Howling Stones (18 page)

Fawn carefully closed a connection, smiled to herself as a last green light came to life. “And how
is
the world, according to the Parramati?” High up a flaring ulawari tree, a chiji squealed like a bagpipe badly in need of tuning.

“The Parramati see everything in terms of space.” The big person gestured broadly to encompass the surrounding forest. “Each location in space has its own access point, and each point has power. The big people among the Parramati can recognize these points of power. Most of them are concentrated in the stones. Those who know the ways can use the stones to open the roads to these other spaces. We do not always use them, but we know they are there. Our kusum has always allowed us to do this. Others do not know the ways, or do not possess the right stones.”

“That’s all very interesting.” She leaned back and began buttoning up the refurbished stanchion. “But what does it have to do with the proposed treaty?”

Naharira sighed. “We are hoping that if you come to see space as the Parramati do, you will better understand why we do not want, do not need, and cannot afford to have closer ties with your civilization. We would like for you to agree to become more Parramati.”

Its integrity restored, the perimeter fence could be
switched back on at any time. Satisfied, she rose, towering over the attentive big person. “I’m still not sure that I follow you. Are you proposing that Pulickel and I undergo some sort of initiation ceremony?” It took a moment to find the right words.

Naharira showed the many teeth in his long, narrow snout. “It is more of a demonstration, so that you may better comprehend certain things that are difficult to convey only with words. It was not a decision easily arrived at, but it is felt that something needs to be done so that you may understand. Your ignorance is not your fault.”

The sardonic tone of her reply was lost on the native. “Gee, thanks.”

“You are welcome. It is felt that when you see that our ways are stronger, you and your people will understand our desire to be left alone and our wish to forgo the benefits of your society.”

“If it’s that important to you, then of course we will participate in your show, or demonstration, or whatever it is.” She yelled and gesticulated in Pulickel’s direction. Almost finished with his inspection, he turned and waved casually back.

Naharira continued. “Tomorrow there will be a ceremony marking the planting of the pohoroh root. A growing stone will be used to ensure a bountiful crop. At that time you will be shown the relevant road. When you see it open, perhaps then you will understand why we do not need your ways, your machines, or your treaty.” He straightened proudly.

“It is a great honor. Only big persons may use the stones to open the roads. Only they know the ways of power that are handed down from generation to generation.”

“We’re flattered to be included,” Fawn replied, not knowing what else to say. “I’m sure Pulickel will feel the
same way.” The crop-blessing ceremony, or whatever it was, sounded interesting. Anything that expanded their insight into Parramati sociology was worth recording, just as anything that solidified the developing relationship was to be encouraged.

Hefting his hoe as he turned to go, Naharira eyed the much taller human curiously. “Tell me one thing, F’an. You and the male human live together but are not mated. You have no cubs. This is a thing much speculated upon in the village. Do you plan to mate?”

The abrupt change of subject caught her off guard. “Noooo, I don’t think so.”

“If you do, Ascela said to tell you that she would be honored to perform the ceremony.”

She smiled. “Tell her thank you, but we have no plans to, um, mate. Our relationship is strictly professional. Different families can till the same hapirri patch.”

“Yes, that is so,” the big person agreed.

“Pulickel,” she added, gesturing in her associate’s direction, “is not what, among my people, would be called my type.”

“ ‘Type.’ ” The native looked thoughtful. “We have much still to learn about the meanings of words.”

She strove to return the discussion to more significant and less personal matters. “We’ll be happy to be initiated as stone people, or whatever, and to learn more about the ways of the Parramati and your roads.”

“Then it is settled. Tomorrow at first sun.”

Not being much of a morning person, she winced internally. “First sun?”

“It is the proper time, when the flowers of the pohoroh first open to the light.”

“Of course. That makes sense. You must excuse my ignorance.” Bending, she picked up her repair kit. “Tomorrow at first sun then, in the village.”

“You must be at the base of the gardens before first light so you can be on the mountain when the sun shows itself.” Naharira was insistent.

