The Color of Distance (6 page)

It pointed at the first drawing, then at itself, back and forth several times. Then it pointed at the second drawing and at the two of them.

Ani and Ninto watched, ears wide with curiosity and puzzlement. The new creature repeated the gesture over and over again.

“It’s trying to say something,” Ninto said.

Finally it picked up a green leaf, put it beside the second drawing, then put a brown one by the first drawing. It concentrated hard, and slowly began to turn brown. Then it pointed from itself to the drawing.

“I think I understand,” Ani said, “The first drawing is itself, and the second drawing is a Tendu. See, those things on either side of the head are supposed to be ears.”

“Then what’s that stuff sticking out of its head?”

“When we found it, its head was covered with long fuzz, like an ika flower.”

Concentrating hard, Ani copied the stick-figure Tendu on her skin, and then superimposed a picture of a Tendu over it. Then she did the same for the drawing of the new creature, superimposing an image of what it had looked like when they first found it. The image was hazy and indistinct, but the animal seemed to understand. It bobbed its head vigorously and made more guttural noises. It smoothed over the drawings in the dirt, and started another.

Ani recognized a group of Tendu and a group of new animals. Then the creature drew itself standing with the Tendu. It pointed to the drawing and then to itself, several times.

“Yes,” Ani said, “I understand.” She copied the picture on her own chest, superimposing a realistic image of the new creature over the stick figure inside the oval. Ani then displayed the vertical pattern of black bars of agreement on her chest. She made them very large and simple, as though she were talking to someone far away.

The animal nodded in response. It drew a line from the group of Tendu with the new creature to the other new animals.

It pointed from itself to the group of new creatures, back and forth. Ani watched, confused; then Ninto touched her on the shoulder.

“I think it wants to go back to its own kind,” Ninto said.

“We can’t do that,” Ani replied. “We have to take it back to Ilto, and we don’t know where its people are.”

“After Ilto dies we can take it back. Ask it where its people are.”

Ani touched the new animal on the shoulder to get its attention. She pointed at the two drawings, and nodded to show she understood. Then she turned an interrogative shade of purple and spread her ears to show she was asking a question. She pointed at the drawing of the new creatures, and then pointed in all directions. The animal watched attentively, but didn’t seem to understand what she was trying to ask it. Ani picked up the stick, and drew ovals full of new creatures all around the group of Tendu. Then she stood the new creature on the drawing of the Tendu and pointed at each drawing of new creatures, flushing questioningly at each one.

The animal bobbed its head again. It smoothed the dirt with its hands, looked carefully up at the canopy, and began to draw.

Ani recognized the Tendu and the new creatures right away, but she didn’t understand the rest of the drawing. She shook her head, imitating the animal’s gesture to show that she didn’t understand. The creature bobbed its head up and down. It walked to the stream, picked up a double handful of stones, and laid them down on the jagged lines to the left, until it had a line of small piles of stones. It uncapped its water gourd and began sprinkling water on the outside of the line to the right until a small puddle of water formed on the heavy clay soil. Then it poured a small stream of water into the forked line that ran through the middle of the picture. The water trickled slowly along the line, flowing out to join the puddle. The creature tapp’ed the forked line with the stick, then walked over to the stream and dipped the point of its stick in the stream.

“The river!” Ani said, understanding breaking through the clouds of her confusion. “That line is the Kiewa River, Ninto. Then those lines must be the mountains, and the puddle is the ocean. Its people are on the coast near that big point of land!”

“You know, they may be at Lyanan. That’s almost twenty days away from here. What is it doing so far away from its people?” Ninto wondered.

Ani rippled a pattern of purple clouds. “Who knows?”

“Well, let’s try to convince it to come back with us for a while. We can’t do anything until after Ilto dies. Then we’ll find a way to take it back to its people.”

The rain clouds were beginning to build for the afternoon downpour by the time all the explanations were finished. Out of respect for the creature’s reluctance to climb, they walked back. It was a long, weary trip, and Ani was relieved when they climbed up into a fruit tree at the end of the day for dinner. Ani showed the new creature how to pick fruit while Ninto went hunting. The elder returned an hour later with a necklace of small birds hanging limply around her neck. She held them up.

“It was the best I could do,” she said, browning apologetically. “Everything else was protected.”

“It’s a thin time of year to be out in the forest,” Ani agreed. It was going to be a meager meal. Ani set about plucking the birds. To her surprise, the new creature ate only one of the birds, and that with visible distaste. It handed the rest to Ani and Ninto.

“Could it be sick?” Ani wondered.

“I don’t know,” Ninto replied. “I’ll check it after dinner and see.”

But when Ninto reached out to link with the animal, it drew back with a loud cry. It backed away, terrified and ready to flee. Ani and Ninto retreated, and after a long, tense period, the new creature relaxed and rejoined them in the nest. Even then, it kept its arms tucked tightly against its sides. It slept curled up on itself, like a baby bird in its shell. Most Tendu slept lying flat, unless they were cold.

