by John Varley
She was about to return to the tent when she heard the music.
It was so faint and distant that she realized she had been hearing it for some time without recognizing it for what it was. There would be a rapid cluster of tones, then a sustained note, wrenchingly sweet and clear. It spoke of quiet places and an case she thought she might never see again, and was as familiar as a song beard in the cradle.
She found herself crying quietly, being as still as she could, willing the wind to he still with her. But the song was gone.
The Titanide found them while they were taking down the tent prior to moving Bill. It stood on the top of the bluff where Cirocco had been the day before. Cirocco waited for it to make the first move, but it seemed to have the same idea.
The most obvious word for the thing was centaur. It had a lower part shaped like a horse, and an upper half so human it was frightening. Cirocco was not quite sure she believed in it.
It was not as Disney had envisioned centaurs, nor did it have much to do with the classical Creek model. It had a lot of hair, yet its dominant feature was pale naked skin. There were great multi-colored cascades of hair m the head and tail, on the lower parts of all four legs, and on the creature's forearms. Oddest of all, there was hair between the two front legs, in the place where a decent horse-which Cirocco's mind kept trying to see-had nothing but smooth hide. It carried a shepherd's crook, and but for a few small ornaments, wore no clothing.
Cirocco was sure this was one of the Titanides Calvin had mentioned, though he had made a mistake in translation. It-she, Calvin had said they were all female-she was not six- legged, but six-limbed.
Cirocco took a step forward, and the Titanide put a hand to her mouth, then held it out in a quick gesture.
"Look out ! "she called. "Please be cautious." For a split second Cirocco wondered what the Titanide was talking about, but that was quickly buried in astonishment. The Titanide had not spoken English, Russian, or French, which until that moment had been the only languages Cirocco knew.
"What's the ... " She stopped, clearing her throat. Some of the words were pitched quite high. "What's the matter? Are we in danger?" Questions were hard, requiring a complex appoggiatura.
"I perceived you to be," the Titanide sang. "I felt you must surely fall. But you must know best what is right for your own kind.,,
Gaby was looking at Cirocco strangely. "What the hell's going on?" she asked.
"I can understand her," Cirocco said, not wanting to get into it any deeper. "She told us to be careful."
"Careful of ... how? "
"How did Calvin understand the blimp? Something's been messing with our minds, honey. It's coming in handy right now, so shut up." She hurried on before other questions could be voiced, because she knew none of the answers.
"Are you the people of the marshes?" the Titanide asked. "or do you come from the frozen sea?"
"Neither," Cirocco trilled. "We have traveled through the marsh on our way to the... to the sea of evil, but none of us is hurt. We mean you no harm."
"You will do me little harm if you go to the sea of evil, for you will be dead. You are too large to he angels who have lost their wings, and too fair for creatures of the sea. I confess I have not seen your like before."
"We ... could you join us on the beach? My song is weak; the wind does not lift it."
"I'll be there in two shakes of your tail."
"Rocky! " Gaby hissed. "Look out, she's going to come down! " She moved in front of Cirocco and stood with her glass sword held ready.
" I know she is," Cirocco said, grappling with Gaby's sword arm. "I asked her to. Put that away before she gets the wrong idea, and stay back. I'll yell if there's trouble."
The Titanide came down the cliff forelegs-first, her arms out for balance. She danced nimbly, riding the small avalanche she had created, then she was trotting toward them. Her feet made a familiar clopping sound on the rocks.
She was thirty centimecters taller than Cirocco, who found herself taking a step back as the Titanide drew closer. Seldom in
her life had she met a taller woman, but this female creature would have towered over anyone but a professional basketball player. Seen close, she was more alien than ever, precisely be- cause parts of her were so human.
A series of red, orange, and blue stripes that Cirocco had thought were natural markings turned out to be paint. They were arranged in patterns, confined mostly to her face and chest. Four chevron stripes adorned her belly, just above where her navel would have been if she had possessed one.
