Fish Tails

  Xulai rubbed her face tiredly, feeling the grime on her skin. It had been too long since Saltgosh’s bathhouse. She no doubt smelled of travel and dust and sweat and horse. She stood up, shook herself. “It all makes me feel tired and inadequate. I think of the thousand years the Tingawans and the Sea King spent on creating my mother, Precious Wind. All those generations of breeding and testing and breeding, generation after generation, each human generation being only fifteen or sixteen years to sexual maturity. The Griffins take three centuries or more! There isn’t time for enough generations to be born to do it the way it was done for us!”

  “And they have threatened you?” Arakny commented.

  “Yes. Sun-­wings says if we don’t provide for them, too, they’ll call on their sea-­living friends to kill every sea-­child we have! Has the Sea King ever said anything to my grandfather about man-­created sea monsters?”

  “Kraken is the only sea-­monster name I know.”

  Xulai shook her head. “Kraken is the Sea King himself. Our children are, in a sense, his children. His genetics are included in us, first generation, at least, and I can’t believe he would destroy us or them.”

  “It’s not a question that we can solve, certainly,” said Arakny. “We will stay encamped here for a time, at least until Abasio returns. If some emergency arises that Wide Mountain Mother needs to know of, I’m sure Precious Wind can use her device to go back and inform her. She already knows about the sea-­children and is eager to see them.”

  “We have that whole bunch of extra horses, too,” offered Kim.

  And that, of course, involved the telling of still another story.

  RATHER THAN RIDE, ABASIO CHOSE to walk with Bear and Coyote. The trees were close together and the branches were low. It would be all too easy to be swept onto the ground if Blue or Rags misjudged the distance between their backs and the branches. When they came to stretches of ground that were open to the sky, he climbed onto Blue’s back and let the horse carry him until they entered forest again. The sun rose and they went on until noon, then stopped for food and a brief nap. Coyote woke them at midafternoon. They went on, holding to their direction, stopping now and then to have a conversation with some other creature, usually invisible in the foliage or up a tree. A tribe of squirrels accompanied them for a long distance, turning them over to an owl as dusk approached. They followed her until it got too dark to see, then stopped and made a quick camp, eating quickly and lying down to sleep almost immediately afterward. Bear, Coyote, and the horses had decided to alternate a watch throughout the night.

  “ ’Basio not gonna watch?” Coyote commented.

  “Let ’im alone,” said Bear. “He’s worryin’ himself sick about these children they had with ’em. Prob’ly han’t slept good for some time.”

  Blue said softly, “Took you two days to get down where he was. Take us at least that to get back. You think the big one’s alive?”

  “We did half a day last night. We did almost a full today today. I think she’s still alive. I think the woods’d know if she died.”

  “Critters, you mean.”

  “An’ trees. They know quite a bit.”

  “Trees do?”

  “Sure. They just think real slow. Takes them a year to think one thought. Like bears do when it’s winter and they’re asleep. One thought’s about all you can think, all winter.”

  “What do trees think about?” asked Coyote.

  “Everything,” murmured Bear. “Rivers, ponds, squirrels, birds, saplings, sun, wind. Everything there is. You ever notice how the whole world sometimes seems to . . . have one huge thought? As though every bird and every animal is all at once part of one huge word? Ever notice that?”

  Coyote started to say no, but as he thought about it, there had been times. Certain times. There on the prairie, when he had been much younger, when the whole world had almost said something to him. If it took trees a year to think one thought, what did it take the world to come up with a word? And who would listen to it if the world spoke? Could be that mankind was too short-­lived to even hear the world’s remarks. He sighed. Well, he had the last watch. When on watch, he preferred to move around, so he spent the last few hours of darkness listening to the world, guessing at all the things trees thought about . . . supposedly!

  IN THE CAMP OF THE Artemisians, Xulai, sleeping in the wagon, was awakened by someone putting a hand on her shoulder. “Wha . . .”

