village before an enkar. “We will be grateful for your presence. May it bring us into harmony.”

Ukatonen straightened, and suddenly, despite the feathers clinging to him from the birds he hard plucked and cleaned, he was every inch a powerful, mysterious enkar. “May harmony be achieved,” he replied in high speech so formal that it took Anito a moment to understand it.

Now that she was an elder, Anito was going to have to pay attention to such things as formal speech. A cloud of regret rippled over her skin as she thought of the formalities and manners she would have to learn. None of it interested her in the slightest. Ilto had tried to teach her the manners that she would need to know as an elder, but the knowledge ran off her like wet mud in a rainstorm.