Fish Tails

by Sheri S. Tepper

  The tip of a rocky ridge of the Stonies thrust up along their way on the right, growing higher as they went. To the left, ahead of them, a low hummock clad in sand and cactus appeared. When they reached it, it was backed by two taller ones. Others appeared as they drove on, growing higher the farther west they went, so that they trundled along a wide, winding way between two ranges of hills, the low, sandy dunelike ones to the south, the higher, rocky ones at the foot of the mountains to the north. Keeping his eyes on the northern horizon, Coyote told Abasio when he recognized the outline he had seen before, where the stinkers had turned north.

  “Up that way,” he said. “Right up at the foot of the mountain. That’s where they went.”

  Abasio drew the attention of the troop to the place and the landmarks, but they didn’t stop. A team had already been chosen to explore the area on the way back, and Precious Wind was part of it. Half an hour later, Kim and one of the Artemisian outriders came back at a gallop. “Just up ahead,” the Artemisian rider cried. “The canyon’s just a mile or so ahead.”

  Wagons were stopped. Faces were washed. Hair was combed and braided on men and women both. Various adornments were donned. The babies were undressed, washed, and reclothed. They went on.

  The target canyon looked like any of a thousand others, except that it had an east-­facing stone wall on which a large, square surface had been smoothed and polished to receive the carefully graven words HOUSE OF ORACLES.

  IF YOU HAVE LEGITIMATE BUSINESS HERE, RING THE BELL. IF YOU ARE MERELY CURIOUS, GO ON BY. YOU WILL FIND A RIVER SETTLEMENT HALF A DAY’S TRAVEL WEST.

  Under this, in smaller letters, the sign read:

  THERE WILL BE SEVERE PENALTIES FOR THOSE RINGING THE BELL WITHOUT LEGITIMATE BUSINESS.

  The wall was surmounted by a carved arch with a bell hanging in it. The bell rope hung within easy reach beside the message. Arakny rang the bell, a quick dong-­dong, only one bell, yet it sent dissonant tones up the canyon, the echoes reinforcing one another. The wagons turned in, went just inside the canyon, and stopped within a grove of very large trees surrounding a well-­used campground. Everyone, horses and ­people, gathered in the shade to wait. Coyote stuck his nose in the corner of the wagon and pulled out the metal bit he had found in the stinker tunnels.

  “Coming,” whispered Arakny. The word went through the gathering. The horses stood still. Three ­people were coming down the canyon toward them, gray robes as specified. Gray hair, braided, as specified. Arakny went forward to meet them. In a few moments she returned. “Needly. They’d like to see you.” She held out her hand.

  Needly said firmly, “I’ll go alone, Arakny. I need to ask about Grandma.”

  Arakny’s surprise was plain, but she nodded nonetheless. “Of course, child. As you will.”

  Needly went up the path to the place where the trio stood. She had gone only half the distance when her voice came back to the waiting group, a high, exultant scream: “Grandma!” The next moment she was in the arms of the middle figure.

  “Well,” said Arakny to those closest around her. “I guess that answers that question.”

  “When you come here,” Xulai whispered, “do you usually camp out here, or do they invite you in?”

  “As I’ve mentioned, from time to time Mother sends messages or gifts of food, and the men who deliver the items camp out here overnight before making the return trip. There’s a spring of good water behind that stone pillar to your left, and the trees make a pleasant shade. When I came, they invited me in. The place is inside the mountain, built into a series of caves. It’s very comfortable, but one really never knows what they’ll do until they do it.”

  Needly came running back. “Abasio, Xulai, Arakny, and Precious Wind are invited in, and the others are invited to camp here. Oh, and Willum. Will one of the men help Abasio carry Willum?”

  One of the bowmen stepped forward to carry the back end of the stretcher they had constructed for the occasion. Willum was not heavy, but his sprawled position made it difficult for any one person to carry him. The others followed them. The path was sandy. Abasio and Xulai, each carrying one of the babies, were last in line behind Arakny. Xulai happened to glance behind her at the Artemisians, who were busy setting up camp. The path behind her had no footprints on it whatsoever. She looked down at Arakny’s feet. As Arakny raised her left foot, the sand filled in below it, settling itself into utter smoothness before Xulai’s foot stepped down. She gulped and looked resolutely forward.

