Time of the Stones

by Fred Rothganger

  Five hours she worked her way over the open terrain. It gradually grew greener and more lush as the confluence approached. In the distance a few wisps of smoke rose. The city!

  She landed near the outskirts and walked in. Surely the beautiful Antikva would impress people equally as much as a giant bird did. Maybe she would get another royal welcome—and some free food.

  They certainly stared, but no one seemed to get excited. She smiled back calmly and kept going as if she belonged. I am the Ancient One, Queen of the World. I walked this land centuries before you were born. Blah blah blah ... It helped her keep composure.

  She came upon an open market, roughly the center of town. The language in the air sounded even more different, perhaps true Arkinsani. A cousin of Baseno, it also descended from Ancient English. Even if she could not quite understand, the basic structure and roots were still there.

  She walked up to a stall and asked the vendor, “Excuse me. Food and lodging for a traveler?”

  He stared at her strangely for a moment, then burst into a smile. He pointed down the street. “Go. Innkeeper speak you.”

  She barely understood him, but it was clear what to do. She walked down the street in the direction he had pointed. Five blocks later, something should have shown up. She stopped a stranger and asked, “Inn?”

  The man pointed down the street. A wrought-iron sign hung from a bar sticking out over a door. In the fading light she could make out the silhouette of a beaver encircled in something like an egg. She walked up and knocked. A rather plump fellow wearing a dirty apron answered the door. She asked, “Sir, is this the inn?”

  “Ah, you must be from the Long River.” He spoke reasonably good Baseno. “Yes. Travelers are welcome here. In your currency it is one silver coin for a night and meals.”

  “Please sir, I have no money, but I will trade my services for food.”

  He looked her over, then chuckled. “Yes, we can make an arrangement.” He stepped back, swept his hand grandly and bowed.

  Susan followed his gesture in. The room contained two hewn-wood tables with benches. It was small and crowded, the air heavy with too much human breath. A number of men sat eating.

  The innkeeper gestured to an empty place. “Please, sit down. I will bring you some food.”

  A haggard woman came out of a door at the back of the room, carrying a tray of dishes. Like the innkeeper she wore a soiled apron.

  The innkeeper spoke to the woman in their local dialect. “Look ma! This girl has offered her services.” At least that was Susan’s best guess. ‘Girl’ sounded vaguely like Baseno for ‘female dog’.

  The haggard woman sneered at him. She slapped a bowl of ... something ... in front Susan, then turned away with obvious disdain.

  “Eat up, child,” the innkeeper said. “We don’t want you to be weak from hunger.”

  Susan tore into the meal with relish. She had no interest in the odd looks the men around the room were giving her. When she finished she slid the bowl toward the innkeeper. “Please sir, may I have some more?”

  He shrugged and took the bowl to the back room. A minute later he returned with another serving.

  Susan polished it off and asked for a third.

  The innkeeper shook his head. “You’d better render your services first. You can stuff yourself till you’re sick afterward.” He turned to the rest of the room. “So, who’s first? Two silver coins for this delicacy.”

  Three men raised their hands.

  Susan’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “What? I meant I would cook or clean, or some other chore.”

  “Sorry child, but you’re in debt.” The innkeeper gestured to one of the men.

  The man stood and stepped awkwardly back over the bench and came around toward her.

  She smiled wryly. “Very well.” She stood and opened her arms to him.

  He took her around her waist and led her out the door at the back of the room. She laughed gaily as they went down the hall and entered one of several rooms.

  About fifteen minutes later she returned alone and offered her arms to the next man. Five minutes after that she came for the third. Then she returned and took her seat again. “OK, I did my job.” She gave the innkeeper an insistent stare and tapped her finger on the bottom of the empty bowl.

  “Wow, that was fast.”

  She shrugged. “When you’re good, it doesn’t take long.”

  The innkeeper fed her everything they had left in the kitchen, then directed her to a room.

  She curled up on the bed, sighed with contentment and fell asleep.

  * * *

  In the middle of the night loud banging came at the door. Susan jolted awake.

  A crowd of angry men burst into the room. The innkeeper stood over her and demanded, “What’s the meaning of this? You conned me!”

  “You conned me. The way I figure it, we’re even.” She sat up and spoke with the preternatural calm of a judge passing sentence. “You would take advantage of a helpless young woman traveling alone in a strange land. You are despicable filth, all of you.”

  One of the men said something unintelligible and lunged toward her.

  She struck him in the middle of his chest with her open palm. He flew back and slammed against the opposite wall.

  She stood to her full height—unfortunately not very impressive.

  Another came at her. She whirled and caught him in an arm lock, drove him to the floor and shouted, “Enough!” Then quietly, “Go back to bed, and be grateful I did nothing more than drug you.”

  She released the submission hold and lifted the man to his feet. He eagerly led the retreat from the room.

  * * *

  The next morning Susan came down the hall and took her seat at the table.

  The innkeeper went over, yanked the door open and pointed.

  She smiled and offered, “I could still do some chores to earn food.”

  “Get out!”

  She stood and walked to the threshold. “Thanks for the meal—and the fun evening.”

