Flotsam

by R J Theodore

  If the two ships could have put down right over the temple, Talis could be done with this business in hours. But the pilgrimage to the Temple of the Feathered Stone was a cultural necessity. An act of proving oneself against Onaya Bone before one could enter her sacred places. To do this right, they couldn’t moor closer than a day’s ride through the hot sands.

  Of course, the pilgrimage could also be a total farce if one had means, and comfortable litters could be hired in which to make the journey. Considering all the delicate skin exposed by the depth of the Representative of Commerce’s carvings, and that she had the money to spare, Talis elected to hire such transportation. The winds sweeping across the undulating landscape brought sand to Talis’s eyes as she arranged for their passage.

  The aliens stepped up into the shade of the luxurious taxi, and Talis looked back to see Dug watching her from the lower transom. They exchanged a long silent look.

  What Dug wanted her to do, exactly, she couldn’t be sure. It was too late now to go back and turn down the contract. Too late to pull a fast one on the aliens and renege on their agreement, as it sounded like Hankirk had done. Too late, moreover, to go back and never take that salvage run for the ring.

  She tightened her lips, willing Dug to understand, then turned from him and climbed into the pillowed cabin with her Yu’Nyun clients.

  To best distribute their weight for the bare-chested strongmen that would carry their taxi, one of the aliens—the one she’d never met—sat beside her on the rear-facing cushioned bench of the passenger compartment.

  Talis felt a twinge of surprise and disappointment that Scrimshaw remained opposite, seated between xist captain and the Representative, whose name was apparently less important than xist function. She was not feeling her previous aversion at being in a tight space with the foreigners. It had almost been a relief to climb into the car with them and get out from under the gaze of her best friend.

  She needed a stiff drink, but the icebox in the litter provided only skins of water for their journey.

  Back among xist crewmates, Scrimshaw was less talkative than xe had been aboard Wind Sabre. Either xe was constrained by some dictate of rank or xe could not find a place to speak for xist-self around the enthusiastic discussions xist captain initiated. For hours they talked about climate, cultural identity—that of the Cutter folk and Bone of course, not the Yu’Nyun—and all that the alien had learned in the libraries of the Rakkar. Scrimshaw assisted when a word needed help, but otherwise xe remained quiet and still, matching the behavior of the Representative and the fourth alien.

  Despite the heat and wind, they opened the litter’s curtains when the cabin master called out the next morning that they were approaching the Temple of the Feathered Stone. Talis pulled her goggles down against the outside light, and the Yu’Nyun closed their translucent nictitating eyelids.

  A tableland rose before them, standing proudly against the line of Fall Island’s distant edge. A gulch was formed by two high walls of wind-shaped stone, outlined in radiant green by the light of Nexus. Framing its mouth, two enormous statues of Onaya Bone towered several stories above their taxi, and the Yu’Nyun leaned out to appreciate their scale.

  The stylized icons were carved into square pillars and painted with shocking, brilliant colors, in pigments that seemed to enhance the tones of the landscape. Each side of the pillars mirrored the others, showing the fearsome goddess gripping tight the hilt of a curving sword. The details of her carved features were maintained with care by the order of priestesses, so that the high arching sweep of her cheekbones and the length of her distinguished nose would not be worn away by the exfoliating sand that scoured the landscape. The eyes, painted a vibrant magenta, seemed to follow the small group, and Talis felt the gaze of the great stone Lady on her as they passed beneath.

  An arching entrance dwarfed them as they left the litter behind and entered the temple. The stone image of an enormous six-eyed raven stretched its wings in welcome, or warning. Ketszali, the only creature of his kind. The impressive bird was Onaya Bone’s preferred companion. The feathered guardian. Her favorite creation, her familiar and friend, whose plumage she styled after her own.

