hea rt, the drumbeat that was the beating hea rt of this new world, Tesa began to dance the Eagle Dance.
She watched her shadow imitating the great soari ng birds of Ea rt h . Her feet and legs took up the rhythm as she tu rn ed in circles, moving
naturally, compensating for the low gravity with an easy grace she only
felt when dancing. And as she moved, she found herself envisioning
the bronze wingtip against blue sky. Closing her eyes, she opened
herself to the image and followed the dream - bird , heedless of the
proximity of the cliff edge . Behind her eyelids she could see the vision
that had haunted her hibernation. A lone , soa ri ng bird, looking for ...
what?
Shudderi ng , she opened her eyes to see a shadow of wings on the
ground , c ri sscrossing her own. Sta rt led enough to think she might be having a true vision , Tesa continued to dance, turning, spinning ,
watching the new shadow . It was the vision she'd always feared, the
vision that would tu rn her into a heyoka , something she didn ' t want to be.
The winged shadow grew larger, darker, turn ing circles in time with her
silent drum . Tesa tried to regain her calm. Finally, she stopped and
looked up, her hea rt fearful but open to the Eagle Spi ri t , her palms sticky with sweat . But the shadow wasn ' t a spirit ... it was an Aquila.
An Aquila! Her mind and her heart went to war . She glanced at the
marsh , wonde ri ng if the Grus would notice the great p re dator and erupt in a chorus of wa rn ing calls . But she felt no tingling vibrations and decided the Aquila must not have violated any "bounda ri es." This single hunter might have been winging westward after ranging in the
easte rn savannahs.
Was there any way to communicate with it? Had anyone ever t ri ed ? Or was it just viewing her as nothing more than a potential meal? It was
foolish, but she didn't feel frightened now. The Aquila was magnificent!
Scott' s notes had warned Tesa that the Aquila was every bit
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as big as the long-extinct Teratomis of Earth. The larger female's wingspan
spre ad to sixteen feet, a foot longer than the Grus'. Her body, stretched tall, was about four feet high. The massive bird spiraled down as Tesa stared,
riveted. As she watched the Aquila, the bird also watched her. Clutching her
prayer feathers, she met the bird's gaze.
The huge avian alighted on an old, dead tree that clung to the edge of the
cliff. Tesa could see the ruby-red eyes clearly. A female, then. The males
were smaller and had golden eyes.
Meg had given Tesa Scott' s notes on the voyage, and the young woman
quickly realized that the older biologist had no idea how much work her
partner had done on Aquila behavior. Scott wrote that he had wanted to do
more, to even try contacting the elusive predators, but the Grus' long-
standing enmity with the creatures had made that impossible. Dutifully, Tesa
had gone through everything about the Grus, only stealing a few moments
here and there to read about the Aquila. She'd never told Meg about the
material, and kept those files separate.
As she met the Aquila's red-eyed gaze, Tesa wondered, What would you do,
Scott? Then, slowly, she walked toward the tree.
Clamping onto the leafless treetop with strong talons, the raptor made a
great display of flapping her wings, as though she would pull the old tree out
of the ground. She opened her wickedly hooked beak-screaming her own
calls, no doubt.
Tesa stopped ten paces from the trunk. As Taller had, the Aquila peered at
her with one brilliant red eye, then the other. Then, without warning, she
flattened her feathers and launched herself up, gaining altitude quickly.
Tesa looked back at the tree, watching it sway as if that could reassure her
the Aquila had actually been there. As her gaze traveled down the trunk,
something glistened on a low limb.
She scrambled a few feet up the trunk, reached for the shiny thing, and
snagged it. It was a feather from the Aquila, colored gold speckled with
bronze. Clutching it, Tesa jumped down, then spun wildly, narrowly missing
the edge of the cliff.
Scrambling backward and grinning , she looked to the horizon. The Mother
Sun had disappeared, and the twilight was darkening. Opening her palms,
Tesa displayed her three prayer feathers, thanking the Great Spirit for this
gift-this sign-on her first day in this new world.
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Then she took the three feathers , and wrapped them in the protective
leather , and slipped them into her pocket . A touch on her shoulder
startled her.
"Was that an Aquila?" Meg asked, pointing toward the distant speck that
was the avian. Her face was drawn , somber, totally unlike the happy
person who had helped her off the shuttle . Before Tesa could answer ,
the older woman shaded her eyes, pee ri ng . Tesa felt her exuberance
waning.
"Thorn says lone ones have been doing flyovers. I'll never feel comfortable if
even one of them is around."
The biologist looked at Tesa. "Thorn says that last week a group of Aquila
attacked a flock of Grus in the west, much closer to this ter ri to ry than they usually come. They caught the Grus just before they would ' ve
retu rn ed home. It seemed calculated . That's the time of day when the Grus a re heavy from food and a little off their guard. They carried off
four young birds."
Tesa looked stri cken , the hidden Aquila feather suddenly becoming a
heavy weight in its sec re t place.