She winced again. “We’ll be there.”

Exhibiting wonderful flexibility, the long snout twisted sideways. “I will come and guide you. It will not be hard for you to find your way. You have lights that let you see in the dark.”

“That’s right.” Unable to resist, she added, “If you agreed to the treaty, you could have such lights for yourself. You could turn night into day for every village in the archipelago.”

“Why would we want to do that?” With a vertical hop and midair pivot, the native turned away from her. “If the night was made into day, how would a person sleep?”

With that the visiting big person headed off toward the trail that led through the forest and back to the village, covering the open sections of ground in long, graceful bounds. Fawn watched him go.

A simple folk, the Parramati. Straightforward and stubborn, but they’d come around sooner or later. Mean-while, attending this planting ceremony or whatever it was would establish one more bond between them. It was important, she knew. Anything involving the sacred stones was important. It would probably prove interesting, as well, except for the part that involved rising before sunup.

She called across the clearing beneath the station. “Better turn in early tonight, Pulickel! We have an early-morning appointment.”

His querulous reply rose above the background mutter of the jungle. “What for?”

“To look at roots, and rocks. Would you rather be a root person or a rock person?”

“What’s that?” He put a hand to one ear, but she only grinned at him. She could give him the details later. There was no urgency.

After all, nothing exceptional was going to happen.

It was very early indeed the following morning when Fawn learned that she had misconstrued Naharira’s invitation.

“Only females,” the big person explained apologetically, “are permitted to participate in the pohoroh ceremony. It is they who master the growing stones. Only they may attend.”

“Not a problem.” It was still night-black outside the station, and Pulickel smiled jovially at his associate. “I can live without watching the locals stick a bunch of seeds in the ground and pound them with a sacred stone. You do the recording, Fawn. Me, I’ll just have to go back to bed.”

“Get some sleep for the both of us.” Her tone belied her expression. Given the choice, she would gladly have swapped places with her companion. That was not possible. Naharira was insistent as ever.

The sky was only beginning to show signs of lightening when she finally halted just beyond the village, at the foot of the magnificently terraced mountainside that the Torrelauapans had transformed into one vast, intricate garden. There Naharira turned her over to Jariill, the female big person who had care of the growing stone. Together they started up the laboriously worked slope.

Three-quarters of the way along, they halted on a small
plateau. A large section of terrace had been cleared for planting. Reeds, vines, fronds, flowers, and stripped bark lay in neat piles nearby, ready to be woven and sculpted into protective, decorative trellises and arbors as soon as the planting was concluded.

Among the assembled Parramati females, Fawn stood out like a construction crane surrounded by busy earth-movers. Switching on her recorder, she followed the beckoning Jariill to the middle of the clearing. Exotic native fruits and vegetables grew in profusion on the terraces below while immature growths greened the remaining levels at higher altitudes.

From the vantage point provided by the plateau, she could see much of the western half of Torrelau. Swathed in shades of emerald and vermilion, carmine and yellow, it lay like a blaze of energy against the framing azure blue sea. The village lay below, peppered with the small moving shapes of other Parramati beginning the day’s work. Off to the left, the clear, cool course of the river cast its singular torrent into the svelte inlet of the lagoon. All in all, it was a grand vista.

“Stand here, F’an.”

Turning, she nodded understandingly at Jeriill and walked to the indicated location. She wondered if she would be allowed simply to watch or if she was expected to participate in the ceremony. Other females crowded close around her, forming the balance of a semicircle that faced the center of the plateau.

Holding the growing stone out before her, Jeriill advanced from one end of the crescent. Carrying an earth stone, the big person known as Ululiapa approached from the opposite direction. Fawn strove in vain for sight of any seeds or cuttings.

Meeting in the center of the plateau, the two females
squatted low. Setting the stones aside, they began to dig a small hole.

Fawn leaned over to whisper at the middle person standing on her right. “I don’t understand. Where are the seeds or seedlings?”

