Dibin sighed. “It’s nothing nefarious, if that’s what you’re thinking. My job is rare peoples. To conserve cultures of value, we have to know about them. Basically Lepaute is one big blank, anthropologically.”
“Didn’t the Federation investigate when the mining operation started?”
“No. The miners sent an application to exploit the moons, the existing population negotiated a reasonable compensation arrangement, which the Federation accepted after an overseer’s visit to check it out. So the Federation left it at that. It’s a big galaxy, Pax. Your report was literally the first reason we’ve had to look closer.”
“Great. And now?”
“And now we find there may have been a number of colonisation events, large and small. Some of the fisherfolk on the north of the continent are clearly from another group of colonists and look very different to Namjikil’s people. The only commonality is a desire for a relatively low tech, self-sustaining existence. But the history of all these discrete groups hasn’t been recorded or mapped in any way. As for the original terraformers, we have absolutely no information about who they were or where they came from. They disappeared.”
“And the stones?”
“The stones don’t fit into anything we know about this or any other planet. Carved stones, ancestor stones, reverence for symbols and all that, those are commonplace through humanoid history. But stones that resonate and produce images? Without an obvious technological basis?” Dibin waved a hand. “That’s unique. And if it’s cultural and unique, my job is to help preserve it.”
“So, why didn’t you just say all this to Namjikil’s people?”
Dibin had the grace to look embarrassed. “I didn’t think they’d understand the importance.”
“Dumbass.”
“Will you help now?”
“Yeah. But first I have to find my kid, and then my kid has to make them forget how much you’ve offended them, and then Namjikil has to do some fancy talking to make the others let you do what you want. Give up on recording things though. They don’t like that at all.”
“No. I really am a dumbass. So many cultures have taboos about recording—soul stealing and so on. I, uh, got a bit carried away.”
“Oh you think?” I shook my head, wondering how a smart person could be so clueless. “Shajn? Kiddo? Where are you?”
A group of giggling kids spilled out from behind a hut.
“Pax!” Shajn broke free, ran over and grabbed me around the waist. “I made lots of friends!”
“So I see, puggle. You want to have something to eat, and meet Namjikil’s family?”
“Yes, please! Can the other kids come?”
“It’s their place, of course.”
The sun was setting and it was time to eat. We’d brought food, and it was pooled along with some wonderful earthen-pot-cooked stews and bread to provide a meal for everyone in the clan. There had to be over a hundred and fifty people clustered into Namjikil’s house, the porch, and the area around it where tables had been set up. It all seemed like chaos, with people and kids all diving in to shared containers, serving themselves, but as I looked more closely, I realised there was a polite order to things. The very youngest children were fed first, then the very oldest. Then the adults, then the other children. And no one took more than they needed.
As honoured guests, we continued to be the centre of attention, but it was obvious who was the real object of interest in our group. I didn’t know what it was about Shajn, but the Kanimil were drawn to my child like birds to shiny stuff. It didn’t matter if Shajn was talking or listening, the clan stared like they were trying to consume the puggle with their eyes. It would have been creepy if they weren’t so kind and respectful with it. Shajn was like a treasure to them. I asked Namjikil what the frecking hell was going on.
“Shajn is child of ancestors.”
“Your ancestors?”
Namjikil waved a hand towards the stars in the dark sky. “Ancestors.”
“Child of the stars?”
Namjikil nodded. “A gift.”
“Well, I won’t disagree with you there, my friend.”
I didn’t understand why Shajn, and not, say, me. We both looked weird compared to anyone on the planet, though admittedly Shajn was a lot more engaging than I was. So what was it about the puggle? Not that I didn’t think that everyone should love and adore my kid, but that wasn’t how the real world worked.
It was getting late, and Ketan wasn’t up to a night away from home just yet. I nudged Namjikil. “Stone singer?”
“Oh yes. Come, come.”
Namjikil led us away from the main gathering, and as we walked, someone joined us. A person of no great age, but of very dignified bearing, who took a seat by a hut not far from Namjikil’s. We weren’t invited to sit. Namjikil bowed. “Genanam, stone singer.”
