Silent Dances

  "Yes," Tesa signed. " My grandmother made it for me."

  "How did she make it?"

  " By piecing together scraps of old cloth ," Tesa explained. "She made this from old scraps ?" He gave her one of those piercing stares. "Do you value this?"

  "It was given to me the day I was born. I' ll be bu ri ed in it when I die. It's a pa rt of me."

  His head and neck shot up straight, but then scrunched back into an S as

  he tu rn ed his head to view the ceiling with one cautious eye. "This is a beautiful thing, Good Eyes. When you come to live with us in the

  shelter , you'll b ri ng it?"

  " If I may," Tesa signed.

  "Please. Weaver will love this. I came to ask if you'd see

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  the egg today. The chick is talking . He'll be out soon." Tesa feared that her mo rn ing ritual of coffee and breakfast was probably disrupted

  forever, but if she had to don stilts and wade through the marsh without

  even a snack she would expire . Before she could respond to Taller ' s c ry ptic request, the avi an tu rn ed his head toward the front door . Meg had entered , but Tesa felt a touch of disappointment that Taller would

  break eye contact with her over a sound , like any hearing Terran.

  "So, can you come?" he signed , even though his head was tu rn ed completely around.

  How weird! Tesa thought, realizing he could still see her. "I hope you weren ' t sta rt led by your wake-up caller," Meg signed before Tesa could answer the avi an .

  " No mo re than he was," Tesa told her.

  Meg glanced at the debri s-littered floor as Taller casually re arranged a

  few feathers . " So I see. We'll pick it up later. Breakfast is re ady, and so is the coffee."

  Tesa wanted to cheer.

  Thorn was pouri ng black, steaming liquid into a mug when the three

  stepped outside . " Coffee's only decent when it's made outdoors ," he signed.

  Tesa nodded, t ry ing not to feel self-conscious as Taller pee re d over her shoulder into the cup Thorn handed her. She gazed at the vividly

  colored sky and the lacy clouds that skittered across it. Three Grus

  were nearby , probing the ground.

  " Take a look at breakfast ," Thorn suggested.

  He ushered her to a mossy spot under an aged tree whose bri ght yellow

  leaves overhung the ground the way weeping willows did. Orange and

  red woven mats were heaped with organic matter laid out on the blue

  and gray , moss-covered ground.

  That' s breakfast ? Tesa wondered . The fruit the Grus called round - red fruit was the re, as were other appetizing-looking things, but some

  things looked decidedly unappealing. Like the round , wet, dark brown

  thing the size of a fist, with appendages like an anemone ' s, that beg an to slowly roll away.

  "Have a seat," Meg signed, casually moving the brown thing back to

  where it ' d been. "The G ru s collected this for us, since you needed a crash course in foraging. You'll have

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  SILENT DANCES 73 to feed yourself and the chick when you live in the

  nest shelter."

  When Tesa folded her legs, Taller did too, hock-sitting near her. The

  anemone thing began to roll away again. Tesa realized it wasn ' t just

  rolling, it was moving under its own power-it was crawling . Taller grabbed it gently with his bill and retu rn ed it to its place.

  I've seen that thing before, Tesa thought. It was in Scott's notes ... The sticker-ball again attempted its futile escape. "That' s an edible water plant ," she signed , " àtraveling thornfruit .' Whenever it's on land, it migrates toward water."

  Taller snatched the rolling plant and swallowed it. With morbid

  fascination , Tesa watched its outline travel slowly down the length of

  his throat.

  "I'm so hungry ," she added , " it almost looked good to me!"

  Meg tossed her a long, yellow tuber. "Try this."

  Tesa pulled out her Swiss Army knife, scraped the tuber clean , and bit into

  it. Chewing, she signed , " This must bèhea rt-berry root.' It's sweet and crunchy and has edible flowers that produce a red ber ry with medicinal

  prope rt ies. But the tuber pa rt is best ." She was grateful that sign language allowed' her to talk with her mouth full.

