The Color of Distance (29 page)

“How is it among the Tendu?” Juna asked.

“We are receptive once a year, although there are times when we mate out of season,” Ukatonen told her. “Nothing gets done at that time, except for mating. If you are receptive all the time, how do your people ever accomplish anything?”

Juna smiled, remembering Padraig and his endless flirtations; the way she had felt during the good times of her marriage; how she had felt kissing Ali. Her skin grew warm, and she knew that she was turning gold again. “Sometimes it is hard, but we manage. I think it’s different for my people, perhaps not so intense and more controllable. Most animals on our planet are like your people, very receptive for a short period, then not at all. My people are different.”

“Is it hard for you to be receptive all the time, when your people are so far away?” Anito asked.

Juna turned a deep grey. “Sometimes.” She looked away, fighting back the sudden tears that welled up in her eyes.

Anito touched her shoulder. “Can we do anything?”

Juna shook her head.

“Are you sure?” Ukatonen asked. “We could make you not receptive.”

Juna shook her head, her skin flaring orange. “No, I can manage.”

“Very well,” Ukatonen said, “but it is improper to be receptive out of season. You must learn to control yourself.”

Juna nodded. “I understand.”

“Good,” Ukatonen said. “Now we must awaken your bami.”

“Will it—will it be like this last link?” Juna asked hesitantly. “I didn’t like being made receptive.”

Ukatonen shook his head. “No, that would be inappropriate. Now that we know you are receptive, we can help you block that out of the link. We have learned enough to guide you through what you must do to awaken your bami. This link will be easier and more pleasant, but it will help if you aren’t frightened.”

Juna gave them a wry smile. “It’s an easy thing to ask for, but not an easy thing to do.”

“I know,” Ukatonen agreed, “but you must remember that whatever you feel in the link, your bami will feel also. Give him fear, and he will be afraid; give him happiness, and a heartfelt welcome, and he will share that with you.”

“When will we start?” Juna asked.

“We must start soon,” Anito said. “Already they are preparing a banquet to welcome your new bami.”

After a quick meal of fruit, honey, and dried meat, they seated themselves beside the bami’s leaf bed. The bami lay there, still and unmoving as a corpse. Only the slightest expansion and contraction of his nostrils told Juna that he was still alive.

She had interfered deeply in the Tendu’s culture in order to save this creature’s life. She might face severe penalties, even the loss of her career. Had she made the right choice? It was too late now to reconsider. She could only live with the consequences of her decision.

She stood up and held her arms out, spurs upward. “I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s wake my bami.”

They formed a circle around the sleeping bami, clasping arms just below the elbow, ready to link.

“The first link with your bami made your bodies familiar with each other,” Ukatonen said. “This link is when you get to know each other emotionally. Try to feel things that will create a strong bond. If you show fear, it will weaken that bond. Avoid feelings of sexual arousal. They will only confuse your bami, and make it hard for us to guide you. Do you understand?”

Juna nodded. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, seeking calmness. She must not let her fear interfere with the awakening of her alien child.

“I’m ready,” she said at last.

She felt herself slip into the link. The bami slept beside her. Ukato-nen’s powerful presence supported and reassured her. She could feel Anito looking on, watching over them. Ukatonen guided her presence into the bami. There was a faint sense of tension and then release, like sliding through the surface of a soap bubble, and she found herself inside the sleeping bami. He felt closed and remote, curled in on himself like a tight knot. Juna hovered in that dark, silent world of touch, taste, and smell, wondering what to do next.

“Welcome him,” Ukatonen had told her, but how?

Juna felt Ukatonen’s presence nudge her. He wanted her to act. She reached out to the sleeping bami, enfolding his inwardly focused presence, sending him feelings of warmth, memories of lying in the sun, feeling the bright sunlight on her skin, seeing its light glow redly through closed eyelids; warmth, security, pleasure. The compact knot of the bami’s consciousness loosened. A wave of approval washed over her from Ukato-nen. She was doing the right thing. Encouraged, Juna allowed herself to remember more: lying warm and snug in bed, feeling safe, enclosed; her mother’s voice singing her to sleep; the candle by the bedside that lit her mother’s dark brown face with a warm glow, the only safety in the terrifying world of the refugee camps.