Her face was wide enough to make the broad nose and mouth look appropriate. Her eyes were huge, with a lot of space between them. The irises were brilliant yellow, with radial streaks of green surrounding wide pupils.
The eyes were so astonishing that Cirocco almost failed to notice the most non-human feature of her face. She had thought they were an odd kind of flower tucked behind each ear, but they turned out to be the ears themselves. The pointed tips reached over the crown of her head.
"I am called C Sharp... " she sang. It was a series of musical notes in the key of C Sharp.
"What did she say? " Gaby whispered.
"She said her name was …." She sang the name, and the Titanides ears perked up.
"I can't call her that," Gaby protested.
"Call her C Sharp. Will you shut up and let me do the talking? " She turned back to the Titanide.
"My name is Cirocco, or Captain Jones," she sang. "This is my friend, Gaby."
The ears drooped to her shoulders, and Cirocco nearly laughed. Her expression had not changed, but the cars had spoken volumes.
"Just 'sheer-ah-ko-or-cap-ten-jonz'? " she chanted in an imitation of Cirocco's monotone. When she sighed her nostrils flared with the force of it, but her chest did not move. "It is a long name, but not a windy one, begging your pardon. Do you folk feel no joy, to name yourselves so dourly?"
"Our names are chosen for us," Cirocco sang, feeling unaccountably embarrassed. it was a dull moniker to give the Titanide after she had handed Cirocco such a sprightly air. "Our speech is not as yours, nor our pipes so deep."
C Sharp laughed, and it was an entirely human laugh.
"You speak with the voice of a thin reed, indeed, but I like you. I would take you home to my hindmother for a feast, if you were agreeable."
"We would accept your invitation, but one of us is badly injured. We need help."
"Which of you is it?" she sang, cars flapping in consternation. "It is neither of us, but another. He has broken the bone in one of his legs." She noted in passing that the Titanide language included pronoun constructions for male and female. Song fragments meaning male-mother and female-mother and even less likely concepts flitted through her head.
"A bone in his leg," C Sharp sang, her cars doing a complicated semaphore. "Unless I miss my guess, this is quite serious for folk such as you, who cannot spare one. I will call the healer at once." She raised her staff and sang briefly into a small green lump at the end.
Gaby's eyes widened.
"They have radio? Rocky, tell me what's going on."
"She said she'd call a doctor. And that I have a dull name." "Bill could use the doctor, but he ain't gonna be a member of the AMA."
"Don't you think I know that?" she hissed, angry. "Bill's looking very bad, dammit. Even if this doctor has nothing but horse pills and ju-ju, it won't hurt for him to take a look."
"Was that your speech?" C Sharp asked. "Or are you in respiratory distress?"
"It's the way we talk. "
"Please forgive me. My hindmother says I must learn tact. I am merely-" she sang the number twenty-seven and a time word that Cirocco could not convert, " -and have much to be taught beyond womb knowledge."
"I understand," sang Cirocco, who did not. "We must be strange to you. You certainly are to us."
"Am I?" The key of her song betrayed that it was a new thought to C Sharp.
"To one who has never seen your kind."
"It must be as you say. But if you have never seen a Titanide, from whence do you come in the great wheel of the world?"
Cirocco had been puzzled by the way her mind translated C Sharp's song. It was when she heard the notes "whence, " that she realized, by calling to mind alternate interpretations of the two- note word, that C Sharp was speaking in polite, formal modality, using the microtone flattening of pitch reserved for the young speaking to elders. She switched to the chromatic tone rows of instructional mode.
"Not from the wheel at all. Beyond the walls of the world is a bigger place that you can't see-"
"Oh! You're from Earth!"
She had not said Earth, any more than she had called herself a Titanide. But the impact of the word for the third planet from the sun surprised Cirocco as much as if she had. C Sharp went on, her attitude and posture having shifted with her switch-following Cirocco's lead-to teaching speech. She became animated, and if her ears had been the tiniest bit wider she would have flapped into the air.
"I'm confused," she sang. " I thought Earth was a fable for the young, spun out around campfires. And I thought Earth beings to be like Titanides."
