Beneath Ceaseless Skies #205

by Ordoñez, Raphael, Murray, Samantha

  The outcrop was a cluster of natural pillars. A staircase led her up to a cave entrance between two shoulders of stone. Placing her hand on one side, she leaned as far forward as she dared. The air wafting out of the hole was cool and moist.

  Her hand slipped, and she tumbled down into darkness, rolling from step to step to the bottom. For a moment she just lay there, stunned. A sensation of wetness spread up her arm, bringing her swiftly to her knees.

  A pool of water glimmered in the gloom. It was too shallow for her cup, so she dipped her hands in and lifted it to her lips. It was fresh. Once her thirst was slaked she bathed her face and her arms.

  The cave was the tomb of some time-forgotten chieftain, with carved pilasters and a groined ceiling. There was movement toward the back. Termites as big as her thumb were tending a fungus garden that carpeted the floor and walls. Guards twice their size, with orange heads and long pincers, patrolled the perimeter.

  Desperately hungry, Orana stole forward, broke off a morsel of fungus, and placed it her mouth. It seemed edible. She tore out a handful. The guards came at her, snapping viciously. She beat a hasty retreat.

  In a comfortable nook near the stairs she ate her ill-gotten meal. Her eyes grew heavy as her stomach grew full, and she dropped into a deep sleep.

  * * *

  Morning light streamed down the steps when Orana awoke. Her antennae throbbed. She sensed someone’s presence.

  A small, lithe figure leaped to the stairs and bounded toward the opening.

  “Wait!” called Orana. “I won’t hurt you!”

  The figure froze and turned. It was the girl who had spoken the day before. She looked to be about nine. Her brown hair lay in a loose braid down her back. She had large eyes and expressive features.

  Orana smiled, seeing an opportunity to get on good terms with the children. “My name is Orana. What’s yours?”

  “Eloina. But never call me that. Everyone calls me Fish.” She spoke loudly and slowly, carefully articulating each syllable.

  “Why do they call you that?”

  “Because there’s no fish around here!”

  That made no sense to Orana. “How long have you all lived here?”

  “Oh, about five years,” said the girl. She came down a few steps. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was on an airship that was blown off course. There was an accident. I woke up in the flats and started walking. That was two days ago.”

  “Why’d you come this way? Do you know about Tiamat?”

  “Who is Tiamat?”

  “The Queen of Pureland,” said Fish. “How’d you get your hair so pink?”

  “I was born with it, Fish.”

  “What? I never heard of someone born with pink hair!”

  Orana laughed. “I’ve never met anyone else with pink hair myself.”

  “Didn’t your parents have pink hair?”

  “I don’t know. I’m an orphan, too.”

  Fish’s mouth opened, then closed. She came the rest of the way down.

  “How did you all come to be here, Fish?”

  “Same as you,” she said expansively. “Airship crash.”

  “Did your—I mean, when you crashed, were you—”

  “Is that when our parents died? Listen, lady, we were all wards of the city. You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “But you said they were dead.”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “That’s just what we tell the little ones.”

  “I see.”

  Without warning, Fish stepped over, sat in her lap, and began stroking her pink hair. Orana took the girl’s hands and held them gently in her own, but Fish disentangled them and touched her hair again. Her hand brushed a knob, and she jerked back. “Ow!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Orana. “Did you get a shock?”

  “Did I! What do you have in there, anyway?”

  “Just my antennae.”

  Fish drew back, her dark eyes wide open. “Antennae? What are you, an insect?”

  Orana laughed again. “No, I’m a daughter of Anûn.”

  “You mean you’re from the moon? I never heard of people living on the moon.”

  “They do. You can see their cities at night, if you look closely when its face is dark. I don’t know if I was born there.”

  “Are you a ward of the city, too?”

  “N-no. I had a guardian.”

  “Wait. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “I thought so. I told my brother you weren’t that old.”