  The feathers sculpted to frame his head were painted to suggest the purple and green tones of his iridescent color-shifting mane. The flesh around his dangerous, razor-edged beak and three pairs of eyes was sculpted to show the scaly and pebbled featherless surface. He was not a beautiful bird. As with the people Onaya Bone had created, tiny feathers began at Ketszali’s temples, continuing out to the sides of a pair of dark eyes in the usual place behind his beak. The feathers were little more than enlarged pores at first, soft down above the brow ridge, growing larger until they were long and proud at the crown of the head. Four eyes, set sideways in his chest, formed a diamond around his heart and lungs. The raven’s carved talons appeared to grip the frame of the doorway, which crumbled under his strength.

  Talis breathed deeply of the cool air in the cavern beyond the arch. Without tinting from the Nexus-lit skies outside, the interior of the temple showed the true warm tones of the island’s sedimentary rocks. They were patterned with vibrant blue turquoise, and the architects of this temple had put the abundance of the mineral to use in their design. Lanterns flickered from the walls, and suspended chandeliers seemed to float in the darkness, their shades made from hand-carved panels of paper-thin stone, impeccably crafted to be translucent enough to transmit light yet maintain their structure so as not to crumble like chalk. The warm colors of the sandstone contrasted with the semi-precious turquoise, and the walls undulated to create a structured swirl of blue and orange, spiraling over the center of each room and then sweeping toward the floors.

  The aliens stood beneath the archway, double-blinking at the darkness within, their faces unreadable as ever. Even their talkative captain seemed influenced by the hush of the temple, and made no comment as they waited to be received.

  In the center of the great hall, a carved fountain was sculpted directly out of the existing rock so that there were no seams or joins. Sand flowed from some deep spring, up through the mouth of another Ketszali statue to pour over his shoulders down into the collecting pool below. Hooded acolytes raked the sand across an iron grate set into the floor. It flowed out of sight, almost fluid in its appearance, leaving behind chunks of the blue-green turquoise that were too big to fit through the filter. Another acolyte collected the stones in a woven basket to be taken to the temple artisans who would turn the unformed shapes into more works of art in Onaya Bone’s name.

  Depicting the various moods and interests of the Lady, the walls of the great chamber were carved with additional relief: Onaya Bone performing an alchemical ritual on a great curved sword, Onaya Bone holding Ketszali on her forearm, the bird appearing normal in size compared to her impressive height.

  On the wall opposite the entrance, over the heavy doors that led deeper into the convent, another relief of the goddess wore goggles and held a bell-shaped flask filled with darkness and another filled with light, the necks of which curved back down into their bodies and reconnected as a handle in one continuous form.

  To their right, over a stone table inlaid with turquoise tiles in its surface, where pilgrims left offerings and donations, a statue of the goddess stood out from the wall. Her right hand was lifted to shoulder height, drawing sand from the nothingness that remained after the Cataclysm. In her left hand, palm facing upward, a pair of small figures were being shaped from the summoned grains: a tender depiction of the creation of the first Bone people. Only here was Onaya Bone’s face shown with a softened expression, as a loving mother, her eyelids lowered and the corners of her lips curved upward.

  The silence of the hall was striking. Acolytes went without speaking for their first five years in service to their Lady. The wind outside and the shifting sands of the fountain hushed the quiet footsteps of those in training. Robed in sleeveless dar
k brown fabric that swept the sand on the floor as they walked, their clothing was minimal despite the chill in the shaded temple foyer. Sandals laced to their knees, and thin, gauzy material over simple body wraps that covered only their most intimate anatomy.

  Their discipline was remarkable, considering the company Talis had brought with her. In a Bone temple, a Cutter woman was unusual enough to warrant stares, but you’d think she and her company were Bone peasants from Talonpoint, based on the response they received. Save for the lone figure who stepped forward out of the shadows to meet them at the entrance, the acolytes paid them no attention.

