The Namura Stone

by Andrews, Gillian

  The sibyla looked down at his hand. He withdrew it hastily. “I beg your pardon. I … I shouldn’t …”

  “You may find some of your answers here, by the papakura trees,” she said. “They are the sentinels of the dead. But first, we will have the ceremony for her. She will be buried here, as she deserves. She has earned her place in the sacred marshes, and we will honour her accordingly.”

  “But … but there was nothing left … we have nothing …”

  “You are wrong. We have what she gave in exchange for her life. The voice in the wind has brought us her namura stone. She gave it willingly, in exchange for the lives of her friends.”

  Arcan seemed quite happy to be referred to as ‘the voice in the wind’. He pulsed slightly. “She told me that I would bring it back here,” he said. “She told me that you had foreseen it.”

  The old woman showed her wizened, black teeth. “Many things can be seen in the sacred marshes, between the rooted knees of the first papakura tree. I am but an ancient old woman, yet sometimes I am permitted to palpate the shape of the future. It is, however, never more than a hazy possibility, at best.”

  She bent down again to Raven, who had been listening with unusual gravity to this conversation.

  “Now it is time for some of that chocolate that you like so much, young lady, and then bed. I have arranged for the same girls you liked last visit to keep you company.” She signaled to the waiting teenagers, who came up, giggling with pleasure, and bore Raven away. Then she spoke to Six, Grace and Ledin. “Tomorrow, when you have rested, we will perform the ceremony.”

  She turned to Arcan. “You do not sleep, Voice in the wind, and neither do I. I would be honoured if you would keep me company in my vigil for Valhai Diva tonight.”

  Arcan shimmered. “It is a strange custom, but, as you say, I do not sleep. I will join you.”

  Six stepped forwards. “I shall not sleep. I wish to join in the vigil.”

  Grace lifted her foot to move up to his side, but Six put up a warning hand, stopping her.

  “No, Grace. This is something I have to do alone. I mean,” —he looked hastily at the sibyla and Arcan— “it is something I have to do without you and Ledin.”

  The sibyla bowed low. “Then, shall we make our way to the place of peace?”

  She led the way along the paths leading out of the village until she reached the twisted, towering old tree by the burial place. She settled herself under its leafless boughs, within the circle of its protruding roots. Then she fell into a trance-like silence.

  Arcan was curious about her. “How can you see more than the others?” he asked.

  She opened her eyes. “They do not look.”

  “They cannot see the future. I cannot see the future.”

  “You have not looked.”

  Arcan was puzzled. “It is not possible. I cannot move within time.”

  She showed her black teeth. “You do not have to move within time. I do not. I am what the Namuri call ‘one of the knowing’.”

  “And what is that? Is it quantum?”

  “I know not what it is. It is a feeling of rightness I get about one or another outcome. Nothing more. As I have already told you, it is not infallible.”

  “Do you have that feeling now, about me?”

  “I am merely a mortal; you are the voice in the wind. Your greatness is vast, compared to my own. I cannot see such things; they are beyond my ken.”

  “You mean that they are beyond your area of expertise?”

  “This voice in the wind likes to complicate things.”

  “Then you cannot see my future?”

  “You have not made all the choices yet. It is not decided.”

  “Nonetheless, you saw Diva’s death. You gave her the namura stone.”

  “I gave her the stone. Nothing more. What I thought I saw I kept to myself.”

  “But you said I would bring the stone back.”

  “Sometimes causality is confusing. Perhaps my words brought you to me.”

  Arcan was getting irritated. “I shall go now,” he said. “But I will return in the morning.”

  “Of course.” And the old woman slipped back into her immobile state, a bony figure keeping faith with those no longer there.

  Arcan disappeared into the soft night, and Six sat quietly for a couple of hours.

  The one huge, ancient tree in this strange place was stark against the backdrop of the marshes. The roots which pushed up out of the quickmire in a circle were almost surreal. The darkness of the night, and the stars twinkling high up above him were enough to make him feel almost one of the knowing himself. After all, their light was nothing more than memories, stored for up to billions of years in space, and this was a night of memories.

  He began to feel closer to Diva, and it was almost as if he could hear her voice inside his head, inside his heart. He thought he was about to break in two.

  “You will never be without her.” The sibyla’s words shocked him. He had forgotten she was there.

  “I cannot continue without her. She was my world. My life.”

  “Her light will find you. You will not be alone.”

  Six closed his eyes. He was so tired that he blacked out for a couple of seconds, opening them again with all the fresh horror of what had happened searing through his memory. He saw her hands on the sides of the bubble, her face as she realized what was happening. He bowed his head.

  Chapter 14

  THE VOICE IN the wind was back by breakfast the next morning, and Grace was very glad to see Arcan. Although the Namuri clan had been kind to them, she didn’t particularly relish staying there for much longer. She knew that Diva had found peace in this strange camp, but she didn’t think that she herself would. Arcan seemed shadowy, almost ethereal.

