Six Moon Dance Part 37

"Corojum, we know that," cried Mouche. "Believe me, we're doing everything we can as fast as we can!"

As though to underline this comment, the ground beneath them shook once more, and stones plummeted from above to splash into the Fauxi-dizalonz. Corojum looked up alertly as several Timmys came flas.h.i.+ng into the firelight, hair wild and eyes wide.

"They come," called one. "The jongau! The bent ones! Dozens and dozens!"

"Where?" asked Questioner. "On the road?"

"On the road, off the road, rolling, hopping, squirming, flowing, along the road."

"When will they get here?" Questioner demanded.

Corojum said soberly, "Now is dark, only the one little moon rising will make them slow down, but they will come soon, for Bofusdiaga calls to them."

"Why?" cried Ornery. "Why just now? Don't we have enough to worry about without them?"

"The bent ones are not finished," said the Corojum. "They wouldn't go back through the Fauxi-dizalonz and get finished, so they're only part done. Part-done things do not last well. They lose cohesion, and their substance longs for the Fauxi-dizalonz, whence it came. If they do not come now, they will disintegrate."

"Interesting," said Questioner. "Since they caused this mess, why don't you just let them disintegrate?"

"Because Bofusdiaga does not waste material. Bofusdiaga alloys, changes, refines. You will see, very soon."

"Then we must not delay," Questioner said. "Let us go to the chasm."

The Corojum fussed, "It is dark in the chasm...."

"Never mind that. I can light the place adequately. Let us go now, before we are overtaken by events."

They went, Questioner and the four young people, accompanied by a small horde of Timmys trotting and Joggiwagga writhing and Eigers flying overhead and Corojum riding in the crook of Questioner's arm. When they had gone a little way down into the chasm, a huge mooing sound began in the chasm below them, much akin to that mooing Questioner had heard in the recording.

Mouche and Ornery both sagged, stricken with such sadness they could barely move. It was the feeling each had felt before, Mouche on the bridge, Ornery in the tunnel, a terrible melancholy, an aching terror, as of something despairing over aeons of time.

Questioner turned on her lights. The area around them leapt into visibility. Across the chasm, the coal-dark drapery of Quaggima's wings quivered against the rock wall, as though in response to the sound coming from below. As Questioner had understood the intent of the cry she had heard recorded, so she understood the plaint of this one, a fractious whine: "Oh, I am in pain, I am without ease, time drags, living drags, can no one help me, can no one help me. I want out, I want out, I want out." The plaint had an odd reverberation, an almost instantaneous echo, as though spoken slightly out of sync by more than one voice.

With the light, the voice stilled. Mouche took a deep breath and staggered to Ornery, helping her up. Ornery put an arm around him, and they supported one another.

"She is very restless," said the Corojum, pointing to the movement in the wings, now clearly discernable to them all. "The egg has been moving under her and she has been getting worse for days and days."

"Sticking to this track will take too long," said Questioner to the Corojum. "If we have as little time as you say, we must get there more rapidly."

Corojum whistled. They looked up just in time to see the talons of the Eigers that s.n.a.t.c.hed them from the trail and plunged with them into the depths of the chasm, Questioner and the Corojum held by one great bird, each of the others borne singly, along with a cloud of Timmys who flung themselves into the air, circling and soaring on flaps of skin that joined their arms and legs, like larger versions of the swoopers in the tunnel. Even stranger were the several Joggiwagga that flattened themselves into spiked disks that sailed downward, like spinning plates.

The Questioner's light surrounded them as they circled, slowing as they neared the bottom. There they were deposited gently one by one on the circular floor, smooth as gla.s.s, black and glossy.

"Obsidian," observed Questioner, brus.h.i.+ng herself off, dislodging a few fluffs of down in the process. "Now, where is she?"