  The door slammed behind her. Alone, she wandered down the street until it reached the riverfront, then turned to follow the bank for a while. This place was dreadfully flat, not much slope to work with.

  Sunlight poured over the landscape from the southeast, heating the ground beneath the cool dry-season air. Thermals would soon bubble up, and cold air over the river would sink, not good if she hoped to make a takeoff from the bank. She found a small rise of about 10 meters and decided not to search any longer.

  The top of the rise made a good place for another swarm seed. She looked over the town with an ironic smile. Welcome to the Machine Age.

  She morphed and ran along the shallow hill, straight for the river. The bank dropped away, leaving a few meters of altitude, just enough to beat the wings. She flapped desperately, barely clearing the opposite bank. Over land a small thermal buoyed her up.

  She turned to a heading of 80 degrees, just a little north of east, dead-reckoning toward one of the larger inland cities of the Ancient world. As the day wore on the landscape slowly changed. The lush green of the Arkin Basin became even greener toward its center. This land was rich with water. Rugged folds of the Earth caught plentiful rain in numerous long narrow lakes.

  There were no large cities, only small groups of loosely clustered shacks, usually set on a hillside near the edge of a lake. What sort of people lived here? They must be quite self-sufficient and prefer little company. Probably not the most cosmopolitan society in the world.

  There were plenty of good take-off places on the hillsides. As evening approached, she selected one. It seemed far enough away from the local village. Simply spend the night in the woods and avoid humans completely. With all that lush plant life, there would certainly be something to eat.

  An object moved fast at the edge of her vision. It shot up from among the trees on an intercept path. Before she could change course, an arrow buried itself deep in her breast. She screeched in agony. T
he right wing no longer moved in balance with the left. She plummeted from the sky and crashed into the trees.

  * * *

  The young man hooted with glee. “Did ya ever see a bird that big? It was huge. We gonna eat good tonight!”

  Zak said, “Drink’s doin’ stuff to yer eyes, Idi. I ain’t seen nuthin but a duck.”

  Ebri took another swig from the jug marked ‘XXX’ and said nothing.

  That wasn’t fair. Idi had drunk less than anyone that day so he could actually hit some game. Though hitting that bird may not have been much of an achievement. It really was big.

  The three of them jumped up from the blind and worked their way up the hill to the crash site. It took several minutes to clamber through the undergrowth and over thick roots. They came upon a small break in the woods. There in the gloom lay a beautiful young woman with an arrow stuck in her side.

  She wore a white dress. Red hair spilled around her like a pool of blood. The bird had been white, with a red crest ...

  A mix of desire and guilt flooded over Idi, the most powerful emotion he had ever felt. He rushed up and knelt next to her. “What have I done?” He gently touched the place where the arrow penetrated that wondrous body.

  The girl moaned weakly.

  “She’s still alive.” He tugged at the arrow.

  “Oh!” she yelped, then lay still.

  “We gotta get her to the shaman.” He slid his arms under her shoulders and legs and struggled to stand. He had hauled home game this big before. No problem. He could make it to the village.

  Her arms hung limp and her head lolled. Her hair dragged the ground. “Hey, help me out, bro.”

  Zak gathered up her enormous mane and piled it on her belly, then pulled her arms up and tucked them in the middle as well.

  The arrow swung back and forth, right in front of his face. Her gorgeous juicy butt pressed against him, and his fingers wrapped around her generous breast. Maybe she’ll fall in love with me for fixing her up. Maybe I’ll get to marry the bird-spirit.

  He grew tired and had to hand off his prize to Zak. Idi watched with growing jealousy as Zak savored the experience. When they were almost to the village, he held out his arms to claim the creature back, but Zak refused.

  They brought her to the shaman’s house and called for help.

  Grana came to the door. “What is it—Oh my! Bring her in. Put her on the bed over there.” Grana flew into action. She knelt next to the poor girl and listened for breath. She looked up and snarled, “Curse you fools! Drinking so much you shot some poor neighbor girl in the woods.”

  Grana felt carefully around the wound for a while, frowning. “I can’t find her organs.”

  Idi said, “She’s a bird-spirit.”

  “Bird-spirits don’t take human form; everyone knows that. You think foolish talk will cover up your guilt.” Grana leaned close to the girl and whispered in a soothing tone, “You’ll be fine, child. Rest and let us help you.” Then she told the men, “Hold her down.”

  Idi and his friends gathered around and pinned the girl’s arms and legs to the bed.

  Grana pulled out her best knife and worked fast. She cut a slit beside the shaft and drove her fingers in to find the head, then grasped it firmly between thumb and forefinger. She worked the knife around the edge of the wound. For some reason the flesh kept closing in, yet the head came easily.

  The girl whimpered but did not struggle. Then the strangest thing happened. Instead of bleeding, the wound healed instantly. Even the white dress closed up, as if it had never been shot through.

  Grana emitted a low growl from deep in her throat and backed away, still holding the arrow. The young men backed away as well.

  The girl sat and opened her eyes.

