Silent Dances by A. C. Crispin, Kathleen O'Malley Page A
Authors: A. C. Crispin, Kathleen O'Malley
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around."
The biologist looked at Tesa. "Thorn says that last week a group of Aquila
attacked a flock of Grus in the west, much closer to this ter ri to ry than they usually come. They caught the Grus just before they would ' ve
retu rn ed home. It seemed calculated . That's the time of day when the Grus a re heavy from food and a little off their guard. They carried off
four young birds."
Tesa looked stri cken , the hidden Aquila feather suddenly becoming a
heavy weight in its sec re t place.
Meg forced a smile. "I' m sor ry , I shouldn ' t overreact. Come on, supper '
s ready and Thorn hates his food to get cold."
As they drew close to the shelter Thorn met them, handing Meg and
Tesa each a large , red fruit . With a bow , he signed, "This is a class restaurant , mesdames . Your appetizer."
Tesa smiled her thanks and bit into sweet, ta rt flesh and realized this was
the source of the delicious "orange juice" Meg had given her on board
the Crane. The intense flavor flooded her mouth, making her ravenous.
Thorn' s cheerful expression faded as Meg pointed out the speck in the
sky that might be an Aquila.
"Maybe I' m being paranoid ," Meg signed . " I didn't get a good look at it.
Tesa was watching it be fore I got there." Thorn looked at her . " Was it an Aquila?"
The younger woman hesitated. She thought about Taller. How would she
feel if anything happened to him? In her mind's eye, Dr . Rob was saying
something about taming the Wakinyan . The shadow of a bronze wing
crossed be hind her eyelids. Eve ry thing was all jumbled up, doing
battle in her head with the last remnants of hi bern ation drug. She
touched the pocket that held the prayer feathers and the pipe.
66
How could anyone get into such a complicated situation after being here
less than an hour? She remembered the Thunderbird ' s exclamation,
What a backward forward way to be.
"No," she signed, gazing at Thorn. " I'm sure it wasn't."
67
CHAPTER 6
The Taboo
Taller stood in the human beings' shelter, wondering if he'd made a mistake.
Just this morning he'd looked at the calendar cloak and realized it had been
three fruiting seasons since the Year the Humans Came. Three seasons,
and he'd never stepped inside their shelter. It felt wrong to be inside such an
alien thing, but then, the humans were alien, and he'd befriended them. If
he'd made a mistake, he'd done it long ago.
He gazed about at the cluttered, other-Worldly place. Relaxed had said
they'd named it after Puff and had pointed to a slab of wood attached to the
entrance. Relaxed had said Puff's real name was on it, that this building was
now THE SCOTT HEDFORD MEMORIAL SHELTER. The wood was
beautiful, yet the lines burned into it showed no awareness of the wood's
own pattern. The humans either had no aesthetic sense or the worst
eyesight of any diurnal creature Taller had ever communicated with.
Then Relaxed had said this building would last forever and always bring
honor to Puff. Taller comforted himself that the wood was of the World and
would age and crumble. The
68
time it took to decay would mark the days of his grief for his friend. He
would not mark his grief by the aging of a shelter that would last forever. He
didn't think Puff would want him to do that.
These painful memories only reminded him of Water Dancer and his family.
The hatching cloaks of Dancer, his mate Rain , and the unhatched chick
now hung outside Taller's nest shelter, marking the days of grief. Rain's
cloak and the chick's were already unraveling, but Dancer's cloak with its
complex patterns of old legends had been woven by Taller's mate, Weaver,
who had earned her name through her skill. His son's cloak would last, but
not forever. Not even mountains lasted forever.
Taller swallowed a hard lump of grief. The dark wings of Death had never
before flown as they had that terrible day, not in all the seasons of Taller's
life. When he was young, it was only the foolish chick of
The biologist looked at Tesa. "Thorn says that last week a group of Aquila
attacked a flock of Grus in the west, much closer to this ter ri to ry than they usually come. They caught the Grus just before they would ' ve
retu rn ed home. It seemed calculated . That's the time of day when the Grus a re heavy from food and a little off their guard. They carried off
four young birds."
Tesa looked stri cken , the hidden Aquila feather suddenly becoming a
heavy weight in its sec re t place.
Meg forced a smile. "I' m sor ry , I shouldn ' t overreact. Come on, supper '
s ready and Thorn hates his food to get cold."
As they drew close to the shelter Thorn met them, handing Meg and
Tesa each a large , red fruit . With a bow , he signed, "This is a class restaurant , mesdames . Your appetizer."
Tesa smiled her thanks and bit into sweet, ta rt flesh and realized this was
the source of the delicious "orange juice" Meg had given her on board
the Crane. The intense flavor flooded her mouth, making her ravenous.
Thorn' s cheerful expression faded as Meg pointed out the speck in the
sky that might be an Aquila.
"Maybe I' m being paranoid ," Meg signed . " I didn't get a good look at it.
Tesa was watching it be fore I got there." Thorn looked at her . " Was it an Aquila?"
The younger woman hesitated. She thought about Taller. How would she
feel if anything happened to him? In her mind's eye, Dr . Rob was saying
something about taming the Wakinyan . The shadow of a bronze wing
crossed be hind her eyelids. Eve ry thing was all jumbled up, doing
battle in her head with the last remnants of hi bern ation drug. She
touched the pocket that held the prayer feathers and the pipe.
66
How could anyone get into such a complicated situation after being here
less than an hour? She remembered the Thunderbird ' s exclamation,
What a backward forward way to be.
"No," she signed, gazing at Thorn. " I'm sure it wasn't."
67
CHAPTER 6
The Taboo
Taller stood in the human beings' shelter, wondering if he'd made a mistake.
Just this morning he'd looked at the calendar cloak and realized it had been
three fruiting seasons since the Year the Humans Came. Three seasons,
and he'd never stepped inside their shelter. It felt wrong to be inside such an
alien thing, but then, the humans were alien, and he'd befriended them. If
he'd made a mistake, he'd done it long ago.
He gazed about at the cluttered, other-Worldly place. Relaxed had said
they'd named it after Puff and had pointed to a slab of wood attached to the
entrance. Relaxed had said Puff's real name was on it, that this building was
now THE SCOTT HEDFORD MEMORIAL SHELTER. The wood was
beautiful, yet the lines burned into it showed no awareness of the wood's
own pattern. The humans either had no aesthetic sense or the worst
eyesight of any diurnal creature Taller had ever communicated with.
Then Relaxed had said this building would last forever and always bring
honor to Puff. Taller comforted himself that the wood was of the World and
would age and crumble. The
68
time it took to decay would mark the days of his grief for his friend. He
would not mark his grief by the aging of a shelter that would last forever. He
didn't think Puff would want him to do that.
These painful memories only reminded him of Water Dancer and his family.
The hatching cloaks of Dancer, his mate Rain , and the unhatched chick
now hung outside Taller's nest shelter, marking the days of grief. Rain's
cloak and the chick's were already unraveling, but Dancer's cloak with its
complex patterns of old legends had been woven by Taller's mate, Weaver,
who had earned her name through her skill. His son's cloak would last, but
not forever. Not even mountains lasted forever.
Taller swallowed a hard lump of grief. The dark wings of Death had never
before flown as they had that terrible day, not in all the seasons of Taller's
life. When he was young, it was only the foolish chick of
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