Silent Songs

by Kathleen O'Malley

  If Anzi were here, she could change these bad dreams with a thought, put herself in them, and make them funny. He pictured her so clearly, her round, pleasant face so different from his, her red-gold hair. . . .

  Then Jib heard it, a soft, high-pitched melodious sound, like a sorrowful keening. He sat up, blinking. That was what had roused him, that moaning, pitiful sound. He glanced at Bruce-- still sleeping. Leaving the mat, he slid on his cutoffs. The song pulled him out of the tent, toward the beach.

  Barefoot, he left the shelter, staring out at the night. There were insects everywhere, clouds of them, from beautiful, giant moth-type things as big as a flying fox, to annoying specks like sand flies that whined by your ears. The lush growth of the nearby forest and its arching fern trees stood like black giants swaying gently in the evening's breeze.

  Three Moons hung over the inky water--the fat, full Father Moon, the Mother Moon at three-quarters, and the tiny Child Moon that was only the slimmest crescent. The celestial family hovered over the gently lapping river, casting bright, fragmented reflections along its broken width. The Moons provided a surprising amount of light--so much that Jib could see his shadow on the bright sand.

  He searched the river--the river that had almost killed him, and now sang to him as though to apologize. The tide had been higher earlier but, even now, the water covered the sandbars. He shivered in the warmth, rubbing his arms.

  The music lingered, tantalizing him with its symphony of sorrow, but it was so faint, he could barely make it out. He felt a sudden chill and looked around dazedly.

  He was in the river. The water lapped lazily against his thighs. He felt disoriented, and couldn't remember leaving the tent. He turned, but couldn't see the camp. He'd come down the shoreline, his footprints were outlined darkly in the moonlight. He was standing .. . right where the Demie . . .

  Someone touched his right shoulder and he jumped. It was Bruce.

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  "Didn't you hear me?" the older man asked worriedly. "I've been calling you.

  Were you sleepwalking?"

  Jib had heard nothing but the song. He searched for the notes, found them, and felt oddly reassured. "Can you hear it?"

  "I heard something, like music," Bruce agreed. "Woke me up." He glanced back up the beach and Jib followed his eyes. K'heera was on the shoreline, closer to their camp. She peered about as if confused. "Funny," Bruce said,

  "you'd've thought with her hearing, she'd have been the first one out here."

  Then Bruce turned and his eyes widened, as he turned toward the mouth of the river. Jib followed his gaze.

  The whole cohort was out on the sandbar, dancing, he thought. He squinted: no, not dancing. They were darting, splashing, their wings outstretched, their heads jerking up and down. They were moving so fast he couldn't tell one from the other at this distance. He heard a scream, and was startled to find Thunder circling the group low, shrieking.

  "What the hell. .>." Bruce murmured, watching the scene. "That girl doesn't fly at night 'less she has to!"

  Bruce moved toward them and Jib followed. The water around the Grus was past their hocks, and it slowed them down. Wings bumped into wings, and there was a sudden break in the circle. That's when they saw Tesa, in water up to her chest.

  Jib could barely believe it. She'd swum out there in the dark? Alone? No wonder the avians were frantic. The Grus surrounded her, blocking her as though afraid to let her go forward. But she ignored them, pushing her way roughly past them, searching, seeming almost frantic. She turned her head in one direction and then another as though . . .

  "Look at her," Bruce whispered, grasping Jib's shoulder.

  Tesa faced left and moved forward, then turned right and went that way. But she wasn't watching where she was going ... no, Jib realized, that wasn't it at all.

  "She's listening'." Bruce whispered. "She hears it!"

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  Chapter 6

  The Singers

  "Come on," said Jib, then dived into the water, kicking hard. After a long swim, he finally stumbled onto the sandbar, then waded toward Tesa. She kept forging ahead, despite the efforts of the Grus. The water fell away as the sandbar rose, until it lapped about her calves.

  " The River Spirits are calling Good Eyes!" Lightning signed as Jib pushed his way past him. "They'll take her with them if we can't stop her!"

  Distractedly, Jib remembered the avians' concerns and their deep-seated religious beliefs. He couldn't imagine the courage it had taken for them to follow Tesa out here.

