Fish Tails (86 page)

Mother said to Fixit, “We presume hospitality may be offered, hot tea. A comfortable place to sit and talk?”

Balytaniwassinot nodded. Then it made a noise, rather like a trumpet fanfare. When all eyes were fixed on it, Self began to orate, hands raised. “Much time ago from this place two ships went to Ocalcalcalip. Unfortunate choice in one respect. Silly world spirit there played dolly house with planet. Each room separate little piece. No doors. No stairs. Nothing connected, nothing allowed to connect. Ocean tides messy, washes up things from ocean bottom. Spirit moves moon away, stops tides. Now no ocean currents to speak of, reefs cutting them off. Spirit doesn't like wind, makes things dusty. Fixes planet so it is without winds. Mountains cutting them off. Everything local, small, cute.

“One part of planet, off by itself, peninsula name of Lom. In spiritual vacuum Lom develops its own spirit, arising out of need. Lom spirit is calling itself Ganver! Original world spirit doesn't mind, has enough trouble keeping everything clean, pretty elsewhere. Lucky, your ships go to that place: Lom. Otherwise all ­people on ships die of being bored, wearing dolly dresses. Oh, shame! Ocalcalcalip world should have been fixed long time ago! Am fixing now! Spirit has been moved to nice little asteroid with lots of meteor holes needing curtains with ruffles, no atmosphere to hold dust, no water to make mud, everything very neat. Former sectional spirit, Ganver, will be taking over planet Ocalcalcalip.”

“Do you mean that really happened?” gasped Grandma. “Curtains? On meteor holes?”

“I speak . . . meteor-­phorically but truly. Spirit was more interested in orderly than in fertile, more interested in pretty than in useful. World was god-­awful mess. But neat. Happens sometimes. Galactic large projectile has nifertug with second-­sex child—­
wait, words ambigmeous . . .
Need REFERENCE.” The last two words were uttered as a command. Behind it, in the ship, a light went on. A sparkling device appeared above the creature's head.

It nodded and went on. “Ah,
Bigshot
has
friend
with
daughter
. Daughter aspiring to be planetary spirit. Bigshot pulls ropes, ah . . .
strings . . .
arranges for girl getting job. Spirit has no big image, sees only small things. Cannot see forest for tall wooden growths. Cannot see mountain range for big rocks. Cannot see pasture for grass. Thinks wind unnecessary because is blowing dust or because wind is not pretty. Tsk. Mistake.

“So, in absence of sensible planetary governance, several local places of Ocalcalcalip grew their own spirits. One of them, Ganver, is now taking over planet. Installing weather there now! Creature had good sense, good feedback systems by way of chemical signals. Good local place. Your ships landed there. Ganver, good, kind creature, didn't know mankinds are plague. Didn't know poor design meant creatures breed like small four-­legged grain thieves!
Lookee me, lookee me, I got big whacky-­doodle. I like play with big whacky-­doodle, make many baby
. Right?”

Grandma spoke in a distant voice. “Sounds like you've met Mobwows before.”

“Mobwow?” Fixit uttered the command again. “REFERENCE.” The device reappeared. “Reference says
you
make word!
Monkey-­brain
. Willy-­wagger. With Oh Oh?”

“How did you know that? Needly and I were the only ones there!”

“Reference is everywhere. Simultaneously absorbing words, sound words, smell words, touch words, all communication methods. Reference is very good spy. Has ears everywhere. And eyes, noses, oh, yes. Mobwow! Very perfect word! Will remember word!

“Fixit is experienced agent. One thousand years in training. Now on nine thousand nine hundred ninety-­ninth job. Next one, I get new hat, with gold on.” Balytaniwassinot smiled brilliantly, rainbows reflected from its teeth, splashing off in all directions. “You are not only plague in universe! I have seen others. Some worse. Some turned over new record page and became reasonable creatures. I will talk to you, Grandma, about Mobwows and Oracles. I think you already know about them, it. Amateurs. Never answer questions, no? Afraid they may say wrong thing. Cannot allow self to say wrong thing. Pretend to be mysterious. All creature needs to do to seem wise is to keep communication system inactive. Others think silence sign of wisdom. Not unfounded. In many, silence would be sign of wisdom. Not Oracles. Oracles have no wisdom, only able to act mysterious. It/they don't answer? Because it/they don't know. Good mechanics, though. Something wrong with your filth flusher. Oracles very good at thinking up Arbitrarily Imposed Solutions. Oracles say, ‘Remove filth flusher, tell creature to excrete on tree root.'

