People of the Sky

by Clare Bell

  Kesbe slumped back against a wall to which she had retreated. “I’m not sure I can believe all this.”

  Then she saw something else that astonished her. In the midst of the gathering of human forms and faces, she saw one that wasn’t. Standing near Nyentiwakay was an aronan that Kesbe had never seen before. What she could see of its wings looked odd. They were too small for the creature and had a fresh new sheen that didn’t match the age-dulled cuticle. It dipped its head to caress Nyentiwakay with its antennae, telling all there that it loved him.

  “Warrior-woman!” The voice was not Chamois. Nyentiwakay turned a flushed and sweating face toward Kesbe. “You have come to see me in my joy. Chamol, don’t let her cower in the corner. Bring her here so she may see and feel and smell…and know what it is to be a woman or a man among the Pai Yinaye.’

  Kesbe’s legs turned rubbery and her stomach did flip-flops. The memory of that thing slithering out of a human body. She wasn’t sure she could witness that again. If that was the truth of the Pai Yinaye, she wished herself a thousand miles away from it.

  She remembered something that Sahacat had said. It is evil to you because you look at it through eyes touched with evil. Through Chamol she had learned that what clouded her vision was not evil but fear. Now she had lived through that fear, faced it down even though it threatened to take possession of her body. Had she indeed purged herself of it? This would be the test.

  And suddenly her legs were moving her through the crowded room and her eyes were meeting Nyentiwakay’s. She took the hand that was given to her, held it in her palm and studied it. It was broad, blunt-fingered and powerful. A man’s hand. Or perhaps the hand of one who was both woman and man at once, combining the gifts of both sexes.

  As Kesbe stooped beside the lomuqualt, she was drawn into the interweaving of human bodies that held and supported Nyentiwakay. She found herself kneeling alongside the sinewy form and looking over the rise of belly. Someone lifted and parted Nyentiwakay’s robe in preparation. Kesbe saw that the lomuqualt’s abdomen was no mere bag of swollen flesh, but well-strapped with muscle. And beyond, she glimpsed the indisputable evidence that Nyentiwakay was indeed male.

  The muscles in the lomuqualt’s strong abdomen tensed. He flung his head back. “It is coming,” he said and began to pant fiercely.

  A last surge of panic made Kesbe glance hastily about her. She was hemmed in on all sides by the Pai and Nyentiwakay’s flier crowding in, around and almost on top of her. She could only stay and see it through.

  Chanting began again and broke into singing, both aronan and human. Nyentiwakay joined the song, which somehow fitted the rhythm of his effort. Though Kesbe could not sing the words in Pai, she could follow the melody. She began to feel that she was becoming part of a group being and that it was this entity, not just Nyentiwakay alone who labored to bring new life into the world.

  And then, at the peak of the song, the people surrounding the lomuqualt pushed him up into a squatting position. Nyentiwakay curled about his body, pushing against his belly with powerful forearms and shoulder muscles that bulged with the effort. Kesbe was caught in the grip of two contradictory emotions—horrified fascination and joyful excitement. She found herself straining to see the strange birth. Her neck ached and her memories jabbed at her, but neither could force her to look away.

  And then suddenly Nyentiwakay’s panting became a triumphal shout and Kesbe smelled the spiciness of aronan-scent mixed in with human blood and sweat. He collapsed backwards into supporting arms while an old woman drew from his body a red-smeared white capsule that looked like a cocoon. Attached to the capsule was a cord like an umbilicus that entered Nyentiwakay’s body through the vaginal-like opening behind his genitals. Carefully the crone severed the cord, cleaned the capsule, then held it up to show all assembled. In the firelight, Kesbe could see the form of an aronan nymph through the opalescent covering.

  The old woman brought out an obsidian blade and carefully slit the capsule. Nyentiwakay sat up, holding out his arms. Again Kesbe’s attention was fixed on the capsule and the stirring of the new creature inside. The old Pai woman used her blade with care, for the covering was thin.