  "You are not-of-the-World," None-So-Pretty reminded him. "The River Spirits won't be able to harm you!"

  The young Maori was no longer so sure of that. "Tesa!" he called, rushing to catch up with her. "TESA!"

  "She can't hear you," Flies-Too-Fast reminded the young man. "She only hears their song."

  She hears something, Jib realized, but when he touched Tesa's shoulder, she spun, surprised to see him.

  "Hurry," she signed, "we've got to help.. . ." She turned as a high, clear note ripped through the air. Looking out over the dark water she tried to go around Jib, but the Grus surrounded her again with a barrier of wings. Jib grabbed her arm just as Bruce caught up to them. K'heera hovered nearby on an a-grav sled. They both appeared as confused as he felt.

  'Tesa," Jib signed, "can you hear that singing?"

  "Of course not!" she signed impatiently. "I'm Deaf!"

  Jib, Bruce, and K'heera all exchanged glances. The Maori thought if either of them said one word about Spirits .. .

  The Interrelator shook her head. "That's not sound--it's telepathy!"

  Telepathy?

  "Doesn't it all make sense?" Tesa signed, her hands moving 66

  so fast he could barely make out what she was saying. "All the legends about the Spirits, how they've affected the behavior of the local animals .. . ?

  Something out here is telepathic ... and now it's hurt. I woke up from a horrible dream, in pain, terrified of drowning. Then I felt... I heard the music ...

  it's in trouble."

  "The Gray Winds say that's how the River Spirits lure their victims,"

  Lightning warned, "by singing their saddest songs. They want you, Good Eyes! Please, leave with us!"

  "Someone's in danger, but it's the singer of that song, not us," Tesa insisted.

  Jib nodded thinking back to the accident and how it had affected him. Now that he was open to it, it felt right. The River Spirit... the Singer. .. whatever or whoever originated that song, was crying for help. He opened his mind, wanting to receive the message, the way Doctor Blanket and the Shadgui had taught him. But this was so different. . . there was none of the friendly familiarity he'd had with those beings, and it was certainly nothing like what he'd shared with Anzi. But the sadness that filled him, the heartbreaking music .. . The Singer ... it... no, he . . . was trapped, hurt. . . frightened. The alien emotions conveyed in the song washed over him.

  "Don't be afraid," Tesa signed to the cohort, but she was too distracted to be very convincing. She continued wading along the sandbar, while the others tried to hold her back. Thunder wheeled overhead, screaming in frustration.

  Suddenly a spout of water geysered through the air, startling them. Tesa broke into a jog, the others chasing her.

  Lightning and Flies-Too-Fast took to wing, coming down in front of her, frantic with concern. "Good Eyes, wait!" Lightning begged. "We can't let you go to the River Spirit's embrace. .. ."

  "No time!" she answered, impatiently darting around them.

  Jib agreed. Now that he'd stopped thinking of the song as something he could really hear, its sorrow and desperation touched him even more. He mentally searched for the notes, using them to trace the mind behind them.

  Tesa stared so intently at the sounding spot that she discovered the being by tripping over him, falling facefirst into the shallow water. The feathered hands of a half-dozen Grus lifted her so quickly, she seemed to have levitated. "I'm okay," she signed rapidly.
"Everyone watch your step!"

  Another blast of water fountained so close to them, they all

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  jumped, even K'heera. A huge, submerged, spade-shaped fluke rose from the dark waves and slapped the water, causing most of the cohort to leap into the air. Lightning and Flies-Too-Fast grabbed Tesa roughly and, fanning their powerful wings, started towing her backward. She fought, yanking away from them.

  Then K'heera flooded the area with light from her sled. Hundreds of indistinct water creatures scurried from the blast of unexpected brightness. There, lying helpless in the shallow water, lay the massive bulk of the only creature Jib had seen on Trinity that wasn't brightly colored.

  "My god," Bruce whispered, "that's the thing we hit!"

  As the searchlight outlined the large oblong creature, Jib was overwhelmed with by the same powerful vertigo he'd felt on the Demoiselle. He swayed, ready to pitch forward.

  Hurricane was suddenly beside him. "But.. . you are not-of-the-World!" the big avian protested as he steadied the young man.