We followed Namjikil’s lead, and bowed. I sensed Dibin about to ask a question, so I used my elbow. Fortunately the hint was taken.
The stone singer regarded us all, disapproving expression only lightening when Genanam’s gaze lit on Shajn. “Come here, little one. Sit by me.”
Shajn looked up at me. “It’s okay, puggle. You’re safe.”
So my kid sat, a little nervously, next to Genanam. Genanam addressed Shajn in dialect, as if the rest of us didn’t exist. Saro whispered a translation, which Genanam ignored. “You asked to know of the stone singing. To sing to the ancestors is a gift given only to few. I am the oldest, and have that responsibility for the clan.”
“Do you see ghosts?” Shajn asked.
“No, child. The ancestors speak to us, but do not show their faces. You claim to have seen them?”
“Pax and I have seen something. But we don’t hear anything.”
Genanam grunted in apparent satisfaction. “It is a gift to hear the voices of the ancestors. Very few of us can interpret their words.”
“So can you show us?”
I jabbed Dibin in the ribs again, but it was too late. Genanam frowned at the interruption but didn’t deign to look in Dibin’s direction. “To sing the stones is a sacred rite. I must prepare for three days, fasting and praying. It is not playing.” I was a little surprised this speech didn’t end with Genanam spitting on the ground. Disdain dripped from every word.
“That’s okay, we don’t need you to put yourself out. I just want to see...here, wait, I’ll show you.”
And before I could stop Dibin, the air was full of mist. Namjikil and Genanam fell to their knees, hands raised in the air, eyes closed. Shajn sat frozen, frightened and amazed. I called my kid over for a reassuring hug, and kept a wary eye on the stone singer.
When the ghost mist disappeared, Genanam opened dazed eyes, but then the gaze hardened, focused on Dibin. Genanam stood and stalked over. “What did you do? This?” Genanam grabbed Dibin’s arm and smacked the resonator from Dibin’s hand. “Get. Out. Leave now. Go!”
Dibin grabbed the device and ran towards the village gate. Namjikil herded the rest of us in the same direction, but Shajn broke away from me and approached Genanam. “Please? Dibin is my friend. Please don’t be angry.”
Genanam only glared.
“Shajn, baby, come here.” I picked up the puggle and held tight. Suddenly I was aware there were a lot of Kanimil and only a few of us, and that we might no longer be among friends.
Namjikil seemed worried about that too. “Go home. Be safe. I come two weeks.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Dibin meant no harm.”
Namjikil glanced back. “Two weeks. Be safe!”
And that was that. We climbed back into the vehicles and drove off as fast as was safe in the terrain and the darkness. Shajn clung to my side the whole time. I was furious at Dibin. What a ridiculous thing to do.
But Dibin didn’t need flagellation from me. “Pax, guys, I’m so sorry. I was only trying to show Genanam that we didn’t need to trouble them or ask anyone to perform.”
“I think the message Genanam got,�
� Saro said, exhibiting a rare harshness, “was that you consider the stone singing nothing more than a trick, and that Genanam’s role can be replaced by a machine.”
“Dumbass,” I added.
Shajn was annoyed by the attack on a friend. My kid hugged Dibin and glared at us. “Genanam was rude. And mean. Stop yelling at Dibin.”
“No, it’s all right, Shajn. I did the wrong thing and embarrassed people. I’m sorry.”
“Genanam was rude, though,” Ledikjin said. “Arrogant. I don’t think you’ll be allowed to see the stones, Dibin.”
“I know. I’ll go now. Um....” Dibin turned to me. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
“You didn’t. Genanam will live. I have to go to the hospital at the end of this week. Meet up?”
Dibin gave me a strained smile. “Sure.”
“I’ll come too,” Shajn said.
Dibin patted the puggle’s head. “I’d like that. See you later.”
“Fun, fun,” I muttered to Ledikjin as we walked into the house.
“Genanam is a pompous old fool, but unfortunately one with high status.”