  A feathery antenna plume curled through the opening. Another followed, then a large-eyed head with a short muzzle and stumpy horns. Carefully the old midwife drew the nymph from its silken cradle and patted the dampness from the fuzz on its body. It lifted its head and unrolled a tiny watch-spring of a tongue as she placed it in the arms of the human being who had borne it.

  Nyentiwakay smiled. The soft light in his eyes seemed to brighten the whole room. People leaned closer for a look at the little creature and made the same oohing and aahing noises they made over a newborn baby. Beside the lomuqualt stood his aronan, arching its neck proudly and dipping its head to stroke the nymph with its antennae.

  Kesbe felt shaky and she didn’t know exactly why. It was not that she had no reason, there were too many possibilities. Perhaps the most likely one was her dawning realization that she might have been wrong about the Pai and their intimate partnership with aronans.

  She was also puzzled about Nyentiwakay. Did all the Pai males develop this strange hermaphrodism? These people were of human stock. What had happened to alter them so radically. She tried to ask Nyentiwakay, but he was wrapped up in admiring his new infant. Instead she motioned Chamol over and asked her.

  “It is the effect of the kekelt drink,” Chamol answered after listening to her carefully. “In women, it enhances and prepares the natural womb to carry an aronan-child. Men who are given the drink grow new organs, resembling a womb and a birthway. They contain and nourish the embryo as it develops into a nymph.”

  “I know where the drink comes from,’ Kesbe said, remembering the strange tears that swelled beneath Baqui Iba’s eyes when the shaman rubbed its face. “But why do they make it?”

  “It enables them to survive by having us bear their children.”

  “But if that is so, how did aronans exist before the Pai came into this world?”

  “They used another creature of this world, one that was rapidly dwindling in number. Had we not come and made a new partnership, the aronans would have also died,” Chamol said.

  “What was the old partnership like? Why did the creatures start dying out?”

  “We do not know, but we are grateful to them for preserving the aronans until we came. Those creatures made an even greater sacrifice than we.” Chamol paused and stared solemnly at Kesbe. “Legend says that each one who bore an aronan-child died while bringing it to life.”

  Kesbe felt hot, then cold. If Chamol had told her this before she had come to witness the birth of Nyentiwakay’s aronan-child, would she have had the strength to face it?

  Yes. With what I know and feel now, I would have.

  In a whisper, she said, “That’s why the previous hosts all died out. The aronans themselves killed them. But why don’t they kill us, then?”

  “They have learned. And we have learned,” said Chamol softly. “Both have adapted. We have given and accepted gifts that make it possible for each to exist without harming the other.”

  Kesbe wasn’t sure that she could look upon such a thing as a gift, especially after what Chamol had just told her. But even if aronans had been parasitic on a previous host species, that was in the past. How the change had happened, she did not know, but the result was present in this room: Nyentiwakay with his aronan-child in his arms.

  As her uneasiness faded, certain aspects of the Pai-aronan partnership intrigued her. If both men and women could share the experience of bringing a new life into the world, the resulting empathy between the sexes might bring about an entirely new relationship, one less filled with jealousy, dependence and dominance.

  Chamol began helping an old Pai man to fill a large shallow earthenware pot with warm sudsy water. The first to be bathed was Nyentiwakay. He held the little nymph against his chest while the midwife ceremonially washed his hair and then sponged the
blood and fluids from his thighs.

  The birthway will close,” he said to Kesbe as she watched. “My lomuclualt-womb will gradually disappear and my body will be as before. But I am changed. I am now a man “

  Then the little aronan-child was carefully placed in the shallow water on a low footstool near Nyentiwakay. Each of the visitors who filed by took up a tiny cob of corn that had been soaked to make it pliable. With the softened cob, they each cleaned a small part of the nymph’s body.

  Kesbe wasn’t sure whether she would be included in this, but when Nyentiwakay beckoned her closer and placed a wet corncob in her hand, she didn’t hesitate. She chose a place on the newborn’s neck, stroking gingerly for fear she might damage the new cuticle. It turned its head to her, its insect eyes looking velvety in its little foal-muzzle of a face. It unfolded its legs in the bathwater and swept them around, obviously enjoying this new sensation.

