by Inmon, Shawn
When they reached the river, they all laid on their bellies and drank their fill. Monda-ak drank as though he was trying to drain the Kranda-ah.
The river here was not the same mighty beast it had been when they had seen it many days earlier. It was diminished. Alex picked up a piece of wood and tossed it out into the water. It floated slowly to his right. The current was much gentler. It was wide, but it looked like they could simply swim across if they didn’t mind ending up a little distance downstream.
Alex turned to Reggie. “Can you swim?”
“I can float on the water and not drown,” Reggie answered.
“Good enough.” Alex rolled the map tightly, put it inside its leather case and lifted both it and his bag—much lighter after having been forced to eat out of it for long days—above his head. He waded out until the water was above his waist. Monda-ak splashed in after him, ready to cool down and rid himself of some of the bugs that were working their way into his coat.
Alex laid on his back and kicked, holding the parcels above the water with one hand and guiding himself with the other. He did move south a bit, but by the time he reached the far shore, he was only a hundred yards downstream.
Seeing that he hadn’t drowned, the others did the same. As advertised, Reggie wasn’t much of a swimmer, but he made it safely across.
There were patches of green around the river. Small trees and tall grasses. Cover meant more animals. Of course, it also meant predators.
Senta-eh put her pack back on and strung her bow. She nocked an arrow but carried her bow casually. After long days of eating cured meat, they all longed for something fresh. If any four-legged critter had the misfortune to cross their path, it would end up as dinner.
They continued on, and as the sun set they saw a copse of gigantic trees ahead.
Alex squinted a bit at what he saw. “Are those houses built in the trees?”
Reggie smiled. “Yessir. That is Tonton-ah—the village in the trees.”
Chapter Twelve
Tonton-ah
The closer they got, the more impressive the village in the trees looked. The glow from the firepits and burning torches cast tall, dancing shadows on the overhanging limbs. It gave the village a warm, welcoming feel.
But, looks can be deceiving.
“Should we push on?” Alex asked. “It will probably be dark before we get there. It’s not usually a good idea for strangers to approach a village after dark.”
“I told you—I’m no stranger. They will remember me.”
There were two tall trees set a hundred yards out from the village proper, with two well-constructed guard houses high up in the limbs. It made the guard stands that the Winten-ah used look primitive.
“Gunta,” Reggie said, raising a hand in greeting.
“Gunta,” echoed voices from each tree. “Who goes?”
“Untrin-ak,” Reggie said. “These are friends from Winten-ah. We would like to rest for a night, then push on. We are hoping to cross the big mountains before winter arrives.”
“Then you should have started a full cycle of the moon ago,” the guard answered.
“Likely true,” Reggie agreed. “Still, we are going to try.”
“Come through, then. Verda-eh will want to see you,” the guard said, laughing.
Quietly, Alex asked, “Why is that funny? Who is Verda-eh? The chieftain?”
“No,” Reggie answered equally quietly, so Senta-eh and Werda-ak had to move closer to listen. “She is a special friend I spent some time with my last trip through.”
“Ah. ‘Special friend.’ Is that what you kids are calling it these days? Their houses are all up in the trees. What shall I do with Monda-ak? Leave him on the ground? If so, I’ll stay down with him. He can’t be separated from me that long.”
“Wait until you get a good look at this place. They’ve lived in the trees for generations. They have ladders, yes, but also ramps. Of course they can pull the ramps up if trouble approaches, same as the ladders. But, they’ll leave them down for us. You can take Monda-ak up one of those.”
From a distance, Alex could already see that the trees were giants. No wonder these people decided to build a life around them. Vegetation didn’t always follow the same outsize growth that animals did in Kragdon-ah, but these trees certainly did. They weren’t redwoods—not in this climate—but they were of a similar size.