“Do you think there’s any chance of Dibin making progress there? It’s for the Kanimil’s benefit, not Dibin’s.”
“It will be for Dibin to convince them,” Saro said, coming up behind us, carrying a sleeping Ketan. “Namjikil might help. But it was a foolish thing to do.”
It had been, and nothing could erase that. When I met up with Dibin two days later in the city, my friend was still morose. “Maybe I should hand this role over to someone else. I’m making a mess of it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But you’ll stop doing that and learn.”
“Yes,” Shajn said. “Learning is good. Everyone makes mistakes. Saro said.”
Dibin gave my kid a weak grin. “Yeah, we all make mistakes.”
“You talk to Namjikil. That will fix it.”
“I don’t know, kiddo. It might not.”
“Then I’ll talk to Namjikil.”
“That might work.”
“Then that’s sorted,” I said, ruffling Shajn’s hair. “Eat up, and then do you want to join us for a swim, Dibin? I promised Shajn we’d swim in the sea pool. I can manage that now.”
“Yeah, that’d be fun.”
Dibin happened to be at the farm when Namjikil arrived to deliver some gemstones and collect produce three days later. Ledikjin joined them in a huddle for over an hour on the porch, translating and helping to explain Dibin’s sometimes overexcited imagery. Doing my rehab exercises in the house, I kept out of it, though I could hear them talking. Namjikil listened intently, giving Dibin a fair hearing.
Shajn, who’d been playing with friends, came in to find me. “Should I help, Pax?”
“I think they’re doing okay on their own, puggle.”
“Did Dibin say sorry?”
“Oh yes. Lots and lots.”
“Then Genanam should forgive. That’s only right.”
“Sometimes people don’t do what’s right, hon. And this is complicated.”
Shajn sniffed. “Why? It’s just a bunch of stones. We don’t need Genanam to see the ghosts.”
“Yes, but....” How to explain to my atheist kid about ancestor worship, when neither of us even knew who our ancestors were? “It’s important to Namjikil’s people, and just because we don’t understand why, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t listen to them.”
“Everyone’s different. Saro said.”
“Saro’s right. So if Namjikil’s people don’t want strangers to look at their special secret places, then it’s only polite to respect that. You don’t go where you’re not invited, do you?”
“No way. It’s rude.”
“Yeah. So, Dibin doesn’t want to be rude.”
“But why is it important?”
I hugged my kid. “Because the ghost thing makes them different from any other rocks anywhere in the galaxy, and we should make sure they’re kept safe.”
“Okay.” Shajn nodded politely, but it was a bit more than a kid could comprehend. “Will Namjikil say yes?”
“Not sure it’s up to Namjikil. But I hope so.”
The huddle broke up, and the three of them came into the house, expressions rather unreadable for such open people. Namjikil bowed when I appeared around the corner. “You cook, Pax?”
“Yeah, it’s my day. Uh, so...what do you think?”
“I talk to village. You all come two weeks. Decision then.”
“Okay. If you want someone to guarantee Dibin, I will.”
“Gar....?”
Ledikjin called out something in Namjikil’s language, and Namjikil nodded. “Yes. Good. This helps. Good.”
Shajn ran up and hugged Namjikil, which made my friend smile. “Dibin is a good person. Please help.”
“I try, little one. I help, cook now.”
~~~~~
Dibin was a mess by the time four of us—me, Shajn, Ledikjin and Dibin—drove up to Namjikil’s village late one morning, two weeks later. “What if they won’t let me in?”
“Namjikil invited us, remember?”
“But last time—”
“You were an idiot. So don’t be one this time and it’ll be fine.”
Shajn patted Dibin’s arm. “You worry too much.”
I laughed at Dibin’s expression in the rear view mirror. Beside me, Ledikjin scowled. We’d been listening to a lot of this for the last two weeks. “Wish we’d never heard of these damn rocks.”
“Too late. Now be nice.”
I parked the rover and exited carefully. I had finally shed the exowalker, although I still relied on two sticks as back up in case my balance failed. I could walk much faster and more confidently in the machine, but there was nothing like using your own muscles under your own command.