Meg forced a smile. "I' m sor ry , I shouldn ' t overreact. Come on, supper '
s ready and Thorn hates his food to get cold."
As they drew close to the shelter Thorn met them, handing Meg and
Tesa each a large , red fruit . With a bow , he signed, "This is a class restaurant , mesdames . Your appetizer."
Tesa smiled her thanks and bit into sweet, ta rt flesh and realized this was
the source of the delicious "orange juice" Meg had given her on board
the Crane. The intense flavor flooded her mouth, making her ravenous.
Thorn' s cheerful expression faded as Meg pointed out the speck in the
sky that might be an Aquila.
"Maybe I' m being paranoid ," Meg signed . " I didn't get a good look at it.
Tesa was watching it be fore I got there." Thorn looked at her . " Was it an Aquila?"
The younger woman hesitated. She thought about Taller. How would she
feel if anything happened to him? In her mind's eye, Dr . Rob was saying
something about taming the Wakinyan . The shadow of a bronze wing
crossed be hind her eyelids. Eve ry thing was all jumbled up, doing
battle in her head with the last remnants of hi bern ation drug. She
touched the pocket that held the prayer feathers and the pipe.
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How could anyone get into such a complicated situation after being here
less than an hour? She remembered the Thunderbird ' s exclamation,
What a backward forward way to be.
"No," she signed, gazing at Thorn. " I'm sure it wasn't."
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CHAPTER 6
The Taboo
Taller stood in the human beings' shelter, wondering if he'd made a mistake.
Just this morning he'd looked at the calendar cloak and realized it had been
three fruiting seasons since the Year the Humans Came.
Three seasons,
and he'd never stepped inside their shelter. It felt wrong to be inside such an
alien thing, but then, the humans were alien, and he'd befriended them. If
he'd made a mistake, he'd done it long ago.
He gazed about at the cluttered, other-Worldly place. Relaxed had said
they'd named it after Puff and had pointed to a slab of wood attached to the
entrance. Relaxed had said Puff's real name was on it, that this building was
now THE SCOTT HEDFORD MEMORIAL SHELTER. The wood was
beautiful, yet the lines burned into it showed no awareness of the wood's
own pattern. The humans either had no aesthetic sense or the worst
eyesight of any diurnal creature Taller had ever communicated with.
Then Relaxed had said this building would last forever and always bring
honor to Puff. Taller comforted himself that the wood was of the World and
would age and crumble. The
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time it took to decay would mark the days of his grief for his friend. He
would not mark his grief by the aging of a shelter that would last forever. He
didn't think Puff would want him to do that.
These painful memories only reminded him of Water Dancer and his family.
The hatching cloaks of Dancer, his mate Rain , and the unhatched chick
now hung outside Taller's nest shelter, marking the days of grief. Rain's
cloak and the chick's were already unraveling, but Dancer's cloak with its
complex patterns of old legends had been woven by Taller's mate, Weaver,
who had earned her name through her skill. His son's cloak would last, but
not forever. Not even mountains lasted forever.
Taller swallowed a hard lump of grief. The dark wings of Death had never
before flown as they had that terrible day, not in all the seasons of Taller's
life. When he was young, it was only the foolish chick of foolish parents that
had ever been caught by the hunters-but things were different now.
Taller gazed out the windows at the slanting rays of polarized light that led
him to the Sun Family and asked as he had every day since his son's death-
Why does Death take us as though we were nothing more than simple water
dwellers?--but he had stopped getting answers to his prayers long ago.
Once you lost the Sun Family's favor, your people's loyalty would be next.
He'd seen their signs. Since Dancer's death, the worst of it was he could no
longer deny it in his heart.
Things had changed when the humans came. Some blamed everything on
that. They disturbed the atmosphere and changed the weather, they upset
the Moon Family and changed the tides, they angered the Sun Family and
changed the sunsets.
Taller had seen more than seventy seasons of weather, tides, and sunsets,
and knew that was nonsense. Except for Death. That he could not deny.
How was it the humans had come just as Death decided the White Wind
people were easier prey than a spawning?
Some days, Taller wondered if he hadn't lived too long. Fluffing his feathers,
he pulled his crown up tight, dimming its color, and moved on through the
shelter.
The floor' s unnatural surface was slick; his sharp claws rattled uselessly
against it . He was plagued by an itch between his right eye and his bill, but
he didn't dare lift a foot to scratch
69
it, for fear his other would slide out from under him. He blinked his third
eyelid . He was looking for Good Eyes.
Taller snaked his head around some obstacles--"furn iture" Puff named
them . He could hear the sound of a muffled waterfall . He listened .
Something - or someone-was moving in the water. That would have to
be Good Eyes . Relaxed and First - One-There were outside , supe rv ising the food collection.
He moved closer to the water sounds. Could the humans make a waterfall in
their building? Well, they could fly without wings in a ship that could travel so high that one night Taller had watched it become a star.