AS THEY DREW CLOSER, Alex analyzed Tonton-ah from a defensive perspective. Being high up was always an advantage, but if they were caught in a bad situation—like Stipa-ah was when attacked with trebuchets—there would be nowhere for them to go. The advantage that they had in Winten-ah was that it would be almost impossible for anyone to smoke or burn them out—the walls of the cliffside were fireproof. That wouldn’t be the case in Tonton-ah. Shoot enough burning arrows loaded with pitch into the base of a tree and eventually it would catch fire. Still, the village had been here for generations, so they must have had their methods of defense.
Off to the south, Alex could just make out fields in the dusk. He had to squint to be sure, but he thought he saw rows of corn waving in a slight breeze.
Close to the river, adequate defenses, irrigation to their crops. They’ve got a good set-up here.
When they were within a few hundred yards of the edge of the village, a cluster of people dropped down the ladders and approached them. Children ran ahead and swarmed around Reggie, jumping up and down, screaming.
“What, do you carry candy from village to village, or what?” Alex asked, trying to be heard over the sudden cacophony.
“It’s the music, man. Most places only have the most rudimentary music, so when I show up, they treat me like I’m Elvis, and Tupac rolled into one beautiful package.” Reggie reached out and touched the heads of the kids.
“Will you help me find out if the people we seek came through here, and if they did, how long ago?”
“Sure. I’ll ask Preta-eh. She’s the chief. Everyone else will be tight-lipped, but if anyone is going to talk it will be her.”
Soon, the kids abandoned Reggie and focused on Monda-ak. One boy picked up a small, shy-looking girl and said, “My sister wants to know if she can ride your horse.”
The other kids jeered him, of course, because they both knew Monda-ak wasn’t a horse. And, they wanted to ride him themselves.
Alex reached his hands out, plucked the small girl up and put her on the dog’s broad back. “Here, hold onto his ears if you need to. He doesn’t mind.”
And he didn’t. Monda-ak led the parade of laughing, shouting kids into the trees, and up the series of switchback ramps that wound up to the level where the houses started.
Up close, the village was even more of an architectural marvel than he had been able to see from the ground. Some sturdy trees had big, communal buildings wrapped all the way around them. Others had smaller single dwelling houses, storage units, and sleeping dormitories. There was a rope pulley system for bringing water brought in from the river up to the houses.
Fire was obviously a concern, as any blaze that got out of control could burn the whole village and make it impossible to rebuild. They dealt with that by constructing large stone fire pits in areas that weren’t directly over the branches of the trees. The pits were built with four levels of rock, so the heat didn’t transfer through all of them to burn wood below.
Reggie led them along ladders, walkways and open corridors with a familiarity that revealed he had indeed been here before. Finally, they turned into one of the larger communal rooms, which was built around the largest tree Alex had ever seen. There were tables scattered around, and torches burning which were vented through slits in the ceiling.
Sitting at the centermost table was Preta-eh, the largest woman Alex had ever seen. She wasn’t just tall—although she was immensely tall, but she was wide, giving a feeling of great girth. Almost all the people in Kragdon-ah were fine of feature. No doubt the result of the long-term blending of all races into one, more
homogenized race. The more desirable features lived on, while more limiting traits were slowly weeded out.
Somehow, Preta-eh had lost in that particular gene pool. She was, in every physical sense of the word, ugly. Her scarred forehead sloped into a receding hairline emphasized by how tightly her hair was pulled back. Her nose looked like a large apple left out in the sun too long, albeit an apple with two enormous nostrils. Her eyes were tiny and recessed deeply into her head, decorated with large dark bags underneath. The one part of her makeup that was like her kin was her smile.
When she saw Reggie, her face lit up, making her look somewhat less fearsome. Her smile revealed beautiful white teeth. “Untrin-ak!” she yelled, holding her arms open wide.
“If I’m not back in two days, send a scout in for me,” Reggie whispered to Alex just before he was enveloped by rolls of doughy flesh. As soon as he could, Reggie came up for air, took a step back, and said, “Preta-eh, these are my friends, Manta-ak, Senta-eh, and Werda-ak.”
Sly eyes slipped over all three of them, then fell on Monda-ak. She squealed, and in a surprisingly girlish voice, said, “Whose little puppy is this?”