  The two who had accompanied Grandma stood to one side, watching them pass. Their faces wore identical small, pleasant smiles, welcoming to precisely the same degree. One name on the shoulder was LUSS FARLIGHT. The other was DRON WINDLEAS. Xulai, with Gailai held against her shoulder, nodded to each, memorizing “Dron” and “Luss,” receiving duplicate nods in return. She caught Needly’s eye, seeing there a reflection of her own confusion. Needly kept to herself the words that had leapt to her tongue when she had turned from Grandma’s arms to meet the two remaining Oracles. She had thought in that moment that they were not separate ­people but identical parts of one thing. One big thing. No. One larger thing, but without any . . . bigness to it. The idea was confusing and unpleasant. She squashed it, folded it, put it away until another time.

  Grandma reached out a hand to Xulai, drew her close to say, “Thank you for taking care of my child.”

  “I’m afraid we didn’t do a very good job,” Xulai said, pleased that the woman before her looked precisely as Needly had described her. “We almost lost her.”

  “But you didn’t. That’s the important thing. May I carry the baby?” She reached out for Gailai, who stared into her face for a moment, then reached out and grabbed her nose. There was a sudden scurry by their feet. Coyote. He was holding something in his mouth, offering it.

  Grandma stepped back, leaned over: “You want to give me this?”

  He nodded. She put her hand down and he dropped the metal piece into it, a little wet. She wiped it on her skirt and then looked at it closely. Her mouth opened, made a pursed, almost whistle shape. “Where?” she asked.

  “Long story,” he said.

  “Will you be here, with them?” She gestured at the Artemisians, busy making camp.

  “Yes. With Bear.”

  “I’ll come find you and Bear later tonight,” Grandma said, pocketing Coyote’s gift. “Stay close where I can find you.” This time she was successful in taking Gailai in one arm and Abasio’s arm with her other.

  The opening was an arch, rough stone, without a door. As they came into the shade of it, Xulai saw that it was only a kind of portal. The actual door stood ajar ahead of them, three man heights tall, two man heights wide, one man height thick, one solid piece of stone, sharp-­cornered, smooth as planed wood. It bore nothing resembling hinges or a knob or a knocker. When Xulai went past it, the last in line, she felt it pivot on some unseen bearing and close soundlessly behind them. When she looked back, it was invisible. Not even a hairline showed its outline.

  COYOTE AND BEAR STAYED TOGETHER, near but not too near the men setting up camp and preparing their food. One corner of the wagon had been occupied by a very large stew kettle containing corn, onions, meat, Tom’s toes, and a plethora of herbs. These things had been soaking all day and the kettle had been placed on a stout grid over the fire as soon as it was well alight. Someone among the Artemisian men spoke to the cook, and she ladled two large bowls full of the stew they had prepared and broke a large hunk of bread into each of them. The man set the bowls near the place where Coyote and Bear had established their own territory, at the edge of an almost impenetrable tangle. They waited for the stew to cool, then ate it with a good deal of pleasure. It wasn’t fresh rabbit, but it was very good. Bear often ate vegetables, Coyote but rarely, as part of the stomach contents of something just killed or as a way to clear his own stomach if something had not agreed with him. Both foun
d the dish filling to the stomach and pleasant to the nose, however, and when they had eaten and licked the bowls clean, they retreated into the tangle.

  Some hours later, a woman came down the path from the Oracles’ place. She said softly, “Coyote?”

  “Over here,” he yodeled, as softly. He and Bear pushed themselves to the edge of the tangle, sticking their heads out. The woman came close, looked around her, found a place to sit, a convenient log next to a tree. She said, “The log is new. You put that there?”

  “I did,” said Bear. Human ­people are so . . . what’s the word, up n’ down?”

  “Vertical?”

  “Yah. So vertical. It’s hard for you to get down on our level to talk.”