  Breakfast continued until Tesa had sampled every thing. The others

  helped her demolish a heaping mound of large, shelled bivalves that

  were better than oysters.

  "I'll never eat again," Tesa complained, patting her stomach as she

  glanced at the pile of shells and pl an t re mnants.

  "You said that last night, after dinner," Thorn reminded her.

  "I'm disappointed," Meg signed , " no pearls."

  Tesa sat back, relishing a sense of belonging that had crept over her as

  she remembe re d the information she'd studied from Scott ' s notes.

  She w an ted more than an ything to show eve ry one, especially Taller , that she was ri ght for this job.

  The three Grus still wan de ri ng around the campsite had found

  something and were playing toss with it . Tesa decided they must be

  young birds, since one still had some cinnamon-colored feathers

  around his head. Bouncing on their t oe s, they flung the object into the

  air , then leaped after it, kicking.

  Suddenly the battered thing lan ded in Tesa ' s lap an d she jumped . It was cold and clammy - some kind of dead an imal,

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  amphibian maybe. I've seen this in the notes, too, Tesa thought.

  The young Grus lowered their heads as Taller glared at them.

  "It's okay, they didn' t mean it ," Tesa signed. She turned the animal over gingerly, trying to remember what it was. "This is a 'circle-swimmer,'" Tesa

  signed, recognizing it, finally. "They're inedible for Terrans, but the Grus can

  eat ..." No, that wasn't it. She glanced at Meg and Thorn and suddenly

  realized something was wrong. They were staring at the thing, shocked.

  Taller peered pointedly at the dead creature, then turned away to rub his

  face along his back., Tesa didn't miss the significance of his expanding,

  glowing crown.

  What is it? Tesa thought frantically, glancing at the pitiful corpse. Why is everyone upset? Finally, she noticed its wound-a deep puncture wound

  caused by a curved talon.

  Then she remembered. The circle-swimmer was one of the Aquila's favorite

  foods, and the only way the damned thing could've gotten here was if the

  Aquila she'd seen yesterday had dropped it. Would Meg realize she'd lied?

  Tesa glanced at her, but the older woman didn't meet her eyes. Thorn,

  however, did.

  "Well, the name's right, Tesa," Thorn signed, holding her eyes steadily, "but the circle-swimmer isn't native to this area. He must 've been dropped by a

  passing Night Flyer."

  The biologist was trying to bail her out, but Tesa had the uncomfortable

  feeling that he had caught her in her lie. "You're probably right about the Night Flyer," Meg agreed.

  "You said a pair has passed over almost every day ..." Taller stopped

  washing his face and fixed Thorn and Meg with a stare, pointedly ignoring

  Tesa. All of his feathers slowly stood straight out. "The Night Flyers

  occasionally eat waterdwellers," he agreed, "but they prefer warm-blooded

  beings like the rousette. Both of you know that." He turned a fierce, one-eyed

  stare on Tesa. "Only Death prefers the circle-swimmers."

  He looked at Tesa full-faced, but she did not yield to the impulse to scoot

  away from the point of his bill.

  "You will learn," Taller signed , "as Puff did, tha
t we never speak of Death.

  The truth is that Death will eat anything that lives. You'd be foolish to think they'd hesitate to taste the flesh of a human being."

  75

  Glancing at the submissive posture of the young Grus, Tesa

  dro pped her head , copying them . " I know you ' re telling me this to teach me how to live in your world, Taller . I won't forget."

  Graciously the Grus settled his feathers, pulled in his crown, and cast a

  covetous eye on the coffee in the bo tt om of Tesa's cup. "Could I taste that ?" he signed.

  Tesa dribbled the cold dregs into a saucer, and the avian scooped some

  liquid into his long bill. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head

  violently, spraying coffee every where. "That ' s hor ri ble !" Taller signed ,

  " but ... better than yesterday."

  " Taller has a love / hate relationship with coffee," Meg told Tesa , wiping spatters off. The older woman seemed relieved that the tense

  moment had passed . Tesa was glad, too, but she found herself

  avoiding Th orn's intent gaze.