No one’s called Monda-ak little since he was three months old. Next to her, though, I guess he almost is.
Preta-eh reached into a bowl beside her and plucked out a meaty section of some creature’s leg. Monda-ak’s ears stood at attention. She tossed the leg, which must have weighed several pounds, and the dog opened his jaws wide to receive it. Alex figured he couldn’t have even tasted it as he crunched the bone in a single bite and swallowed, hoping for more.
Preta-eh squealed again, clapped her hands, and threw another enormous chunk of meat through the air. It disappeared as quickly than the first.
“Such a shame,” she said, in her little-girl’s voice, “that they bond so strongly with a single person. I would give almost anything to have such a fine animal.”
Monda-ak, suspecting no more meat would be flying his way, farted loudly, and laid down to rest.
“Magnificent,” she said.
“Only if you’re not down-wind,” Alex muttered. Then, quietly, to Reggie, “Ask her, please.”
“Not yet,” Reggie whispered back. “Soon.”
“This is a wonderful day, when our Untrin-ak returns to us. Will you stay with us for the winter? We will have such a wonderful time.”
“I’m sorry. You know how I love your hospitality, which is legendary. However, we can only stay one night. I have promised to guide my friends over the big mountains.”
“You should have left a moon cycle ago.”
“So we’ve heard,” Alex and Reggie said in unison.
“Well, that means you have to entertain us this evening,” Preta-eh said, recovering from her disappointment that Reggie wasn’t staying longer. She tilted her head back and said, “Fenda-ak! Where is Fenda-ak!” She closed her eyes, drew in a humongous breath, and appeared ready to scream for Fenda-ak a third time when he appeared at a full run.
“Yes, your magnificence?”
“Untrin-ak will only be here for one night. Prepare the great room.”
Fenda-ak scurried away.
“Is my instrument still here?” Reggie asked hopefully.
“Of course! We will always hold it for you. Fenda-ak will set it up for you. He has been attempting to practice himself, but he has no skill. His fingers are clumsy, where yours are so graceful. Now! We were just finishing dinner. Would you like some?” She waved a hand casually at a spread that Alex had never seen in Winten-ah, even on feast nights.
To his traveling companions, Alex said in Winten-ah, “Only eat a little. Too much, and you will be running to the hole in the ground all night. Besides, we are guests.”
Senta-eh’s eyes flashed. “We are not children!” Then, she glanced at Werda-ak, who looked mightily disappointed. “Ah. Never mind.”
They all took modest servings of meat, vegetables, and a sweet bread made with crushed corn.
Preta-eh watched them, then said, “Untrin-ak, they are hardly eating. No wonder the people of Winten-ah are so scrawny. Eat!”
Reggie collected some food, but Alex was right. After a week of nothing but hard tack, too much rich food would result in gastrointestinal disaster. There was nothing like waking up in the middle of the night in a strange village built sixty feet off the ground and stumbling around, looking for a place to relieve yourself.
Fenda-ak returned and said, “All is ready.”
Another squeal from Preta-eh, and the whole group reconvened to a massive open-air stage built on a platform that stretched between two giant trees. Alex couldn’t figure what the area might be used for ordinarily.
Surely they didn’t build this just for Reggie to give concerts. I know they love him, but that’s too much, isn’t it?
Alex was anxious to see what Reggie could do. On their trek, he had sometimes gotten the little four-stringed instrument out and strummed it at night, but he had never sung and Alex hadn’t asked him to. Not after marching through a dreary, dusty desert for fourteen or fifteen hours.
Everyone in Tonton-ah who wasn’t on guard duty showed up to hear Reggie play and sing. There was row after row of benches that appeared to be made out of single, epic logs. Alex, Senta-eh, and Werda-ak intended to hang back and stand behind the benches, but Preta-eh wouldn’t hear of it.
“Winten-ahs! Bring that beautiful dog and come up here. You are my guests!”
Alex felt a little embarrassed at the attention focused on him, but knew there was no use resisting Preta-eh. She was a force of nature, not to be denied. As he walked to the front row, he saw dozens of happy, smiling faces, anticipating the show.