“You had creature on this world much like Oracles. I forget name. Will remember . . . ah, yes, was called Poly-­ti-­shun. Famous for Arbitrarily Imposed Solutions: AIS:
‘Have problem? Person doing something we disapprove of? Pass law against, build more prisons.'
Was made extinct during Big Kill. What is saying
? Even black cloud has silver lining.
Yes?”

Balytaniwassinot seemed to take a deep breath. It shook its head, then smiled again. “This Earth is not bad place. Seems worth saving, no! We will see what can be done short of AIS, and I know you will help me willingly, with energy and dedication. So I will stay awhile. Eventually, my passengers will want to return home. Ah . . . even the third one, see. No more rock. They stay now for a while before I take them home.”

They all turned, following its gaze. Outside Wide Mountain Mother's house the men had been unable to roll the statue through the door, and during the process the statue had softened and was trying to get up. Wide Mountain women were already beside her, helping her up. Her clothes were falling into dust. Wide Mountain Mother snatched off her shawl and wrapped it around the former statue. They moved into the house.

The visitor suddenly snapped its fingers, or what might have been fingers. “Saying ‘rock' reminds me. Another loci. You have boy who is rock, wounded? Here?”

“Yes,” cried Needly. “Yes we do. Willum.”

“My passengers. Those women in the house? Aha! I will tell story. Be listening carefully.

“I am on Lom, recruiting Ganver to be world spirit for whole planet, we are near Listener, which is crying plea for help, help, help. Cry for help is coming from planet you call Earth. Here. Person called Needly is asking help from Listener here on Earth. Person called Abasio is asking help. Person called Grandma—­that one is you, right? Asking help. Also Xulai pleading help. This Listener on Lom and the one on Earth are very closely tied. All the time messages, back and forth, back and forth. I am telling Ganver what is trouble, Earth is being drowned. Ganver says it knows all about it. It happens because long ago, before so much weakened, Earth spirit has asked for mankinds to be exterminated because mankinds are killing planet.

“Plea for help has long ago been answered by Ganver, who has asked Squamutch to send extra water to Earth to exterminate mankinds. Mankinds refuse extermination, change themselves into fish. Or something similar. In meantime, boy is rock, boy is wounded, very fine exemplary boy much needed by certain creatures destined to be
pivorot . . .
Reference! . . . that is . . . nexus, pivotal, ah . . .
necessary good persons.
So Ganver is saying it knows solutions to problems. How Griffins can go to sea. How boy can be healed. How everything can be done with consent of persons involved. No AIS. NO Arbitrarily Imposed Solution! Ganver is sending three women to fix situation. That is why they are here, partly. I have brought one shape-­changer. I have brought one healer. I have brought one witch who is also linguist. Ganver has restored some talents just for this purpose. Since they are here, fortuitously, they will no doubt, along with other things, help take the rock from the boy.”

Balytaniwassinot did something that sounded like a sigh. “Now, for today that is enough. Abasio, will you visit with me for a time? I like simple two-­person conversation to become more familiar. We will wander about, learn . . . environment? Yes? I have small mover that flies. I will leave the big one here. We will return soon.” And with that, it gestured for Abasio to go into the turtle, then went in and shut the door.

Needly, Grandma, Xulai, Precious Wind, Deer Runner, Coyote, and Bear . . . were left standing in the plaza alone.

Xulai said hesitantly, “We could go over to the wagon and have some tea. I left a kettle keeping warm on the fire before our . . . can't call it a guest, can I?”

Precious Wind growled, “More like the guy who works for the guy who really owns the property we thought we owned, only it turns out we don't even have a lease. And how did it know about Willum? And all those other . . . ‘loci.' ”

A door opened across the way. Arakny. She stepped outside and beckoned. “All of you, come on in over here. It's chilly out there, coming on for snow, I think. Bear, you and Coyote, too. I have honey. And chicken.”

It was the house the three women had been taken into, the three women who were now sitting quietly, drinking tea. Arakny went to one of them. “Everyone, this is Silkhands. She is a healer. The woman next to her is Mavin. She is a shapeshifter, and she is called Mavin Manyshaped . . .”