  “Only the old ones.” She laughed. “I guess that includes grandmas. Tell me about the metal piece, Coyote. Did you know what it was?”

  “No. I only knew it itched me. In a bad way. I’ve seen something like it somewhere, but I can’t remember.”

  “Could it be with traders? At the pass?”

  It came back to him in a flash. “That’s where!”

  “Indeed. Well, tell me the story.”

  Which he did, well rehearsed, having told it several times to others. He included all the details and what various ­people had thought about it subsequently. “I found the little metal piece on my way in, it stuck in my foot. I picked it up on my way out. I knew Abasio wouldn’t know anything about it. I didn’t think the ­people we’re staying with would know. I thought you might.”

  “I’ve seen them on things old Digger traded. I think it’s a manufacturer’s tag, identifying a product, Coyote. Something that was no doubt dug out of a buried city. Maybe the one under Hench Valley. It was originally probably on its way to a place near Fantis. ­People have told me there was a huge manufacturing plant down on the plain near Fantis. I’ve heard that place was and still is owned by the Edgers, and they may have made or used the stuff that had that tag on it.” She turned it in her hands. “You said a man couldn’t get through the tunnel you were in when you found this?”

  “I said he couldn’t get in or out the way I got in and out. It was only the entrance that was tight. But if he’d come in some other way, he could have dropped it in the tunnel I was in. Or something else could have. It’s a whatsit in there, a tangle . . .”

  “A maze.”

  “That’s it. There were tunnels leading off all directions from the one where I found it.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t get lost.”

  “I was following the air. It was moving that way, up and out.”

  “And the men you saw were Edgers?”

  “That’s what everyone thinks. The Artemisians think so. Arakny thinks so. Abasio and Xulai think so. Who else could they be but Edgers?”

  “You have an opinion, Bear?”

  “Nope. Know nothin’ about this thing. What I do know is Old Digger, up in Tuckwhip, he had miles of tunnel dug into that city. I know because lotsa us critters make themselves winter places in Digger’s holes. If this came from there, chances are he dug it and sold it to a wagoner. Prob’ly the wagoner was the one they call the Gold King. He’s the one buys the strange stuff, mostly. Maybe the wagoner sold it to an Edger, maybe one a’ those washin’ stuff off a stinker.”

  “I know Digger.” Grandma made a face. “I’d like to ask him a few questions . . .”

  “Sun-­wings killed him,” said Coyote. “Rotten old man.”

  “Sun-­wings?”

  “The big mare Griffin that’s got ­people all in a . . . maze. The one that told’m to fix their little ones like they did humans so they could live when everything’s water.”

  “Xulai told me one of the men was killed, but not who. Sun-­wings killed Digger?”

  “Took his head off, like a chicken. Didn’t bite him. Doesn’t like the taste.”

  “Too merciful, but appropriate. I knew his death was coming, just not how soon. Now, how do I find out what this stuff was, that had the metal tag on it?”

  “It was there where the Edgers washed their stinkers. So I figure it has something to do with that. Something they use, maybe? Edgers got to go back and forth from there, you need somebody to follow them home, ask them.”

  “How long ago were you there?”

  Coyote tried to remember: A night’s sleep? A day’s travel? More sleep, then Precious Wind had arrived. Maybe it was a day or two or three since? He said, “Three, four days.”

  “And they’re not far from here.”

  “The place isn’t. Don’t know if they’re still there.”

  “I understand that. How near here, do you think?”

  “Might take us an hour, maybe.”

  “Well, in the morning, we may give it a try,” said Grandma. “Meantime, we’ll work with what we know. Precious Wind brought us a sample of the stuff that accumulates on the stinker bodies. Put that together with this tag, which we’re fairly sure is a biological product, a catalyst. Well, it’s simply very useful, Coyote. I’m glad it itched you. How can I repay you?”

  “Chicken,” said Coyote. “I’d say that’s top of my preferences.”

  “Where’d you get that word, ‘preference’? Don’t remember your having that one.”

  “Listenin’ to that Precious Wind. She has preferences, lots and lots of ’em. Mostly different from what other folks prefers.”