  “Xulai, shhh. It’s Precious Wind. Arakny had four sentinels posted a good way down the road east. A ­couple of them just rode in. There’s a troop of armed men, horsemen, and wagons coming slowly down the road, torchbearers out front. They came from the direction of Catland, and from what one of the sentinels managed to overhear, their queen is with them. Arakny thinks Tingawans—­you and Kim and I—­ought to stay well out of sight. Kim’s just outside. What do you think we should do about your horses?”

  “Have Kim help you put them in with yours. Drive the herd out of sight and put some good bowmen to guard it. From what Abasio has said about gangers, they would be likely to steal the entire herd, so they’re better out of sight. This wagon’s well hidden, I think.” She struggled to think what Abasio might have done. “Abasio didn’t want to be seen by any gangers, but they wouldn’t recognize me or the wagon. How many are in the group coming?”

  “The sentinel didn’t count them, but he says it’s a good-­sized group. Could be as many as we are; could be more. All Arakny’s ­people are armed and awake. She’s got bowmen out in the darkness where they can’t be seen but can see firelit targets.”

  “Well, I’ll get up and be ready to go into the woods with the babies. I need one helper for me—­that would be you—­and one for Kim. If things don’t go well, if they find the wagon, it’ll be empty except for the sea-­eggs . . . There aren’t too many to carry, Precious Wind . . .”

  “Xulai, that’s not necessary. I have ul xaolat. You and Kim and I, and the babies, can all get into this wagon, and we can move it and us in an instant. It’s far more sensible to do that than to go off into the woods.”

  Xulai blinked, shook her head. Of course; she wasn’t thinking clearly! “How far off is the troop? And where will you move us to?

  “We have some time. They are still some miles off. We can move to the place we were going anyhow, to Artemisia, the plaza next to Wide Mountain Mother’s place. I took particular care to put a series of sites in memory before we left there and on the way here.”

  “Will you fetch Arakny? We need to tell her what we’re doing.”

  Arakny listened. Arakny should put the horses with those of her own troop to avoid their being stolen . . . The three Tingawans would use a Tingawan device to move the wagon, with its cargo of sea-­eggs to the plaza in Artemisia . . .

  “A moment,” Arakny said, puzzled. “If you can move the wagon and yourselves, why not simply move it somewhere close by from which you can keep watch? Up the mountain road you just traveled, perhaps. Then, when the troop moves on, come back here. This large a group approaching at night may well be something you will need to know about immediately!”

  “One must have a destination already in the device, or have a clear mental picture of the destination,” said Xulai. “I don’t have a clear destination . . . wait. Of course I do. The place where we left the package to be picked up by Sun-­wings! If she didn’t pick it up, I wanted to be able to return and get it! From there I could see the road down here, the whole straight stretch of it as it leaves the canyon. I need to be sure we could see this exact place . . .”

  “And do you have a clear memory of the place you are now?”

  “No. And it’s too dark . . .” she murmured.

  “No it isn’t,” said Precious Wind. “Remember, the devices have been improved. Darkness is no impediment to the new ones.” She turned to Xulai. “How do we decide whether to come back here? If the tro
op moves on, toward us, where we are up on the mountain, or if they go back as they came . . . either way, we need to know if it’s safe to return.”

  Xulai said, “We also want to be able to see what’s happening, so I think we should test the location. I don’t know that Arakny’s campsite is really visible from there. If it isn’t clearly visible, we’ll have to think of something else. This time’s just a test, Arakny!”

  “May I watch you go?”

  “Stand away, over in the trees.”

  The wagon door was open. There was no sound, no sense of movement. They were in total darkness, somewhere else. Kim made a gagging sound. Precious Wind said, “Lantern?”

  Xulai called, “There’s a little one by the bed. I should have lit it first.”

  Precious Wind brought the tiny wick-­in-­oil lamp that burned as a night-­light over the bed. Xulai used it to light a larger one that was stored under the wagon seat. By its light they could see the road outside the open door. They got out and circled the wagon to look down. Far below, to their right, the campfires glimmered through the night. Farther out, slightly to the left, blocked occasionally by the ridge that ran out into the plain, they saw other, much smaller lights, torches, numerous torches, at a greater distance. Those approaching had turned at the fork in the road, the forested mound called the Devil’s Ah behind them, backlit by moonlight.