  “What happened last night?” she asked him. “Did you stay with the sibyla?”

  A slight tremor seemed to pass through the orthogel entity. “She makes no sense,” he said. “She speaks in riddles.”

  “Diva thought very highly of her.”

  “She will not answer my questions.”

  “What did you ask?”

  “What my future was.”

  “You were sticking to the easy questions then?” Grace found herself smiling, remembered Diva, lost the smile, and ended up looking confused. How could she have smiled? She must be a bad person.

  Arcan was staring down at her. “What is the matter?”

  “I smiled.”

  “You have never regretted smiling before.”

  “How could I have smiled?”

  “Would Diva be angry to know you had smiled?”

  “N-o-o. I suppose not.”

  “Then you should smile more often. Or is there a set date when it will be correct to smile again?” He pulsed. “I find your customs arbitrary. Diva would be wanting you all to remember her with lightness. Do not make her memory dark and morbid.”

  It was unusual for Arcan to make a speech like that; Grace was surprised. But he was absolutely right; Diva would hate them to remember her as a drain on their spirits, something dragging them down. She blinked. It was a gift that she had been able to smile. She should do it more often.

  Ledin joined her at the long table, and they saw both the sibyla and Six approaching from the direction of the marshes. When Grace saw Six’s face she jumped up and ran to hug him tightly.

  “Oh Six.” She started to cry. “What can I do?”

  He gave a helpless shrug.

  She pulled him close to her and stroked the back of his head, trying to soothe him, but he pushed her away, disentangling her arms quietly and handing her back to Ledin, as if delivering an important package.

  Tallen had appeared from behind them and was now standing
to one side. Six looked at him. The two exchanged a silent communication, and then Tallen moved up to Six’s side.

  A tall man, with a weather-beaten face and no hands joined them. He held himself proudly, despite his disability. Six wondered if Diva had met him. The sibyla fell in behind them, with Raven and the two girls who were looking after her. Grace and Ledin moved forwards, upon a sign from Tallen. Then another, and another and another of the Namuri slipped into place behind them.

  Gradually the small communal area filled with shapes carrying namura stones in their hands.

  The procession filed solemnly down to the place of burial beside the huge old tree Six had sat under all night. This time there was no body to escort, no pall bearers with their precious load. This time they were accompanied by a dull chant.

  When they reached the marshes, Arcan flowed to the front.

  “Diva gave me this stone, which saved her friends’ lives, and helped me to escape from the carbon nanographite trap which was containing me. She told me I would bring it back here, to Coriolis, and she was right.” Light shivered through him. “Diva was my friend and, although she was only a transient, I shall miss her.”

  The namura stone floated through Arcan’s almost translucent shape and made its way into the open palms of the sibyla, who smiled and covered it momentarily with her hands.

  The Namuri started to stamp the ground in their rhythmic, pounding way, and the sibyla held the stone between her steepled fingers at the height of her heart. Her own eyes were closed.

  The ground was shaking with the stamping of all those present. The whole area, Six realized, was full of Namuri; he thought that every last member of the clan must be there. He was surprised that they had all decided to honour Diva in this way.

  The villagers began to hum, at first gently, and then louder and louder. With each stamp of the foot their own namura stones were raised one small inch upwards, and their humming seemed to reach a higher note. Six was aware of an intense expectation, an electric moment of great tension. He stared around him, wondering why he was getting a sense of apprehension.

  Then the stamping stopped, the humming was silenced. A single child’s voice began to sing, very high, a very haunting and beautiful song. The pure tones rang out into the silence, and Six found them incredibly moving.

  As the child stopped, a woman’s voice took over. There were no words; just an eerie, plaintive sound which hovered over them all. Six was surprised to see all of the Namuri suddenly drop down onto their knees on the ground. He met Grace’s gaze, and then Tallen made signs that they should do the same. Even Arcan shrank slightly towards the path which wove through the marsh.

  The woman’s song continued to sound sadly against the starkness of the old tree. Then the rest of the Namuri joined in with their hum, and Six realized that they were all patting the ground with their hands now. Even though it was a gentle movement, it was multiplied so many times that the earth seemed to shudder away from them.

  A few moments later there was absolute silence again. All the Namuri had picked up their stones and were holding them like the sibyla, pressed between their hands, fingers stretched up to the sky, at the height of their hearts.

  The sibyla, her eyes still closed, took a step off the path and onto the marshes.

  Six jumped up with a shout, but Tallen pulled him down again.

  “Do not disturb the beauty of the ceremony, Valhai Six. It is of great importance to us.”

  “But … but she is walking into the marshes! She will drown!”

  “She is honouring the stone.”

  Six was aghast. “What can you mean? I don’t understand.”

  “We do not send stones to the sacred marshes without a keeper. She is ensuring that the stone is accompanied. It is her job.”

  Grace’s eyes were wide with horror, too, and Arcan shimmered, ready to transport the sibyla away from danger.

