"Apples?" said Cordelia.
"Fish. Tukkeri-a delicacy given only to the men." His hand moved, the fingers pointing again. "There, farther on-you can make out the Seven Sisters. And there is Karambal, their pursuer. You call him Aldebaran."
Cordelia said, "I have a lot of questions." Warreen paused. "Not about the stars."
"Not about the stars."
"What, then?"
"All of this." She sat up and spread her arms to the night. "How am I here?"
"I brought you."
"I know. But how?"
Warreen hesitated for a long time. Then he said, "I am of Aranda blood, but was not raised within the tribe. Do you know of the urban aborigines?"
"Like in The Last Wave," Cordelia said. "I saw The Fringe Dwellers too. There aren't really tribal aborigines in the cities, right? Just sort of like individuals?"
Warreen laughed. "You compare almost everything to the cinema. That is likening everything to the shadow world. Do you know anything of reality?"
"I think so." In this place she wasn't so sure, but she wasn't about to admit it.
"My parents sought work in Melbourne," Warreen said. "I was born in the outback, but cannot recall any of that. I was a boy in the city." He laughed bitterly. "My walkabout seemed destined to lead me only among drunken diggers chundering in the gutter."
Cordelia, listening raptly, said nothing.
"When I was an infant, I nearly died of a fever. Nothing the wirinun-the medicine man-could do helped. My parents, despairing, were ready to take me to the white doctor. Then the fever broke. The wirinun shook his medicine stick over me, looked into my eyes, and told my parents I would live and do great things." Warreen paused again. "The other children in the town had taken ill with the same sort of fever. All of them died. My parents told me their bodies shriveled or twisted or turned into unspeakable things. But they all died. Only I survived. The other parents hated me and hated my parents for bearing me. So we left." He, fell silent.
It dawned in Cordelia's mind like a star, rising. "The wild card virus."
" I know of it," said Warreen. " I think you are right. My childhood was as normal as my parents could make it until I grew the hair of an adult. Then…" His voice trailed off. "Yes?" Cordelia said eagerly.
"As a man, I found I could enter the Dreamtime at will. I could explore the land of my ancestors. I could even take others with me."
"Then this truly is the Dreamtime. It isn't some kind of shared illusion."
He turned on his side and looked at her. Warreen's eyes were only about eighteen inches from hers. His gaze was something she could feel in the pit of her stomach. "There is nothing more real."
"The thing that happened to me on the airplane. The Eer-moonans?"
"There are others from the shadow world who can enter the Dreamtime. One is Murga-muggai, whose totem is the trap-door spider. But there is something… wrong with her. You would call her psychotic. To me she is an Evil One, even though she claims kinship with the People."
"Why did she kill Carlucci? Why try to kill me?"
"Murga-muggai hates European holy men, especially the American who comes from the sky. His name is Leo Barnett."
"Fire-breather," said Cordelia. "He is a TV preacher."
"He would save our souls. In doing so he will destroy us all, as kin and as individuals. No more tribes."
"Barnett…" Cordelia breathed. "Marry wasn't one of his people."
"Europeans look much like one another. It doesn't matter that he didn't work for the man from the sky." Warreen regarded her sharply. "Aren't you here for the same purpose?"
Cordelia ignored that. "But how did I survive the Eer-moonans?"
"I believe Murga-muggai underestimated your own power." He hesitated. "And possibly was it your time of the moon? Most monsters will not touch a woman who bleeds." Cordelia nodded. She began to be very sorry her period had ended in Auckland. "I guess I'll have to depend on the H and K." After a time she said, "Warreen, how old are you?"
"Nineteen." He hesitated. "And you?"
"Going on eighteen." They both were quiet. A very mature nineteen, Cordelia thought. He wasn't like any of the boys she remembered at home in Louisiana, or in Manhattan either.
Cordelia felt a chill plummeting both in the desert air and inside her mind. She knew the coldness growing within her was because she now had time to think about her situation. Not just thousands of miles from home and among strangers, but also not even in her own world.
"Warreen, do you have a girlfriend?"
"I am alone here."
"No, you're not." Her voice didn't squeak. Thank God. "Will you hold me?"
Time stretched out. Then Warreen moved close and clumsily put his arms around her. She accidentally elbowed him in the eye before they both were comfortable. Cordelia greedily absorbed the warmth of his body, her face tucked against his. Her fingers wound through the surprising softness of his hair.
They kissed. Cordelia knew her parents would kill her if they knew what she was doing with this black man. First, of course, They would have lynched Warreen. She surprised herself. It was no different touching him than it had been touching anyone else she'd liked. There hadn't been many. Warreen felt much better than any of them.
She kissed him many times more. He did the same to her. The night chill deepened and their breathing pulsed faster.
"Warreen…" she finally said, gasping. "Do you want to make love?"
He seemed to go away from her, even though he was still there in her arms. "I shouldn't-"
She guessed at something. "Uh, are you a virgin?"
"Yes. And you?"
"I'm from Louisiana." She covered his mouth with hers. "Warreen is only my boy's name. My true name is Wyungare."
"What does that mean?"
"He who returns to the stars."
The moment came when she raised herself to take him and felt Wyungare driving deep within her. Much later she realized she hadn't thought of her mama and what her family would think. Not even once.
The giant first appeared as the smallest nub on the horizon.
"That's where we're going?" said Cordelia. "Uluru?"
"The place of greatest magic."
The morning sun rose high as they walked. The heat was no less pressing than it had been the previous day. Cordelia tried to ignore her thirst. Her legs ached, but it was not from trudging. She welcomed the feeling.
Various creatures of the outback sunned themselves by the path and inspected the humans as they passed.
An emu.
A frilled lizard. A tortoise.
A black snake. A wombat.
Wyungare acknowledged the presence of each with a courteous greeting. "Cousin Dinewan" to the emu; "Mungoongarlie" to the lizard; "Good morning, Wayambeh" to the tortoise, and so on.
A bat circled them three times, squeaked a greeting, and flew off. Wyungare waved politely. "Soar in safety, brother Narahdarn."
His greeting to the wombat was particularly effusive. "He was my boy-totem," he explained to Cordelia. "Warreen." They encountered a crocodile sunning itself beside their trail.
"He is your cousin as well," said Wyungare. He told her what to say.
"Good morning, cousin Kurria," said Cordelia. The reptile stared back at her, moving not an inch in the baking heat. Then it opened its jaws and hissed. Rows of white teeth flashed in the sun.
"A fortunate sign," said Wyungare. "The Kurria is your guardian."