The Space Between Page 11

  He carefully set the ewer down in a protective hollow of sand, rose to his feet, and stretched, arching his back and standing up to his full two hundred and fifteen centimeters. When he was done, he looked to each of the compass points in turn and bowed to the remains of the day, thanking Poti, the Mother Blower, for the gifts She had given.

  To the south, he could see nothing except the rise and fall of the desert, going on forever as far as anyone knew. "Thank you for the Desert," Tuki said.

  To the east, a hill thrust up above the dunes, a rocky knob in the waves of sand. "Thank you for life."

  Northward, out of sight over the horizon, was Dry River, snaking its way from the moai homelands into the world of man. "Thank you for what you have given."

  And westward, where the Mother Blower was sinking down behind a long ridge. "Thank you for Glass: the present, the past, the future, light in darkness."

  Tuki left the ewer where it was and explored the rest of the village in the gathering gloom. Only three buildings of the dozen in evidence still had more than one wall standing. Most had long ago given in to the creep of time and sand. He searched until the Mother Blower was long gone and the Skeleton constellation was high above the horizon, but he could not sense any more glass that might let him unravel some of the mysteries he felt he had uncovered.

  When he finally started to run north, Tuki's mind was alive with questions that would probably never be answered.

  The heat of day dispersed quickly as Tuki continued to run. He flowed through the night like the cool wind, not rousing the creatures of the desert from their nocturnal activities, his broad feet hardly marking the desert. He counted each step as the landscape slipped by. Each kilometer much like the one before, each hour much like the one before, with just the dunes and occasional islands of stone, and the numbers in his head. Counting.

  The air was cool, the sounds of the night a gentle chorus.

  Near midnight, Tuki stopped for the first time, resting on the crest of a tall dune, the desert stretched out around him in all directions. He wriggled his large toes in the sand, stooped and let the fine grains sift through his fingers. He lifted a handful and threw it into the air, watching as the silicates caught the moonlight and flared like a thousand new stars for a moment, before raining down around him. Tuki closed his eyes then, breathed in the crisp presence of the desert, letting it fill his being.

  As he stood, silent on the dune, Tuki felt something change, as if the drift of the world had slowed. He looked at the night and the desert. The desert remained as still as ever, but the sky was ablaze with the light of a new moon. Except it wasn't a moon. It moved like a meteor, flashing across the darkness for three heartbeats, four. It seemed to look into him as the desert had earlier. But it was not like the attention of the desert. It was not like a friend or mother.

  Then suddenly, unspeakably, the meteor changed direction, zagging back across the sky like an errant firefly.

  Tuki stared. He shivered, suddenly cold and fearful, and wished he had some clothing to cover his nakedness. But he had nothing, no way he could hide from the penetrating gaze above him.

  As suddenly as it had come, the comet was gone, hiding behind the glare of a real moon, revealing the stars once more, all exactly where they should be — a few days short of their Midsummer Night's position. For a long time Tuki stood staring at the sky, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did happen, and he started to run again. The beauty of everything around him was forgotten, the joy washed away by a residue of fear.

  * * *

  Millennia earlier, a dozen moai communities had dotted a five hundred kilometer length of Dry River. The furthest east had been just twenty kilometers from human lands. The furthest west had been located at the point where the snaking gully of Dry River met the feet of the Fargo Hills and curved to the south. Now, only one village remained.

  Danyon Ford, halfway between those two outposts, had always been the largest village and was the natural congregation point for survivors when populations started to dwindle. A hundred moai had once resided within Danyon Ford, but that number had swollen to more than five hundred several centuries earlier. Now the population stayed at a worrying, almost constant level. Danyon Ford was home to one hundred and twenty seven moai: all that remained on Kiva as far as anyone knew.