  The senior acolyte, identifiable by a simple turquoise pendant hung from a golden chain, beckoned them to follow her. The veined walls pressed closer to them from the sides and above as the great hall bottlenecked into narrower passages leading deeper into the mesa. Here and there, blue light fixtures shone from niches carved into the walls. The style of the architecture was not so grand now. Plain steel doors were aligned at even distances without any indication as to what lay behind them. As familiar with the order of priestesses as Talis was, she knew they could just as easily be rooms meant for meditation or interrogation.

  “Talis! I was quite surprised to hear you came to visit me. It has been what? Four years?”

  “At least that, High Priestess.”

  The chamber of High Priestess Illiya was yet another grand room carved into the stone. They had descended several staircases on their way in, and Talis had the sense that the high ceilings of these chambers, lit brightly with sconces and chandeliers to the very top, were still below ground level.

  Centered in the wall opposite them was another fountain of sand. Unlike the freestanding sculpted one in the great hall, this fountain poured from the wall out of a thin horizontal slit, part of a relief carving of Fall Island itself. From the edge, the sands cascaded down, tumbled over rock outcroppings and then a smooth wall punctuated with stars, which were shaped by turquoise lenses in the wall that hid candles in spaces behind.

  The high priestess stood by a large desk on the right-hand wall, overseeing the organization of the temple’s sacred archives. She wore a black robe with high sculpted shoulders and draping folds that simulated the rounded posture of a winged bird at rest. The fabric tapered at the ankles, and loops of metallic color were sewn into it in patterns of blue, purple, red, and glistening black. An elaborate golden-beaded necklace began at her throat and grew larger and heavier, coming to rest over her rib cage. Set with cabochons of turquoise in a vertical line of varying sizes, the jewelry lengthened her graceful neck and shimmered with the slightest movement. Beneath the necklace and robe, she wore the same tight wraps and gauzy material as the other acolytes. Talis suspected that Illiya had donned her cape and finery only upon hearing that she had such unusual visitors. It was a far cry from the minimal leather vest and pants she had favored when Talis last worked with her.

  Behind the high priestess, carved in gently sloping terraces, a library rose from the floor to the ceiling. There was no wooden furniture here; the sand was too abrasive. The stepped shelf systems were home to stacks of scrolls tucked into cubbyholes lining the walls. On each landing were several workstations, where more female acolytes laboriously copied ancient writings by hand, a new generation of codices faithfully reproduced from the last before time could erase them. A multitude of quills scratched across a multitude of parchments, sounding much like the sand being swept in the lobby above.

  Talis gestured for the aliens to step forward. “High Priestess, allow me to introduce the captain and officers of the Yu’Nyun starship.”

  Talis allowed the aliens to speak their own names as they greeted the priestess. She had practiced the captain’s name under Scrimshaw’s tutelage before they left Wind Sabre, but it was so similar to the future-tense for ‘destroy’ that she was almost certain she’d screw up and say the wrong one. Wouldn’t that have been a wonderful moment of cultural understanding.

  The Yu’Nyun captain treated Illiya with the greeting of respect from a subordinate, the one Talis had been stopped from performing when they met. Perhaps the aliens had some concept of religion. Or at least they knew of the gods and the local emphasis on religious piety from all their digging around in Peridot’s libraries.

  Illiya made an undulating sweep of her hand, in the traditional Bone gesture of welcome. Her fingertips were capped in bronze and flashed in the firelight. “I bid you welcome to this house of Onaya Bone, Talis and friends.”

  There was a certain, barely distinguishable weight given to the last word, and Illiya’s ornately dressed hair bobbed with the slight tilt of her head.

  She lifted a graceful arm to invite them to sit on stone benches, covered in layers of pillows and blankets, in front of the fireplace to their left. It was twice as tall as the formidable woman, carved from rock around them. Crackling flames chased back the chill in the subterranean cavern.

  Illiya hosted the aliens with all the formality of her rank, offering tea and cakes, which the aliens declined. On the surface, all seemed to be going well, though every time Talis’s gaze met Illiya’s, there was a silent—and very pointed—question waiting for her.

