I saw the branches waving, the water talking,
The ice answering, the snow laughing.
I saw The animals of water and earth and they were talking, too.
They were kind to me and answered all my questions
But I do not know what questions I asked.
I do not know what answers I heard.
I know the cavern, the branches, the talking water,
The speaking ice and the laughing snow. I know
That you know it, too. So hear my song
And believe me. For I have seen what you have seen.
And I am changed. Hear my song. Believe me."
He threw his head back as his last passionate note died away, and threw out his arms, entreating their response.
It began as a very low murmur of approval, growing as more folk entered the answering chorus, as more people began to drum their feet on the floor, as a crescendo of sound beat on Yana's ears until she almost put her hands over them. But if she had, she would not have heard the answer.
"We believe! We believe! We believe!"
She had jumped up and was shouting along with everyone else. Because she could not doubt the boy. Everyone, at the same instant, swarmed across the floor toward him. Bunny was on the platform, hugging him, and suddenly he was crying, with the same sense of relief that Yana knew she had just felt.
Singing the Inuit way had much to recommend it.
Yana was still caught up in the emotion surrounding Diego's song when a voice spoke in her ear. "Now that was very moving."
The voice belonged to Torkel Fiske, who prevented her from turning with a light touch on her shoulders. Sean was no longer beside her. "Very touching. I'm so glad I convinced Giancarlo to let the boy come here today. Obviously he needed to vent his emotions and I do find it curious that when he insists here, in his poetic mode, that the nonsense his father has been babbling was real, the villagers agree with him."
"Maybe," Yana replied in a sardonic tone, "that's because the villagers are more observant than the company."
"Oh, but the villagers are the company, too. Perhaps a branch that's had insufficient attention in the past."
"Ooh, that sounds ominous," she said as lightly as she could.
"Maybe a little prophetic," he admitted, breathing into her hair. "I hope nobody will mind that I came. I just had to see for myself about this party you and Diego were so excited about. Could I talk you into a dance, or are you able?"
"I seem to be managing," she said, looking around for Sean. "And there's no dance music playing," she pointed out, feeling ridiculous, standing there in her homemade blouse, uniform pants and stocking feet like something out of a gothic novel. "Look, Torkel," she said, shaking off his hands to turn in his arms. "You've been a godsend and I'm very glad to see you, and I'm flattered by your interest. Under ordinary circumstances I'd be very tempted, but, well…"
"Oho!" he said, his eyes smiling down at her while his mouth twisted with mock disappointment. "I'm not the only one to appreciate you, huh? I was hoping the locals would be too backward to notice. My estimation of this place increases by the minute."
Thank God his ego was strong enough that she didn't have to worry about losing his friendship-and his assistance-by declining to play. She kissed his cheek. "Asshole."
He prolonged the contact with a hug that ended with sagged shoulders. "Oh well, so much for the reasons I was looking forward to coming."
About that time Aisling approached them and held out her arms for a hug, too, giving Yana a graceful way to extricate herself from Torkel. "Yana, I just had to tell you how beautiful your song was, how much it meant to me and everybody else."
"Thanks, Aisling. And thanks again for making this gorgeous blouse."
Aisling flushed with pleasure. "That's okay. It looks beautiful." She glanced at Torkel inquisitively and with just a tad of something Yana took to be-well, not hostility, but suspicion.
"This is an old shipmate of mine, Aisling, Captain Torkel Fiske. He arranged for me to get the material and for Diego to be here today."
"Oh, that was real nice of you, Captain," Aisling said, sticking out a long-fingered hand for him to shake. Torkel, typically, raised it to his lips instead.
"Hey, Yana." Sinead appeared behind her partner and stuck her hand out to Torkel, too. "Tell this guy for me that Aisling and I share everything," she said.
Again, the tone was friendly but the undercurrents were guarded and, in this case, more markedly hostile-but not because Torkel was kissing Aisling's hand. Yana thought perhaps Sinead might be being possessive of her on Scan's behalf.
"Torkel, Sinead Shongili."
The two regarded each other like fencers assessing each other's strengths; then he kissed Sinead's hand, after which she surprised him by kissing his, then licking her lips.
"Um, hairy knuckles. My dad had hairy knuckles."
"I like her," Torkel said, turning to Yana and pointing to Sinead.
"Me, too," Aisling said, putting her arm around Sinead's shoulders.
"Listen," Torkel said confidingly, taking in not only Yana but Aisling and Sinead, "maybe you women can help me with something I've got to do which is going to be real hard. Maybe you'd even know if I ought to do it now or wait until this party is over."
"Sure, Torkel," Aisling said.
"What's the matter, man?" Sinead asked.
"I need to find out who is next of kin to a woman named Lavelle Maloney."
"Lavelle!" Sinead said. "Has something happened to her? Where is she?"
Torkel gritted his teeth and patted the open air with his hand in a calming gesture. "I really think I should tell the next of kin before I tell anybody else, don't you? But, well, I think they'll need your support when I've finished talking to them."
"Oh, no…" Aisling said.
Sinead touched her partner's forearm gently. "Why don't you go tell Clodagh and Scan they're needed and I'll take Torkel and Yana to get Liam." To Torkel she said, "Lavelle's husband has been sick a long time. He didn't come today. We'll get her boy Liam to come with us back to her house to tell his da. Her daughter lives at Tanana Bay, and her other son is in the Space Corps, stationed on Mukerjee Three."
Yana saw Scan then, one arm around Bunny and the other around Diego, hording the kids toward her, speaking earnestly to Diego. Close behind him came Clodagh, and Sinead stopped as she met them.
Clodagh held up her hand and twiddled her fingers impatiently, as if staving off Sinead's news. Then she, too, headed toward Yana and Torkel.
She knows, Yana thought as Clodagh sailed toward them like a liner through an asteroid belt. She already knows. But how?
Torkel was intercepting Sean and the kids. "Diego, son, you have great talent," he said.
Torkel looked so handsome and fatherly congratulating Diego, Yana thought. He had wisely chosen not to wear a uniform, despite the apparently official nature of his visit. He wore instead a heavy sweater patterned with moss green, rust, and cream that set off his hair and eyes to good advantage, and a pair of rust-colored woolen trousers. He was bigger than Sean, she saw, and more stockily built, and of course their coloring was very different; one russet, the other silver, like fire and ice. Except, she remembered with an inward blush, there had been nothing icy about Sean Shongili thus far in their acquaintance.
"Sean," Sinead was saying, "this man is here because something has happened to Lavelle."
Sean squeezed his eyes shut and his lips thinned with pain, but that was nothing compared to Diego's reaction.
"What? What's happened to her?" the boy demanded of Torkel, his eyes blazing and his fists clenched. "What did you dorks do to her?"
Torkel looked genuinely pained. "Nothing, son. We're not sure what happened, and won't know until we get the autopsy report."
Sean's head snapped up. "Autopsy?"