  The old midwife lifted the aronan-child out, dripping, patted it dry and dusted it with cornmeal. As she worked, Kesbe heard her voice rising and falling in a prayer-chant that wished the babe long life, strong flight and a fruitful partnership when the time came. She also offered the aronan-child a name, whereupon all the guests, to Kesbe’s amazement, did the same. She found that she too, was expected to suggest one.

  Her mind stumbled. She didn’t even know whether the aronan-child was male or female. Neither, really, although they all must lay eggs, she thought. Then a name did come into her head and she said it, hearing the hush. “Haewi Namij. Wind Laughing.”

  She fell silent, wondering if she had just committed the worst of offenses. Perhaps it was too soon and the memory still too painful.

  “It will be one name among many,” said Nyentiwakay. “And it is a good name.”

  The old woman made a path of cornmeal through the door while other people robed Nyentiwakay and helped him to his feet.

  He rose to stand beside his aronan and said, “This is the one who was my flier and my partner when I was a child-warrior. This is the one who planted its egg within me. When its second set of wings is grown, it will fly free on the wind until the end of its life.” Together the man and the aronan followed the line of cornmeal to the edge of the mesa.

  Human arms and segmented forelimbs together lifted the aronan-child to the rising sun.

  Chamol crept up softly behind Kesbe, disturbing the trance-like state into which she had fallen. “Now Nyentiwakay will marry and father children. His firstborn son or daughter will partner with his aronan-child, his second will take the nymph borne by the woman he will choose as his wife. It is the Pai way to know that there is another spirit destined to walk with you on your life-road. It is a good thing, not one to fear.”

  “I know that now,” she whispered. “Chamol, I have to go back to Gooney Berg. I…I need to think things over.”

  Kesbe wanted to head straight for her aircraft, but she had given the keys to Nabamida.

  “I will take you to him,” said Chamol. She paused before she turned to lead the way, a question unspoken in her eyes.

  Do I want to see Imiya? Kesbe thought. She needed to be sure he was in no further danger, yet she knew she would find it difficult to face him. Her uneasiness would not be due to anything inhabiting his belly, for that was gone, but what was in his face.

  The walk went too quickly. Kesbe was there before she wished to be, standing in the outer rooms of the area where Nabamida lived with his wife. She knew she could take what she needed and run. As Nabamida placed the aircraft’s keys in her hand, Imiya called weakly from next room.

  “Come,” said Nabamida, taking her by the hand. “He wishes to see you.” He paused. “When I entered Grandmother Aronan to reclaim my nephew, I found something else as well.”

  “The embryo the boy expelled?” Kesbe repressed a shiver, remembering how the thing had thrashed in the rudder pedal well. “Was it still alive?”

  Nabamida shook his head gravely. “That aronan-child was malformed. It would not have lived even had he carried it to birth. I said the words of death over it and gave it to the earth. This was a sorrowful thing. Now it is ended.”

  He pushed back the doorflap, letting Kesbe go ahead By flickering lamplight, she saw Imiya resting on a pine-branch pallet. The shadows heightened the hollows in his face and the ribs that stood out in his chest. Bearing the embryo had cost him much.

  “Kesbe-Rohoni?” The eyes focused on her. She stooped beside the pine-branch bed. Tears welled up, brimmed over from his eyes. Kesbe felt her own throat close.

  “It will be all right now,” she said in a husky whisper.

  “No. Nothing is right. I have failed again. In my fear and foolishness. I killed Haewi Namij. In my weakness, I have lost the aronan-child. I am not worthy to be an adult among my people.”

  “Imiya,” Kesbe began, finding it hard to frame her feelings into words, “You aren’t responsible for what happened.”

  “Sahacat told me that bearing the aronan-child was the only road back…”

  “Sahacat used you for her own purposes,” Kesbe said sharply, then softened her voice. “Imiya, you will not be made outcast from your people because of her or because of me. There is another way and I swear we will find it.”

  A trembling smile found its way onto his face. “When you speak so strongly, Kesbe-Rohoni, I can almost hope.”