  That's why I was so scared on the Demie, Jib thought dizzily. I wasn't dealing with my fear. . . I was receiving his. He felt immediate empathy for the now-helpless being.

  Tesa, seemingly unaffected, sloshed her way toward the head of the creature as Bruce hurried to her side.

  Is he wounded? Will he die because we hit him? Jib wondered, concentrating on the powerful, raw emotions swamping his mind. He'd thought he was used to telepathic thought, but this wasn't anything like what he'd experienced at StarBridge. There were no words or pictures attached to these chaotic messages, no way to organize the tornado of feelings.

  As the group drew closer to the creature, Jib felt... no, heard the song change somewhere inside his mind. Before, it was mostly sadness, but now there was real terror, more intense than when the ship had struck him. For all this animal knew, the aliens surrounding him were voracious predators ready to feast. For a flickering moment, Jib saw again the terrible vision of the Mate Kai, and then it was gone.

  Jib pulled away from Hurricane and walked alongside the six-meter, oblong-shaped animal that resembled an odd cross between a walrus and a whale.

  Besides the powerful, spade- shaped fluke, his only other appendages were two flat flippers that ended in stumpier fingers. The barrel-like shoulders, round with fleshy folds, nearly hid the neckless, oblong head.

  Moving closer, the young man stared at the dark bruises on the drab gray back that marked the being's contact with the

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  Demoiselle. Gouges in the sand testified to his futile attempts to rock off the entrapping sandbar.

  "See, it's just an animal," Tesa signed to the cohort as they clustered around the creature. "It's not a spirit at all, just a helpless, frightened animal."

  A terrible scream rent the air and before Tesa could stop her, Thunder attempted to attack the wounded back that lay inches below the water.

  Instantly, a blast of mental energy struck Jib like a hammer between the eyes. He fell, but Hurricane and Winter Bloom caught him. Thunder, however, was not so lucky. She shrieked and wobbled, then plummeted helplessly into the river.

  "Oh, shit! Ji b heard Tesa yell.

  "I've got her!" Bruce yelled back, forgetting in his excitement that Tesa couldn't hear him.

  Jib shook his head, trying to clear it, then saw Tesa and Bruce lifting a dazed and saturated Thunder onto the back of K'heera's sled. The Maori groaned and clutched his head.

  The Grus had seen enough, and started forcibly pulling Jib away. No one had to tell them that this animal wasn't helpless. Lightning, Flies-Too-Fast, and the rest of the cohort enveloped Tesa and attempted to lift her out of the water, blaring out alarm calls. The frightening cacophony was terrible and Jib would've given anything for his sound nullifiers.

  "Stop it!" Tesa demanded, pulling out of her friends' hands. "We're just scaring him! He needs help." Suddenly her eyes met Jib's and it was as if someone pulled her plug. He didn't need telepathy to realize she'd just recalled Rob Gable's warnings. "Oh, Jib! You ... shouldn't even be here! Are you all right?"

  He wanted to reassure her, tell her he was fine, but that last transmission had rattled him. He felt like all the blood had left his brain, leaving him giddy and high. He wished he could focus better. Tesa's expression was strained.

  "I'm okay," he finally managed. "Look.. . why don't I try to make contact, try to cut through his fear, so we can help him. We can't stay out here all night fightin' this bloke. He outweighs all of us!"

  Tesa set her jaw. She clearly wanted to say no, wanted to send him .. .

  where? Back to StarBridge? Confused feelings raced across her face, as he damned Rob Gable for telling her about that TSS crock.

  "Tesa... let me try. It's the only thing that makes sense." Without waiting for her answer, he moved to the being's head.

  "Is that wise?" K'heera suddenly barked in Simiu. He turned 69

  toward her, surprised, while Bruce and Tesa glanced at their voders. "Are you sure its thoughts are honest? Couldn't the Grus' concern be sound? It could be a trap to lure you closer."

  Jib would've been touched by K'heera's concern if he hadn't known how most Simiu felt about telepathy. They viewed it with a deep suspicion, disagreeing with the generally held notion that telepathic beings were inherently more honest than nontelepaths.

  "I'm willing to take the risk," Jib decided.

