“That’s the start of one,” Oskual said. “A namesong of birds, beasts, and fish. It goes on forever, a whole catalog of the creatures of Bйluchad. There are a lot of catalogs children sing, lists of Ordumels in the Dumel Rings, lists of rivers, of mountains, of seas, of the continents.” Xe grinned. “We like lists, we Bйluchar.”
Teagasa smiled shyly. “But we do songs just for fun, like the Caцpa song. Children do a clap-jump game to that one.”
Oksual nodded, started clapping xe’s hands in a strong steady rhythm. Teagasa joined xe, clapping on the off-beat. Together they sang:
“Caцpa Caцpa where do you graze?
Upland and downland wherever grass stays.
Caцpa Caцpa how do you run?
Clippaclop clippaclop under the sun.”
“That’s another one that goes on and on,” Oskual said. “And there’s this one.”
“Little Achcha Meloach
Sitting in a tree
Yelling down at Fior boy
Can’t catch me…”
6
The lay-by was neat and well-maintained, a grassy space inside a stake fence with fruiting vines woven through the stakes. Inside the fence there was a grassy area with two shade trees and several backless benches, a covered well with a hand pump for filling the water trough, a three-sided shed with a corral and hayrick for the caцpas or draft animals of those spending the night there, a resthouse with a roof made from pieces of shell scraped so thin they let the sun shine through. The only furnishings were a pair of wide benches built into the wall and a fireplace with an extension to one side for cooking meals.
After they finished tending the caцpas, Shadith strolled to the opening in the stake fence and stood looking along the road.
There was a dark blot on the horizon rather like a herd of something smaller than the ponies-something else coming down the road. She hadn’t expected to see things so busy. Despite the Yaraka thrusting themselves into the lives of these people, once one got a very short way from the Enclave, the days of the locals seemed to be moving along much as usual.
She strolled away. Walking felt good, stretching muscles that the riding had tied into knots. She looked in the door of the resthouse, saw Danor stretched out on one of the benches with his face to the wall. You want to be alone, I’ll leave you alone. She moved on.
Maorgan was leaning on the corral fence, talking privately to Eolt Melech, the speech tentacle dropping to curl around his neck.
Shadith glanced at the Ard, shrugged and wandered back to the opening.
The blotch was closer, separating out into a crowd of children. She was beginning to hear fragments of laughter and words. She turned her head, called,
“Maorgan, something’s on the road ahead, moving toward us. Come tell me what it is.”
At first she didn’t think he’d heard her, then he touched the tentacle round his throat. When the Eolt pulled free, he said, “According to Melech, it’s the Mengerak. The twelfth year Circle.” He walked over to her, looked out. “Right.”
“That tells me a lot.”
“Oh. Seven Ordumels make a Circle. In this Circle, we count Alsekum, Kebesengay, Bliochel, Melekau, Rongesan, Cherredech, Soibeseng. In the third week of Kerrekerl the Mengerak begins. The Children’s Walk. Starts in a different Dumel each year, around and around the Circle. It’s a time for learning, for bonding with the Circle, getting ready for the Kirrataneh and the Mating fairs. For trading. For holding the Circle in peace. What Glois was on about, next year he and Utelel will be making Mengerak. The kids think it’s the greatest fun there is, going from celebration to celebration, but it’s a lot more than that. It’s a thousand and a thousand years old and it’s important, it’s one of the glues that binds us together. Ah, Shadowsong, if the Shape Wars come back…” He didn’t try to finish, just shook his head and stood watching the horde of children coming down the road.
“What about the chorek? And animal predators?”
“If you’ll look higher, you’ll see half a dozen Eolt floating ward above them. Besides, if anyone harmed a single one of those kids, they’d have all of Banikoлh after them. We wouldn’t stop till we cleaned the land of them.” His face twisted with sudden anger, smoothed out almost as quickly. “It won’t happen.”
“It hasn’t happened,” she said quietly. “The Yaraka and the Chave, your mesuchs, they’re changing things. Next year you’d better send guards with the children if you think they should go out. Not just the Eolt. Sounds like some of the political choreks would like nothing better than linking up with a set of powerful offworlders. And that means trouble of a kind you haven’t seen before.”
He looked past Danor at the band of children. They were close enough now that Shadith could begin to make out individuals. Two girls were dancing in a wild spiral along the grassy lane, hair flying, breathless laughter breaking to pieces on the wind. A Keteng Meloach was plucking strings and knocking his knuckles on an instrument that seemed rather like a lute crossed with a gourd. Behind xe other Meloach were clapping their hands and several Fior and Meloach were improvising mouth music. “We need this glue, Shadowsong. Without it Keteng and Fior could fall apart.” He made an impatient sound. “Matha matha, we’d better get moving again. Holding on is what the Klobach is all about. The Meruus are expecting you to tell them how step by step, so we’d better get you there and let you do it.”
7. Wheel of Fortune
1
Ceam handed the binocs to the Fior woman squatting beside him. “Look where they put the Crawler. They’ve learned. Take the canyon falling in on them to do serious damage there.”
Leoca adjusted the focus. “Hm. I see what you mean. Good thing that isn’t what we have in mind.”
The Crawler was edged up against a stand of ancient kulkins and gumas, a swath of grassy ground between it and the creek that ambled down the canyon, the chuff of its air intakes audible above the muted sounds from the rest of the canyon. The day was warm and quiet, the rustle of the leaves, the murmur of the creek soporific as a lullaby; even the angies were staying close to their perches, their songs subdued, barely reaching the watchers on the rim. One of the mesuchs was stretched out on a blanket, sleeping in the shade of a young kerre just coming into bud_
“Doesn’t look like they’re expecting trouble. I suppose the storm meant you had clouds down to your ankles when Eolt Kitsek brought you word.”
Ceam rested his chin in his hands. “Mm. You get caught in it?”
“Ihoi! did we.” She took a long careful look at the canyon below, lowered the binocs, and rubbed at her eyes. “Makes you dizzy, this. Engebel, see if you can work out a way to get at that thing.” She passed the glasses to her Keteng companion. “How many and what schedule are they keeping?”
He wriggled from the rim so the Keteng could take his place, stood when he was far enough that he wouldn’t be seen from below, dusted himself off and sat with his back against one of the scrub gumas clinging to the slope behind the canyon lip. “Two mesuch. Four hours on, four off. The pair on duty when I got here were sloppier about it. Did a lot of leaving the machine to run itself. Next lot, though, they rung the changes by the bell. That’s the way it’s been since. Twelve days I been here, they’ve had three personnel switches, new mesuch coming in second day, sixth day, first lot came back yesterday. They were hot to hold sched, figure they got chewed out about it, but they’re already starting to get lazy. I’d say tonight or tomorrow would be best time, they won’t be cleaning up yet for next rotation.” He glanced at the three Meloach squatting silent in the shade of the other gumas. “New kind of Mengerak?”
Leoca sighed. “In a way. Chetiel, Tengel, and Bliull were students of ours. Engebel and I, we’re teachers. Cha oy, we were before the mesuch came. Story you probably heard a hundred times, they hauled Fior off to labor camps, killed any Keteng they could catch, and burned the Dumel.”