Silent Songs

by Kathleen O'Malley

  The Interrelator clenched her fist triumphantly, and he realized the arrow had to have been poison-tipped. It must have scratched the guard. Weaver, pacing the now-empty sled, flew on unmolested toward the inky forest.

  The Interrelator quickly unfolded her long legs and slipped back into the water, slinging the bow and quiver across her chest. She

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  waved to draw them close, signing so rapidly in the dark that even he couldn't follow. She was his height, Javier realized dazedly, maybe a little taller.

  He felt something shoved into his hands, and took hold. Some kind of rope, so they wouldn't get lost as they moved farther into the cover of the tall grasses. Javier blinked, suddenly lightheaded. Low blood sugar, on top of too much adrenaline after a day of purging. If only he could sit for a second . . . Suddenly the reeds, the river, his fellow humans, all seemed to recede as if he were being pulled backward down a long hallway.

  He blinked as Martin shook him. Did I pass out?

  Then Martin was replaced by a pair of lovely light eyes in a dark face as the Interrelator peered worriedly at him. She held his face, and he could smell the sharp odor of the paint on her hands. She pressed something against his lips, pressuring his jaw to make it open. A fibrous wad fell against his tongue and when he bit down a sharp, citruslike flavor flooded his mouth. He smelled oranges and chewed. The tangy flavor revived him.

  "You okay?" the Interrelator signed.

  She was still touching his face and he focused on that, impulsively reaching up to cover her hand with his. Still chewing, he savored different flavors, unable to categorize them.

  She grew aware of their contact and, looking uncomfortable, slowly drew away. He found himself strangely regretful.

  "We've got to get out of here," she told him, glancing over her shoulder at the soldiers' barracks. Aliens clustered around the building, gesturing excitedly.

  He wasn't sure what had happened, but it was obvious sleep time was over for them.

  "Too bad we have to go," Carlotta signed, nodding toward the milling soldiers, "looks like the party's just starting."

  Tugging the rope, the Interrelator led them deeper into the dark reeds. She must have created some disturbance. Javier thought about four barracks of soldiers disrupted, and smiled.

  Repeatedly, through their watery march upriver, they were forced to submerge and wait for troops to pass. It seemed hours before they could leave the tall grass and slip into the even darker forest. By then, his legs were shaking with fatigue.

  Once the black forest surrounded them, Javier felt the night enclose him like a fist. He wondered if he was in a time warp, if this was a night that would last two or three times as long as it should. He felt the sky should be streaked with light, when he knew that it was hours yet before dawn.

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  Now that they were on land, the Interrelator picked up the pace. Just when Javier thought he couldn't jog blindly on for even one more minute, they finally halted. There in the darkness sat four alien flyers, parked as casually as if they were in a public park. Their rescuer hurriedly turned them on, and one by one, the a-gravs hovered. He stared at the woman's dark form, wondering how she'd managed to get them.

  She gestured at Martin to get on and he complied; Chris peered at the controls curiously as he climbed on in front of the engineer. Carlotta tugged Javier up behind her and he was happy to let her take the controls. The Interrelator shared her sled with Noriko and Moshe, as they moved forward, single file through the woods, only a meter above the forest floor.

  Clever, he thought. They'd make better time if they flew above the trees, but they'd be spotted in an instant. No doubt the only thing masking their electronic readouts was all the soldiers searching for them, soaring around on the same machines.

  As Carlotta ably handled their machine, Javier wondered what awaited them at the end of the trail.

  It was dawn by the time Tesa and her band of exhausted Terrans returned to the savannah where the flocks of Grus waited. The rain had ended hours ago, but she was saturated anyway, and the day promised to be hot and steamy. And now she had to figure out what to do with her new charges.

  Maybe she was just tired, but all she wanted was to return to the embrace of her Grus family and leave these humans to one another. Jib could handle them, she decided.

  Preoccupied, Tesa stepped off the sled, but her foot dropped into a hidden animal burrow, and she stumbled. A steadying hand caught her arm, saving her from a twisted ankle.

