The League of Peoples

by James Alan Gardner

  “Mistress Gull knows when we’re ready,” I told her.

  “Then why isn’t she moving?”

  “Fasten your seat belt,” Steck murmured.

  “Oh.”

  I heard the click of a metal buckle. Immediately, the entry door slid shut. Outside the window, the rubber boat partly deflated itself and slipped into a housing in one of the pontoons. Although I couldn’t see the other side of the plane, I knew the landing stage would be retracting back into the other pontoon; Mistress Gull gave a tiny shudder as the platform locked itself into place.

  “The fishing boats are still coming,” Rashid observed.

  He pointed out his window. Four perch boats slashed through the light waves, each rowed by six men. The men had their backs toward us…but I didn’t have to see their faces to know they were blazing with fury. Spark Lord or not, Rashid had violated the most sacred moment in the life of our village. Tober Cove would not forgive.

  “They’re too late,” Steck said. She had taken off her swimming mask and now unbuckled the scuba tanks. Just the buckles on her left—rather than take the tanks off completely, she slipped the strap off one shoulder so she could swing the tanks around to one side. It didn’t look like a comfortable position—she could only sit halfway back in her seat. Still she muttered to herself, “Good enough.”

  Even as Steck spoke, Mistress Gull began to move. The motion was so smooth, I didn’t feel it; I could only tell we had started by looking out the window, seeing the perch boats fall back even as the men continued to row with angry strength. Water skipped beneath us, the waves streaked with spills of noon sun…and then we were airborne, angling up into the sky.

  Rashid put his hands to his ears and began swallowing hard. “What are you doing?” Steck asked.

  “Getting ready for the pressure change.”

  “There is no pressure change,” Steck told him. “This isn’t some rinky-dink OldTech plane—the League of Peoples made it perfectly pressurized.”

  “Damn!” Rashid said. “All my life, I’ve been waiting for a plane ride, and my ears don’t even pop?”

  The expression on his face suggested he was telling a joke, or at least trying to lighten the mood. I didn’t want to be lightened. Turning back to Cappie, I stroked her arm soothingly, trying not to look at her blackened hands.

  She whimpered.

  We flew north, faster than any mortal bird. Quickly we passed the litter of tiny islets that dribbled out from the end of our peninsula…over Manitou’s Island . . . over the great north channel and on to the rugged timberlands: trees and lakes and rocks, a region barely penetrated even in OldTech times.

  “Good place for a secret installation,” Rashid whispered to Steck. “Do you think anyone lives down there?”

  “A few,” Steck answered, “but not many. OldTech times lasted just long enough for the local people to forget how to live off the land. They got used to hunting with guns instead of arrows. Then, during the Desertion, most old-timers decided to pack up to unpolluted territory out in the stars. The rest came south after the collapse.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I traveled up this way after getting banished from Tober Cove.”

  “Looking for Birds Home yourself?”

  Steck shrugged. “Just wandering. I wasn’t having such a great time in the South.”

  “Poor girl.” Rashid patted Steck’s hand. I turned sharply away.

  “Fullin,” Cappie whispered. “Fullin…”

  I laid my hand on her cheek. “I’m here.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “It was Rashid under the water. His armor defended itself.”

  “I didn’t know…”

  “Shh,” I said. “Just rest.”

  She tried to lift her hands and winced immediately.

  “What…”

  “Shh,” I repeated. “You got burnt. Very badly. You understand? It would be a terrible idea to Commit female because your hands are burnt.”

  “But I was going to…”

  “It’s your decision, Cappie, but you’re very, very hurt. I can’t imagine the damage will ever heal. Just look.”

  Her eyes opened slowly. She looked at her hands, lying limply in her lap. After a while, a tear rolled down her cheek.

  “I’ll have to Commit male, won’t I?” she whispered.

  “You’ll be fine as a man. Whole.”

  “But I wanted to be a woman, Fullin. I was going to be priestess…”

  She let her breath slip out in a sigh.

  “You would have been a great priestess, Cappie.”

