People of the Sky (13 page)

Desqui Deva stepped over the other fallen dancers until it found Mahana at the center. It unrolled its antennae to touch the girl, backed away when she moved. Again the aronan danced in to stroke the girl and this time, she stirred and rose as if the touch had given her strength.

Finding her own rhythm to the flute’s trilling, Mahana stamped in circles about Desqui Deva. Their steps took them together, then apart. Each time they lingered near each other for a longer time than they did apart.

A flash of emerald and black announced the entrance of another aronan into the Cloud
Dance. Kesbe felt a slight smile pull at her lips as she saw Haewi Namij. Imiyas flier pranced, snapping its tarsal joints like the fetlocks of a parading horse. It arched its neck and made powerful sweeps with its wings while streamers flew from its horns and tail. It too sang and its melody blended into the music of Desqui Deva. It sought its own rider, Imiya.

Now the two child-warriors joined step with their fliers as drums woke and flutes interwove. A third aronan entered to stroke and revive a fallen dancer, as did a fourth. They moved in interlocking couples, breaking and reforming. The pattern of the dance said this was a story of the strange becoming familiar, the alien becoming beloved. It gave Kesbe the sense of being able to look back into the history of the Pai Yinaye and see how they might have first ventured to tame the fliers of the Barranca.

Gradually the Cloud Dance changed character, becoming a small circle with the child-warriors at the center, surrounded with a counter-rotating ring of aronans. The inner and outer circles turned until each rider faced his or her mount. With a sharp drum-patter, the music halted, startling Kesbe.

With a joyous cry, the child-warriors sprang astride their aronans. As one, the circle lifted in a controlled hover that still carried the same rhythm. More fliers appeared to the side of the stage and scuttled in, each crouching with wings folded and head tucked, beneath an airborne aronan and rider. Those in flight lifted higher while those below sprang to their feet. More child-warriors ran among them and again there was the together-apart symbolic step of acquaintance, familiarity and partnership before the young riders leaped aboard their mounts to join the circle above.

Again new fliers entered, scuttling into place with closed wings to crouch beneath those who had lifted. With a brilliant shimmer of wing-colors, the crouching ones began to strut and flutter, each seeking a partner in the next group of child-warriors who burst into the Dance. When a creature found its rider, it too lifted, to join the skyborne circle.

Rising above the shelf of rock where it had begun, the Cloud Dance began to wheel. It rotated slowly at first, then gathered speed, lifting to the eye-level of people sitting in the middle tiers of the amphitheater. Not only was it a visual display of great beauty and a haunting blend of sound, but smell was not forgotten either. Waves of scent swirled about Kesbe’s head, each smell bearing the unique identification of its own flier.

She closed her eyes to better experience this symphony of odor, but the more she drew the smells into her nose, the more certain she became that one was missing. An image formed in her mind of the black and amber aronan.

And then, abruptly, the missing scent was there, taking its place in the essences of the Cloud Dance. It grew stronger, overwhelming the others and painting the image of the rogue flier so brightly in Kesbe’s senses that the scene before her seemed to fade out. It talked to her, telling her that the flier was hidden, as she had thought, amid a tumble of boulders to one side of the amphitheater.

She blinked, glanced warily to either side. Would it be so impolite for her to slip away? No one would notice, they were all caught up in the spectacle whirling before them in the sky. Carefully Kesbe scooted backwards on hands, heel and seat until she could reach her crutches. She ducked behind a low mound of sandstone, hunching over as she crutch-walked her way to the side of the amphitheater.

The smell grew stronger in her nose, enticing her. Yes, the creature was there and it wanted her with it. She thought she was out of the crowd watching the Cloud Dance, but there was still one person seated on the rocks near where she must pass. She recognized the shaman Sahacat by
the feather-scale cape draped around the woman’s shoulders and the scorpion-tail necklace about her neck.

Kesbe blinked. Hadn’t that expanse of sandstone been bare just a moment ago? How could the shaman have moved so quickly? She decided to circle behind Sahacat, not wanting to encounter the healer’s gaze. She was sure she could pass undetected, for Sahacat, like the rest of the Pai, was caught up in the Cloud Dance.