The loosening knot that was the bami tightened as she remembered the camps.

No,
she reminded herself.
No fear. Think safety, think welcoming thoughts…

She returned again to the warmth of the sun; her father finding her and her brother in the refugee camp. How solid his arms around her had been. He had taken them home again, where there was always enough to eat, and someone strong to protect them from harm. Juna felt the bami’s presence relax. She remembered the grape harvest on their farm; how the patient horses stood in the milky, filtered sunlight, tails twitching from habit, not from flies. There were no flies on the satellite. She remembered cutting the heavy clusters of grapes, feeling them fall into her basket, smelling their rich, sweet fragrance as she emptied her basket into the cart. Harvesting grapes had always been immensely satisfying. Her work in the vineyard helped provide for her family. It made her feel strong and capable. She remembered leading the horses into the barn, smelling their good warm horse smell, and the smell of the hay. She trusted the horses. They were big and strong and placid. They trusted her in return.

The remembered barn smell triggered memories of her first lover, Paul, a neighbor’s son, with pale skin, green eyes, and black raven’s-wing hair. They had first lain together in the barn…

No sex,
she reminded herself sternly, as she sensed the sharp taste of Ukatonen’s concern.

It was hard, though—so many of her happiest memories were with lovers. She thought back to her wedding, joining the group marriage, how good it had felt to be part of this big, strong family. She remembered the love she had felt then, as though her heart were about to burst. She felt that love fill her now. How good, how safe it had been to be welcomed by so many people. She took that love and enfolded the bami in it.

“Welcome, little one,”
she thought to the bami. “
Welcome and love.”

She remembered the birth of her brother, Toivo. Her mother had held him out to her. He had been so little. She reached out to touch his tiny, perfect hand, and his fingers closed around her finger. There had been so much strength in that small hand. His eyes opened, he looked blurrily at her, and she felt a sudden wave of love for the amazing creature that was her new brother.

She remembered the tinka’s courage. He had been so small and helpless and so determined to follow them. She remembered the grip of her brother’s hand again, so tiny, and so strong.

“Welcome, little one,”
she thought again to the bami. She felt the bami uncoil and reach out toward her. She tasted his curiosity, his joy, his amazement. Underneath that she felt the strength and determination that had carried him so far.

“How brave you are,”
she thought to the bami, sharing the surge of admiration and pride that accompanied her thoughts. “
You’re so strong.”

In the background, she was aware of Ukatonen and Anito’s approval. She moved closer to the bami. Their presences merged like the clasping of hands. She felt the bami’s amazement at his own awareness. Juna had never felt anything like this contact; even the clasp of her brother’s hand, her mother’s love, her father’s strength, the welcoming joy of her marriage, all seemed pale and distant in the midst of this overwhelming rapport.

The bami reached out to her. He felt her love, then reached beyond that, and felt her isolation. She felt his surprise, and then she felt him directing inquisitiveness at her. He was asking her for something.

In reply, Juna allowed her presence to merge even more strongly with her bami’s, trusting him in this moment of bonding.

Feeling his gentle, trusting presence intertwined with hers, she realized that she was no longer alone. She still wanted to be among humans, she longed for a hot bath and a cooked meal, but the sadness and grief she felt because of her isolation was gone. She finally was a part of something on this world.

Anito slid out of the link. She sat for a minute, recovering from the intensity of the allu-a. Then she opened her eyes. Eerin grasped her bami’s arm, not linked, but touching. The bami opened his eyes, and looked at Eerin, turning a brilliant, happy blue. Eerin reached out with her free hand and touched her bami gently on the shoulder.

“Welcome,” Eerin said in skin speech.

Her bami’s color intensified. His eyes narrowed with concentration; then, slowly, three fuzzy black bars appeared on his chest. He was trying to say “yes.” He tried again.

“Yes. Glad,” he said, the patterns appearing more distinct this time. “Eerin,” he said. “My sitik.”