  Tuki could not see the village from his vantage point atop the dune, but three wisps of smoke from the first of the breakfast fires were drifting up out of the trees four kilometers from where he stood. With a deep breath he started to jog down the long slope, angling slightly westwards, toward the place he left his clothes five days earlier. He did not realize how tense the sighting of the comet had made him, but it was unusual to be so far off course after such a short run. And with home in sight he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  As soon as he reached his robe and sandals Tuki snatched them up and scrambled down the bank of Dry River and into the welcoming shade of the trees. He did not stop to thank Poti, as was proper, nor did he wait until he was dressed. Instead, he struggled into his sandals as he hurried along the winding, hard packed path, then arranged his short toga over his right shoulder and tied the rope belt about his waist. He was still adjusting the folds of material when he came upon the first of the other villagers. A go'shin, wearing his toga wrapped about his waist to show his married status, was clearing clumps of weeds from a narrow irrigation channel that took water from a well to the vegetable gardens. Tuki wanted to relate his tale to a mo'shi as soon as possible, but he was forced to stop when the other man rose to his feet.

  "Tuki," the go'shin said as he wiped his mud caked hands on his toga. His name was Ulani, and he was a few months younger than Tuki. "You were not expected back until tomorrow."

  "I know, go'shin." Tuki examined the ground as he spoke and continued to toy with his clothing. "I completed my pilgrimage, but have run non-stop to return."

  "Where did you go, Tuki? Did you find anything?"

  "Yes, go'shin, I found a village fifty kilometers beyond the Konane Line, and there was something there." Tuki shifted from foot to foot. He looked up briefly and saw that the go'shin already had the first Shin tattoos on the right side of his upper body.

  "Really? An uncharted village? Are you sure?" Ulani's wife, Ko'uka, had drawn four symbols on the dark skin of his right pectoral.

  "Yes, go'shin, I am sure. I may only be a go'gan, but I know the location of all the human villages."

  "Of course, Tuki." Ulani held up a placating hand. "I was not questioning your knowledge. I was merely surprised. No new villages have been found for centuries."

  "I apologize, go'shin."

  "No need to apologize. You have a right to defend your honor."

  "Thank you, go'shin." He glanced up to look along the path towards the village.

  The married man laughed slightly. "You look as if you want to be somewhere else, go'gan."

  "Yes. As I said, I did discover something, and I wish to speak with a mo'shi as soon as possible."

  "Oh? You really did discover something? Other than the village?"

  "Yes, go'shin."

  "Well, come with me. Ko'uka may only have married me a week ago, but she is a mo'shi. She is in the weaving hut at the moment."

  "Thank you, go'shin."

  "We used to be friends, Tuki," Ulani said, "you can call me by my name if you wish."

  "Thank you, go'shin, but it would not be proper."

  Ulani shrugged and, wiping his hands some more, led the way towards the village — his back was still bare, but would not remain so for long. Tuki hurried along behind, ducking under low hanging branches without thought, trying to calm himself before meeting a mo'shi.

  He examined his own tattoos, as if that might help. All it really did was remind him that he had seen nineteen summers and still had no markings on his right hand side. He did not yet have a wife to mark his skin.

  On his left pectoral was a triangle, sides curving in
wards. On his shoulder and dipping down his arm, were leaves from the Tree of Life. The leaves seemed to be chained in place just below his shoulder by the six Links of Creation. And on his forearm were hundreds of tiny ants, crawling across his dark skin.

  He still had a small spot on the back of his hand to fill before he would stop. After that, it would be up to the Goddess to decide if any other parts of his body were to be marked as well.

  He would be able to do his own face, if he undertook important duties for Poti, though it was unusual for that to happen to any man. The rest of his body? Tuki sighed and thought of Keala for a moment before shaking his head and turning his thoughts out to the real world.

  The center of Danyon Ford was only fifty meters from the northern bank of Dry River. The half dozen buildings to the south of the plaza were the dormitories for the go'gan. The structures, built from carved logs and thick thatch, were supposed to house more than one hundred people. Now, most of them were silent apart from the thatching whispering to the breeze. With day still coloring the sky, the unmarried men were all working and the narrow alleys between the buildings were still and lifeless as well.

