The Color of Distance (37 page)

They reached the coast, landing their rafts on a shelving beach in a calm bay. The lyali-Tendu waddled ashore and bid the village a formal farewell. Then they slipped into the water, and towed the rafts back to their island. The lyali-Tendu who were not busy towing rafts leaped high. Brilliant, distorted letters appeared on their chests, like something out of a typographer’s nightmare.

“Goodbye!” “Farewell!” “Eat fish” “Jump high” appeared on the sea Tendu’s bodies in a sudden burst of coherence. Then the letters became abstract word-salad again.

Juna waved farewell to them, saying goodbye in both skin speech and written Standard. The lyali-Tendu disappeared beneath the waves, the empty rafts moving like a ghost fleet through the gloom of a gathering rainstorm.

Anito hefted her pack onto her shoulders, tying the waist straps that kept her pack from slipping off her back as they climbed. Juna picked up her own pack. Heaving it onto her shoulders, she followed the villagers into the familiar gloom of the jungle.

I he branches of the giant na tree seemed to stretch out in welcome. They were home. Anito flushed turquoise with happiness as she swung across the final gap onto the branches of Narmolom’s home tree. It was good to be back, good to empty her heavy pack into a storeroom. Her happiness faded as she surveyed her new room. It looked terrible. The floor and walls were coated with black mud from flood season.

“Look at this mess!” Eerin said.

Anito flickered agreement. “We’ll just have to clean it up,” she said, pale with weariness. She was tired. It had been a hard trip with a heavy load, and they had been in a hurry to get home. She wanted a big meal and a long sleep in a fresh bed of leaves.

Ninto stuck her head in the room. “What a mess!” she said. “Stay with me tonight. My room wasn’t flooded. You can clean this up tomorrow, when you’re rested.”

“But we’ve imposed too much on you already!” Anito protested.

“Well, if you feel bad, you can go catch us some dinner,” Ninto remarked with a ripple of amusement.

“All right,” Anito agreed. “Eerin, you and Moki go pick some fruit, and gather leaves for bedding. I’ll go hunting and get some fresh honeycomb from one of my na trees.”

Anito paused in the doorway watching Moki and Eerin as they left, taking in the familiar shape of the village tree. The flood waters had climbed almost a third of the way up the trunk, leaving everything in their wake covered with mud. As the bami of a chief elder, she had lived high enough up in the tree that their rooms were never flooded.

“It’s good to be back,” Ninto said as she came up beside Anito to look out at the tree trunk.

Anito touched her tareena’s arm affectionately, her worries about housekeeping forgotten. “Yes it is,” she agreed. “It certainly is.”

That night Anito lay awake in her fresh nest of leaves listening to the tree creak as it shifted in the gentle night breeze. There was the quiet hum of the tilan bees, fanning the cool night air through their hives and into the hollow heart of the great tree. She took a deep breath, savoring the familiar smells of home: ancient wood, mud, glow-fungus, a faint hint of honey, and the green, moist smell of fresh bedding. A ripple of pleasure flowed across her skin as she slipped into sleep. She was home.

Juna tied a rope to a basket full of dripping, smelly mud and tugged on it, signaling to the villagers at the top of the tree that it was ready to haul up. She watched for a moment as the basket rose into the air, then squelched through the mud at the bottom of the tree to fill another basket.

It was spring-cleaning time in Narmolom. The villagers cleaned their rooms, drained the reservoir at the bottom of the tree, and were busy hauling out the accumulated mud and refuse from the reservoir. It was hot, stinking work, but Juna felt strangely happy. She hefted another basket of mud and looked up. The massive trunk of the na tree rose around her, tier on tier of balconies dimming into the distance. From here, the opening of the trunk was a bright spot just a little bigger than her outspread hand. Baskets rose and fell as the villagers pulled them up, or lowered them to be filled again. The tree was alive with the sounds of hard work. Even the brilliant tilan bees buzzed about with extra urgency as they foraged in the rich muck.