Corojum gestured, head down, bowing to something behind Questioner. She turned and stared into an immense, faceted eye the size of a building. Several more such eyes were arranged symmetrically below three tall, flickering antennae that rose like feathery trees. Below the eyes was what could be a mouth, complicated and surrounded by ramified angular structures that twitched restlessly. Below that, laid sideways along the floor, partially enclosed in the gla.s.sy floor, was the long, striated, dully gleaming body of the Quaggima, twitching, vibrating, waves of motion rippling down it from the head, away into the darkness.

Though the creature gave no evidence of seeing them, they all bowed. Questioner abated her light, dimming it to a softer, rosier glow, and muttering commands to her troops.

"Mouche, pace off the length of the body. Take a data head and get every inch of her recorded. Ornery, take another data head and go bit by bit over the upper body and head; be sure to get good, clear views. Ellin and Bao, I'd like to test for a reaction, so would you two do something in the way of a pas de deux? I'll give you some music and atmosphere-anything you'd prefer?"

The two dancers looked at one another. "Debussy," said Bao. " 'La Mer.' "

Questioner flipped mentally through her catalogues, found the appropriate references, and began to emit the music, along with s.h.i.+fting watery lights that poured like a tidal flow across the dark gla.s.s beneath her....

From within which, something watched her. She bent over and beamed her light down, disclosing another faceted eye above a s.h.i.+fting, shadowy depth of moving wings, and beyond the wings, far down, far, far down, another eye....

"This is the egg!" she said to Corojum, without moving or interrupting the music.

"Of course it's the egg," said Corojum. "What did you think it was?"

"When the wing moves, I can see far down past it, far, far down. There's more than one in there."

"She told Kaorugi, always they have at least twins," said Corojum. "One male, one female. Each Quaggima mates only once. If they are not to go extinct, she must produce at least two offspring. Sometimes they have four."

"Are the ones in the egg aware?"

"They are more aware than she is. Long ago, before the egg grew so big, she was awake all the time. She used to cry until the whole world sorrowed, so Kaorugi talked more with her, and when she could talk with someone, she was not sorrowful, but when the egg got bigger, she began to be agitated again, and talking with Bofusdiaga was not enough. That's when the dancers put her to sleep. Sometimes, like now, when the moons pull and pull, her children move and she feels them moving. What wakes her most is when they cry like they were doing. She hears that!"

"That crying wasn't from the Quaggima? It was from the egg?"

"From the egg, yes, though it is like her crying. And if Quaggima wakes up and hears them crying to get out, she will break the egg for them and so die. And so will we, Corojum and Timmys and Joggiwagga, Bofusdiaga and Kaorugi, all, dead. And you, too."

"Maybe Kaorugi shouldn't have healed her."

"It is Kaorugi's nature to heal. So Kaorugi says, it is the nature of all life to heal, no matter where it arises. Creatures that do not heal are not natural to this universe, they come from outside. This one wanted to die at first, but after Kaorugi made her well again, she did not want to die. She was then, as you mankinds say, on a dilemma. So she said to Bofusdiaga, let me sleep, let me not think about it."

"And since then she's been asleep."

"More like how do you people say it, hypnotized, dreaming. What is word? Entranced. I think she sees you as a dream, but she is watching Bao and Ellin."

Indeed, the glittering eyes did seem fixed on the dancers, and the antennae turned toward Questioner, hearing the music. Drawn by the sound, the Timmys also began to dance, forming a moving backdrop for the two Old Earthers.

The egg s.h.i.+vered, the world moved. Reeling and teetering, Ellin and Bao went gamely on with their extemporaneous performance. Beneath them, the eyes moved to follow their steps.

"How would she break the egg?" Questioner asked the Corojum.

"Down at her far end, there is a kind of tail that is very heavy and stiff. And from there going deep, deep down to the end of the egg are capsules, like a ... a ... string of beads, bigger the farther down they go. Bofusdiaga says they hold heavy metals. The egg puts out roots, says Bofusdiaga, and it brings the metals bit by bit out of the world, atom by atom. And when she is ready to break the egg, she hits those capsules with her tail, and the first one drops into the next, breaking it, and so on, each bigger and bigger, going down and then something in the last one mixes with it, and it goes up, all at once, like a volcano exploding."