  The unmarried women, the mo'by, were working in the plaza, talking quietly as they did. Some were grinding meal between smooth glass stones; others were preparing fruits to be preserved. Keala was there, her thick braid a stripe of black across her tattooed shoulder and pale wrap. Tuki watched her, noting the play of light across her cheek, before catching himself and returning his attention to Ulani's broad back. He heard a snatch of laughter from Keala's friends and his face warmed with embarrassment.

  On the far side of the plaza were the houses of the mo'shi. Tuki and the other unmarried males were not permitted beyond the shin-high stone wall that marked the boundary, so he was forced to wait in the shade of a haver tree beside the ceremonial gateway while Ulani continued forward to find his wife. He did not have to wait long. He counted only 52 green haver nuts before she arrived.

  Ko'uka was a small, slim woman, not even two meters tall. Her hair was piled in a grand bun on the top of her head, marking her as married. A sunrise was tattooed on her chest, a tree skink on her left shoulder, and the Skeleton constellation on her right. Around them all swirled the whorls of the Life Mist. She would have marriage tattoos as well, though none but Ulani would ever see them. Her face already carried the calm certainty of her position. Tuki watched as she stepped up to the fence and nodded slightly.

  "Thank you, Mother, for coming to see me." Tuki risked a glance up from the ground. Though she had not held the title of mo'shi for very long, the change in Ko'uka was noticeable. The playful glint Tuki had known well had disappeared from her eyes.

  "Why would I not, Tuki?" she asked.

  "I don't know, Mother. I am sure you are busy."

  "What is it that you want? Did you complete your pilgrimage?"

  "Yes, mo'shi. But while I was in the desert, something happened that I wish to speak of." Tuki had a quick look about for Ulani, but the other man had already returned to his work.

  "Yes?"

  Tuki was very uncomfortable. He could not remember a time when he had been alone in the presence of women. There were not even any girls about. "I saw a meteor, Mother," he said softly, eyes once more focused on the ground at the mo'shi's bare feet. He bit his bottom lip as he tried to control his twitching hands.

  "A meteor?"

  Tuki glanced up and the glint had returned to Ko'uka's eyes, though it was more like the glint of steel than the warmer flash of sunlight off glass that he remembered.

  "You saw a meteor, Tuki?" The woman laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. The mo'min has said nothing of a meteor."

  Perhaps it hadn't been a meteor, but he had seen something.

  "A meteor! Would you like me to tell the mo'min what you have said?"

  Tuki continued to examine his feet.

  "And what else would you like me to tell her? Perhaps I could let her know that the Poti will rise in the west tomorrow?"

  "No, mo'shi."

  Ko'uka cocked her head to one side. "You want to say more?"

  "The meteor, it changed direction."

  "The mo'min has said nothing of a meteor, Tuki. And the rest..."

  When Tuki looked up, Ko'uka had gone. He turned about himself, and quickly made his way towards the dormitory that was his home. 15, 20, 24 Mo'by in the plaza. That was all of them. Every one. They were watching him as he hurried away.

  Tuki climbed the stairs onto the dormitory's front porch and sat down against a wall, head in his shaking hands. He would be lucky if he ever married now. Why would Keala want anything to do with him? Why would any of them? And he had not even told the mo'shi about his vision.

  10: Old Rules

  Tuki was ready for the extra duties. It was not punishment, the mo'min would never prescribe such a thing, but more like a way to tune himself back into the well being of the village. He had set off along Dry River that morning, glad to have the opportunity.

  Since then, with time to give the matter some thought, he had decided he was wrong to mention the meteor. If it existed, the mo'min would have seen it in her nightly correspondence with Poti. Such a thing did not just appear unexpectedly. And if she had seen, then the mo'min must have had a reason for not speaking about it. Tuki was either mistaken in what he saw or was poking his nose into women's business, a place where it most definitely did not belong.