Yesterday Anito had put a few drops of something from her allu-a into a gourd full of water. They sprinkled it on the floors, walls, and ceiling, and the room began to fill with bees. By the time the gourd was empty, the room was covered with a seething mass of insects. When they returned an hour later with armloads of fresh bedding, the room was immaculate. The floors gleamed like fine furniture, and the fungus on the walls glowed brightly. Juna smiled, remembering a fairy tale from her childhood about a princess tended by invisible servants. Life among the Tendu had its rewards.

A long, low roll of thunder and a pattering of rain on the muck roused her from her reverie. She carried her basket over to a dangling rope, tied it on, and tugged at the rope. It remained slack. She peered up and saw that the workers were coming down. They would be stopping to avoid the thunderstorm. The rains came less frequently now. The dry season was beginning. This storm was the first in three days. She climbed up to the top of the tree, and let the rain wash the muck from her skin. Moki and Ukatonen joined her. They had been carrying baskets of compost out to the platforms in the canopy that supported the village’s dry season tree farms.

“They’re just getting ripe,” Moki said as he handed her a couple of spicy-sweet ati fruit and a gourd of water.

Juna flickered her thanks.

Another roll of thunder sounded, and a stiff breeze made the tree sway.

“We should go inside,” Ukatonen said. “This is going to be a big storm. They usually are after a dry spell like this.”

Juna smiled. Even after eight Standard months among the Tendu she still found it odd to think of three days of pleasant weather as a dry spell. They swung down into the trunk of the tree. Juna looked around her as she climbed. She had spent six months among the Tendu, most of that on the move. She was tired of traveling. It was good to be home.

Anito was waiting for them with a leaf-plate of honeycomb and a bowl of sliced meat marinated in a tart, salted fruit juice. After dinner, Anito took out a half finished basket, and Ukatonen began gluing tufts of down onto a handful of blowgun darts.

Juna held out her arms to Moki, and the two of them linked. She was getting better at allu-a. She could now control many previously involuntary reactions like pupil dilation, heartbeat, and her blood pressure. She could read many simple body functions in others, and was beginning to learn to monitor another person’s link.

She entered into the link. Her fear and lack of control was a thing of the past. She had learned to put up barriers to slow the flood of sensation, learned to cope with the fluid medium of allu-a and enjoy it. Now she looked forward to linking as much as Moki did. Moki’s body felt almost as familiar as her own. Sometimes she worried about what would happen when the humans came back. What would they think of her now, swinging through the trees, eating raw meat, engaging in strange practices with the aliens? Would they think that she had “gone native”?

Moki sensed her anxiety, and enfolded her with reassurance. Juna let her worries slide. Let tomorrow take care of tomorrow. She was too busy living through today. She let herself float in the communion of the link.

“It’s time for me to choose a new chief elder,” Ukatonen said. “Who do you think it should it be?”

Anito’s ears spread in surprise. Why was he asking her? It was his decision.

“You know the village better than I do,” Ukatonen went on, before Anito could think of a reply. “I want to know what you think.”

Anito ducked her chin in thought. It was a difficult question. Only ten elders had enough seniority for serious consideration. Yiato and two others refused to be considered. Telito and Johito were clearly unfit for the job. One was too shy, the other too involved with her atwa to be impartial.

“There are only five worth considering, en.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Marite, Enato, Mia to, Renito, and Ninto.”

“Not Enato,” Ukatonen said. “He can’t make decisions, and Marito’s too young. She needs another five years before she’d be ready.”

“That leaves three. Miato, Renito, and Ninto,” Anito said.

“They’re all qualified, but which one’s best?”

“Renito’s the oldest,” Anito said, “but her bami, Kina, is nearly as old as I am. If we pick Renito, Kina will have to wait even longer before he can become an elder.”

“And Kina’s male. Narmolom needs more male elders. That leaves Miato and Ninto. Which one would you pick?”

“Ninto is my tareena. I can’t pick fairly.”

“But you will be an enkar someday, kene. You must learn to decide things like this. Tell me what you know about Ninto and Miato.”

“They’re both about the same age, en. Miato’s sitik was almost picked for chief elder, and Miato is on the village council. My sitik thought highly of Miato, en. He usually took Miato’s advice. He’s known for his fairness and wisdom. I would trust him to make good decisions.”