She was hobbling laboriously along a rock-strewn path above and directly behind Sahacat when the shaman lifted one hand. Kesbe froze, thinking she had been heard or smelled. Sahacat did not turn around. Instead she drew from her robes the black flute carved from the end of an aronan wingspar and began to play.

Kesbe swung a crutch forward, preparing to pass on. She wondered if the shaman were joining in with the music or whether she was playing something else. It was a strange thing to do since she was not with the rest of the musicians who played for the Cloud Dance. To Kesbe it seemed rude to engage in one performance while witnessing another, although, she noted, Sahacat played so quietly that nothing could be heard.

The aronan-scent tingled in her nose, beckoning her to the rockfall. Even as she took the next step she shivered, as if someone had showered her with ice. Sahacat’s fingers were moving rapidly on the shaft of the wingspar flute. Though Kesbe swore she could not hear the melody, it seemed as though the shaman’s playing took shape in her mind as a cascade of freezing rain, chilling her, shocking her and washing the effect of the aronan-smell from her.

For a moment she lost herself and stood teetering on her crutches wondering what obscure impulse had led her to leave the performance before it was over. She was about to turn back when a tendril of odor touched her nose again and remade the image of the black-and amber-winged aronan.

Hunching her shoulders, she swung around and doggedly made her way toward the rockfall where she was sure the creature had been hidden. She could not help a glance at Sahacat. The shaman was still piping her hidden music. This time the effect on Kesbe was not to shatter the aronan’s image as it had done before. The attack was more subtle. It distorted the sensory visualization Kesbe had created, making it smell, look and sound more insect-like and repulsive. Somehow it woke Kesbe’s memories of her unexpected encounter with Haewi Namij from the inside of her airplane.

The attack had surprising strength. Kesbe had a difficult time fighting it off, even by drawing on her later experiences with Imiya and his flier. Once again the shaman changed the tone of her piping. Kesbe felt as though Sahacat, by the medium of her silent music, was delving into Kesbe’s old memories to find one she could use. She did.

As a young child, Kesbe had once rescued a sphinx-moth caterpillar that was being stuffed into a burrow by a large wasp. She had kept the caterpillar in a jar and fed it leaves, hoping to see it metamorphose into a moth.

Kesbe swallowed hard, unable to face the rest of the memory. She narrowed her eyes at the shaman’s back. Sahacat was starting to play dirty. Aronans weren’t wasps, yet she suddenly felt a wave of repulsion that again nearly turned her back. The tentative scent of the black-and amber-winged flier turned sour in her nose. Why did she want anything to do with this creature?

She felt shaky, nauseated. She wanted to sit down, but most of all to get away from Sahacat and that damned black flute. She turned, choosing the most direct way out of the amphitheater. Once she judged herself beyond Sahacat’s influence, she sagged down onto a stone, buried her head in her arms, wanting to weep.

She was so confused! Ever since she had come here, it seemed, her mind was not her own. People and events somehow influenced her much more than they ever had before she came to Oneway. She had been the one to control things, people knew she did as she pleased, little caring what others thought. Now she felt as though she were being tossed around between Sahacat, the Council, Imiya and Nabamida, not to mention that amber and black
thing
that had leaped out and grabbed her emotions when she least expected it.

I’ll just get Gooney Berg fixed, deliver her and get out of this crazy place,
she promised herself, but that thought made her feel strangely forlorn. A few tears slid out of her eyes even as she berated herself furiously for giving in.

And then, even while she was floundering her own confusion and despair, she remembered the desperation of the being that had reached out to her from the sinkhole of its own pain, begging her not to turn away.

What is a promise made to an oversized jour-legged cockroach
, she jeered at herself, but could not make it convincing. No, however much she tried, she could not think of the aronan in that way. How could she feel so strongly about someone or something she had barely met, if that word could be used to describe the encounter? Well, Haewi Namij had paved the way, with its delicate charm and its breathtaking beauty in flight. If that wasn’t seduction, what was?

She found herself grinning even as she sniffled. Seduced by aronans. What an idea.

