by Audrey Faye
I would give several of my limbs to sit by a Quixali fire that often.
I touched the skirt that flowed oddly around my legs—not constricting, but reminding me of its presence with every step. Visiting another tribe, even one that apparently considered the spaceport their jungle, was a welcome treat. I brushed my fingers along the stitched lines in the fabric, letting them anchor me in texture and the beautifully organic feel of something wild and handmade. “Is there anything I should know so that I’m not inadvertently rude?”
“No.” Elleni smiled and guided me over to a couple of empty sling chairs in a relatively quiet corner. “I have a long list for most visitors, but I think you’ll find it quite similar to your home world. Respect your elders, honor the children, eat everything put in front of you, listen first with your heart, and let your mind be curious.”
I chuckled. “I learned all of those before I could walk.”
“So I figured.” She glanced at me casually. “There will be differences.”
I heard what she had very gently not said. “I know. It’s not my home, but my heart will drink from what is offered.” Even if it was already making me long for the world of my birth. Sometimes a small glass of water is the hardest thing of all to drink. But I would do it, because my heart needed the water—and because the tribe needed to see me drink it.
This node, wherever it was, clearly had more than one guardian.
-o0o-
I heard the flea market long before I got there, and the sound was pure delight to my ears. Here was loud, organic cacophony—the kind that happens when connection is more important than politeness, when touch and hugs and exuberance are a way of life, when children are not only welcome, but often imitated.
The kind of cacophony that spoke to my tribal heart. Quixali are mostly people of the jungle, but we live for the rare days when we gather together and make noise like this.
I sped up, winding my way through the throngs of people milling about in the main thoroughfare of the space station. Elleni huffed out a laugh as she dodged people and managed to stay glued to my side. “Your aura just lit up like a Festival of Lights tree.”
No surprise. Trading days had been amongst my favorites back on Quixal. I squeezed my way up the side of the main market entrance and wiggled around the back of a booth to get past the logjam. The owner grinned at me and blew a kiss at Elleni. The benefits of being dressed like I belonged here. Not that I would fool the natives, but it had at least earned me amused tolerance.
Elleni waved at someone across the throngs and began gently herding me that direction. I let myself be guided, because the rest of me was basking in the wild, loud, colorful miracle that was a Wanderer market. There were arts and crafts and fabrics and things made by hand strewn as far as the eye could see, in colors that would have stopped a Quixali trading day dead in its tracks and made my sensation-hungry soul quiver in bliss. On Stardust Prime, I was a child of the rocks and the backcountry. Back home, I’d been the one collecting bright feathers and shiny rocks and berries with juice that could turn my fingers every color of the rainbow.
I spied red, flowing fabric and made a hard turn left. Iggy would swoon for enough to make a sundress she could dance in, and my sewing skills weren’t entirely dormant.
Elleni snorted as she caught up to me. “Dull that look in your eyes or they won’t be able to resist fleecing you.”
I let out a sound that was almost a giggle. “They can try.” I’d learned very young how to trade my feathers and berry juice for exactly what I wanted, and I wouldn’t let the hunger in my belly make me foolish. I wasn’t just here for pretty fabrics, and letting myself get fleeced at the market was a sure path to losing status with the Wanderer clan before I even reached their camp.
The young woman running the stall saw me coming. Her quick glance measured me head to toe and clearly came up with some surprises. I hid a grin. It probably wasn’t every day they saw a stranger walk in, dressed like one of them, with screaming fabric lust in her eyes.
Elleni stayed a couple of paces back, letting us all know I was heading into this encounter on my own.
I touched a beautiful square of blue velvet, and then a headband in shimmering gold synth-silk that had Kish’s name all over it. After she killed me, of course. Giving Kish soft and pretty gifts wasn’t an exercise for weaklings.
