Then the food was served, musicians brought out their rusty instruments, and people began dancing the reels and figure dances from long ago, separated by occasional waltzes.
Marduk, the orange and white striped cat who had adopted Yana when she first arrived at Kilcoole, hopped into the cradle and wrapped himself around the twins’ feet, purring when a baby hand patted his magnificent bushy tail. Nanook and Coaxtl reappeared and sat on either side of the cradle. Nanook looked expectantly up at Sean.
“I think that’s my cue to ask the mother of the honorees to dance.”
Yana was still sore and stiff from sitting so long, but the happiness of the occasion gave her something only a little less earthbound than wings. Taking her husband’s arm, she slid to the dance floor and they half waltzed, half polkaed to the plunk and wheeze of instruments that had been frozen and thawed many times and played through many latchkays.
“This has all been a lot of fun, Sean,” she said. “Exhausting, but fun. But even though everybody’s had suggestions, I still don’t know what to call the kids. Do you?”
“Not really. I sort of liked Seamus and Siobhan, but it’s a bit too much like Sean and Sinead, and we’re not even twins.”
“Aisling suggested Murray, which is a sea name, I’m told, and Mairead, but that’s not a water name. Muriel is, but I’m afraid we’d confuse them. Murray and Muriel sound awfully close.” She dropped her voice so he could barely hear her above the drums. “To tell you the truth, I think those alliterating names for twins are just a bit on the cutesy side.”
“It will come to us, love. There’s still the Night Chants.”
Shortly afterward everyone took a break in the festivities while the dog teams of people from distant villages were hitched up again, the little curly coated horse was loaded with the gifts to be deposited at the cabin on the way, and local people returned home and hitched up their dogs or saddled their curly coats for the trip to the hot springs where the Night Chants were held.
The drummers arrived ahead of everyone else so that drumbeats greeted each new party.
Yana as always was struck by the beauty of the hot springs. You saw the steam first, rising above the snow, and then, between ice-encrusted banks, the curtain of water pouring from the top ledge into a deep pool that cascaded into a second, then a third pool, the water through the steam like jewels behind a sheer veil. That this was the place where she had first made love with Sean and only yesterday birthed her babies added immeasurably to its beauty for her. But the most powerful enchantment it held lay beyond the waterfall, in the communion place.
People stood aside to allow Yana, Sean, and the twins to slip into the cave behind the upper falls. Clodagh was there ahead of them and, surprisingly, the three newcomers from the coast. Soon the cave was crowded with the bodies of neighbors and friends. Yana was a bit surprised to realize that all of these people were from Petaybee, most from Kilcoole. None of their offworld friends were here. She wondered if the naming ceremony wasn’t hastened in order to prevent the attendance of offworld folk. It seemed a bit discriminatory, especially when some of them would never have survived some recent events without the help of those friends.
When everyone arrived and settled, Clodagh said, “Desmond here is the shanachie of his village. He heard how we were looking for sea names for the babes and said he has a song to share.”
Desmond spoke so quietly everyone had to be still to hear him. He also seemed to be well aware of the special nature of the cave.
“The seals came to remind me of my mother’s song from her mother. The song she sang in its original tongue, so I will tell you about it before I sing. It tells of a lonely widow who had lost her husband and her only child to the sea. Every day she walked the beach and watched the seals play. One day when she could not go to the beach because of the rain, a strange mute girl came to her door to be her daughter. The woman called her Murel, Bright Waters, and for seven years the mother and daughter lived together. Then one day when they walked the beach, a seal called from just offshore. ‘Ork ork ork!’ he cried. ‘That is Ronan, the little seal,’ the woman told the girl. But the girl knew already. ‘Ork ork ork!’ she cried, and the widow knew it was time for her daughter to return to the sea.”
He then began singing quite a long song in a language that bore only a distant resemblance to the Gaelic people sometimes sang.
Yana didn’t pay too much attention, after the translation, because she was pondering the names of the seal children, Murel and Ronan. Bright Waters and Little Seal. They had a ring to them that she liked. Of course, when the kids got older, she supposed she’d have to figure out how to change the boy’s name so it meant big seal, but that could wait. She exchanged a look with Sean over the heads of the twins. By the bioluminescence that made the stone cave walls glow softly and the water wall glimmer, he smiled and nodded.
The cave was warm and cozy, and the bioluminescence had begun to scribe patterns on the cave walls. Desmond’s song had a bit of a drone, but the children all liked it when he made the seal sound, which seemed to figure in the chorus. Her own children were no exception. With every ork, the babies squirmed, and for the first time ever she wished the ceremony over and them back at home.
When the song was done, Clodagh turned to them, smiling, her brows raised in question.
“You have the names then, do you, Yana? Sean?”