“And Ninto?”

“Ninto was raised by Ilto. He relied on her counsel a lot. She understands people very well, and often can see a problem before it starts. You’ve seen how much she has helped me with Eerin. She’s really interested in the new creature. She’s wise, observant, and good with people. Ninto and Miato would both be good chief elders, en. It would be hard to decide between the two. I know I can’t.”

A greyish-yellow mist passed over Ukatonen’s skin. “I know, kene. That is my problem as well. I must decide between the two of them.” A ripple of ironic amusement crossed his skin. “I had hoped that your advice would help. I guess I’ll just have to talk to Ninto and Miato.”

They found Ninto first. She was in her room, busy making rope. She set her work aside as they came in, and offered them some fruit juice.

“Kene, I wanted to talk with you about what you would do if you became chief elder.”

Ninto’s ears spread wide and she turned pink in surprise. She looked from Ukatonen to Anito and back again. “Why are you considering me? There are older, more experienced elders to choose from.”

“Because I think you’re qualified,” Ukatonen told her. “Do you want to be chief elder?”

Anito saw shadows of indecision pass over Ninto.

“It would be an honor to follow in the footsteps of my sitik, en. I love Narmolom greatly but—”

“But what?”

“Is it true that you will be taking Anito with you to become an enkar?”

“Yes, kene, I must. She needs the training and status of an enkar in order to deal with the new creatures when they return.”

“Then I will go with her and become an enkar. I withdraw my name from consideration for chief elder. I would have withdrawn it earlier, had I known you were considering me.”

“No!” Anito protested. “Ninto, you mustn’t. Please don’t leave Narmolom because of me.”

A ripple of fond amusement flowed across Ninto’s body. “It’s my life, Anito. I want to go with you and learn about the new creatures.” She looked at Ukatonen. “You need more people who are familiar with the new creatures. I know Eerin better than anyone in the village except for Anito.”

“But what about Narmolom?” Anito asked. “What about Baha?”

“Baha is ready to become an elder, and he can take over my atwa. I’ll miss Narmolom, but without you, without our sitik, it’s an empty place for me. Ukatonen and Eerin have shown me that there is more to life than Narmolom. It’s time to move on, if the enkar will accept me.”

“They’ll be pleased,” Ukatonen said. “We need more elders like you.”

“Who else were you considering for chief elder?” Ninto asked.

“Miato.”

“He’s a good choice. Narmolom will be well cared for.”

“Thank you,” Ukatonen said. “Ninto, I want you to understand that you haven’t committed yourself to becoming an enkar yet. If you want to change your mind, you can.”

Ninto shook her head. “I’ve decided.”

Ukatonen flickered acknowledgment and thanks. “I need to tell Miato that he is my choice for chief.”

After the usual arguments and protestations about not being qualified, Miato agreed to become chief elder. The villagers were surprised but pleased with Ukatonen’s choice. The skill and speed with which Miato had grown back his missing foot had impressed them. They were also surprised by Ukatonen’s fee. Instead of requesting that one of the villagers become an enkar, which was customary, he asked that the next five bami chosen to become elders should be male, and that the next seven tinka chosen as bami should also be male.

There were flickers of subdued protest from the males. They were in such high demand during mating that the female villagers gave them many fine gifts for their favors. The females, however, looked pleased.

The banquet celebrating Miato’s selection as chief elder was exceptionally lavish. Grateful villagers presented Ukatonen with preserved delicacies and other gifts, which he graciously accepted. The villagers performed a quarbirri telling the history of Narmolom. To Anito’s surprise, the last act told of Ilto’s discovery of the new creature, and Ilto’s death, a new chapter added to the official history of the village. The part of Ilto was danced by Ninto. Ukatonen played the part of the new creature, to the villagers’ intense amusement. He performed the part very well, although he’d only had a day to practice. Even Eerin understood what Ukatonen was doing, and rippled laughter along with the rest of the village. She joined the rest of the village in wild ripples of appreciation at the end of the performance.

At last the party broke up and Anito headed back to her room, leaving Eerin and Moki to help clean up the remains of the banquet. Ukatonen was there, loading his pack.