  I put my arm around her; she laid her head against my shoulder.

  She made no sound as she cried.

  For a short time, I thought I was female; then I suspected I was male; then I didn’t care. Cappie fell asleep, still leaning against me. I listened to her slow breathing, to make sure that it continued.

  The burns weren’t the greatest danger…not in the short run. Not when Cappie could claim a new body within an hour or two.

  But every year, Doctor Gorallin had come to our school to teach first aid classes, and she never failed to warn us about shock. Clinical shock comes with any major injury. Your body doesn’t know what the hell has happened to it; it doesn’t know where to send blood, and sometimes it skimps on the brain.

  I watched as Cappie’s face gradually drained to wood white. But at least she continued to breathe.

  Rashid was the first to notice we were descending. He pulled Steck over to look out the window; slowly, the forest beneath us got closer as we approached a lake among the trees. It was no different from any of the thousand other lakes in the timberlands—a gleam of blue surrounded by pine woods and bare rock outcrops…hard cold rock, not like the friendly waterpocked limestone of Tober Cove.

  Just before touchdown we whisked over Master Crow, already floating majestically on the lake; then water sprayed in clear sheets around us as Mistress Gull skimmed down to her landing.

  I heard the click of a seat belt unbuckling—Rashid, eager for whatever came next.

  “Wait,” Steck said, laying her hand softly on his wrist. “There’s nothing for us to do till the planes go into their hangars.”

  Planes. Hangars. I shook my head at her choice of words, and turned my attention out the window. Master Crow was easing unhurriedly over the water. It seemed so sad for me to be watching from the outside, not sharing the delight of the children as they quivered with the excitement of being so close to Birds Home. I still had my butterflies, but they’d lost their exuberant flutter. Now they were only flying out of worry for Cappie.

  Master Crow adjusted his course to point his beak at a tall cliff of granite forming one shore of the lake. He continued forward ponderously, the air crinkling with heat around his wings. Just as slowly, the wall of granite began to sink into the lake, revealing a mammoth chamber beyond. Lights, electric lights, sparked themselves inside.

  “Master Crow’s hangar,” Steck murmured to Rashid.

  “His nest,” I corrected her.

  By the time Master Crow reached the entrance, the wall of granite had completely disappeared under the lake surface. Master Crow continued to sail forward, his wings just fitting through the opening.

  “Doesn’t look like there’ll be room for us in there,” Rashid said.

  “We go elsewhere,” Steck answered, pointing to another granite wall part way around the lakeshore.

  “So we won’t see what happens to the children?”

  “There’s a rocky area in the back of Master Crow’s nest,” I told him, “where everyone sits on the floor. They’ll sing hymns until the gods put them all to sleep.”

  Master Crow was completely inside his nest now. The granite wall began to rise out of the lake again, water streaming down its stone. I caught myself biting my lip—Waggett was in there. Urgho, I thought, you know you have to, set the babies down on the floor, don’t you? Because if you’re holding a child on yo
ur lap when the gods make you fall asleep, you might slump over on top of him…

  But Urgho knew how it all worked—he’d gone through it many times before. And the older teenagers would remind each other what they had to do.

  The granite wall closed behind my baby. Mistress Gull began to move.

  Since I had been closed up with Master Crow in previous years, I had never seen Mistress Gull head for her own nest. For that matter, I only had the vaguest idea of what would happen next; Zephram couldn’t tell me, and as I’d explained to Rashid, other adults in the village called it a holy secret that I had to learn for myself. It wouldn’t surprise me if Cappie’s mother had told her the details of what to expect—mothers had a way of breaking secrets to their children when the rest of the world was close-mouthed—but I had only picked up a few hints let slip by adults over the years.

  Still, I had my mother right here with me…and she had already broken the holiness of the secret by telling Rashid about Birds Home. Why shouldn’t she tell me too?

  “So what happens to us?” I asked Steck. “Same thing? Get out and fall asleep?”