  They climbed back into the wagon and were, quite suddenly, back in the grove again. Across from them, Arakny held on to a tree, her mouth wide open.

  Leaving the wagon, Xulai called, “It worked, and we’re ready, Arakny.”

  “It was startling,” she breathed. “I didn’t believe it until it happened. What powers it?”

  Precious Wind said, “Energy collectors up on the moon. They collect sun power and beam it to the few satellite receiving stations still circling the earth, as well as to a few stations on Earth itself. These devices receive that power. In Tingawa we had access to the power grid at the time of the Big Kill and we’ve gone on using it very carefully ever since. The power is a tiny fraction of what it once was, so the number of devices powered by it is limited.”

  “Could the power be increased?”

  “If we could get back up to the moon, yes. The machines need only to be cleaned and repaired—­all the parts and equipment are there. But there’s no ship to take us there, we have no spacesuits—­they’d have to be manufactured—­and we have no recorded destination that would let us use ul xaolat, even if we were sure we had enough power to jump that far. I think it’s been considered, but the power needed would be very great. Breaking the gravitational barrier, mostly. Besides which, we’re not at all sure we should go. The lust for power was the downfall of previous ages. It might be so again. And what would some maniacal idiot do with it? With the waters rising, someone would probably try to boil all the water away, killing every living thing on Earth in the process.”

  There was a long, thoughtful silence before Arakny asked, “Will you go when they get slightly closer?”

  Xulai said, “I don’t want to go at all unless we have to. Kim will go with you and hide himself just inside the trees. Will you make some kind of signal, Arakny?”

  “If I think there’s danger, I’ll pull my head scarf off.”

  “If you see her take her head scarf off, Kim, you get back here. We’ll leave the door open, and the minute you’re inside, we go up on the road where we just were a minute ago. This time we’ll have a lighted lantern with us. Now, find a place where you can see her without being seen.”

  Arakny and Kim went off into the night, leaving Precious Wind and Xulai to put things away. The chicken coops were tied to the roof. There were a few scattered things in the grass that gleamed at them in the lantern light. A cup, a spoon. They went inside and waited.

  NEEDLY AND WILLUM WERE BARELY over the top of the hill when something huge rose from a pile of leaves and branches and grabbed Needly by one arm, hoisting her off her feet. She caught only a glimpse, at first, enough to make her suppose it was a man, a very large man. She drew a deep breath and added to her “man” supposition a certainty that the very large man smelled a great deal like . . . a cow barn that had not been cleaned for . . . some time. No, no. It was far, far worse than that. Holding her at arm’s length, the man-­creature nodded at Willum, then in the direction of the glade below, all the time muttering:

  “Git down ’ere. Gwan, git. Move it. Y’re gonna hep me. Yessir. Needed hep, I did, and ol For’ster, he sent hep. He did, he did. Thot there’d be sumpin’ come fer this’n. Yep. Did. Here t’is. Hep.”

  Needly had quickly taken stock. Dawn-­song had fluttered down the slope toward the place where her bloodied mother lay, obviously unable to move. She and Willum were being herded or hauled in the same direction by a bearded, man-­shaped being with a long knife in the hand that was not dangling her by one arm. He had a large ax at his belt. Willum was trying frantically to decide on his own next move when the huge man kicked the boy’s feet out from under him and dropped Needly more or less on top of him. They were near a clutter of bundles, a circle of stones, the ashes of a fire, the creature’s encampment. His stomping ground, Willum said to himself, seeing the huge boot prints radiating from the area. Oh, yes. Very, very big stomping feet. And a terrible smell. Oh, dearie, dearie me, as Willum’s ma would have said, what a stink that is!

  Dawn-­song hadn’t stopped running until she had reached her mother’s side. The two of them, mother and daughter, only a few steps away, remained silent, watchful, though Sun-­wings’ eyes were only half open. Needly had caught Sun-­wings’ look, had watched as the eye focused on her. Needly nodded, once toward the man, then toward the Griffins, as though to say, “I see the situation. Be patient.” Sun-­wings lowered her eyelids, left them almost closed.