Cirocco's newly tuned car strained at the last word, wondering if it should be translated as people. As in "we people, you barbarians." But the chauvinistic overtones were not there. She spoke of her species as one among many in Gaea.
"We are the first to come," Cirocco sang. "I'm surprised you know of us, as we knew nothing of you until this moment."
"You don't sing of our great deeds, as we sing of yourself "I'm afraid not."
C Sharp glanced over her shoulder. Another Titanide stood atop the bluff now. She looked much like C Sharp, but with a disturbing difference.
"That's B Flat..." she sang, then, looking guilty, shifted back to formal mode.
"Before his arrival, there is a question I would ask that has been burning my soul since first I saw you."
"You don't have to treat me as an elder," Cirocco sang. "You might be older than I am."
"Oh, no. I am three by the reckoning of Earth. What I wish to know, hoping the inquiry is not an impudent one, is how you stand for so very long without toppling over?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When the other Titanide joined them, the disturbing difference Cirocco noted earlier was abundantly clear, and even more disturbing. Between the front legs, where C Sharp had a patch of hair, B Flat had a completely human penis.
"Holy God," Gaby whispered, nudging Cirocco's elbow. "Will you be quiet?" Cirocco said. "This makes me very nervous. "
"You, nervous? What about me? I can't understand a note you're singing. But it's pretty, Rocky. You sing real nice."
Other than the male genitals in front, B Flat was almost identical to C Sharp. Both had high, conical breasts and hairless, pale skin. Their faces were both vaguely feminine, wide-mouthed and beardless. B Flat had more paint on his body, more flowers in his hair. Aside from that and the penis the two would have been hard to tell apart.
One end of a wooden flute protruded from a fold of skin at the level of his missing navel. Apparently it was a pouch.
B Flat stepped forward and extended his hand. Cirocco stepped back and B Flat moved swiftly, putting a hand on each of her shoulders. She was frightened for only a moment, then realized he shared C Sharp's apprehension. He had thought she was falling backwards, and meant only to steady her.
"I'm fine," she sang, nervously. "I can stand on my own." His bands were large, but perfectly human. It felt very strange to be touching him. Seeing an impossible creature was quite different from feeling its body heat. it brought home forcefully the fact that she was making humanity's first contact with an intelligent alien. He smelled of cinnamon and apples.
"The healer will arrive soon." He sang the song of equals with her, though scored in a formal mode. "In the meantime, have you caters''
"We would offer you food ourselves," Cirocco sang, "but in truth, we have run out of provisions."
"And my fore-sister offered you none? " B Flat gave C Sharp a reproving look, and she hung her head. "She is curious and impulsive, but not thoughtful. Please forgive her." The words he used to describe his relationship to C Sharp were complex. Cirocco had the vocabulary, but not all the referrents.
"She has been most kind."
"Her hindmother will be pleased to hear it. Will you join us? I do not know what manner of food you prefer, but if we have any- thing to your liking, it is yours."
He reached into his pouch-a leather one strapped around his waist, not the one that was part of his body-and came up with something large and reddish-brown, like a smoked ham. He handled it like a turkey drumstick. The Titanides sat, folding their legs neatly and easily, so Cirocco and Gaby sat, too, an operation the Titanides watched with frank interest.
The joint of meat was passed around. C Sharp brought out several dozen green apples. The Titanides simply put them into their mouths whole. There was a crunch, and they were gone.
Gaby was frowning at the fruit. She raised an eyebrow as Cirocco took a bite of one. It tasted like a green apple. It was white and juicy inside, and had small brown seeds.
"Maybe we'll figure all this out later," Cirocco said. "I wouldn't mind a few answers right now," Gaby retorted. "Nobody's going to believe we sat around eating goddam green pippin apples with flesh-colored centaurs."
C Sharp laughed. "The one named Ga-bee sings a rousing song. "
"Is she talking to me?" "She likes your song."