  Tallen turned to the man without hands, who was staring at them severely.

  The man held out his severed forearms towards them. “Do not interfere in clan ways,” he told them. “You are not entitled to judge our customs. This is our way of finding closure for this stone, which brought greatness; anybody who interferes will become an enemy of the clan. Be aware, and think before you change the outcome. We will defend our sibyla’s rights by force, if necessary.”

  Arcan’s voice echoed in Grace’s head. “What should I do, Grace?”

  “I don’t know. How can we let her die? But they will be furious if we interfere.”

  Tallen pulled at her arm. “Leave the sibyla alone. For her, this is the honourable end she has been waiting for. She is old and very sick, and this will spare her great suffering. Look at her face! It is as radiant as a young girl’s!”

  This was true. Each step the sibyla took, each measured step, brought further joy to her face. She was transformed and seemed to be becoming freer with each movement.

  Six had been watching her closely. “She is happy. We should let her be. We have no right to interfere.”

  So they watched as the sibyla took Diva’s stone deep into the sacred marshes, her eyes fast shut but her feet sure. Without the benefit of sight, she seemed to know how to avoid the quickmire, moving slowly but surely away from the waiting clan.

  All this time the watching Namuri had held their stones up above their heads. Now, on some invisible signal, they lowered them, placing them on the ground. Then they began to pound again with their hands on the beaten earth, first with one, and then with the other.

  Far away from them now, the sibyla turned to face them. Her factions were illuminated with light, and she held the namura stone up above her head. Both the child’s and the woman’s voice lifted up again in a lament, and the Namuri started to hum in response.

  The sibyla began to sink into the sacred marshes, still holding the namura stone above her head. The song, the humming, and the beating of the earth grew towards a crescendo. The sibyla felt the quickmire reach her chin, threw her head back to give one triumphant cry of great happiness, and then disappeared beneath the surface. Her hands remained above it, still encasing the stone with great care, slowly taking it down into the depths of the marshes. The humming peaked as the hands, with their fingertips still pointing straight to the sky, disappeared forever, carrying the stone inside the welcoming marsh, and then the Namuri fell silent.

  Grace turned to Ledin. “I feel sick,” she confessed.

  Tallen stood up. “We can go now.”

  Arcan was flickering, but didn’t share his thoughts. He accompanied them back to the camp, where they found a thin, bent figure waiting for them.

  “I am the sibyla,” she said. “Welcome back to our clan.”

  She was younger than the previous sibyla, but not by very much. Her arms were thin, and she already seemed rather ethereal. Arcan flashed. He was not feeling particularly pleased with these people; he didn’t understand their customs. He hated to see death, especially when unnatural. He coloured.

  “You do not approve of our customs,” said the new sibyla. “But you should remember that we have been living like this for thousands of years. This is part of our heritage. It is not for strangers to judge us.”

  Arcan pulsed. “That is true. But I cannot like it.”

  “The sibyla are here as custodians of the stones. We act as protectors of the blue light. These are our beliefs. You may not interfere; even the great voice in the wind may not interfere.”

  Grace found her voice. “But why did she do that?”

  “She took your friend’s place. It was necessary. It gave her great worth, and she will be honoured forever by our people. You should remember that your customs are not more worthy than ours. Humility should tell you that. Now; I think the voice in the wind wants to talk about the stones.”

  Arcan colo
ured. “The stones have something that enables me to escape the quantum traps, some impurity which allows me to tunnel out.”

  The old woman smiled. “I do not understand your words, but I know that you need part of our stones. We will provide you with that part; my predecessor left instructions for us. You require so much that we will have to work very hard, but we will save the dust for you when we polish the stones. You may only have what is left when we polish; we will not allow any stone to be destroyed, even for you, Voice in the wind.”

  “I would not wish to compromise your beliefs, but it will mean that a great number of stones must be polished.”

  The sibyla inclined her head. “That is true, and it will be a sacrifice to undertake so much work at once, but we can do it and, for you, we will.”

  “Namura dust?” Ledin raised his eyebrows.

  Arcan nodded. “The reason the escape was so difficult was that the stone was whole. I could only use the very edges – the impurities around the circumference of the stone. That made the whole process cumbersome and too violent. The acceleration was very strong, which is what caused the shock wave. I need namura stone, if I am to resist the pull of the Dessites, but it must be as a fine powder, as minute impurities that I can seed all over my whole body. That is the only way I shall be safe from their attack.”

  “What do the Namuri usually do with the dust?” asked Grace.

  “It is returned to the sacred marshes, of course.” The sibyla inclined her head. “But the voice in the wind is older than the papakura trees, older than our clan, older than the meritocrats. The stones will not begrudge their help to such a being. It is written. We ask nothing in return.”

  “Thank you.” Arcan shimmered.

  “We will begin the polishing process tomorrow,” she said. “It will take several months, perhaps half a year, for the first batch to be ready. Many preparations are necessary when we work the stone.”