Puff said the ship took them to a bigger building where humans could live
even though there was no air outside it. The day Puff told him that, Taller
knew he'd done the ri ght thing in bef ri ending these aliens. There
would be no way to drive people like this away, people who set up
house next door to the Moon Family . To su rv ive , the White Wind people would have to lea rn to live with them and whatever changes
they would b ri ng.
But a waterfall in a building? That would be something to see. And if Good Eyes were there, he could talk to her at the same time . Though why the
humans need a waterfall in he re when all the water of the World was
just outside, he could not guess.
This area was crowded, and he walked cautiously around the things the
humans collected from the World. Taller sometimes helped them collect
objects, but he never understood why they wanted them . Maybe they
were like the ro usettes, always hoarding things they couldn ' t eat , and not knowing why.
Here was a row of beautiful stones, there a mound of b ri ght leaves. The
humans " prese rv ed" them so they would always look alive, even though they had died . Puff had explained that. On their world , eve ry thing had to be "p re se rv ed " to ward off famine . It broke Taller's hea rt to watch the human beings eat "prese rv ed " food , some of it years old, so he had showed them the f re sh food his World offered , and
watched them grow healthy on it.
Taller turn ed , nearly upending a pair of blue antlers, shed by a Leaf -
Eater . Next to that was a row of bleached skulls--a Leaf - Eater ' s, a Digger ' s, and a T re e Ripper ' s. The humans
70
must need to consume bone-building minerals, Taller thought, or perhaps
they needed to gnaw and file back their teeth. People with teeth had
different requi re ments than his own who had the supe ri or edge with their bills. Teeth , after all, fell out.
He'd finally located the source of the water sounds and was try ing to
remember how to open the "door " when something behind him,
something lovely , caught his rear vision, making him forget about the
waterfall. Taller focused one eye on it.
Under a row of windows was a platform, its soft surface held up on stilts,
and lying on it was something beautiful. It was a " blanket ." He'd seen many blankets, but never any like this.
It was ri ch with all the colors of the World , with an intricate, sharp-
angled design set against a white background . The weave was similar
to other blankets , but this was not woven in one piece . No, this was many little pieces all put together to make a pa tt e rn that contrasted shades of orange , reds, and yellows. Taller eased slowly onto his
hocks to examine it, to relish the play of light an d color , to enjoy its artist ry .
Of all the things Puff had shown him, nothing touched the g re at bird as
did this beautiful blanket . His hea rt raced.
Oh, there were the wind chimes , and Puff had explained how they made
them, but that was craft , tu rn ing sand into stone , even as lovely a stone as c ry stal glass . This was different. This w as the ability to tu rn color and shape into something that tr an scended color and shape .
His eyes devoured the beauty of the old star quilt . He w as so
distracted that he never heard the water stop or noticed Good Eyes
emerging from a room behind him
.
Finally, the Sun Family had sent a sign . Had he done the ri ght thing in bef ri ending the humans ? Yes. He held in his feathered fingers proof that the humans were not just beings who could communicate, but rather fully
intelligent people--the humans were capable of art.
The best adv an tage of being planetside was the availability of a
natural water source that , for Tesa, tr an slated into a long, luxu ri ous shower . There wasn ' t anything quite as good as washing away
months of sleep deb ri s.
She turn ed the water off an d reached for the purple towel
71
someone had thoughtfully left out for her. After a brisk rubbing, she
wrapped the towel around her hair , changed into a fresh StarB ri dge
jumpsuit , and opened the door.
She was start led to discover Taller , hock - sitting before her bed,
meticulously examining her quilt with one eye , then the other , while running a finger along the tiny stitches.
Suddenly he spotted her with his rear vision. Her purple-turbaned head
was too much of a surp ri se and he leaped to his feet , s tr etched to his full height , and bounced his head against the ri gid ceiling . His feet slid out from under him . Spreading enormous wings to counterbalance , he
managed to sweep off eve ry object that had the misfo rt une to be
nearby , scattering and smashing dozens of a rt ifacts in a rain of
destruction.
When Taller had steadied himself, he folded his wings and fluffed his
feathers out as his crown expanded , fla ri ng a b ri lliant red. Fragments of feather fluff drifted gently to the floor. A final plume - settling shake re stored his dignity.
And I thought I was clumsy, Tesa thought , appalled at the devastation the avian had wrought. He must be so embarrassed. " You surp ri sed me, Good Eyes ," Taller signed simply. She nodded and signed back , " We surp ri sed each other." He fixed her with a large golden eye. "That is a most unusual
decoration on your head. Doesn' t it hu rt your neck?"
She'd forgotten all about the turban, and felt a stab of guilt when she
realized it was no doubt the cause of his alarm. She removed it slowly
and explained its purpose.
Taller tucked his neck in a tight S curv e, gracefully easing onto his hocks
so that he appeared to be kneeling, only backward . He touched the
quilt . " Is this yours?"
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