  A vee of white flashed low overhead. Ten members of Taller's flock were

  winging through the air, pumping their wings hard , calling . Tesa felt a shiver of vibration . Taller leaped to his feet and threw his head back.

  The force of his call ro cked Tesa , raising the hairs of her body like pathetic vestigial feathers. Wincing , Thorn touched his ears, adjusting

  his nullifiers. The three Grus youngsters took off , winging hard to

  catch the group climbing into the sky.

  Thorn gestured at Meg. " They must be after the shuttle." Tesa shaded

  her eyes and finally saw the Patuxent's twin, the Baraboo , high in the atmosphere , banking with graceful ease . The Grus spiraled higher , until they looked like a handful of snowflakes caught in a whirlwind .

  Tesa was th ri lled with the beauty of their flight , until she realized they would intersect the trajecto ry of the incoming shuttle. As the Baraboo angled in, the Grus veered closer.

  Meg and Thorn were shading their eyes, watching , and Taller had his

  head cocked , one eye pee ri ng skyw ar d . Tesa wonde re d uneasily why the flock would get so close. The flyers began weaving

  dangerously in and out of the ship ' s path , their aerial acrobatics

  becoming a ri sky ballet. The White Wind people were escorting the shuttle to their World.

  Suddenly one of the avians at the end broke formation and tried to overt ake

  the leader . Tesa squinted as the lone Grus swe rv ed across the

  Baraboo's path. The ship overcompensated, spun , and ... Tesa gasped , but the shuttle quickly recovered

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  and stabilized. The bird swooped away, far from the flight path.

  Missed, Tesa thought, releasing her breath in a whoosh. Then the bird

  fluttered and fell into a deadly spiral. He flapped desperately, but could not

  gain control and yielded to gravity even as Taller ran to climb into the sky.

  77

  CHAPTER 7

  Falling

  Behind him, Taller could see the humans standing as if rooted. Ahead of him

  was a falling body flailing weakened wings. Taller swam through the air,

  feeling it flow over his body, friendly, malleable. What would it be like to

  have it turn against you, your life's ally?

  His flock swerved and dived to get beneath their pinwheeling companion.

  They won't make it, Taller thought.

  The injured yearling was Flies-Too-Fast, the same youngster who'd

  carelessly thrown that filthy carcass at Good Eyes. He'd returned from his

  flyaway-the adulthood rite every chick took at fledgling-only last month. This

  was when youngsters became reckless as they struggled to earn a name,

  impress a lover.

  That made the old leader think of how Good Eyes had accidentally brought

  the dark shadow of Death among them. But she, too, was only a juvenile,

  new to the World. Like FliesTooFast, whose mistake could shatter him upon

  the World.

  The flock had reached the plummeting bird, and there was a flurry of activity

  as the strongest flier attempted to maneuver under the stunned and injured

  yearling. Suddenly they surrounded him, hiding him. Glancing backward,

  Taller saw the

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  tiny specks of humans, helpless, tied to the ground. The pattern of the World

  swam beneath him. Not high enough, he thought, these wings, too old ...

  Straining, he pushed on. It had been years since there'd been a free-fall

  rescue.

  The big twenty-year-old, Kills-the-Ripper, and his mate, Moon Dancer,

  maneuvered beneath the youngster. Beside them was Taller's elder

  daughter, Shimmering, helping them to stabilize. The three moved closer

  together, their wingbeats synchronized, their primaries brushing one

  another. Directly under! Taller silently commanded. You must be directly

  under the one falling! But they hesitated, fearing the risk, and the youngster slipped through their net, hurtling past them.

  Taller was not ready to let one of his own meet death through something not

  of the World. Leveling out, the old leader sailed under the plummeting

  yearling. The youngster's keel hit him hard across the back, where his lungs

  were, knocking the air out of him, making him wobble-but they slowed.

  FliesTooFast hit again, and they teetered wildly, but Taller stabilized, his

  fingers brushing the younger bird's. That touch pulled the yearling out of his

  panic.