  Grandma laughed. “Indeed.”

  “You gonna help Willum?” Bear inquired. “That little girl of yours, she’s brave as a . . . bear, but she’s really grieved over that boy.”

  “If it weren’t for the arrow through him, it’d be easy. There are medical machines in the Oracles’ place. I’ve used them from time to time. They’re very good, good diagnosticians, good providers of treatment. Problem is, the machine reports that the arrow’s made out of yew. There isn’t any yew anywhere around here. Where did that hunter get it, that stinker hunter?” She shook her head angrily. “Yew’s poison. It’s as if someone made arrows that would eventually kill anything they hit. That’s wicked, pure wicked. So we’re figuring out what we’re going to try . . . We can’t just take the rock away or he’ll bleed to death.”

  “Thought he was like rock. Thought he couldn’t bleed.”

  “He’d bleed if we neutralized the rock medicine all at once. We have to neutralize it as we go. Tiny, tiny bit at a time so he loses only a tiny bit of blood. He can’t heal if he’s stone except as slow as stone, which means he might be healed by the time the rest of us are all dead and gone. And if he isn’t stone he bleeds. They have a medical machine in there. I’ve fed all the information into the machines, and I’m waiting for them to come up with an answer. Then we’ll wake him up.”

  “Needly says you were stone, like him.”

  “I was. But I just had a place on my head where a rock hit. I wasn’t bleeding. It was easy to get at and heal, didn’t even break the skin very much. Even though it was lots easier than with Willum, it still took quite a while.”

  “You were buried there in that village. Who got you out?”

  “Well, at first I thought the Oracles had. Then I thought not, but near here is where I woke up.”

  “Didn’t they say?”

  “They don’t say much, ever. Especially if it’s something you really want to know.”

  “She tell you all about the Griffin mare?”

  “Yes, and her cub, Dawn-­song. Now, that’s a much easier thing. We can heal her very quickly. I made up a batch of the antidote after I got here. There’s a little patch of that stone plant just up the hill from here, near my old home; I’ve kept my eyes on it for a long time. I’ll take or send some of the antidote back to Wide Mountain Mother, and the Griffin’s leg should be healed before her wing is. The real problem is what the Griffin said about her children surviving. Now, that’s a very different matter, v
ery difficult. Very, very difficult. Nobody’s sure there’s enough time left. However, there’s ways and there’s ways, and I’m sure there are capable ­people working on the problem.”

  “Ma’am, are you one of those . . . those Oracles?”

  “No, Bear. I’m certainly not. I’m just a human who amused herself for much of her young life by making use of all that equipment and machinery they have here. I suppose that gave me a few enhancements, ah . . . improvements?”

  “That’d be betterments, I guess. Blue says ‘betterments.’ ”

  “Betterments, then. I’m not quite sure what the Oracles think I am or what they regard me as being in connection to themselves. I’ve learned a lot of things from them—­well, that is, I’ve learned it from the machines and devices they brought here. You know, it’s very strange. They acquire these things, all kinds of things, but once they have them, they just sort of . . . let them be. They have pictures they never look at, equipment they never use. I seem to be the only one who is using the equipment, so I have no idea why they brought it.”

  Bear nodded wisely, looked at Coyote. “Sounds like pack rats t’me.”

  “Pack rats,” agreed Coyote. “Can you tell us anything about them, even just a little bit?”

  “Only a little bit. They’re not from here. They’re from another world. I know the Oracles look like humans, more or less, but I don’t think they are. I think maybe they can take pretty much any shape they like. Which is another way of saying they don’t have any shape. They say they’re on some kind of mission. They don’t say who gave them the mission. They say they have their orders. I don’t know why, but I’ve come to doubt that.” She stared into the distance; Bear and Coyote stared with her. “They’ve been here a very long time for us to know so little about them. I’ve given them credit for a lot of things . . . things they maybe had nothing to do with. Until I brought Willum . . . there’s never been anything immediate that I’ve put to them, something that needs doing right now, and I’m a little confused by the way they act.”