  “No,” Steck answered. She turned to Rashid. “No knock-out gas,” she said in a mock whisper, as if I wasn’t supposed to hear the words. Then she turned back to me. “You’ll be met by robots…by servants of the gods. One for you, one for Cappie, one for the Gifts of Blood. They’ll take you to the place where you make your choice.”

  “Meanwhile, Steck and I will tour Birds Home,” said Rashid, his voice burbly with expectation. “Do you think it’s very big?”

  “Probably,” Steck answered. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the installation stretched for miles under the rock.”

  In front of us, a second granite wall had begun to lower into the lake. I couldn’t see much with Mistress Gull’s beak in the way, but the chamber beyond looked much smaller than Master Crow’s nest. Slowly we slipped inside, into a space that seemed stifled and dark after the bright sun, even though the ceiling was striped with long electric lights.

  “Wonder how they get the power,” Rashid said. “Probably a hydro dam somewhere in the area. And did anyone spot a receiving antenna as we landed?”

  Steck and I shook our heads.

  “Well,” Rashid shrugged, “the antenna wouldn’t be hard to hide in the forest. With a million trees in the area, who’d notice one that was a little taller and had a dish assembly?”

  The granite wall closed behind us. As the last wedge of sunlight squeezed shut, Mistress Gull’s entry door slid open. Rashid bounded to his feet immediately. Steck did too, slipping the scuba tank strap back over her shoulder and buckling it into place. “You want to help Fullin with Cappie?” she said to Rashid. “I’ll hold your helmet.”

  “Who’s the lord here?” he grumbled. But he handed her the helmet and moved forward to my side. Together, we eased Cappie out of her seat and into the aisle. “Can you walk?” Rashid asked.

  “Yes,” she replied weakly.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I told her. “We’re carrying you.”

  She didn’t even try to object.

  The chamber outside smelled of chilly damp, like the tiny caves along the shore of Mother Lake where you can still find patches of snow hiding in summer. Of course, the damp came from the lake-filled part of the chamber: Mistress Gull’s nest was mostly water, edged on three sides by a U-shaped floor of rough-cut stone.

  Rashid and I struggled onto solid ground with Cappie slung between us, while Steck made two trips back into the cabin to fetch our baggage. As she laid the Chicken Boxes at our feet, I thought of the gun inside mine; but Steck showed no curiosity about what the boxes contained. Instead, she immediately set out prowling, pacing along the edge where the rock floor met the lake water.

  “Looking for something?” Rashid asked her.

  “Just wondering,” Steck called back. “They have to do maintenance on these planes, don’t they? It would be easier if they could drain the water until the plane was sitting on dry land. But I don’t see anything that would suggest…”

  “Here we go!” Rashid said loudly.

  A hidden door had just slid open in the stone wall close to us. Three creatures emerged from the gap: human-shaped but with the heads of great birds. Huge eyes perched above huger beaks, faces brightly colored but not plumed—their skin had the glossy finish of plastic rather than flesh. The bird-creatures wore feathered robes that belled out from their bodies, making it impossible to tell whether the figures were male or female.

  “Greetings,” they said in unison. The voices were, identical, and pitched in the middle between man and woman. Their beaks scarcely moved when they talked. “Welcome to Birds Home,” they went on. “You are honored guests. We will serve you on behalf of die gods.”

  They spoke with an unfamiliar accent—not Tober, and not like any Southerner I’d heard. The accent of heaven.

  The bird-servant in the middle stepped forward. Its colors were blue, white and black, like a jay. “I will take the Gifts offered by your infants,” it said. “Please give them to me.” It held its hands out stiffly—normal human-shaped hands, but the skin was a whorl of blue and white plastic.

  I bent quickly and picked up the metal case Steck had unloaded. “Here,” I said, hurrying forward and placing the case in the creature’s arms.

  “Thank you,” it answered, with a small bow. Cradling its arms around the case, the bird-servant turned and walked off through the doorway in the wall.