“I could check it now,” Ninto offered, her words glowing in the darkness.

“No,” Ani replied. “It’s frightened of allu-a. If it realized what you were doing, we could never get it to trust us again. Let it sleep.”

It rained hard all day, clearing just before they arrived back at the village, footsore, weary, and hungry. Ilto greeted them happily, glad the new creature was back. He looked much better; clearly he had successfully healed himself of the alien taint in his blood. Relief flooded over Ani. Ilto wasn’t going to die…

Several other elders were there, all old friends of Ilto’s. He reached out to link with the new creature, eager to show off his work. It pulled away with a loud cry, shaking its head, intensely orange with fear.

“Siti, the new creature won’t link,” Ani explained. “I don’t think we could bring it back if it ran off again.”

Ilto sighed wearily. A grey cloud of sorrow passed over his skin. “Then I have only a few more matters to attend to before I die. We’ll need to arrange for a funeral feast.”

“Siti, please—” Ani began.

“No, don’t argue with me. I’m tired. It’s time for me to go. You’ll be a good elder. Will you take Ninto as your entoo?”

Ani gave a faint flicker of agreement. Ninto would care for her during werrun, and sponsor her when she became an elder. It still seemed to be an impossible prospect. Even now, Ani couldn’t imagine herself as an elder. She wasn’t ready, didn’t want to be ready.

“Good,” Ilto said. “You couldn’t have a better one. There is one more thing I need to ask you. Will you take the new creature as your atwa? No one else knows it as well as you do. No one else could do it.”

Stunned, Ani could only manage a weak pink ripple of astonishment. She hadn’t really thought about her choice of atwa. She had been too busy looking after Ilto and the new creature to think about such things. The thought of choosing an atwa upset her deeply. It was as though choosing an atwa would be agreeing to let Ilto die. She still didn’t want to accept his death.

The choice of an atwa wasn’t lightly made, either. Her life would revolve around it. She would spend the rest of her days looking after the plants and animals in her atwa, keeping them in harmony with the other atwa and with the rest of the forest.

She had always assumed she would become a member of the Tainka atwa. It was Ilto’s, and she was the most familiar with it. The idea of taking this creature as her atwa shocked her. The thing had no place here, and she hated it for what it had done to her sitik.

“But siti, it’s killing you!” Ani said. “How could I accept it as my atwa?”

A ripple of deep burgundy irony passed over Ilto. “Ani, I knew the risks, but I chose to save the creature’s life. I chose to risk my life transforming it, even though I knew it was dangerous. Besides, I have healed what it did to me. My death is my choice. I don’t want to leave the village, and live and die alone in the forest. I want to die here, where I have lived so long. I am a part of Narmolom. I don’t want to live anywhere else.”

Ani looked away, bars of negation flickering rebelliously across her skin. Ilto touched her arm, wanting to say more.

“Ani, please see what I have to say,” he told her, when she looked up. “The new creature is valuable, important. It’s different from any other animal I’ve ever seen or heard of. Who knows what important things we might learn from it? There is no one else who can do it. The elders have chosen their atwas and are busy with them. The other bami are not ready.”

“Neither am I!” Ani blurted. “I’m not ready to be an elder, siti! I don’t know enough!”

Ninto touched Ani’s wrist. “Of course you do, Ani. You know more than I did when I first became an elder. You link as well as any elder in the village. You’re ready.”

“Ninto’s right,” Ilto added with a gruff red tinge. “You’ve been ready for a long time, but I’ve been selfish. I wanted to do something special before I died. Healing the new creature was it. I’ve lived long enough to know the creature will survive. Let me go, bai. I’ve taught you everything I can. I can’t wait until someone else is ready to carry your burden.”

Ani flushed deep brown with shame and looked away. “I am sorry if I have added to your burdens, siti.”

“Of course not, bai. I have had much joy from you and Ninto both, more than my share should have been.” He turned azure with pride. “I am pleased with you.”

“You won’t be alone, Ani. I’ll help you as much as I can,” Ninto told her.

Ani thought it over. She could either accept graciously and ease her sitik’s pathway to death, or make his passing difficult and more painful with her intransigence. After he died, she would take the creature back to its people. Then she could go back to being a simple, settled village Tendu with an atwa like everyone else’s.

So for reasons that had nothing at all to do with the new creature, and everything to do with her love for her sitik, she accepted the burden he laid on her. She would wonder, in years to come, how she could have given her future away so easily, but at that moment, the relief in her sitik’s eyes was worth everything in the world to her.

Juna eased forward and watched, astonished, as the blood flowing from the lizard’s wounds slowed to a trickle and its skin closed over the wound. She glanced at the aliens; they were completely entranced, their spurs stuck into the lizard, and each other. Clearly they were responsible for this almost miraculous healing. How had they done it? The researchers back at the base would be fascinated. Juna wished that she could record what was happening.