  "Thanks," she signed, turning to face her helper.

  First-Light nodded curtly with barely masked concern. His shadowed, dark eyes fastened on her paint-streaked face, making her feel self-conscious.

  She must look like an oversize feral child with her blackened face and arms, clothed in nothing but a worn camisole, bow and quiver slung crookedly across her chest.

  I'm not used to humans anymore, she decided. Unless it was his eyes that made her uneasy. She was used to the golden eyes of the Grus, Thunder's red ones, Meg's bright blues, or Bruce's gray ones. But this man's were hooded and as black as the ice on a bottomless lake, giving nothing away, no key to his soul.

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  She pulled her arm gently from his grip. It was the second time he'd touched her, and the second time it'd unnerved her. He turned away, obviously realizing he'd made her uncomfortable.

  Before she could worry further, their whole party was surrounded by White Winds as the cohort dropped from the sky. Lightning, Flies-Too-Fast, and the rest pushed past the other humans and surrounded Tesa, enveloping her with their wings. Young Frost Moon nearly knocked First-Light off his feet.

  "You're so rude" she admonished them gently, losing herself in the warmth of their feathers. "Did Weaver arrive?"

  "She flew in with an escort of Hunters just a short while ago," Lightning assured her. "She and Taller have been dancing ever since." He pointed at the pair with his bill. They were bowing, leaping, and twining their necks like two-year-olds.

  "They act like new lovers," she signed, and that odd notion made the youngsters' crowns shrink up tight.

  First-Light also watched the pair, and Tesa remembered the way he'd cared for Weaver. "She's safe again," she signed, "thanks to your feather grafting."

  His mouth turned up slightly.

  That was when Tesa noticed the gold ball in his ear.

  "Are . . . were . . . you deaf?" she signed. In her surprise, she used American Sign Language instead of Grus.

  He paused, then nodded, answering her in the same language. "Yes, but they could only give me hearing in this one ear."

  She stiffened, recalling all the arguments she'd had with Rob and her parents, because she'd decided against having that same surgery

  performed. Those arguments were what had brought her to Trinity. Tesa no sooner wanted hearing than she'd want to be another species. Being Deaf was part of her identity.

  The Interrelator had no idea what to say to this man. He was suddenly more than a stranger; he was a person who had once been Deaf, but now no longer was. Did that change explain his expressionless face? Deaf people used their faces in their language--was First-Light's dourness an attempt to put that part of his life behind him? Did he think of himself as Hearing? And why shouldn't he? She stared at the small gold ball, thinking of all the soul-searching and conflict with loved ones that it represented to her.

  Her dismay must have been plain on her face because First- Light signed, "It bothers you that I had my deafness corrected." He wore the same casual expression; his face revealed nothing.

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  "No! Of course not," she lied. "You had every right. .. ." She could see in his eyes that he knew she was lying.

  "The first time I met another Deaf person, I was twenty-four," he explained.

  As he signed in ASL, she realized that signing had not been his first language. "I lip-read. He signed. We needed voders to communicate. It inspired me to learn ASL .. . but most of my life has been spent on t
he periphery of the hearing world." He shrugged, as if it weren't that important.

  "A year ago," he continued, "my doctor suggested this reconstruction surgery. On Earth, I worked with people of primal cultures, many of whom weren't comfortable with the high-tech equipment I needed for interpreting. I thought this would be more convenient than the hardware I had to carry around with me. Well... it didn't take in my left ear, but it works well enough in my right. All of that was before I saw Weaver's cloak . .. and knew I'd be coming to Trinity. Try not to hold it against me. Our lives ... were very different, Ms. Wakandagi."

  She should say something reassuring to him, let him know he didn't need to justify his actions to her. But all Tesa managed to sign was, "You know so much about my life?"

  He gave her a wry smile. "Everyone knows about your life."

  She was embarrassed again.

  He changed the subject, and returned to signing Grus. "May I greet Weaver?

  I'd like to check those grafted feathers."