I let my fingers drift back to the blue velvet. Not quite the right color for Tee, but it would look stunning on Tatiana. I grimaced. I’d been avoiding thoughts of my young friend and her very complicated mother and the things that would one day reach for them in the dark, and buying Tatiana a squishy pillow wasn’t a good replacement for actually keeping watch over her. But it would give me an excuse to buy something soft and blue—and easy enough on my budget while I worked out just how much of the red fabric I could afford to dicker for.
The shopkeeper moved the shimmery gold headband on top of the pillow. “I offer discounts for multiple purchases.”
She was good, but she was also used to dealing with polite customers who’d grown up on core planets. “Hi, I’m Raven. Your colors are beautiful. Do you dye the golds yourself? Those are really tricky to stabilize.”
Her spirit web flashed surprise, but her eyes showed nothing but pleasure. “I’m Delia. The golds are mine, and the reds too.” She added a bolt of the red fabric I wanted to the pile of temptation she was building for me and wriggled her fingers under a corner. “You can see the slight variations in the dye if you look closely. It looks beautiful when worn, like it’s moving on its own.”
She’d clearly known what I coveted almost as fast as I did. “Tell me how much beautiful costs.” Real hagglers knew how to mix business with pleasure, and I could tell as soon as I spoke that I’d said exactly the right thing. Delia and Elleni both relaxed, their body language sinking into that of new friends who knew there was an enjoyable conversation coming up, one we’d all complain about and where everyone would get what they wanted.
Delia grinned and named a price that only made me wince a little.
I reached over and pulled up a stool. This was going to take a while.
-o0o-
The market had been one kind of homing beacon for me, but the fire in front of me spoke so deeply to the longing in my heart that I literally ached.
Elleni leaned over, her face full of shadow and mystery in the firelight, and gently touched my knee. “Do they know how much you miss your home?”
Iggy knew. She’d heard me crying too many nights not to know. And Tee and Kish knew enough to hold my hand when I needed it, so that my soul stayed in my body and didn’t try to go home without me. But none of them knew the fullness of it. “No.” I looked into her eyes and saw utter and complete empathy. “How do you stand it?”
“Some days I don’t.” Her eyes glimmered as she looked into the fire. “Sometimes I come here, and it helps.”
I leaned into the flickering warmth, knowing it couldn’t be real. “How do they manage to have a bonfire on a space station?”
She smiled. “Don’t ask what you don’t want to know.”
She was right—I truly didn’t. I wanted it to be magic, not technology and permits. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“We’re glad you feel welcome.” The voice on the other side of me was new. I turned my head and caught sight of my new neighbor as she settled to the ground on the prime real estate beside me. Young yet, maybe a few years older than Elleni, but it was very clear from every line of her posture that one of the clan’s grandmothers had just arrived.
I bowed my head, honoring her as I would one of my own. “I grew up with a fire every night. It feeds something deep in my soul to be here, thank you.”
She held out her hand for mine, and also reached for Elleni’s. “It is difficult, this path that we ask some of our most gifted to walk. To leave us, knowing what it will cost them to breathe away from The People.”
I gave her the only answer I knew. “I serve.”
She smiled in approval. “I see you, daughter. Those of this clan call me Imani. I would be pleased for you to do the same.”
I breathed in the gift I had been given. “I am called Raven.”
She laid my hand next to Elleni’s in her lap and began tracing a finger over the lines of my palm. It tickled, but I didn’t move a muscle. Not when I felt the power coming from that slowly traveling finger.
When Imani looked up, her eyes were dark pools. “You have much to walk yet, daughter. But when you are done, know that you will go home.”
Every single molecule of me wanted her to be right. I swallowed and managed to speak a few wobbly words. “You are a Seer, honored grandmother?”
She snorted. “I’m nobody’s grandmother, but I assume you meant that respectfully. Delia is our Seer.”
I managed not to show my surprise. I hadn’t caught a whiff of that in all our time dickering over fabric.
Imani smiled. “I prefer to think of my gift as one of paying attention. The energies speak to us all if we listen carefully enough.”
I raised an eyebrow. A respectful one. “Maybe so, but some of us are born with far bigger ears.”