  As he edged closer, the creature lifted his muzzle and sounded, gulping air, spraying water all over him. His watery breath smelled like hay and crushed flowers and reminded the New Zealander, oddly, of a lamb's breath. Circular nostrils sitting atop a rounded, fleshy, bewhiskered muzzle opened wide to admit air, then closed tightly as the head sank beneath the waves. Two tiny, dark eyes were the only bright feature in that dour face. Pendulous, prehensile lips completed his odd, homely look. Not only did this creature lack color, he was burdened with being the only thing Jib had seen on Trinity that wasn't beautiful.

  Wanting to reassure the being, Jib projected comforting images. Knowing nothing about his biology, he pictured the only thing he thought the animal might crave. He envisioned the huge creature swimming free through the river, then, impulsively, pictured himself swimming alongside.

  So, you're the taniwha, the big water monster, eh, mate"] he thought, kneeling down and gently slipping his hands under the massive head. He lent it enough support so that the nostrils were lifted above the waterline, and the creature could breathe without effort. The skin was surprisingly smooth and sleek.

  The animal suddenly stopped struggling and gazed at Jib. As the young man continued the visualization, the mournful background "music" stopped.

  Jib smiled, thinking he was finally getting through to his new friend. "E hoa, what's your name?"

  Without warning, a mental surge invaded Jib's mind, shoving into it clumsily, causing the low throb of his headache to flare into blinding pain. The mental contact was forced, heavy, too powerful for the human's limited receptive abilities. Jib grunted, his head snapping back as if struck, as he desperately tried to cope with the torrent of information.

  Suddenly he knew everything and everyone, the entire herd that the taniwha called family, they who sang, the Singers. He sampled the smells and the tastes of the River, the sweetness of its food, the richness of his mother's milk, the safety of his father's protection, the happiness of his life. So simple and good was that life that Jib

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  absorbed those memories, making them his own. What more did anyone need but the buoyancy and warmth of the great River? Jib felt euphoric, intoxicated. He groaned softly. Then, as suddenly as it started, the contact ended.

  His headache was gone. Blinking, he glanced around dazedly, finally focusing on the tiny, sad eyes staring at him from just beneath the water's surface.

  Tesa and Bruce were beside him, surrounded by a curtain of white feathers.

  "What happened?" Tesa asked worriedly. "The music stopped suddenly, an
d you acted like you'd been gut- punched. Are you okay?"

  He wanted to nod, but thought better of it. "Give us a minute, mate," he signed. Jib could hear the mental tones that stood for the being's name, but there was no translation. That was all right-- Taniwha couldn't understand Jib's name either. The young man peered at the bulky animal differently now, completely forgetting his immediate reaction to the homely features and the colorless hide. He knew now this was a complex, beautiful being, a member of a race so unusual, Jib still didn't know if they were animals or intelligent people.

  "He's just a baby," Jib signed to the others. "He's no older than Lightning, and only about half-grown." Every member of the cohort expanded their already brilliant crowns.

  "Half-grown!" Bruce protested. "Is he talking to you?"

  "I can't call it language," Jib signed.

  "Is he intelligent?" Tesa asked.

  "I don't know," Jib answered honestly. "It might take a trained telepath to determine that."

  "We should err on the side of caution," Bruce signed, and Tesa turned to the meteorologist warily. "We need to document this," he continued. "It could be another intelligent species!"

  The Indian woman stared at the weatherman as though amazed that he would come to that conclusion. "Actually, I hadn't thought that far ahead."

  Then she looked back at Jib. He could see her reluctance to have him deliberately continue his contact with the creature. "I think ... we need to solve this being's problem, and worry about everything else, later. Do you know what's wrong with him, Jib? Why he's even here?"

  He nodded, pulling up the memories as though they were his own. "Yeah, he's what we ran into before bouncing off the crevasse. Banged up his shoulders. He'd snuck away from his herd, so after he was hurt... he wouldn't call his mum .. . afraid she'd be cheesed off!" Jib grinned at that. "He decided to rest in

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  the shallows till he felt better, but waited too long and got hung up on this sandbar when the tide went out. So, now he's hurt, hungry, and scared . . ."