  Talis cleared her throat to dislodge a crumb from the honey cake she had accepted, and a cacophony of raven calls shattered the quiet, an abrasive interruption to the peace of the room. The birds, varied in size but identical in plumage, lifted from their perches and swooped down at the new arrivals, barely missing the tops of their heads. The aliens flinched, ducking out of the way in alarm. As a group, the birds surged up into the air in a frenzied tornado of glistening black feathers, then resettled onto their roosts and began to preen themselves in indignation. At a small workstation near the roosts, a robed woman worked by herself, quietly making quills from a large basket of collected feathers. She did not look up at the commotion.

  When the noise faded, the silence that followed compelled Talis to get down to the point of their visit.

  “High Priestess, I promised the Yu’Nyun a chance to seek audience with Onaya Bone.”

  “Did you, now?” Illiya asked. Her lips, as they curved into a smile, pressed tightly together. There was a glitter in her eyes, but it was not amity. “I understand they have made this request many times. I wonder why I should be the first to allow it?”

  Because I saved your wretched life, rot you. But Illiya wanted a reason that Talis could speak out loud.

  “They have been trying to conclude their research. They would like to understand how The Divine Alchemists saved Peridot from the destructive forces of Cataclysm, so that they might save their own planet.”

  Scrimshaw’s captain looked sharply at the interpreter. No wonder Scrimshaw had been so quiet. Xe had shared more than xe was supposed to, and Talis had just ratted xin out.

  “Once they have the answers and the closure they seek,” Talis continued, pretending not to notice, “they will be able to move on.”

  “Lost children of the stars,” Illiya murmured. She intertwined her fingers over her stomach, looking downward for a moment. A decision seemed to come to her. She lifted her chin.

  “I will grant their audience,” she said in a gilded tone, and to Talis the meaning felt as rich.

  The high priestess instructed her acolytes to make ready the alien guests while she prepared the communion chamber and sought Onaya Bone’s attention. They stepped forward to drape the Yu’Nyun with iridescent scarves in purple, black, and green, and to sift fine sand over their heads. Alarmed at these preparations, the fourth alien looked desperate to avoid being decorated in a way that was equal to xist superiors. But the Yu’Nyun leader held out a hand to stop the underling’s protests. Talis had gleaned the significance of that from Scrimshaw’s lessons, enough to be impressed with the captain’s tolerance of a major taboo in order to accommodate the local custom. But why not? The captain was mere steps away from attaining xist goal. A littl
e breach in etiquette was a small price to pay, even for the Yu’Nyun.

  Two acolytes walked on either side of the group as Illiya led them to an enormous door at the far side of the audience chamber. Mirroring the position and size of the hearth, the door was the only wooden feature in the room. It looked ancient, its dark surface rich and shining from generations of oiling. Iron hinges affixed it to the wall and a matching latch held it shut. It was an anomaly, unworn by the omnipresent sand.

  Illiya led the aliens in, and the door closed behind the group, leaving Talis in the receiving room with the silent acolytes.

  Chapter 25

  Illiya’s acolytes served Talis iced mint tea and showed her back to the padded stone settee in front of the hearth. She chewed on a stray piece of fresh mint leaf and stared into the flames.

  She turned quickly when she heard the door grate open again, and the cold tea splashed over her fingers. Illiya emerged alone.

  “The Lady has granted them an audience,” she said, then dropped her affectations. She strode across the room and threw herself, robes and all, onto the settee with Talis. “What fermenting wastewater have you gotten yourself mixed up in, old friend?”

  Talis held out the mint tea. Illiya smirked, then reached into the inside of her cloak and pulled forth the chased and jeweled silver flask that Talis suspected would be there. Her old friend never drank anything innocent. The high priestess poured a generous amount into Talis’s glass, then reached out to accept the fresh tea, half-empty, that an acolyte brought for her. She emptied the rest of the flask into that glass.