She grinned and patted my knee, glancing at Elleni. “I like this one. You did well to bring her.”
No one had spoken of our purpose here yet, but I was certain the woman in front of me knew of it. And I was reasonably positive I had just passed her first test.
She patted my knee again. “Enjoy the music and the songs, and perhaps later in the night you’ll show us some of the dancing of your people.”
I knew a command when I heard one. “If someone would be willing to drum for me, I’d be happy to share what little dancing skill I have.”
She smiled—and I knew the second test had just landed. “I have a drum.”
I shook my head, dipping my chin slightly. “I’m not yet ready to dance with a grandmother. Perhaps one of your younger drummers.”
This time her fingers ruffled my hair. “Well spoken, daughter. We’ll find you a drummer—but you’re not as far from dancing with a grandmother as you think.”
14
So much food. So much.
It was my own fault. While talking myself into far more red fabric than Iggy would need for three dresses, I’d happened to mention something to Delia about enjoying spicy food. Based on the spread at tonight’s campfire, I’m pretty sure every cook in the clan took my words as a personal challenge.
It didn’t surprise me that they’d heard. A visiting Shaman in disguise was hot news, and by the time I’d taken a seat as the guest of honor at the evening fire, even the toddlers had known my name. The one currently in my lap tipped up her head and opened her mouth like a baby bird. I obliged and popped in a bite of tasty hand-bread dipped in some kind of rich bean sauce. It was the least spicy thing on my plate, but it still had a serious kick.
One Seraphina clearly enjoyed. She chewed and grinned at me, a child well used to being adored.
“I see you’ve picked up one of our ruffians.” Delia leaned down and kissed the top of my lap-creature’s head. “Sweetness, you know where to get more flat bread. If you’re going to sit and eat so much of it, the least you could do is get Raven some more.”
Seraphina hopped up, eyes big with the honor she’d just been given.
I hid a smile and gave her the last bite of the bread in my hand, and then watched her run off at a speed that would have been entirely bad manners on the planet below. Here, three different people snagged her for a hug or a kiss, and a couple more righted her when she took a hard bounce off an unexpected shoulder or knee.
“You’re good with littles.” Delia had taken a seat, and a few more people had wiggled in closer to join us, with plates full of food and eyes full of curiosity and welcome.
I turned toward the small, casual circle they’d formed.
A hand, graceful like Iggy’s, but darker, held out a flat round that looked almost like a cracker. “I’m Jellie. This is fried cheese, which I know sounds terrible, but it’s really good.”
I grinned and took the offered treat. “Thank you. My friend Tee makes homemade cheese, but she’s never fried it.”
Jellie beamed. “It works best with a hard cheese if you can find one that’s been properly aged. Otherwise, it’s best to melt it on some bread.”
I took a nibble and groaned. It was oily, surprisingly hard, and had a sharp, rich, slightly burnt flavor that was obviously going to be addictive. Which meant there was only one thing to be done with it. Carefully, making sure all the crumbs landed on my plate, I broke it into four and handed a piece to everyone in my little circle besides Jellie.
She looked at me and my crumbs with obvious, gratified approval, and then broke a second round and handed me the far larger half. “Imani said you grew up wild, so you have good manners.”
Not the kind of sentence that would make sense to most people, but it did to everyone here. I nodded. “The jungle shared with us, so we shared with each other.” And the better, tastier, or more treasured something was, the more you shared it.
Jellie licked an oily finger. “We heard you want to dance.” She elbowed the tall, silent man on her left. “Duncan here is a good drummer.”
The tests were coming thick and fast now. I looked at the man and his wary eyes. He was going to be a harder nut to crack than the maker of the fried cheese. I bowed my head slightly. I didn’t know all their ways for indicating respect, so I would use mine. “I’m a dancer of only a little skill, but I bring the stories of my people. We believe that a drummer touches the heartbeat of the great mother of us all.”
Duncan studied me a moment longer and then grinned. “People generally just offer me an extra mug of spiced wine.”