  “Is your brother...Arrow?”

  “Uh-huh. I think you’re nice. He thinks you’ll try to control us.”

  “I don’t want to control you. I only want to leave this place. I might be able to help you, in exchange for your assistance. What would Arrow think of that?”

  Fish shrugged. “It’s not just up to Arrow.”

  “What happened to the adults on your ship, Fish?”

  “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” She looked down at Orana’s satchel. The compact had slipped out. She took it up curiously. “What’s this?”

  Orana tugged it out of the girl’s hands, embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”

  “Fish, are you in there?” A boy was peering down from the entrance. His hair was a sun-bleached white and his freckled face was tan. He was small, but Orana knew that he must be Fish’s age, or older.

  “I’m here, Cubit,” said Fish with a sigh.

  “Arrow would be mad if he knew.”

  “He wouldn’t know, if you sneaks wouldn’t tell him.”

  “You want us to?” the boy threatened.

  “Well, I’ve got to go,” said Fish. “Bye!” Before Orana could say another word, the girl ran up the steps and disappeared.

  Orana pondered all she’d just learned. Again and again her thoughts returned to Tiamat, the mysterious ‘queen’ whose name she’d heard twice so far. She might be an imaginary friend conjured by the children in their loneliness. Orana shuddered at the thought of what such a figment might make them do.

  She climbed up to the entrance and peered out. The golden sunlight of early morning lay over the flats. Fish was halfway to the island, her braid swinging as she ran. Cubit was struggling to keep up.

  * * *

  After a breakfast of fungus and water Orana set out toward the island. She wore her mask, for the sun was bright, and so she didn’t see the flying drone until it was almost upon her.

  It was about the size of a human torso, a chassis of pale chitin suspended from four whirling rotors, with a single great eye on a stalk twisting down from the base, swiveling this way and that as it circled her.

  Surreptitiously, she drew the coiled chain-sword and let it click into place beside her leg. The watcher appeared not to notice. It continued to dart around like a gnat.

  Her antennae flashed briefly as she raised the rapier. She waved it around awkwardly, chasing the drone. As it swooped low she was able to bring the blade down between its rotors. It fell in two wriggling halves to the salt.

  She peered at its exposed insides. They were of the same substance as its shell, yellowish white and papery thin, with intricate moving parts and pumping bellows and tubes but no moisture. It seemed neither animal nor machine. She crushed it flat on the salt. The way it crackled under her sandal made her shudder.

  She continued on toward the cliffs. Cubit and the other two boys were sitting in the shadows, watching her. She veered to the right to resume her circumnavigation. The cliffs dwindled to shelves planted like garden terraces. The boys followed as before.

  The western shoreline was gently concave. The wreck of an airship stood in the flats opposite the bay, a glittering white skeleton frosted with layers of salt like an ice-cased derelict in an arctic sea. A cleft high up on the island opened toward it.

  As she neared the spot, children poured out of the crack, joining the boys on the shore. Arrow emerged last of all and leaped from stone to stone to the salt, spear i
n hand. “Our rules haven’t changed,” he said.

  “Will you come out to talk to me?” asked Orana. “I have something to say.”

  “We don’t keep secrets,” said Arrow. “Say it where everyone can hear.”

  “Why won’t you let me on your island?”

  “As I said, it’s our rule. And it’s a good rule.” He looked around at the others. “Big people only want to use us.”

  “But I don’t want to use you. I don’t even want to know you. I just want to strike a deal. Once I can gather some supplies, I’ll be off. It will take months to do that on my own. I’m asking for your help. In exchange, I can perform some service for you.”

  Once again, the boy hesitated. “Such as what?”

  “What do you need done?”

  He opened his mouth to speak. The other children looked at him. But he shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. We’re not making any deals.”

  “Because of Tiamat? Is that it?”

  “Just go away,” he said. “You’ll only bring us trouble. Please just go away.”