  Willum had looked about to explode, but Needly had preempted him. She took a deep breath, to her immediate regret, pinched her nostrils closed, breathed through her mouth, and then declaimed: “Now, Willum, we must be helpful to this nice person. You heard him. He asked for help and Old Forester has sent us to help him. You understand that, you heard Old Forester tell us to come here and help him just as I did.”

  Willum had been only momentarily mutinous, realizing very quickly that she was intending . . . something, and though he didn’t know what, it was probably more sensible than nothing, which is what he’d come up with. “Well, of course, Needly. That’s what we’re here for, in’t it?”

  The creature stood slightly above them on the slope, hands on hips, greedy eyes on Sun-­wings. Needly sat down on the grass. “May we know your name, sir, so we know who we are helping?”

  “Yung For’ster, tha’s me. Hunters. Us For’sters. Got more . . . meetup’nus t’others, so we do huntin’. Fer the ressa th’ Ahgars. Pa ’uz Ol’ For’ster. That’s why I’m Yung For’ster. I ’uz younger’n ’im.”

  “That’s very logical,” said Willum, attentively borrowing one of Xulai’s favorite words. He glanced at Needly. “Isn’t it, Needly?”

  “Very logical,” she assented, straight-­faced, still regarding the Yung whatever. He was definitely the source of the almost stifling smell. “You say you need help?”

  “Yeh. Ahgars get mos’ a’ meat. Hides goes to hunters, n’ we getta sellum, buy . . . good stuff.” He licked his lips at the thought of the good stuff. “Gotta skinum firs. Never done one’th wings. Skun all kinds a’ them, but never done one’th wings. Donno how, y’know, whur t’cut’m.”

  Needly was terribly afraid she did know. Oh my. Was this then, one of the forest men Abasio had talked about: the hermit hunters, trappers, the ones who stayed aloof and alone. She could see why. Abasio hadn’t mentioned the stink! Let that go for the moment. This one was a hunter; hunters got to keep and sell the hides while “Ahgars” got the meat. This one wanted to skin the Griffin and sell the skin to buy good stuff, but he didn’t know how to ski
n something with wings. He was staring at her. Waiting for her to . . .

  She said quickly, “I understand. Yes. That would be different. You are a trapper, sir? Or only a hunter? Or both, perhaps?” She flashed a glance at Willum, who nodded at her.

  “I be that. All ’at. Got traps, yeh. Got some ’at way, some yon.” He gestured widely, taking in the entire countryside. “Hunter, thas me. Hunter fer Ahgar feed grounds. Killsa meat an’ put it out fer the Ahgars. Didn’ shoot this’n, tho. This’n jus’ fell in. Wham! Looka that hide. Jus’ looka that. For’ster me’ll git gold fer it, they‘ll gimme. True gold. More’n a whole messa trappin’. ’F I can figger out to get a’skin offa it. It’s them wings . . .”

  “You’ll receive a lot more gold for the Griffin’s hide than for a lot of small hides, yes, I know. And you’re right. The wings make skinning it a very difficult process. It takes a lot of time. It’s a good thing my helper and I happened along. We’re part of a very special group of experts who know how to do this. It will take time, though, so you have to be patient. Do you mind if I go over and take a look at it?”

  “Stay way fr’m th’ front part. Tha’ mouth thing. Tha’s sharp, that is.” He looked ruefully at his lower left arm, which had a large wound, just scabbing over. “Real sharp.”

  Needly stood up and walked over toward Sun-­wings, keeping her eyes fastened on the enormous orbs that were returning her look. Her back was to the . . . For’ster, and she raised one hand and put a finger before her lips. Dawn-­song was already huddled against her mother’s side.

  Needly stood a small distance away and whispered, “Don’t speak, Sun-­wings. Don’t let the man know you can speak.”

  “I did not say anything,” whispered Sun-­wings, without moving her beak. Needly had never been this close to her, close enough to see the soft tissue behind the edge of the beak. Lips. Well, almost lips. Even they had not moved, but their existence explained Griffins being able to pronounce human language.