  The chick flapped hard, once, twice, then settled, lying heavily across

  Taller's back, moving his wings synchronously with the older avian who now

  labored to sail into a long, controlled spiral. Not enough ... These wings too old...

  Then the powerful Kills-the-Ripper was beneath them, his mate on one side,

  Shimmering on the other, the three forming a cushion of safety. They slowed

  until finally Taller felt the weight of the youngster lifting, as he began to glide

  on his own.

  The flock re-formed into a ragged vee, Taller in the lead, Kills-the-Ripper in

  the place of honor on his right. FliesTooFast would be last, his parents

  beneath him for assistance.

  The humans' ship had already landed when the people lowered their legs

  and parachuted onto the hillock near Good Eyes and the others. Taller met

  the newcomer's gaze and started, flaring his wings in surprise. Her large

  golden eyes seemed all at once like Puff's-they held the same caring, the

  same concern.

  Tesa struggled to slow her breathing, reminding herself that no one had

  been hurt. The injured Grus had come down too

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  SILENT DANCES 79 fast , stumbling before finding his legs, but he

  seemed fine now.

  Taller appeared calm as he met her gaze, only his crown and a flari ng of

  his wings indicating his inner turmoil.

  Tesa broke their locked gaze only when Thorn touched her elbow.

  "The Baraboo' s down," he signed , " let's see how they are."

  Tesa had forgotten that the shuttle had even been involved in the near

  tragedy. She looked at the ship that was twin to the Patuxent, the one

  they'd ar ri ved in yesterday . Only yesterday? she thought with a start .

  She turn ed back to see Taller and nearly jumped to find him ri ght

  beside her. Meg came over quickly . " That was some flying!" she

  signed to Taller . " Are you all ri ght?"

  " Yes, and the yearling will re
cover ," Taller assured her. "And your vehicle?"

  "Our ship' s fine," Meg signed, "but I think the crew is a little shook up."

  "Let me speak to the youngster first," Taller signed. "Then I wish to address the crew ." He tu rn ed to Tesa . " Come with me, Good Eyes." It was a request , not an order.

  The "escort" flock was cluste ri ng around the ship , except for the two adults hanging back with their injured yearling. As Taller and Tesa

  approached , they attempted to screen their child.

  "The humans are visitors on the World," Taller signed to them . "They are our invited guests. Conside ri ng the danger Flies-Too - Fast placed

  them in , a gift seems approp ri ate . Flying is not natural to humans , so we must be cautious."

  His suggestion seemed to take the edge off the parents' nerv ousness .

  After a rapid exchange of signs, they flew off toward the marsh . The

  youngster remained , head lowered nearly to the ground , elbows fla ri ng so that his wings looked like a cape.

  "Why would an adult, fresh from his flyaway , hide behind his parents ?"

  Taller asked him.

  Reminded of a Grus chick' s ri tual of independence, the youngster

  raised his head , pulling his wings in tight. As significant to them as the

  Plains Indians' hanblechia , the vision quest , the flyaway was a chick ' s time to discover the World. Only when he'd learned something of impo

  rt ance could the youngster retu rn home . He might be given a new

  name . There'd

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  be a dance in his honor, and he ' d be given his hatching cloak. From that

  day on he was an adult.

  Of course, not all chicks retu rn ed . Inevitably , some died. Bad news tr avels on wings, and when the parents found out, they would attach the

  cloak to the outside of their nest shelter and abandon the building, as a

  monument of g ri ef to their lost child.

  Some youngsters joined other flocks or formed their own. Once established

  in a new flock, the yearling would retu rn to collect his cloak and give a

  dance . For the Grus, as long as there was life, the re was a re ason to dance.

  "You must ask the humans to forgive your recklessness," Taller told Flies-

  Too-Fast. "Your foolhardy act might have caused your death."

  The avian lost his timidity. "But I wasn' t close to the ship! Something

  invisible sucked up the air , making me tumble." The force-field, Tesa thought , he must ' ve gotten close enough to trigger the Automatic Protection System. When the shield snapped on it would create a vo rt