by neetha Napew
The person, a man who looked a bit like Bunny’s uncle Adak, seemed startled to see them. “Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want? he demanded, blocking the entrance to the cave.
“Slainte,” Bunny said as normally as possible. After all, if these people were supporting the company instead of the planet, she wasn’t surprised that they might be a little defensive. “I was looking for the Connelly family. I thought they lived around here.”
“Who is it askin’ after the Connellys?” a woman’s voice asked from behind the man. “Krilerneg O’Malley, will you move your ass so the rest of us can get out.”
“Is that you, Iva?” Bunny asked. As O’Malley did as he was bid, she saw that it was indeed Iva Connelly, or someone who looked very much like her, coming out into the daylight.
Unlike the unmannerly O’Malley, the woman cleared the doorway and came over to the horses, allowing a stream of men, women, and children to emerge behind her.
“What is it, Ma?” a boy asked. He was a tall boy, not dark like most of the people Bunny knew, but fair-haired and blue-eyed.
The woman looked puzzled herself, and for a moment Bunny was afraid she’d got the wrong person.
“Slainte, dama,” she said again. “I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I’m Buneka Rourke, the snocle driver from Kilcoole. This is my friend Diego Metaxos.”
“That’s not a Kilcoole name,” the boy said in a suspicious mutter.
“Never mind that, Krisuk,” the woman said. “You’ve had a long journey, Bunka. You must be tired and hungry.”
The people parted in front of another man now, this one dressed in skins and furs, all ornamented with beads the way Aisling did the latchkay blouses. More striking than his clothing, however, was his physical appearance. He was a very large man and very handsome, his hair worn in a black mane, with a trim black beard covering his chin and a heavy black mustache guarding his mouth.
“The others not only let him pass but actually shrank from him. He carried a staff with the skull of some small animal—a squirrel perhaps, although it looked more like . . . No, it couldn’t be a cat’s skull! Nobody would do anything so gruesome as to display the skull of a cat.
She did notice, however, that the marmalade cat, who had been there a moment before, had completely disappeared.
“Iva, my child, of course this lovely creature and her friend are tired and hungry. You must bring them to my house to eat and rest.” He turned to Bunny and gave her a smile that invited her to admire him, and extended his hand less to shake hers than to sign a blessing at her. “I am Satok, the shanachie. Welcome to my village.”
“Slainte, Satok,” Bunny said. “And thanks for the invitation. I just came bringing greetings to the Connellys from our healer, Clodagh Senungatuk, but she has spoken of you and I know she will be glad to hear that I met you.”
Iva Connelly spoke to the shanachie, and Bunny thought her manner unusually timorous for someone speaking to the town’s rememberer and chief singer and storyteller. “Bunka is an important woman in Kilcoole, shanachie. She is one of two people permitted to drive the company’s snocles. On her mother’s side she is descended from the Shongili scientists. Her uncle is Sean himself, and she was all but raised by Clodagh, the healer.”
The speech would normally have embarrassed Bunny, except that she had the oddest feeling that Iva was presenting her credentials, to show that Bunny was a person worthy of respect and under the protection of important and powerful people. Satok, apparently, took the speech as an advertisement for her—her charms? He was looking at her in the way of men who were courting, except more boldly and without deference.
“Fine recommendations indeed,” he said, grasping her hand. “I am so honored that you have come to my village.”
“We—uh—we brought a song to the Connellys from their friends in Kilcoole,” Diego said rather sharply. “Come on, Bunny. Maybe we can visit the shanachie later, if there’s time. We’re on kind of a tight schedule. We’re being expected soon, elsewhere.”
Bunny, uneasy at the burning look she was getting from the shanachie, did not mind Diego intervening in her affairs this time. Iva Connelly shot them a relieved glance and one that was apologetic to the shanachie before she hustled them, the boy, and a passel of other relatives back to a house no bigger than Clodagh’s.
Iva, her husband Miuk, and their own children and grandchildren, including the blond-haired boy, all lived under this roof. It smelled musky, of closeness and constant occupation. Except for six beds and a table, the furnishings were few and the food stores did not appear to be many.
“We brought our own supplies,” Bunny told Iva. “And some seedlings from Clodagh. She and Sean both think this will be an unusually long growing season.”
Iva did not respond to her remark at once. “Niambh,” she said to one of the granddaughters. “Put the kettle on for our guests.”
She sat herself down on one bed and motioned to Diego and Bunny to sit on another. The rest of the Connellys surrounded them closely. The youngest ones had to be deflected from the saddlebags, which intrigued them.
“That was kind of Clodagh, but I doubt we’ll plant much this year,” Miuk said. “We’ll be busy helping Intergal at the new mine sites.”
Bunny tried not to act surprised. The cats’ information, after all, was accurate. That marmalade rascal who had led them to the meeting cave was no doubt a useful informant.
Diego surprised her. He usually hung back in discussions, but now he leaned forward and gave Iva a penetrating look.
“And how,” he asked, “does your shanachie feel about the possibility of newly opened mine sites?”