  He turned and strode up to the cleft, his back stiff with pride. The others trailed behind more dejectedly.

  Orana continued her exploration.

  As she rounded the low southern cape she became aware that Fish was arguing with the boy sentries. The discussion went back and forth, and then Fish broke away, running toward her over the salt. The boys pretended not to notice.

  “Hello,” said Fish, falling in beside her.

  “Hello, Fish,” said Orana.

  “I came to talk to you because I know you can help us.”

  “I’m not so sure of that, Fish.” Orana’s voice was tinged with bitterness.

  “You’re right about Tiamat,” said Fish.

  “She’s the one who doesn’t like adults on your island?”

  “Yes. And she always finds out what we do.”

  Orana thought of the watcher she’d destroyed. “Where does she live?”

  Fish waved toward the west. “In a tall tower on its own in the salt. Arrow once saw it from far away.”

  “Is she...human?”

  “We’ve never seen her. Once I heard Arrow say that he thought she might be one of the nephelim or seraphim, or perhaps a giantess.”

  “She doesn’t sound like a good queen to me,” said Orana. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. Arrow says she helped us when we first came here.”

  “Helped you how?”

  “Our wardens were sneaking us away to sell us when a storm blew us off course. Tiamat made the big people go away. She said she wanted to take us all to Pureland. But she could only take one at a time. So once a month her toys come to carry someone off. Arrow started to get suspicious—”

  “Good for Arrow,” said Orana.

  “—and told Tiamat that no more would go until someone came back to tell us what it was like. That month Tiamat sent bigger toys and took three of us. So now we don’t argue.

  “Some of the others still believe in Tiamat. She sends us lots of presents. They fall to bits after a few days, but everyone likes them just the same. She always reminds us how much we owe her. Arrow repeats the things she says, but I think deep down he’s afraid, and doesn’t know what to do.”

  “And what about you?” asked Orana.

  Fish shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll tell you something, Fish. Any time a person—man or woman, daemon or god—tells you to keep a secret or makes you afraid, know that the smiling face hides a ravenous gullet.”

  “Will you help us?”

  Orana blushed and clutched unconsciously at the compact hidden in her satchel. “No,” she said. “I can’t. I...I can’t.”

  “I saw how you cut down that toy this morning,” said Fish. “Not even Arrow has done a thing like that.”

  “I wouldn’t have done it either, if I’d understood your situation. And it required no special skill. If that’s the best Tiamat can do, she’s no very competent toy-maker.”

  “But you can do other things. I know you can. You’re from the moon.”

  Orana stopped and took the girl by the shoulders. “No. I can’t. I’m a reprobate, Fish. Do you understand?”

  “No,” the girl said, looking confused and hurt and a little afraid.

  “I’ve made my peace with the powers of this world,” said Orana. “You must do as seems best to you. I’d be in the way in either case. I’ll just gather my supplies and head out.”

  “But—”

  “Go back to the island, Fish. You’re a good girl. Keep away from me from now on.”

  Fish turned and ran.

  “Damn,” Orana whispered.

  * * *

  As twilight descended Orana looked despondently over the flats from her tomb. A figure was making its way from the island. Assuming at first that it was Fish, she rose to send her away. But then she saw that it was Arrow.

  The boy drew up to the foot of the stairs and peered at her as though trying to read her.

  “Yes?” said Orana at last.

  “I did something bad,” said Arrow.

  “What do you mean? Just now?”

  The boy shook his head. “I didn’t mean to, and I didn’t know this would happen. I...I need help.”

  “You need...my help?”

  Arrow nodded.

  “This morning you didn’t seem very interested in my help.”

  Arrow glanced westward, scanned the sky nervously. Now that he was alone with her, he seemed less a young warrior and more a frightened boy. “Something’s happened,” he said in a small voice. “Please?”

  “Let me get my bag,” said Orana.