  Tesa nodded, relieved to be on another topic--any other topic. "I'll introduce you to Taller, first. I'm sure he'll want to thank you personally for all your help."

  Then she remembered the other Terrans. Turning to the sleds, she found Carlotta deep in discussion with Scorched, None-So- Pretty, and Snowberry.

  Whatever they were talking about had the humans captivated, as Carlotta scribbled translations in a patch of sandy soil she'd cleared--except for the young pilot, Chris, whose fatigue had caught up to him. He was curled up on a parked sled, sound asleep. Tesa caught Snowberry's eye and asked him to keep the group near the sleds. He waved agreement and rejoined the conversation.

  How long can we maintain such crude communication? Tesa wondered as Carlotta wrote on the ground. And what kind of relationship does Carlotta have with First-Light? Could she be his wife? And why the hell should I care?

  Pushing away her jumbled thoughts, Tesa beckoned to First- Light and together they approached her partners. Lightning, FliesTooFast, Hurricane, and Winter Bloom strode along as well,

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  brazenly examining the Terran male, then staring wide-eyed at Tesa. He accepted their perusal good-naturedly, imitating them, gazing back in turn, and exchanging a few signed pleasantries.

  As they walked, Tesa found herself stealing quick glances at him, just as her friends were doing. He was interesting, she thought. Not handsome in the limited way humans defined the term, but tall and wiry, with a strong, straight stance that to the White Wind people was much more important. His serious demeanor was . . . different. In some ways, he reminded her more of a Hunter than a White Wind. She was curious, too, about how he'd received the vivid diagonal scar that marred his right cheek.

  Taller shot straight into the air, then fanned his wings to drop slowly to the ground. As soon as his toes touched the World, Weaver bounded around him. They danced closer, touching keels, their necks intertwining, then they were in the air again, bobbing, weaving, dancing their old courtship rite anew.

  The Grus leader felt like a youngster. The despondency that had crushed him had evaporated when his people announced Weaver's return. Waves of sound had rippled from a thousand throats, as she flew to him under an escort of Hunters. Weaver was free! Free, and his again. Taller wanted to dance for days, as he had when he'd first courted her, so many years ago.

  Behind him, he saw other members of his family draw near. Good Eyes moved slowly, weary from her dangerous mission. His son, Lightning, stayed close by her, ready to lend his support. The other member of their odd trio, Thunder, had already returned to their enemies' camp, despite the danger.

  The Hunter was Good Eyes' sharp-eyed observer, and nothing that had happened tonight could have occurred, but for her. Flies-Too-Fast, who had been as steadfast as a son these last weeks, walked on Good Eyes' other side. Their young companions milled around them in a knot of white feathers and long black legs, signing excitedly to one another, peering at something Taller couldn't see.

  As soon as his human partner approached, Taller hurried to drape a wing around her, hugging her in unbridled joy. He buried her under his feathers, calling joyously, while Weaver's voice joined his.

  The human's grimy, painted arms hugged him in return, her tiny fingers burrowing under his soft undercoat. She pressed her flat face against the base of his throat in her own alien sign of

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  affection, a sign he'd come to crave once he'd learned to love her. Taller thanked the Suns again for the blessing they'd bestowed upon him by making her his partner.

  Finally, she extricated herself. "I want you to meet. .."

  Just then the cohort parted, revealing a strange human male hidden in their midst. To the Grus leader, it was as if he'd appeared from nowhere. The newcomer was as tall as Good Eyes, and dark, with fierce black eyes. The human stepped forward, closer to Good Eyes. Too close.

  Taller's hormones were in full bloom. His head spun in the strange male's direction, his eyes widening, his crown flaring red in challenge. But the human was intently regarding Weaver, and he ignored the warning. Obeying instincts as old as his people, Taller's feathers flared in anger, his wings and neck stretched forward threateningly. Impulsively, he attacked.

  Weaver bleated an alarm call, but Taller ignored her. Dimly, he was aware that Good Eyes' face twisted in alarm and she lurched forward as if to stop him, but he was too quick.