  She leaned over him, almost fiercely. “I’m telling you to hope. I’m also telling you to rest and eat and get strong again because you will be a man and your people will need you “

  He nodded wordlessly. Kesbe stood up, feeling her knees crack. Her hand made a fist about Gooney’s keys. “Take care of him,” she said to Nabamida and left the pueblo.

  Though the morning was still new, the sun felt hot on Kesbe’s back as she ran the trail to the mesa. The sweat on her forehead was not only from the effort of running. How much time had passed since she’d made that radio call to Tony Mabena? Enough so that, if he had taken her seriously, Canaback would be alerted and on the move. No. The question was whether the authorities had taken him seriously.

  With the thrust of a key into the cargo hatch lock she flung the door open, jumped inside and grabbed the old radio. Panting, she turned the crank handle, listening to the receiver spit while she held the old disk-microphone to her lips.

  She gave the aricraft’s call letters as her identifier, repeating herself but getting no reply. She cranked harder. Had the old junker finally failed or was Mabena’s engineer no longer monitoring her frequency? Even if she got through, would there be any chance of stopping the events that she had set into motion?

  She was starting to grind her teeth in despair when a tinny voice sounded in the transmitter. It was Mabena’s engineer. A few minutes later, she heard Tony’s voice. “Lady pilot, I was wondering when we’d hear from you.”

  “Never mind that,” Kesbe said quickly. “Did you relay my distress call to Canaback? And did they respond?”

  “Of course I did. And they listened to me, for once. They’re sending out an expeditionary force from the base. Between you and me, dear pilot, I think the military element was just waiting for a chance to move in and check out those strange rumors that were floating around.”

  Kesbe felt her shoulders slump. “Oh no.”

  “Excuse me?” queried the voice on the radio.

  “Tony, I’ve got to stop Canaback from moving in. I was wrong about the Pai Yinaye.”

  “The last time you spoke to me, you had some strong feelings on the subject of those aronan-creatures. You said a child had been parasitized and that everyone was in danger from the things.”

  “The boy is all right now. It was something normal…that had gone wrong.”

  “Normal?”

  “For the Pai people. I know this must be hard to understand, but these people have aronans as partners…essentially as lovers. Technically it is parisitism, but a benevolent version. The host gives himself or herself willingly and as a result is not harmed.”

/>   “The ultimate in xenophilia,” Tony said after a moment of silence. “I think I begin to understand.” He paused. “You have made yourself a pretty situation, dear pilot.”

  Kesbe groaned. “Do you know what I have let loose on these people? My own tribe, my ancient people, were destroyed by the invasion of Europeans from the outside. And now it’s going to happen again because I was just too damn scared of myself to see the truth…” She caught herself as her voice was starting to break. “Tony, I have to stop this ‘rescue.’ The Pai mean too much to me now to see them herded into evacuation craft and their aronans shot or fried with flame-throwers.”

  “From the com-chatter on the channels I’ve heard Canaback’s got a new weapon that is particularly obnoxious against arthropod-type species,” said Mabena. “It projects an ultrasound beam that causes their body fluids to bubble and froth, disrupting tissues in a fatal manner. It has minimal effect on humans. From what I heard, I imagine it will be deployed.”

  Kesbe felt something cold and sharp stab into the pit of her stomach as she thought of Baqui Iba writhing on the ground with foaming serum bubbling from its joints as it died. She caught herself. She had to think, dammit, not let her feelings run away with her. That’s what had got her into this mess in the first place.

  “Tony,” she said. “What kind of craft will the evacuation force be using?”

  “Modified strato-vans. The usual laser propulsion. No hull-mounted weapons, since they don’t expect any sophisticated resistance.”

  A bright flash of glare from sun on the C-47’s wings came through a windowed port and dazzled Kesbe. She shielded her eyes with one hand. Even as she blinked against the glare, her mind was off and running. Lasers were like sunlight. They could be deflected by a mirror. Mirrors. If she only had one large enough, she could cut in behind the evacuation craft and divert the externally-beamed power lasers from them. They’d have enough reserve to glide helplessly to a landing, but that would be all.

  Kesbe nearly laughed aloud and her knees went weak. She had all the mirrors she needed. Gooney Berg had a huge wing area for her size and nearly all of it was reflective metal.