I laughed. “That works better than flattery, does it?”
He shook his head, still smiling. “Not when the flattery is honest. I like the heartbeat story. I’ll work my drum for you.”
“He’s the best we’ve got besides Imani.” This time the speaker was part of a duo who looked like they’d been cut from the same piece of cloth. Twins, or as near to it as siblings could get, and of a gender I couldn’t identify. Older than the rest of us, and leaning into each other in a way that caught the attention of my spirit web. I reached out a line in gentle question and felt the tandem reply.
Imani and Delia weren’t the only people of power in the clan.
I dipped my head, trying to juggle all the honors being tossed my way, and laughed as a speeding bullet with legs crash-landed in my lap. Jellie deftly caught my plate as I caught Seraphina, who was holding a bright orange flower in one hand and a slightly grubby chunk of flatbread in the other. She squirmed out of my lap long enough to hand the orange flower to the twins, and then plunked herself back down, neatly missing my newly returned plate.
The last member of my circle laughed and ruffled the toddler’s hair. Then she smiled at me. “Don’t worry. You had my approval the moment you let this ragamuffin start stealing your food.”
The family resemblance was obvious, now that I was paying attention. As was the easy flow of love between their spirit webs. I laughed and ate the bite Seraphina held up to my mouth. It was near to drowned in a sauce so zingy it brought tears to my eyes. “Apparently she likes spicy things.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Since she was in the womb. I had such cravings. Spicy curries and pepper stews and hot sauce on everything imaginable.”
Clearly I’d been way too careful in what I’d let the tiny girl eat off my plate. “I was like that as a child. Still am. They found me once, sitting under a pepper bush. I’d left them all growing, but I’d taken a bite out of every single one.”
Duncan’s rich laugh caught me by surprise. I studied him, speculating. “Do you sing as well as drum?”
He shrugged. “A little. But tonight isn’t about my singing. It’s about seeing if your feet can keep up with my drums.”
I knew a challenge when I heard one. I raise
d an eyebrow. “Now?”
Seraphina jumped out of my lap and started an impromptu jig. Delia laughed and scooped her up. “It’s Raven’s turn to dance, silly. She’s going to tell us a story from her people. We’re going to listen with our hearts so that we can know her better.”
I stood. Once, this would have been easy, my feet used to dancing most nights around the fire. I’d never been the best dancer of my tribe, but I’d always been one of the most willing. Then I’d landed on a planet where dancing was a Talent and I didn’t have it, and other than the occasional whirl to amuse the Lightbody littles, I’d confined my feet to running and walking and hiking and let my heart dance to the beat of my small and treasured hand drum instead.
I closed my eyes as Duncan started a quiet rhythm. Not one that asked me to move yet—but one that would get the attention of anyone used to sitting around a fire. I could hear the shuffling, the scooting of small children working their way forward for a better view, the temporary closing off of conversations that would start up again as soon as I finished.
I let the gentle drumbeat into my skin, into my cells, into the blood running in my veins. It wasn’t a Quixali beat pattern, but it didn’t matter. Every drummer I’d ever met anywhere in the galaxy was echoing the same thing.
The heartbeat of the mother.
Duncan slid smoothly into something a little more complex, a little more demanding. I let my hips sway a little, testing the movements of the skirt, making it an extension of who I was. As a child, I’d danced in a light tunic and feathers and little else, but the skirt was interesting. Like a spirit web, it stretched who I was out into the space around me. I moved my feet, staying rooted to one spot for now, but picking up the beat, letting it pound up my legs and into my chakras.
My skirt stirred, restless. It wasn’t made for dancing in one place.
I breathed deeper, letting the heartbeat rise up inside me until the need to move my feet was almost a compulsion. I was here to tell a story, but it wasn’t one I had to think about or plan or shape in any way other than being as true as I possibly could to what was rising. I was one daughter on one journey, and in moving to the beat of the drum in this place on this day, I would become a mirror for all daughters, all journeys, all heartbeats. It was the way of dance.