Yana and Sean nodded once to each other. Then Sean took the little girl from Yana’s arms and held her out to Clodagh, who had taken a place of prominence in front of the waterfall. “Right then, pet,” Clodagh said softly to the baby. Then she raised her head, her voice still quiet and calm enough to keep from alarming the child but carrying above the roar of the waterfall to everyone in the cave. “People of Petaybee, and our beautiful home, here is Murel Monster Slayer Shongili born to us to live among us.”
Yana had been struggling to pay attention but now her eyes snapped open in dismay. “I never. . .” She began to say that she had not seriously meant for Monster Slayer to be part of her daughter’s given name, but Clodagh was passing Murel Monster Slayer Shongili to Aoifa, who sat next to her, and accepting Yana’s son.
“And this fine one here, people of Petaybee, is Ronan Born for Water Shongili, born to us to live among us.”
But as she turned to hand Ronan to Aoifa, who had been trying to pass Murel to Bunny Rourke, sitting beside her, Aoifa fumbled. That seemed to be the chance Murel had been waiting for. With a fishlike twist, the infant spurted from Aoifa’s grasp and into the waterfall. In the confusion, Ronan escaped Clodagh’s embrace and dived in after her. “Heeeeee,” they cried, followed in a moment by “Ork.”
Before anyone could start breathing again, Sean eeled past them and dove into the water himself.
Yana slid to the cave’s entrance and ran out, snatching up furs from the snocle as she ran downstream. Behind her, Clodagh commanded everyone to stay put.
By the snowball moon she saw the large sleek head of a seal break water in the lower pool. Using his nose and mouth, he shoved two tiny silvery white seals onto the shore, then climbed out himself, blocking their way to the water while they orked merrily at the prank they’d played on everyone. Yana reached them and flung the furs over her family. Inside the furs, Sean shook himself like a large dog and the little ones instinctively followed suit.
Yana’s heart began beating again. Being the only full-time biped in her family was going to take some getting used to.
CHAPTER 3
A
S USUAL, IT
was midday of the following day before the latchkay ended. Yana and her family returned home, accompanied by Clodagh, who came armed with leftovers from the feast.
To her surprise, Yana found she was ravenous again. After she fed the twins—Murel and Ronan—she sat down at the table with Sean and Clodagh, knowing that if she stretched out on the chaise longue she would drown in her soup.
Clodagh served the rolls and soup. She looked exhilarated, as she always did after latchkays, even though Yana thought they must be somewhat draining for her too.
“Your message light is still on,” Yana observed idly, nodding to the red light above the door to the office cube.
“It can wait,” Sean said gruffly, and almost savagely took a bite from his roll, an expression of extreme delight on his face as he chewed. “Featherlight, Clodagh.”
“I can’t take credit for those. That Aoifa has a real light hand with bread.”
“Indeed. More, please?” And Yana used the last of her third roll to sop up what little gravy remained on her plate before handing it to whomever would take it.
“Drink that blurry too, Yana. Makes good milk,” Clodagh said as she rose to refill her plate and Yana’s. The blurry was a special sort of Petaybean beer. One could not drink enough of it to get drunk, but did get pleasantly—well, blurred.
Obediently, Yana took a sip of the dark brew. Actually, it was not her favorite beverage by any means, but she knew of its benefits to a nursing mother, having been told so ad nauseam by every person who had noticed her protruding abdomen in the last nine months.
On the other hand, if she drank enough of the stuff, she might forget which twin she had last breast-fed, though actually she was getting the hang of the rotation bit. Excusing herself from the table, she sought out the chaise and leaned gratefully against its back. Large as it was, it still was the perfect couch for her . . . and even fit her tall body, with room for Sean.
They finished the meal companionably, with Clodagh reciting a list for Sean to write down of the people who had sent messages and congratulations to the new parents from other parts of Petaybee, and another list of the gifts and givers.
“One thing’s sure,” she finished up, rising to her feet and collecting plates, “they won’t lack warm blankets and fur rugs! Nor babysitters. Your nieces have offered their services as their baby gifts. Aoifa said she’d had a lot of experience with babies and kids in Vale of Tears.”
Clodagh gave one of her disapproving sniffs for the trials and tribulations of the poor Aoifa, who had been rescued from a most barbaric enclave and the untender mercies of its leader, Shepherd Howling.
Yana scrunched her shoulders into a more comfortable position and sighed with repletion.
“That was splendid, Clodagh.”
“Indeed. A fitting end to a very fine naming latchkay, in spite of that little show of independence from the guests of honor.”