I think the sticks and my slow gait might have won more consideration for our group than Dibin’s previous behaviour warranted. I was graciously offered a place to sit and people came to us, rather than the other way around. I was shameless enough to use anything we had going for us in the way of sympathy because I expected Dibin to be turned down. Yeah, there was Genanam walking this way, glaring angrily. That didn’t bode at all well.
A person introduced by Namjikil as Akon, the clan spokesperson, bowed to us. “Friends Pax, Shajn, Ledikjin, and honoured guest Kushida Dibin, we greet you and welcome you.” Okay, this was better than expected. “Namjikil has explained your request, Dibin, and the reasons. It is forbidden for anyone to mine, cut, or damage the ancestor stones. We cannot allow you to touch or test them.”
Dibin sighed. “Oh well.”
“However, we have agreed that you may visit the stones. You may not record them or report their location.”
“And I will not sing them!” Genanam shouted from the back.
Akon frowned at the interruption. “Do you agree to this, friend Dibin?”
“Oh yes! May I take equipment to see the spirits and hear them?”
“No recording!”
“Genanam, be still. Can these tools record?”
“Yes, but I can disable that.”
I spoke up. “Friend Akon, I am familiar with these tools, and I swear I will make sure they’re not used to record.”
“Then that is satisfactory. Genanam will accompany you to ensure the stones are not disturbed. Namjikil will accompany you to ensure that you are allowed to see them.”
I swallowed a grin at the implied rebuke. Genanam looked about to choke.
Several other senior members of the clan were to come with us, some who had never seen the stones before. If a stranger was allowed to see them, then it was fit that clanspeople should be allowed too. I suspected some severe boundary trampling would be occurring, and Genanam would not be a happy person by the end of the day.
I got the impression that if Genanam had controlled things, we would have been travelling to the stones’ location walking backwards, barefoot, and wearing rags to show proper respect, or whatever
else could be concocted to make the journey as annoying as possible. Fortunately, Genanam wasn’t in control, and my disability allowed us to travel in comfort, Genanam and the other clanspeople in a cart, with Namjikil squeezed into the rover beside Dibin and Shajn.
“Much arguing,” Namjikil muttered as we set off.
“I’m grateful,” Dibin said.
“Yes. You be grateful.”
“Thank you, Namjikil,” Shajn said, pulling my friend’s head down to place a kiss on one weathered cheek, and raising the first smile we’d seen on Namjikil since we arrived.
The stones were in caves about three kilometres from the settlement. “Limestone,” Dibin mused as we drove into the cave entrance. “Yes, that makes sense. Hang on, no, it doesn’t. Namjikil—”
“Please, no more questions,” Namjikil moaned.
“Okay. Sorry.” Dibin slumped down in the seat, trying to hide. Poor Namjikil, the meat in the clan sandwich.
The going in the cave was very rough after three hundred meters. The riders in the cart had to walk, but fortunately the rover was built for these conditions. I didn’t know what I’d do if the going became too difficult even for the rover.
The passage grew narrower and rockier, but after another two hundred meters moving at less than a kilometre an hour, Genanam raised a hand and shouted for us to halt. “This way.” Genanam jabbed at the direction with a walking stick.
“Namjikil, do you think I can manage it?”
“I think, yes. We will help, Pax. Not far.”
It was, in fact, about another hundred meters over and between large boulders, and while not too difficult to someone with normal legs, it felt more like mountain climbing to me. Fortunately I had three stout adults to help me, and my puggle to encourage me. Genanam and the elders went ahead, not really interested in our progress, but I didn’t slow our group down that much.
We emerged from a gap between two colossal boulders, and Shajn gasped. “So pretty!”
“Oh my blood and bones,” Dibin whispered.
“Wow,” I said.
Before us stood a shimmering, apparently perfect wall of translucent, pale, almost white stone, illuminated by the lamps the clans people carried. Dibin turned a flashlight onto it and the stone glowed in the beam. “That is astonishing. But if you can’t cut it, where do the pendants come from, Namjikil?”
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