  She tried to pry whatever it was out of him as they crossed to the island. He answered evasively. They circled toward the airship and climbed to the cleft from which the children had emerged before.

  A small hollow lay within. Stone huts were built into the cracks around the sides. The children were gathered in two groups, making a path to the largest.

  Orana followed Arrow inside, ducking under the low lintel. A pallet of old blankets and skins covered the floor at the back. A girl Arrow’s age lay against the wall. Two other girls sat beside her, holding her hands. Her face was pale and sweaty. Her breath came in gasps.

  “Yours?” asked Orana, understanding and pity suddenly flooding her heart.

  Arrow nodded.

  “I’m his wife!” the girl cried through clenched teeth. “Go away. We don’t need you!”

  “What’s your name?” asked Orana.

  “Skate.”

  “Well, Skate, I’m all you’ve got.”

  “What are you, a midwife?”

  “She’s a daughter of Anûn!” shouted Fish, who had appeared at her elbow.

  Orana’s cheeks burned. “Everything will be all right,” she said. “I trust nature, and you should, too. Let’s follow where she leads.”

  “I know!” cried Fish, her face suddenly brightening. She vanished through the door.

  “Arrow,” said Orana, “get someone to build a fire outside. You have something we can boil water in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have them get it ready. You two girls stay with me. I’ll need your help.”

  Fish reappeared, pulling Cubit along behind her. He saw Skate and froze, his eyes wide open.

  “Tell her!” cried Fish.

  Cubit said nothing. His face expressed terror and fascination.

  “What is it?” Orana asked.

  “Tell her!” repeated Fish.

  Without taking his eyes off the groaning girl, Cubit mechanically said, “Once when we were wards of the world-city I read a book and it was about how babies come and it had pictures.”

  “You know how babies are born, Cubit?” asked Orana.

  He nodded.

  “Did you know that out of all the land animals in the world, maugrethim and people are the only ones that don’t lay eggs?” asked Fish.

  “No,
I didn’t,” said Orana. “Cubit, I need you to stay here. You can sit outside the door if you prefer. But I’ll need you to describe exactly what you remember.”

  He nodded and sat down on the floor. “She’s having a baby,” he mumbled. He shook himself, then looked at Orana for the first time. “When it comes, it’ll still be attached to this long tube from its belly. It doesn’t hurt to cut it off. But you have to tie it shut or something.”

  Orana nodded. “Fish,” she said, “go find a good, sharp knife. Put it in that water. Then come back here. I may need you later.”

  Orana didn’t tell them that she knew less about childbirth than she did about handling a chain-sword. Fish darted out. Orana and the two girls got Skate into a sitting position, leaning back against a stone slab that they had covered with padding. Arrow came back in unnoticed.

  Only vaguely was Orana aware of the passage of time. Once, after many hours, she happened to glance out the door as she sent Fish on an errand, and was surprised to see that darkness had fallen. Every so often she consulted with Cubit. He hadn’t actually read the book, it seemed, but did remember the pictures quite clearly.

  Arrow continued to lurk miserably in the shadows. The contractions came faster and stronger. Skate shouted every imprecation she knew.

  At last the crown of the head was visible, as white and as round as an egg, and streaked with wet black hairs. “Here she comes!” Orana cried.

  The girl reached down and felt it. “Is that my baby?” she screamed.

  “Yes. Breathe. Keep pushing.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Arrow shrieked. “Why is it white?”

  “Shut up and get over here,” Orana growled. “Hold your wife’s hand and keep your mouth shut if you can’t say something sensible. Fish: water, knife, cloths. Go.”

  Fish vanished without a word. Arrow relieved a girl at Skate’s side.

  “I’m so tired,” Skate panted.

  “Almost there,” said Orana. “Keep bearing down.”

  It wasn’t long before a thin wail filled the air. Skate slumped down on the pallet, looking at the frail creature in Orana’s arms, so lately parted from her body. “Is my baby deformed?”