Then he noticed one row of hard-looking men who were ostentatiously trying not to look at him.
Usually I have to be somewhere for longer than this before I piss somebody off. Wonder what their problem is?
Alex shrugged and joined Preta-eh in specially made chairs in front row center. The chairs were so large, he felt like a five-year-old sitting at the Thanksgiving table. He did his best to sit with some dignity.
Reggie stepped up onto a small platform, which was lit by half a dozen torches arrayed behind him. The trees parted overhead and allowed the full moon and brilliant starfield to shine their light down on him.
Any artist from the twenty-first century would kill to have a set up like this. They probably wouldn’t want to risk being eaten by dire wolves just for the chance, though.
Reggie slung a lute-like instrument around his neck and picked a few chords, then adjusted the strings. Alex could see why he had left it behind—it was too fragile to survive even a day on the trail. He wondered if Reggie had an instrument made for him in each place he visited.
Satisfied that the instrument was reasonably tuned, Reggie began to strum a tune that was hauntingly, achingly, and instantly familiar to Alex. He had not heard any music from his own lifetime since he had stepped through the door.
In the universal language of Kragdon-ah, Reggie began to sing Bill Withers’ Ain’t No Sunshine.
Tears sprang to Alex’s eyes as Reggie’s rich, baritone voice caressed the song, translated into a language Mr. Withers could never have expected.
If you had asked Alex what he missed about his previous life, he would have answered, ‘Amy. Nothing else.” At that moment, he knew he had missed music, too.
The audience sat in rapt attention, hanging on every syllable and note. When he came to the proper place in the song, Reggie sang, “Te kel, te kel, te kel,” over and over, just as Withers had once sung “I know,” the same way.
It was haunting, and held the audience spellbound.
As the last note of the song faded, Reggie strummed harder and broke into the Kragdon-ah version of When a Man Loves a Woman. It was the same heartfelt lament when sung in the language of Kragdon-ah as it had been when Percy Sledge had first done it a hundred millennia earlier.
Reggie seemed to be looking a lot at a beautiful young woman
off to the side.
Verda-eh, no doubt. Aside from the long treks in between gigs, I’d say Reggie has carved out a rather nice life for himself. I thought he was going to be singing the songs of the tribe, or lyrics about barely escaping from the jaws of a ronit-ta. I should have known. Why bother writing songs if you already have a lifetime of classics to choose from?
Alex glanced at Werda-ak, who seemed unmoved by the performance. Preta-eh was transported. Surprisingly, Senta-eh was swaying back and forth, lost in the music.
I thought Winten-ah had no interest in music whatsoever. Maybe that is not the case.
Reggie sang a dozen songs, all of which Alex recognized from the oldies station back in the twenty-first century. He finished his set with Sam Cooke’s Change is Gonna Come, which, for unknown reasons, he sang in English. It didn’t seem to matter. The crowd was willing to go with whatever he wanted to do.
When the final notes of the song faded away, the crowd cried for more, but Preta-eh stood and with her regal bearing, said, “We will not be greedy. This was an unexpected pleasure, but now we need to let our friend rest!”
No one challenged her, and the crowd immediately dispersed back to wherever they slept. Alex noticed that the row of men who had seemed interested in him were among the first to leave. He counted eight of them, then put them out of his mind.
Reggie came off the stage and was enveloped in another bear hug by Preta-eh.
“I should just kidnap you and keep you here forever!” she said, holding him tight against the mountain of her bosom.
Alex thought he saw a glint of fear in Reggie’s eyes, but then Preta-eh laughed her high-pitched giggle and let him go.
Alex was still buzzed from the high of hearing the familiar music. “How in the world do you know those songs?” he asked in English.
Reggie grinned. “I don’t know how well Kanye or Snoop Dogg would go over here. These are the songs I grew up on. My mom’s old albums. Listened to her singing them from the time I was in my crib. They’re part of me, now.” He turned to Preta-eh, switched back to the universal language. “Do you have a room my friends can stay in? I’ve already made other arrangements for myself.”