The odor still lingered in the air around her, reminding her that the black-and amber-winged creature was still there. It no longer made a sour stink in her nose. The idea of following the scent-trail made her feel better.

She went behind the rockslide and then down into it, again discarding her crutches and making her way with two hands and her one good leg. She banged her injured knee, winced at the pain but did not turn back. Crawling across a boulder, then ducking through a low cranny made by two slabs fallen together, she saw the back of a robed female figure. The hand held a tether that went to the black and amber aronan, who was singing softly. Its narrow muzzle was at a crevice, through which it watched the Cloud Dance. It scuttled around to face Kesbe as she emerged.

Nyentiwakay also turned. Kesbe thought that the girl must think her ridiculous to abandon the Cloud Dance and scrabble through the rocks with an injured knee. She steadied herself, then hopped on one leg, bracing herself against the surrounding rocks.

Wordlessly Nyentiwakay helped her to sit and placed the end of the aronan’s tether in her hand. She raised her head and found herself reflected in many facets in the eyes of the rogue. To her it was no longer something to be described in such words. Nyentiwakay guided her hand to the creature’s neck. She stroked the stiff mat of bristles, bringing its perfume to her nose. The aronan moved close to her, crouching. She found herself sliding an arm around it as if it were an old and dear friend, while it caressed her with its antennae. Together they moved to the crack in the rocks, lifted their heads and watched the ending of the Cloud Dance.

A few feather-scales swirled with the dust across the mesa. The Cloud Dance was over and the Pai had gone back to Tuwayhoima. Kesbe sat on a low boulder, feeling as though she had woken from a hypnotic trance. Nyentiwakay loosed the tether on the black and amber aronan. In response to Kesbe’s look of inquiry, the
lomugualt
answered that the creature posed no further danger to anyone, at least until the next dance.

“Do aronans really understand the ceremonials?” Kesbe asked skeptically.

Nyentiwakay gave her an enigmatic smile and ran fingers lightly along the curve of belly
beneath the robe. “They understand that and a great deal more, you will find. Hai, pretty one, you are free.” The
lomugualt
stepped back from the black and amber, giving it room to spread its wings.

Kesbe hoped it would choose to remain, but to her dismay, it kicked itself into the air and lifted rapidly. She watched it fade into a dot against the late afternoon sky. She turned to Nyentiwakay, intending to ask the
lomugualt
how to call it back, but the other was already walking away, taking the path to the village.

She should do the same, she thought heavily. She had seen much and she was tired. Tired enough to believe that the black and amber had chosen her. Just as she turned to follow in Nyentiwakays tracks, she heard the whirr of wings.

She squinted up into the slanting sunlight that bathed the mesa. Something wheeled overhead. Her excitement rising, she flung back her head, searching the sky for the aronan. Her aronan.

For an instant she didn’t see the flier and felt her elation droop. Then it appeared from out of the sunglare, dropping in a steep dive toward her. It came so close, she ducked, lost her balance and fell to the side, losing her crutches. It swept past in a rush of sage-scented air, soared up into a wing-over and began to circle while Kesbe picked herself up. She found that her knee would bear weight and she could do without the crutches, although she limped.

The aronan’s scent reminded her of Haewi Namij, but she caught a sharp peppery tingle that matched the black and amber’s spirit. She brushed the dirt off her tunic and leggings, staring skyward. The creature wheeled, buzzed her once again and shot upward in a series of loop-the-loops.

“Show-off!” Kesbe bellowed as it cavorted above her. It tossed its head, dipped a wing and began to spiral down. The ebony in its wings glistened in the sunlight while the amber markings glowed gold. The body was a soft velvet brown that shaded into light tan on the head and white on the antennae.

With a quick fan of its tail, the creature pulled up and settled, touching down on four slender legs. Kesbe moved toward it. Like a skittish horse, it shied away. It fluttered into the air and landed again.

Exasperated, she stood still, knuckles on hips. “A show-off and temperamental to boot. Hey,
chosovi
. Don’t you remember? I’m supposed to be your friend.”

It waggled its head at her, rolling and unrolling its tongue. Kesbe stuck out hers as far as it would go. The aronan seemed to like that it fluttered toward her.