  The enraged avian lunged to strike a killing blow, but the human male finally saw him and reacted. Instantly he dropped to one knee and bowed his head, flaring his elbows wide. It was the most submissive posture a White Wind could assume, placing his life in the will of his senior. The gesture stopped Taller cold. Of all the aliens he had met, only Good Eyes had ever copied the people's postures. Furious and confused, Taller struck the ground, tearing out a divot of sod and flinging it in the air. The human male never flinched, never moved.

  With a flash of white, Weaver was suddenly between him and the stranger.

  To Taller's amazement, she shoved her mate rudely with her body, poking his back hard with her graceful bill.

  "What are you doing!" she demanded angrily.

  "Protecting my family from this challenger," Taller insisted, making himself tall. The human was still locked in the submissive stance. He did not seem like a challenger now.

  "This is no stranger! This is my friend," Weaver informed him irritably, giving the sign a special, intimate twist.

  Taller's crown blazed red. Her friend!

  "This is the human who asked for the feathers, who helped Good Eyes attach them. Without him, I would not be flying. And before that, he... cared for me when we were separated. He... even caught food for me when I had no will to eat, no will to live."

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  Taller was incredulous. "He caught food for you?" This male . . . ? He stared again at the stranger, his crown flaring with jealousy.

  "Taller," Weaver signed, "I wouldn't be here if not for him. Besides," she moved so that only Taller could see her signs, "he is different from other humans; I could see this even in my despair. He understands the World, the people. He has a real name. And see how he watches Good Eyes."

  Good Eyes? Taller felt baffled by the turn in conversation.

  "When you and Good Eyes flew over the enemies' colony, First-Light saw her in the sky, flying boldly with her cohort. His eyes ... lit from within. And then my heart knew. Remember? Just a few months ago you told me to find Good Eyes a human mate!"

  Taller stared at his partner with new understanding. He glanced sideways at Good Eyes, then back at the male. "He's not as tall as she is," he signed grudgingly.

  "He's tall enough," Weaver replied, closing the subject.

  This is why matchmaking is better done by females, Taller decided grumpily, having no idea how to save face in this awkward situation. He forced his crown to shrink.

  Weaver moved away from him, and touched the Terran on the arm, urging him to stand. Boldly, she draped her wing over him, consp
icuously using the wing with the grafted Hunter feathers.

  "Taller, my partner," she announced formally, "this is FirstLight-of-Day, my special. . . friend."

  Good Eyes appeared completely nonplussed when Weaver deliberately treated this stranger as if he were a family member.

  Weaver signed coyly to the human male, "I warned you he wouldn't be happy about those fish."

  Taller fixed the newcomer with a cool stare, but First-Light gazed back confidently, easily bearing "the look." The Grus leader would never easily accept anyone's interest in Good Eyes but. . . for her happiness . . . he'd have to endure it. But Weaver had better be sure about this. Taller would allow no one, especially no mere human, to cause Good Eyes unhappiness.

  "Welcome to the World, First-Light," the leader signed stiffly. "Perhaps someday I may be able to show my gratitude for... the help you've given both my life's mates."

  "You owe me nothing," the human replied. "I did what any friend would do.

  When our enemy has been driven from the World, perhaps you'll give me permission to study with your people."

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  Taller stared with one eye. "What can the White Wind people teach a race of beings who fly without wings, and build shelters where there is no heat, no air?" His mate's eyes bored into him, her crown flaring in annoyance, but he ignored her. First-Light's steady gaze never faltered. "I want to study all the things that grow on the World--which plants are used in healing, which are for weaving, which for food...."

  "First-Light," Taller signed, wondering if the human was mocking him, "the study of all the things that grow on the World would take more than your lifetime and mine combined."

  The human's expression never changed. "Then, with your permission, I hope to start soon."

  Taller lifted his head. This human was asking to live on the World forever!

  The avian paused, then finally signed, "Let us both hope you can start your work soon." First-Light's eyes softened, and Taller knew he'd just granted this Terran's most heartfelt wish.