“I suppose it’s just something we’ll have to get used to,” Yana said. She closed her eyes and saw imprinted on the insides of her lids the incredible patterns the planet had created in the walls of the cave when the twins were recovered and the communion ended. “Even Petaybee seemed proud of them, though.” A yawn overtook her and she stretched, jerking her knees up as abused muscles in her abdomen resisted.
“C’mon then, Yana, and get a good night’s sleep . . . on your side or your tummy . . .” Clodagh said, and Sean slid his wife’s legs to one side of the chaise so she was in a position to rise easily.
“On my tummy, oooh, it feels so good. Yesterday I was too knackered to notice how I lay,” she said with a cautious hand on her now unoccupied belly.
“I’ll come tuck you in,” Sean said, knowing she disliked being too fussed over. “And let you know if that message was anything important.”
She gave him a loving smile and stuck out her tongue at his offer to share the message as if it would be a treat. She had already slid into her gown and a dressing robe, so getting ready for bed took little time. Once there, she experimented with positions denied her during her pregnancy to find the most comfortable one. She’d have to get up in about three hours to feed her ravenous babies.
As tired as she was, she found her mind would not quit whirling as she settled down to sleep. There was so much to think about that she had put on hold the last few days while preparing to birth her babies.
Her babies . . . She was forty-five, and although she had always kept herself fit in the Company Corps, conceiving had been a minor miracle she attributed entirely to Petaybee’s healing influence . . . another reason she blessed the planet and resolved to protect it to the best of her ability as joint governor of this fascinating world.
Many of the problems she and Sean had originally faced were sorting themselves out, especially now that Petaybeans, who had been recruited by the Intergal Company for lack of other employment on the planet, were resigning their commissions and returning to their native world, where the training they’d had made them invaluable and very employable in Petaybee’s new business ventures.
She would be so relieved when the novelty of the planet faded and it stopped being invaded by all kinds of groups—esoteric, exotic, and daft—who felt they would benefit by time spent here in some capacity or another. Sooner or later word would get around that the planet’s wonders were hardly a free lunch for all and sundry. Petaybee took care of its people, keeping them healthy and well fed, but the recipients of those benefits had to endure very cold winters with deep snows and a short and very busy summer with swarms of biting insects attacking any visible flesh. The planet itself had stern criteria that newcomers had to meet.
Yana grinned in the darkened room and twitched a blanket over her shoulder. Where was Sean? Maybe the message was a good one. He said he’d come tuck her in. She’d need to get as much sleep as she could with the feeding schedule she was now facing.
Sister Igneous Rock had suggested that the planet itself interview candidates. There were several problems with that, but the downside—the candidate had to spend the night in one of the communion places, and some people had very intense reactions to the experience—was sometimes a problem: negative for the applicant, very helpful in weeding out those who had no talents or abilities that the planet needed. There had been some protests by people rejected . . . but that was their tough luck. As word got around that Petaybee was not an easy mark, fewer duds arrived for their entrance exam.
The latest bunch, hydroengineers, had passed with flying colors, and spent more time with Sister Iggierock—as she was called with affection and admiration—who had spent hours reading to the planet so it could decide which types of modernization it would accept.
Now that folk were becoming accustomed to what Clodagh called the “Rock Flock,” they were proving invaluable. There had been other “religiously” inclined visitors who’d had to be disillusioned by fact and their interview with the planet on their arrival. So far, of those with determined evangelical zeal, only the Rock Flock had been acceptable to the entity Iggierock still referred to as the Beneficent.
Much had changed, besides the seasons, since Yana first set foot on her “retirement” planet. She hadn’t known, but secretly suspected, that her damaged lungs were incurable. That is, until she met Clodagh and had lived through her first winter on the planet. Its curative powers—good food, clean air, and exercise—had restored many to complete good health. The clinic, inaugurated by Farringer Ball, the CEO of Intergal Company and a confirmed sicko who had once been one of the most critical of the company executives, had to increase its beds yet again to accommodate those seeking treatment on organic Petaybee. That clinic promised to be a profitable business now, with the laboratories adjacent to it to have state-of-the-art in equipment. Highly qualified physicians and researchers and equally qualified men and women lined up to take any position available. On his long list of to-do’s, Sean added similar clinics for the southern continent and perhaps another facility on the western coast of the main continent.
She heard her door being carefully opened and knew Sean was there to “tuck” her in.
She turned over in the bed and heard his chuckle.
“You were supposed to be asleep,” he teased.
“Not until you came to tuck me in. So who was it and what’s the new problem?” she asked, having taken a look at his face. She knew him so well now that his expression indicated he needed to talk about whatever that message had been. She pulled her legs to one side so he could sit on the bed, and then she curled her body around his.
“Marmie is coming,” he said, as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did. Marmion de Revers Algemeine was one of their most devoted and shrewdest new friends, having been part of a team sent initially to examine the “sentient” claim Sean and Yana had made for their planet. “And she’s bringing a top-class lawyer and legal team.”