Gaby smiled sheepishly. "It was nothing like the Wagner that's been coming from your direction. How do you understand them? What about the way they look? I've heard of parallel evolution, but from the waist up? Humanoids I could believe. I was ready for anything from big blobs of jello to giant spiders. But they look too much like us."
"Yet most of them look nothing like us."
"Right! " Gaby said, shouting again. "But look at that face. Take away the donkey cars. The mouth is wide and the eyes are big and the nose looks like he got hit in the face with a shovel, but it's in the range of what you can find on Earth. Look lower, if you dare." She shuddered. "Look only at that, and I defy you to tell me it's not a human penis."
"Ask her if we can join in," B Flat sang, heartily. "We don't know the words, but can improvise an accompaniment."
Cirocco sang that she had to speak to her friend a little longer, and would translate later. He nodded, but followed the conversation attentively.
"Gaby, please don't shout at me."
"I'm sorry." She looked at her lap and made an effort to calm down. "I like things to make sense. A human penis on an alien creature doesn't. Did you see their hands? They have finger- prints, I saw them. The FBI would file them with no questions asked."
"I saw that."
"If you could tell me how you talk to them ...
Cirocco spread her hands. "I don't know. It's as if the language was always in my mind. Singing is harder than listening, but only because my throat's not up to it. It scared me at fist, but now it doesn't. I trust them."
"Just like Calvin trusts the blimps."
"It's clear that something toyed with us while we were asleep. Somebody gave me the languages don't know how or why- and that somebody gave me something else. It's a feeling that the purpose behind the gift was not evil. And the more I talk to the Titanides, the more I like them."
"Calvin said pretty much the same things about the goddam blimps," Gaby said, darkly. "You nearly arrested him."
"I think I understand him a little better now."
The Titanide healer-a female whose name was also in the key of B Flat---entered their tent and spent some time examining Bill's leg under Cirocco's watchful eye. The edges of the wound were yellow and blue-black. Fluid bubbled out when the healer pressed around it.
The healer was aware of Cirocco's concern. She twisted her human torso and rummaged in a leather satchel held to her equine back by a cinch strap, came up with a clear round flask filled with
brown fluid.
"A strong disinfectant," she sang, and waited. "What is his condition, healer?',
"Very grave. Without treatment, he will be with Gaea in a few tens of revolutions." Cirocco translated it that way at first, but there had been one word used for the time period. Applying metric prefixes, she thought of it as a decarev. One revolution of Gaea took nearly one hour.
The meaning of "be with Gaea" was clear, though she did not use the word Gaea. She referred at once to her world, to the Goddess who was the world, and to the concept of returning to the soil. There was no connotation of immortality.
"Perhaps you would prefer to await the arrival of a healer of your own kind," the Titanide sang.
"Bill may never see him." "This is so. My remedies should remove the infestations of small parasites. I don't know if they will inhibit the workings of his metabolism. I could not promise you, for instance, that my treatment would not harm the pump which propels his vital fluids, as I don't know where this pump is located in your kind."
"It's right here," Cirocco sang, thumping her chest. The Titanide's ears jumped up and down. She pressed one car to Bill's chest.
"No fooling" she sang. "Well, Gaea is wise, and says not why she spins."
Cirocco was in an agony of indecision. The concepts of metabolism and of germs were not things a witch doctor would know about. Those words had translated exactly that way. Yet even the healer was aware that her medicine might harm a human body.
But Calvin was gone, and Bill was dying. "Pray, what are these used for?" the healer sang. She was holding Bill's foot. Her fingers gently bent the toes.
"Uh, they're ... " she groped, but could not find the words for atrophied evolutionary vestiges. There was a word for evolution, but not as applied to living things. "They're useful in keeping one's balance, but not indispensable. They are oversights, or imperfections of design."
"Ah, " the healer crooned. "Gaea makes mistakes, it is well known. Take, for instance, the one with whom I was first hind- sexed, many myriarevs ago." Cirocco wanted to translate the object of the last sentence as "my husband," but that didn't fit, it could as easily have been "my wife," though that was off the mark, too. There was not an English equivalent, she realized, then remembered her problem.