“Why, he thinks it’s about time, of course. He says the planet is very offended that we refuse to accept all of its gifts. That’s why the planet won’t communicate with any of us anymore, but speaks only to Satok.”
“What?” Bunny cried.
“Just as she says, girl, are you deaf?” Miuk said. “The planet now communicates its needs and we communicate ours to it only through Satok.”
“Why? Isn’t the planet ‘mad’ at him, too?” Diego asked, just managing not to sneer.
“You don’t understand,—“ Iva said. “You’ve had Clodagh to guide you, to keep you whole. But McConachie was old and not right in the head for a long time before he died. And no one else came forward for years. We—we lost touch. We misinterpreted things. We did wrong things. Offensive things. Until Satok came to interpret, everything got harder and harder for us. Animals didn’t come to the dying places. The river didn’t thaw for three summers. We couldn’t grow gardens. Not until Satok came did we know what the problem was. We had angered the planet by not cooperating with the company when it wished our help to make its explorations.”
“Which explorations?” Bunny asked. She wasn’t aware that help had been recruited further afield than Kilcoole.
“There was one last year. Some fellas came looking for guides. They landed in a shuttle. I don’t think they even went to SpaceBase. They said there was some kinda special minerals we were supposed to have here that they were lookin’ for.”
“There were others, too,” Miuk said. “Ask Clodagh. Sometimes if what the company wanted was near Shannonmouth, people from Kilcoole would just send them on, or bring them this far and no farther. My brother Upik guided one group, but we never saw him again.”
“I went out with my father and Lavelle Maloney with a group,” Diego said in a quiet, intense voice. “We got into a white out. But we took refuge inside the planet. My father . . . well, he was bad for a while and almost died from the shock but Clodagh and Bunny and the others helped him and now he’s better. That sort of thing seems to happen to a lot of company teams.”
Iva shook her head. “They did not ask permission then.
As Satok says, we used to do it all wrong. He says that Miuk’s brother and our other folks killed the company teams and the planet punished them—and us—because of it.
> “Why does he tell you such lies?” Bunny asked. She had restrained herself long enough. Now she was really mad.
“He doesn’t lie. As long as we’ve done what he says, made the payments he wants, things have been better.”
“Payments?” Diego asked incredulously, sticking his jaw out.
“Just little things. Food, furs, some sewing for him, the best pups from the litters, and the best lead dog to train them.”
“Oh, that sort of payments,” Diego said in a tone of voice that Bunny had never heard him use. But she knew what he was leading up to. “And all your troubles have disappeared with his help?”
Universally solemn nods answered the query.
“And the planet doesn’t mind you digging hard down into itself—Diego made a savage downward thrust with his hand, then gave a mean twist to his imaginary tool as it threw its imaginary contents onto the floor—and making big sores on its surface?”
There was a stunned rumble at his harsh words.
“You, young Diego, are a stranger, not of this planet. How can you pretend to know its wishes? How can you pretend to know our needs? You have no understanding of the planet, of us, or of how it is at Shannonmouth,” Miuk said sternly, shifting his legs into an aggressive stance.
“Quite possibly I don’t,” Diego said, staring back at him so unafraid that Bunny was as proud of him as she was scared. “But I have a song to sing . . .”
Bunny breathed a secret sigh of relief. Diego was sure catching on fast. Out of inbred courtesy, everyone in the tiny house relaxed just that little bit that showed they would be receptive to a song, but not to more words that went against their shanachie. Of all the tense faces, Bunny noticed only one, that of the light-haired boy, Krisuk, that did not wear the same defensive, half-frightened look. She had mistaken Krisuk’s expression for sullenness at first, but as Diego talked, the other boy’s face relaxed and she saw that he was angry—and not at them. Diego, as if he’d been doing it all his life instead of just the past few months, lifted his head, half closed his eyes, and sang the song he had composed for the Kilcoole latchkay.
“I am new come, in storm, here.
A storm of heart and mind and soul.
I sought and found storm with Lavelle.
She saved me when the sled crashed down.
With the heat of her body she saved me.
With the wit of her mind she saved my father, too.
Saved me to see the cavern that all say I didn’t see.
“But I saw the caverns and the water and the carving
Of wind and water.
I saw the gleaming snow, like jeweled cloth.
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.”
“Diego is no stranger to Petaybee. The planet has spoken to him,” Bunny said quietly in the respectful silence that followed a true song. For she could see by their reception that the Connellys could recognize the song for what it was. “The planet speaks to few,” Iva said, nodding her head.
“But here,” Miuk said in a harsh voice, “the planet speaks to Satok and none other, and it is he we must obey in the name of the planet.”
“Well spoken, Miuk.” There were gasps of astonishment as Satok stuck his head through a carefully opened window. “Well sung, young traveler.”
Iva quickly rose and opened the door. She was red with the embarrassment at the shanachie having to listen through a window to hear something going on in her house.
Immediately it occurred to Bunny that that might be how he knew so much of what went on in his village. Inside, he made straight for the bed on which Bunny and Diego sat. But Diego, acting quickly, shifted so that Satok would have to sit next to him instead of Bunny, as had been his very obvious intention.