“Yes,” Eerin told him. “I am your sitik, you are my bami.”

“Good,” he said closing his eyes again.

Eerin looked at Ukatonen and Anito, faintly alarmed. “Is he all right?”

“Yes,” Ukatonen assured her. “Just tired. All bami are like that at first. He needs food. So do we. That was a very intense link. You did well.”

Anito stood. “I’ll go ask Ninto to bring us some food.”

She was glad to have some time to herself to get a little perspective on what had just happened. She had never been part of an awakening, except for her own, but she was sure that this awakening was unusual. She had never been in a link that intense before, even with her own sitik. The new creature had such strange, strong emotions. Their intensity and power frightened Anito.

She paused to rest. Looking around the trunk, she noticed the other villagers watching her, flickering amongst themselves in shades of curiosity and excitement. She continued climbing, not wanting them to know how deeply the awakening had drained her.

Her blood thrummed in her ears by the time she reached Ninto’s room. She made it through the door, and then leaned against the wall, exhausted. Ninto was butchering a huge kuyan carcass with the help of her bami and a couple of tinka. She was covered with blood. Ninto’s ears lifted in alarm as she looked at Anito. She handed her a large gourd of honey and fruit juice.

“Drink,” Ninto told her. “You need it.”

Anito accepted the gourd with a grateful flicker of thanks. She drank greedily, juice dribbling out of the edges of the gourd.

“It was difficult?” Ninto asked. “There was trouble with the bami?”

Anito began to shake her head, then stopped herself. “No, not difficult, just very strange and intense. The bami is fine. He’s already speaking.”

“That’s good,” Ninto said, coloring with relief. “I have food ready. Rest a bit and eat. Then I’ll help you carry it up.”

Anito flickered assent and gratitude.

“Besides,” Ninto added, “I can hardly wait to see the new bami.”

Anito rippled amusement. “Neither can the rest of the village. I hope they didn’t notice how tired I was.”

“You looked fine until you came in. Here.” Ninto tossed her a ripe green and yellow banya fruit and a leaf-wrapped package of kayu. “Eat. Rest.”

Anito squatted against the wall, and bit into the banya, tasting first the tart, almost-bitter peel and then the intensely sweet inner pulp. It was wonderful. She finished the banya, spitting the seeds into her hand to scatter later along their voyage. There were never enough banya vines. She felt the sweetness of the juice and the fruit rushing into her blood, giving her energy. She peeled open the packet of kayu. The starchy seeds had been plumped with taira blood and flavored with crumbles of seaweed and chopped meat. Anito turned turquoise with pleasure at its delicious taste. She finished it quickly, licking up a few stray grains from the leaf wrapper, wishing there was more.

Ninto rippled with amusement. “There’s more kayu in the food basket, greedy one. You can have some when we take it up to feed the others.”

Anito picked up a basket of food and slung it over her shoulder. “In that case, let’s go. They must be very hungry.”

As Anito, Ninto, and several tinka descended to Anito’s room, the villagers began hauling out baskets of food and leaves in preparation for the feast of welcoming and leavetaking. By the time they were ready, the banquet would be too.

One of the villagers’ bami, noticing Anito’s gaze, flickered “Congratulations” at her in big, exuberant patterns. She looked more closely. It was Pani. Pani’s happiness was understandable. It meant that she would no longer be the youngest bami in the village. Someone would be her junior in status. Anito felt a flash of anger. She wasn’t the one who should be congratulated. Eerin and Ukatonen were responsible for the new bami. She would have to make that clear to the other villagers.

Ukatonen and Eerin eagerly greeted the arrival of the food. They woke the sleeping bami. He ate and drank greedily. Anito rippled with amusement at his eagerness.

“I remember how good that first food tasted,” she remarked. The other Tendu flickered agreement tinged with nostalgia, remembering their own transformations.

“I was hungry all the time,” Ninto said. “My sitik was always complaining about how much hunting we had to do.”

“I grew almost a full hand-span in the first month,” Ukatonen said, biting into a banya fruit. “But it was a week before I made any words. I was afraid to try.”