  As he trudged east, Tuki tried to put the whole incident from his mind. That, and the vision shown to him by the green ewer. He still wished to speak with someone about it but doubted he would get close to even a small girl without her breaking into fits of laughter.

  Tuki continued to walk steadily for the rest of the morning. He could have run the distance quite easily, but he enjoyed the time alone to think. Unfortunately, time and again, he found his mind returning to the meteor. Its very presence scared him.

  But he had already sorted that out in his mind. He had.

  But if he had imagined the meteor, why had he imagined that it changed direction? Was it a sign of some kind? Was it the Mother Blower telling him to change his ways? Or change his life? And if the meteor were real, and the mo'min had chosen not to mention it, that seemed to be much worse. A meteor that could change direction? A divine message that was too frightening, ambiguous, or secret to be passed on to all the moai in Danyon Ford?

  Reaching the next village, abandoned long ago, Tuki waited a long time near the edge of the trees. Humans ventured down Dry River as seldom as moai entered the realms of man, which was almost never, but still, that was too often for his liking.

  Finding no evidence of anything other than animals of a base nature, Tuki made his way between the buildings, stealing with a twinge of guilt between the dormitories of the mo'by. He could not even understand young girls, so he most certainly did not want to pry into the secrets of the unmarried women lest something deeper be revealed. Entering the plaza, he crossed to the low wall on the northern side. There was nothing stopping him from stepping through the gate, but he stopped nonetheless and glanced about as if a mo'shi might step forth to remonstrate with him.

  When he was satisfied that he was still alone, Tuki bowed slightly and, offering a small prayer of protection, stepped through the narrow gap that was the gateway. Never would he have dreamed of stepping over the wall itself, even on his own in the silent village and with the low wall hardly standing at all.

  At the first building Tuki stopped to look inside. What he saw was the tumbled down remains of a wooden bed decades out of use. The bed was large enough to hold two people, and he wondered what huge woman had lived there. With another small bow he hurried on, almost with his eyes closed, as he followed the mo'shi's directions to the Glass Blower's Workshop.

  When he finally reached the door to the workshop, Tuki stopped to stare. When he'd been told of his task he had thought it pointless, beyond channeling his thoughts in the proper direction, but now he was not so sure. The door was
solid, as was proper in such an important structure, but also a thing of great beauty. Colored glass beads had been set into the surface, mapping out the constellations of Mid-Summer's Night. For as long as he could remember, Tuki had not attended the Mid-Summer Festival. Instead he had drifted away to a quiet place he knew. There, he would lie back and watch the heavens wheel above him. He remembered each point of light like the features of Keala's face, and they were duplicated perfectly on the door. After gazing for several minutes, Tuki carefully, and with a feeling of sacrilege, pried the door away from the frame. With a grunt of effort he hoisted it onto his shoulder and began the long walk home with his ear pressed against a window that showed the sky two nights into the future.

  * * *

  From his position just outside the village, Tuki could just make out the fire in the plaza. The men were in the light while the women waited elsewhere. Perhaps they were in the darkness around the plaza or performing some ceremony of their own, Tuki did not know.

  The festivities had continued unabated since dusk. The go'gan, the unmarried men, were dancing, beating out the rhythm of the desert with their hands and feet, naked and chanting. The go'shin sat in a semicircle to the south, clapping and chanting as well, but still wearing their togas about their waists. They were married, and therefore married to the Mother Blower, and it would not be proper for just anyone to look upon them.

  Tuki closed his eyes and listened to the rhythms, watching in his mind's eye while his friends danced about the fire. Attendance of the festival was not compulsory, but everyone went. Except Tuki. He sometimes wondered if that were one of the reasons he was not yet married, but it was not his place to ask, so he did what he did and hoped that Poti did not hold it against him. He valued the company of his friends and the good favor of the women, but he also liked to sit in the quiet to think. Especially on Mid-Summer's Night.