“Then young traveler, do you think the planet says one thing for one town and something else for another?” Satok asked, his eyes glistening, his mouth set at a derisive slant.
“Your town is near mines, Kilcoole is not.”
“But Lavelle was searching for mines, was she not, when your group became lost in white out?”
“We were, but well east of Kilcoole and well north of here,” Diego answered calmly. Bunny thought he was much cleverer than the shanachie, who was obviously trying to catch him out.
“What else did the planet say to you that you made such a song?”
Diego looked up at the intimidating face of Satok. “The planet gave me words to sing, which I have sung. Now my mouth is dry, and we have come a long way to see Iva Connelly and thank her for gifts, bringing gifts in return.”
“Bah!” Satok said with a scornful glance at the seedlings. “There will be no time for growing things when the company sends orders.”
“There is time now,” Bunny said, encouraged by Diego’s attitude. “The days grow long enough and the soil here will soon be as ready as it is in Kilcoole. It takes nothing from the company to supply fresh food. The company only gives cans and dried stuff. Our people need fresh food.”
Satok jumped to his feet. “I will tell what is good for my people, not you strangers.” He whirled on Iva. “You will not accept these gifts.” Iva’s expression was terrified and shocked, but he ignored her. “When the planet feels that you are worthy of them, the planet will provide.” Then, at his full and imposing height, he glared down at Diego and Bunny. “You were not invited.” His thick fore finger pointed ominously at Diego. “You come here and try to tell my people what is proper.” He pointed at Bunny, and a most curiously avid expression fleeted across his face. “The planet speaks through me, and I am the best judge of who and what is good for these people I will decide which gifts are acceptable for this portion of the planet. Your shanachie means well, but she is ignorant of our true needs. I will instruct you tomorrow, when you have rested.”
With that he stalked out of the little house, pausing briefly to eye the curlies, leaving everyone nervous, staring at nothing, or actively trembling. Bunny shook with fury, and Diego had clamped his teeth down on his lip to keep from speaking. He gave Bunny one long look, and his shoulders sagged just like everyone else’s did.
Iva could barely manage to be civil after that. She had been embarrassed in front of them by the shanachie’s behavior, and embarrassed in front of the shanachie by theirs. She was furious with her husband, as well. She did not, however, refuse the provisions Bunny and Diego had brought in their saddlebags to augment the evening meal.
Bunny had little appetite. She was angry and, actually, somewhat shocked. She had never been so rudely treated in her life—not even by her nasty cousins. She had certainly never thought she’d see Clodagh’s careful gifts spurned.
Diego was as silent and ate as little as she, and his eyes had a wary quality to them.
They bedded down that night on the floor, between the two bunks farthest from the fire. They were cold, since they had not brought their warmest winter gear with them. Back in Kilcoole, where it was so unseasonably warm, they had been unable to imagine it being quite so cold here.
Diego shivered, hugging himself and managing to look resentful as he did it.
The blond boy, Krisuk, was in one of the beds beside them, and he threw a quilt down to Diego. “Here you go,” he whispered.
“Don’t you need it?”
“I can put on my parka. I just wanted to tell you, it was great hearing you tell off that blowhard.”
&n
bsp; “You mean you don’t think he’s the heart and soul of the planet like everybody else here seems to?” Bunny whispered.
Krisuk made a rude sound, but quietly.
Just then, from outside the cabin, came a series of furious barks.
“Dinah!” Diego said, sitting straight up.
Iva and Miuk looked up, then pointedly rolled back over to sleep; the children other than Krisuk pulled their quilts up over their head. Soon the barking was replaced by scratching at the door and whining.
“She can’t come in,” Krisuk said. “His Highness has decreed that animals aren’t allowed in the house with people.”
But Diego was already at the door, unlatching it and bending over the agitated dog. Bunny rose, too, with Krisuk stealing softly behind her. Since the dog could not come in, Bunny and Krisuk joined Diego outside, where he was rubbing her fur and talking to her.
“She’s trying to tell me something. I know she is,” Diego said. “But she’s so excited it’s all scrambled.”
“Darby and Cisco!” Bunny said, remembering the curlies.
“What?”
“Where are they?”
“I oh, shit!” he said.
Krisuk made a face. “At least he left the dog.”
“Who?”
“You know—him,” Krisuk said, pointing his chin up past where the houses ended. “He thinks anything worth having belongs to him. Besides, I saw the way he was looking at yer woman here.” He nodded to Bunny. “I think he means to keep you here, as well as have the horses.”
“He’ll keep nothing,” Bunny spat. “Including the hold he has over this village. I don’t know how he’s managed to do it, but I know that, if he’s the only one who communicates with the planet here, there’s something seriously wrong.”
Diego said cautiously, “We did promise if we had cause to think this might get dangerous, we’d go meet Sean and the major first.”
“Well, we can’t very well go without the horses now, can we?” Not and make it there in good time. We’d be sitting ducks for that—that—witch doctor!” She used the term she had heard some of the company men apply to Clodagh sometimes.