  Another bird stepped forward. This one was bright red with black facial markings—a cardinal. “I will serve as guide for the woman Cappie. Please come to me.”

  I nudged Rashid; we helped Cappie forward. As we approached the cardinal, it said, “Only Cappie please.”

  “She can’t walk,” I answered.

  “Only Cappie please,” it repeated.

  “Not very sophisticated programming,” Rashid muttered.

  “I can walk,” Cappie said. “I can, Fullin. Please.”

  Rashid eased away from her. Reluctantly, I did too. She took a deep breath and forced herself to totter the last two steps toward the bird-servant. For a moment, I thought she was going to pitch forward against its chest; but it reached out and steadied her with an arm around her shoulders. “Hello, Cappie,” it said.

  She didn’t speak; she just nodded.

  The third bird stepped forward: white with tufts of gray, like a snowy owl. “I will serve as guide for the man Fullin. Please come to me.”

  Taking a deep breath, I picked up my violin and the Chicken Box. “I’m Fullin,” I said. The butterflies in my stomach didn’t stop me from moving to the creature.

  “Hello, Fullin,” it said. It put its arm around my shoulders, the same way the other was supporting Cappie.

  “You will now sleep,” the two birds said in unison.

  Rashid’s head snapped toward Steck who was still at the far end of the chamber. “You said there was no knock-out gas!”

  “Sorry,” Steck answered. She lifted the breather of her scuba tank and placed it into her mouth. With Rashid’s helmet still tucked under her arm, she hopped into the water under Mistress Gull’s wing. In a moment, Steck’s head disappeared beneath the surface

  Rashid ran to the edge of the water, then stopped. He turned back to me; the color had drained from his face. “Gas,” he said. “She knew my force field doesn’t protect against gas.”

  He sat down abruptly on the stone floor, his face stricken.

  A great sleepiness washed over me. The bird-servant’s arm tightened around my shoulders to keep me from falling.

  I woke on the hard stone floor. My cheek hurt from pressing against the rock, but otherwise I was intact.

  You couldn’t say the same for my owl bird-servant. The body of my Commitment guide lay on the floor to my right; its head lay to my left. Wires dangled from the head’s severed throat, but the cut looked very clean. It had to be the work of Rashid’s pistol, the one that shot invisible beams.

>   Why would anyone destroy my bird-servant? But of course, the killer wasn’t just “anyone”; it had to be Steck.

  Still woozy, I dragged myself to my feet and looked around. How long had I been unconscious? My mouth was as dry as sand; I must have been out four or five hours. Maybe longer—there was no way of telling except by the stiffness in my bones.

  Cappie and her bird-servant were gone. Closer to the edge of the water, Rashid lay on the stone floor. He no longer wore his armor—nothing but a light cotton undershirt that came down as far as his knees. I wondered if he’d actually been wearing that under his armor or if Steck had put it on him…

  …after she’d taken his suit. No one else would dare to steal Spark armor—campfire tales said it could defend itself, even when the wearer was asleep, but Steck must know how to get around those defenses. How to make them her own.

  “Rashid!” I called to him. When he didn’t move, I knelt and shook his shoulder. No response. At least he was still breathing.

  I shook him several more times without success. He looked deeply unconscious. Perhaps Steck had done something to him, some anaesthetic injection like the one Doctor Gorallin used to put children to sleep before taking the Gift of Blood and Bone. Whatever the reason, Rashid showed no sign of waking up soon.

  Now Steck had his armor. And his force field. And the beam-shooting pistol that she used to kill my bird-servant. She must have hidden in the water until the gods put the rest of us to sleep, then come out again for…

  For what? What did my mother intend to do in Birds Home?

  A shiver rippled through me. Whatever Steck wanted couldn’t be good.

  I went back to the headless bird-servant. My Chicken Box lay on the floor nearby, but my violin was gone. Stolen by Steck.

  Why? Why would she want my violin? But then, it had originally been hers, hadn’t it? My violin, my sheet music, the instructional books that taught me how to play…all Steck’s. A gift of music, given by my mother.