“I don't believe that,” growled Bear—­in Bear—­to Coyote.

The third woman spoke—­in Bear—­to Bear: “Just watch her.”

And the shape-­changer woman turned into a bear. A very nice-­looking bear, though small, in order not to rip the clothing she had just been given. Bear felt an unseasonal urge. Bear in dress changed back, whispering, between beautiful bear teeth, “Zorry.”

The second woman, Jinian, spoke to Bear again—­in Bear. “Don't get any ideas, furry socks. She can make her claws as long as your foot.”

Xulai cried, “I thought they'd taken your talents away! I thought you couldn't do those things anymore.”

Silkhands answered. “Fixit told you. Jinian and I have had our talents returned, just for this trip. Mavin never lost hers. She fell prey to a curse that was to last a thousand years. The way time gets twisted in wormholes, that's how long it took us to get here. I know Fixit kept taking little side trips through loops that added fifty years there, a hundred somewhere else. Then it'd reverse it on the way back, so we wouldn't have been gone that long. So, Mavin can change shape, and I can heal ­people, and Jinian can talk to any creature that will talk back and do some witchery, and together, we think maybe we can do something for . . . a boy, and a Griffin, or maybe many Griffins and maybe some other creatures . . .”

“Or maybe,” said Needly wearily, half dreaming, “all the creatures on our world.”

F
IXIT OFFERED
A
BASIO A DRINK.
“You drink happy-­making, sensory-­negating liquids?” the creature asked. “I have checked database that says you do, including some harmful. This one will not harm you. If you don't like, say so, I have it mix something else.”

Abasio inclined his head in what he hoped looked like gracious acceptance. The liquid provided was extremely pleasant, smooth, flavorful, tangy. He sat in one of the several seats around the perimeter of the circular room, noting the picture stuck up above the control panel.

“Is that your child?” he asked.

“Child?”

“Your family . . . offspring. A young one of you created by you?”

“Oh, you mean Blamfos. NO no no. Not the way we do things. No. That one in the picture is twigpit. That is, special-­occasion g'forz, food! No, Thanksgiving turkey? No, that is archaic. Christmas pudding? Database says even more archaic. What do you have for special-­occasions food?”

“Pumpkin pastry and smashed apple drink for harvesttime. You say that's a picture of food! It looks exactly like you. You mean you eat your own . . .”

“Oh, no, no, no. Would you appreciate explanation?”

Abasio wondered if he could get away with saying no. Decided not. “I would appreciate explanation, yes.”

“You have two type persons, right. Male female, right. Fertilizer and accepter, right?”

Abasio considered this an oversimplification, but he said, “Right.”

“Our ­people have five type persons: isk, tan, blag, wurf, and dibble. Are more formal terms, but that is what we usually say. Is bad courtesy, sometimes insult, to call by wrong name. I am tan, so-­called First Fertilizer. On your world you are first and only fertilizer and your woman is first and only accepter. On our world Isk is first accepter.

“My world has long, long year. Oh, my, yes, so very long. Winter on my world becomes . . . eternity. It is cold. Ziprogs invade the house, build nests, carry diseases. Everyone catches diseases. Everyone going ‘phoo, phoo, phoo' from the lung all the time. Understand?”

“It's cold and uncomfortable, mice invade your houses, you all catch what we call colds, you sneeze on each other, and you're just generally miserable.”

“Yes,
is misery
! Good substitutive word! So when world turns more toward sun, comes what you call spring, it is like heaven. ‘Heaven' is suitable word for nicest possible imaginary place? Good. We have warm little wind. Happy little frillies on trees. All the isks and tans begin to feel . . . oh so warm and happy and . . . like exploding. You know feeling?”

Abasio flushed. What he was drinking gave him a hint. “Yes, I understand.”

Fixit put its hands to its neck, just above the multishoulders, and pointed at . . . well, Abasio might have called them eyelids, a circle of them, a dozen or more, all the way around the neck. “Here, this area called k'fum, it begins to feel very warm and it begins to swell, what is inside grows big.” It smiled. “They get VERY BIG and they
protrude
and on the ends they have things like . . . whiskers. Do you know whiskers?”