The younger Parramati looked up out of bright blue eyes. “Why, the pohoroh cuttings are already in the ground, of course. They were planted all last ten-day.”

Fawn switched off her recorder. “If the planting is already finished, then what’s the purpose of this ceremony?”

“Why, to bless the health of the crop and ensure that it is fruitful.”

“I see.” Fawn was still disappointed that she’d missed the actual planting. Apparently she’d been brought here simply to witness some chanting and speech-making. At least it shouldn’t last too long, she rationalized.

Near the far end of the female crescent, several of the villagers were removing musical instruments from their carry bags. She recognized the important kes flute, a set of small, vibrantly carved goralau drums, and a pair of balatingting harps. Even though the sun had not yet peered over the horizon, she was sweating. Torrelau’s humidity did not vanish with the daylight but persisted around the clock.

Running a hand around the inside hem of her halter top, she made the decision to switch the recorder back on. If nothing else, the music would provide an enjoyable subject for study. Too bad the ceremony had to take place out in the open instead of beneath some shady, finished pergola. She gazed longingly at the wisps of twisted and shaped reed that darkened a row of simwhila snaps only meters distant.

Pulickel didn’t know what he was missing, she groused silently.

At a signal from Ululiapa the female crescent began to snake and wend its way back toward the edge of the clearing, accompanied by an unmelodic but rhythmic drone from the musicians. Caught up in the Senisrani chorus line, Fawn raised her arm so the recorder could shoot over the heads of the gyrating natives. She was hard put to avoid their enormous feet, which stamped in unison first to the left, then to the right. This uniform pounding made a drumming upon the earth that bordered on the dynamic. For the first time all morning she was glad that she’d allowed Naharira to talk her into coming.

Having finished their excavation, Jeriill and Ululiapa straightened. Sweat streaming off her face, Fawn struggled to aim the wrist-mounted recorder in their direction. As soon as the ceremony ended, she promised herself, she would sit down in the shade and take a nice, long drink from the condenser in her backpack.

The female dancers had begun jumping up and down, matching their prodigious leaping ability to the beat of the goralau drums. In their enthusiasm several sailed cleanly over Fawn, clearing the top of her head by no less than half a meter on each occasion. It was a supremely athletic demonstration. The loud
whumps
the natives made when they landed complemented the percussive quality of their chanting. It was one of the more impressive demonstrations of traditional kusum Fawn had yet witnessed.

As she absently let the recorder run, she found herself wondering how much real work she could still accomplish before nightfall. There was so much that needed filing and organizing—but at least Pulickel had stopped nagging her about it. Most of the time, anyway.

A glance skyward showed that the sun was peering over the western ridges. A few isolated cumulus clouds
hovered overhead, blotting up excess blueness. By late afternoon they would have solidified their hold on the firmament and it would rain for an hour or so. Now if one of the early arrivals would only interpose itself between her and the sun …

The ceremony seemed to be winding down, the music growing less intense. Good, she thought. Jeriill and Ululiapa bent to pick up their respective stones. Switching to a slower, more sedate chant, the Parramati females gathered behind the musicians.

The two big persons solemnly bent to place their respective stones in the hole they had dug. What followed happened so quickly Fawn wasn’t sure she’d actually seen it, and could only hope that the recorder had done its job.

The two stones appeared to jump toward one another. Fawn was positive the females hadn’t thrown them. It was as if the glassy lumps had become suddenly and powerfully magnetized. What happened next was more astonishing still.

Emitting a sea-green glow, the stones fused together. For a mad moment she thought they were going to pass through each other. What resulted was a single stone that looked larger than the two separate stones combined. That was impossible, of course, but then so were rocks that exhibited green efflorescence and independent motion.

She considered the possibility that she might be the victim of some primitive tribal sleight-of-hand, but that wouldn’t explain the light that continued to emanate from the glassy mass. As she stared, the two female big persons squatted and began to throw dirt onto the lump, covering it up and filling in the hole they had dug.