  Grana fell to her knees and touched her forehead to the floor. “Please don’t be angry with us, spirit.” Grana looked around desperately. She gathered up a few items of food, something suitable as an offering to the spirits. She knelt, bowed her head and held them up.

  The girl accepted the offering and ate, then looked sadly at the empty bowl. She held it up in a begging gesture, the same way Grana had offered it to her.

  Grana took the bowl back with great trepidation. It wasn’t enough! She turned to the young men and barked, “Run home and get any food you have. Don’t bring meat. It will offend the spirit.”

  They darted away. About ten minutes later they returned, loaded down with food. Grana took it and prepared another serving ... and another ... and another. It took many offerings to appease the spirit. Perhaps there was a famine in the spirit world. She fled to the world of humans to escape starvation.

  The girl clasped her hands together as if in prayer and bowed with gratitude. Then she patted her chest and said, “Susan.” She repeated the gesture and word several times.

  Grana pointed at the girl and said, “Susan.”

  Susan reached her hand in front of Grana’s chest, as if to make the same patting gesture.

  “Grana.”

  Susan repeated the name. Then she looked excitedly around the room, pointing at objects. Grana and the young men offered various words, and Susan repeated them back.

  * * *

  They spoke Arkinsani, but some of the words were different than the city dwellers used. No doubt the urbanites would consider these people uneducated. To Susan, one dialect was no better or worse than the other, particularly since she could not converse in either.

  The next morning she lingered around Grana’s shack, learning more words. Idi also lingered around the shack. Susan took advantage of him to keep learning when Grana got tired. They wandered around the village together, discovering new objects and exchanging broken conversation in Arkinsani.

  His infatuation was obvious, but only an extraordinary man could win her affections. Idi was quite ordinary. She offered nothing beyond someone to talk with, and tried not to feel guilty about it.

  Late in the afternoon two men came to Grana’s shack, one leaning weakly on the other. Susan could now understand bits and pieces of the conversation. The man complained of terrible pain in the belly. Grana led him inside and had him lay on the pallet. Without invitation Susan followed them.

  Grana felt around his belly. When she hit a certain spot, he yelped in pain. She stood and studied him, deeply perplexed.

  Susan came up and gently touched Grana’s shoulder. “Me help.” She knelt next to the man, placed her hands gently on the bare skin of his belly and listened. A swollen appendix. The man needed powerful antibiotics, and perhaps surgery.

  She stood and looked around the room. Nope, no antibiotics here. She gestured to Grana. Pointing at the man, she placed hands together on the side of her head like a pillow. Then she held up one hand to suggest “wait”.

  She sat on the floor, assumed a stable position and closed the connection.

  Back at Stonehill she searched documents on antibiotics. The Ancients had used them so much that bacteria grew resistant. But the Dark Times came. Perhaps those bacteria got lazy in the last 1000 years without the constant threat from modern medicine. She picked a formula, then hacked a program to guide the swarm.

  Susan woke to find the room filled with smoke. Cannabis. Grana was burning the leaves near the man’s face. Fortunately the avatar was impervious to the effects.

  She knelt next to Grana, placed one hand on the man’s side and the other on his tummy near the appendix, then closed her eyes. “Esc appendix run.”

  Her mind entered his body, ahead of a small swarm army. She directed them to spread out and penetrate the infected organ. They all settled into place, then she gave the command to disinfect. A single high-intensity dose would be sufficient.

  Data came back from the swarm, including a gene sequence for the dominant strain of bacteria. She studied it and made a small change to the drug formula. She stayed in the virtual world all night, guiding the battle against the infection.

  As dawn broke over the hills and lakes, Susan returned and opened her
eyes. The man was resting comfortably, the infection in retreat. Grana lay sprawled on the floor.

  Susan extracted the swarm and stood. Time to go. She had paid her debt for the food and language lessons.

  She walked into the forest toward the landing site she had selected two days ago, a small bare patch on top of a steep cliff overlooking the water. There she planted a swarm seed, then morphed. Takeoff was a short fast run followed by a precipitous drop. She flapped several times to pull away from the cliff. Safely airborne, she turned back toward land to resume the flight path. It passed over the village.

  There was Idi, walking toward Grana’s shack. He looked up. In one brief moment the situation sank in. He raised his hands and cried, “No, please don’t leave me!”

  His sobs wafted up and yanked at her chest like a chain. All the pain of loss flooded back in waves of memory. Her lover, gone forever. She almost turned back.

  But a morning thermal caught the wings and lifted her above the hills, away from the worries of the world. The lake country spread out to the horizon. The vast land and free air filled her with joy. She set course to 80 degrees.

  Sanat

  Year 10, Day 50

  The lake country stretched on all day. These valleys led to the Arkin River at the center of the basin. A large Ancient city once grew there. By evening it would be in view. A highway to the city once followed this same course, but there was no sign of it.

  As the shadows lengthened across the landscape, there was the river, vast and wide. It cut from one horizon to the other and stretched hundreds of meters across. Despite knowing what to expect, Susan felt overwhelmed. It made the Long River look like a little trickle, some puddle for children to hop over.

  But no city. Could it have been destroyed so thoroughly? Completely abandoned?