"And?"

"And she is blown to pieces, but the baby Quaggi are in the sh.e.l.l, and the sh.e.l.l is in a rock tube, and the way it is shaped, it gets exploded far out into s.p.a.ce, and then they fly."

Mouche came trudging back into the circle of light. "About four hundred eighty meters, Questioner. Maybe a little longer. It's a long, tapering body. The surface is much rougher down at that end, and it was hard to keep my footing. She has a kind of tail or stinger down there that seems to pain her and it quivers." He turned to stare into the faceted eyes, trying to penetrate their mystery. Something in this utterly strange place was familiar to him. Something was happening here that he had experienced before.

"A tiny body for all that wingspan," murmured Questioner. "This pit is at least five kilometers deep, the wings are folded in half, with both of them opened out it would have a twenty-kilometer wingspan...."

Corojum remarked, "She is bigger than when she fell. She told Kaorugi she could grow bigger yet, but the mate doesn't want them to grow bigger. That's why they do as they do. They do not have to ruin the wings; they do it because they want to."

"The rapist mentality," remarked Questioner. "Seems always present. Tell, me, Corojum, when is the six-moon conjunction, exactly?"

Corojum stared at the sky. "Now, on other side of Dosha, four moons are almost aligned, they will draw apart, then tomorrow they draw together again with two more. By noon they will be joined in line with the sun. They will stay in line only a short time, but oceans will rise, egg will be shaken more than ever, Quaggima will wake, all will be over."

"That soon?" breathed Mouche.

Questioner said, "If we had a few days, I can think of several solutions to this fix we're in. There are probably drugs that would keep Quaggima asleep. Certainly we could lift her out into s.p.a.ce, given a little time, and also we can lift the eggs, though it would take the cooperation of Kaorugi and the tunnelers to cut them loose from below. But one day simply isn't long enough, even if I could reach the s.h.i.+p, which I can't!"

She seemed furious at this, and Mouche said sympathetically. "I'm sure they'll fix whatever went wrong on the s.h.i.+p, Questioner."

"And I am as sure they won't," she snapped. "Not unless they let the Gablians do it."

Corojum puffed out his fur and sighed.

"I must think," said Questioner. "I must go up above and spend a little time in total concentration."

Mouche was crouched beneath the great faceted eyes of Quaggima, intent upon Questioner's IDIOT SAVANT.

"Mouche," Questioner said impatiently, "let's go."

"Give me a moment," he begged. "Can you leave me this SAVANT thing, Questioner? It almost seems to make sense...."

"We'll wait with him," called Ellin, stopping her whirling motion and drawing Bao with her to Mouche's side.

"Stay if you like," Questioner murmured. "Come when you're ready. Corojum, let us go up."

The Eiger took them up, away, Questioner and Corojum, leaving the four young people crouched before the Quaggima, intent on the glow of the screens and the dance of glittering motes within it. Beside them stood four Eigers, each with its multiple eyes fixed on one of them, ready to carry.

The wing beats of the Eiger bearing the Questioner faded upward in the chasm. Mouche exclaimed.

"What is it?" breathed Ellin. "What are you thinking, Mouche?"

He drew breath between his teeth. "It should make sense. I have this feeling that I know what's going on. The movements they described, the music they used ... Did either of you get a better description of the music than I did?"

Ellin and Bao handed over their own data heads. Mouche linked the three together and fed this new information into the larger device, directing it to extrapolate.

It did so, building and refining, variation after variation. Long sliding sequences. Slow advances and retreats. Turns, twists, then long sliding sequences again. And again.

"It reminds me of something," said Bao. "I just can't tell what."

Mouche stood up, taking a deep breath. "It reminds me of something, too," he said. "It's just ... it shouldn't make sense. I mean, it doesn't make sense."

They watched the stage go on with its improvisations, heard the drumming settle into a definite rhythm. Mouche and Bao stared at one another in dawning realization. Ellin and Ornery looked at one another in confusion.