“Why on earth do we need a top-class lawyer and a legal team . . . apart from those already resident on Petaybee?” Most disputes among the residents were solved by the intervention of shanachies or people like Clodagh who were respected as leaders and wise mentors. The Collective Interplanetary Societies–or CIS–under the guidance of Phon Ton Anaciliact, had helped prove that Petaybee, the planet, was a sentient entity, and Sean and Yana had scrupulously held to the tenets provided by the CIS. So far the planet had been more sinned against than sinning.
“Well, complaints have been lodged by individuals of discrimination by the employer . . .” Sean began, after clearing his throat.
“Oh, those who got rejected,” Yana said.
“Exactly.” His grin was dour.
“They were interviewed by the main employer and found unsuitable for the tasks available,” Yana said, which was basically what the people were told as they were transported to the departures lounge.
“They said the interview was biased and they had not taken any written tests to prove their skills nor asked to produce documents or recommendations to prove their competence. Ergo, they were denied their right to seek employment here.”
“Oh, Lordy,” Yana said, pushing her hair back from her forehead. “Half of them didn’t have working skills but had heard that life on Petaybee was dead easy.”
“Most of them also had diseases we do not wish to see circulating here,” Sean added. “I asked Petaybee when she started wholesale rejections. Some of the diseases were social, which could be communicated to the entire population. A lot of them were mentally unstable, some criminally insane. Oh, and the discrimination on religious grounds is cited all too often.”
“But Petaybee is not religious,” Yana said. “I thought we’d cleared that up when we had to limit the number of pilgrims. Mind you, Iggierock and Shale and the others have proved more than useful, but certainly not in any religious circumstances.”
“And Marmie says we have to clear that up in legal terms, which must then be presented to would-be immigrants before they take passage here. That won’t be hard to do since we control the only transport that is technically admissible in Petaybean space. But we have to set it up, or be continually set upon by lawsuits.”
“Who’s behind that notion? I thought we’d got rid of Luzon and company.”
“Marmie says we’re not out of the woods so easily . . . especially since our population is mainly composed of other i.p.’s—inconvenient people. As an Earth-type planet, we are still supposed to accommodate i.p.’s.” He grimaced.
“First they have to prove they are not going to remain inconvenient, and so far none of those rejected could.”
“There are some iffy cases, Marmion went on to say, which is why we have to sort this problem now. Oh, and more Nakatira cubes are on their way.”
“How does she manage that?” Then Yana waved off the need for an answer. She was only too grateful to get all they could of the useful buildings. They came equipped with all mod cons, as Clodagh called it, and required no special foundations or extra facilities, coming complete with solar heating and sanitary bioconveniences. Their only drawback was a certain characterless sterility, which with a little imagination could easily be imprinted with the individual style of the occupant.
The cubes were manufactured and distributed by a Japanese known to Marmion, and Yana and Sean suspected she had financial connections there as well. They had arrived in what Bunny called the “niche” of time. Building materials alone were precious on Petaybee, and energy to heat them even more so. The cubes were the perfect answer to provide accommodations for an overwhelmed planet that had never expected so many visitors or the need for such things as hotels, schools, offices, and storage space. One of the first to be placed was the cube that was next to Yana’s old house and provided the couple with office space and occasional living quarters for legitimate visitors. A second was Kilcoole’s school, and others had been placed at the Space Port for essential services and finally for the beginnings of the new hospital. Another cube was now the nursery.
Marmion had warned them that eventually Mr. Soshimi Nakatira wanted to visit this incredible planet and meditate in one of the communion caves. He hadn’t yet taken Sean and Yana up on that invitation, but Marmion was certain that he would.
“He’s the kind of guy you want to visit and to stay as long as he likes,” Marmion had assured them.
At the time, plagued with importunate visitations, Yana had remarked with irony, “Which means he’ll arrive in the midst of one of our crises. We’ll have to save one cube for him alone.”
“Oh, he’ll probably bring his own accommodation,” Marmie had replied negligently. “He’s like that.'A truly gifted man.”
“At least we have Soshimi’s cube available for the lawyers,” Yana said cheerfully.
“Probably the time he’ll come for that visit,” Sean remarked.
“Now, let’s not borrow more trouble,” she said soothingly, stroking his hand where it was on her pillow.
“True, love. We’ll be looking back on these as the grand old days soon enough. Once Petaybee’s midsea volcanoes build up the landmass in the temperate zone, we’ll be besieged with even more folk wanting to come to this unspoiled planet to ‘improve’ it. Without the cold climate to deter them, every planetless soul in the cosmos will be wanting to live here.”