"It shouldn't make sense. But it does," said Mouche. "Oh, yes, it does. No wonder I thought I knew.... The feeling. The yearning.... I wish I could ask someone...."

"There is someone...." said a small voice.

They turned toward a s.h.i.+ver of silver, a flare of green.

"Flowing Green," said Mouche, unable to breathe. "Where ... where have you been?"

The silver eyes tilted. "Waiting for you, Mouchidi. Waiting for a little quiet. Oh, so much noise and confusion! So many persons. So many jongau! And poor Mouchidi, wounded so." She moved toward them, lilting. "Now is a little peaceful time, so listen to my words! I dreamed you would come here. I dreamed we would go to the Fauxi-dizalonz together. I dreamed the world would continue. They all think you will be of no help. They all think I am strange, not well made, to think such things, but Bofusdiaga made me for you, Mouchidi. Bofusdiaga made you for me, too, a little."

"Made you?" whispered Mouche.

"Made me from some of your own self and some of Bofusdiaga's own self. Made you a little bit like me. I knew to come here, to tell you of the dancers."

"You know what the dancers were doing here?"

"I know what you mankinds call it."

"What do we call it?" cried Ellin.

"You call it making love," said Flowing Green.

58.

Tie Jongau And A Matter Of Gender.

High above the chasm, Ashes and his sons arrived at the end of the straight road and moved out onto the ledge that looked down to the Fauxi-dizalonz. Behind and around them were the remains of the settlers from Thor, the jongau, the bent ones. Emerging from bubble caves here and there around the circ.u.mference of the caldera, others edged out, softly gleaming in the pallid moonlight, casting dark shadows behind them. Some of those farthest down struck the stone with whatever parts of themselves were available-heads, toes, tentacles-and these blows resolved into a cadenced drumming upon the walls. Those high on the ledge stepped in time with the cadence, turning with lumbering precision to move downward on the long, gentle road that switched back and forth as it descended into the caldera, at first only a few, then more and more as each new monster reached the ledge and marched across it, over the lip and down.

Here were Crawly and his cousins, four beats to a flail, twelve beats to a drag, flail-two-three-four-drag-two-three-four-down-six-seven-eight-below-ten-eleven-twelve. Here was Strike, four beats to a foot step, rye-ut ut ut, lay-uft uft uft, rye-ut ut ut, lay-uft uft uft rye-ut ut ut, lay-uft uft uft, rye-ut ut ut, lay-uft uft uft. Here was Belly, dragged behind the Shoveler and Gobblemaw, like a harrow behind a team of oxen, four bars to the belch; hup plod plod plod, hup plod plod plod, hup plod plod plod, squawwweeough hup plod plod plod, hup plod plod plod, hup plod plod plod, squawwweeough.

"Old Pete," murmured Ashes, who was marching along quite erect, arms swinging at his sides. "He's a little way down yet. Crawly'll drag him out."

"What do we do when we get to the bottom?" Bane asked.

"Gonna roll 'em oh-ver," said Ashes. "Hup hup hup roll 'em, hup hup hup over."

Hughy Huge came down like a gingerly cannon ball, Ear clinging to one side, Tongue to the other, blather, rumble, blather, rumble blather, rumble, blather, rumble. Foot hopped, bingety spop, bingety spop bingety spop, bingety spop, and Mosslegs swished, slooush, slooush slooush, slooush, all in time, all in perfect time.

"You learn to march like this on Thor?" Bane asked.

"Drill-two-three-four, this is what a drill's for," said Ashes, keeping time.

Boneless oozed over the lip of the ledge, sploos.h.i.+ng in cadence. Bone clattered behind him, brack-bruck brackbruck brack-bruck brackbruck.

"There's old Craw-lee. He tooka short cut," chanted Ashes.

There was Crawly indeed, flopped on the roadway outside a cave, flailing his claws into the pale flesh that blocked it, heave-two-three-four, heave-two-three-four.

"Pete, he's coming out, huh," breathed Ashes, still keeping time. "Pete he's coming out, huh!"