Footsteps in the Sky (26 page)

“I do love you, Teng,” he murmured.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“The ships are moving,” Jimmie whispered. “The other two are moving.”

“No. Oh, no.” Tuchvala gasped, disengaging herself from Sand. Sand let her go reluctantly. She felt unreal, as if in a fever. It seemed that everything had happened so long ago, so far away. Her mother, Tuchvala, the Whipper—and most of all, the terrible, slow dream that was unfolding before them on the cube. The battle of Kachina.

Unreal.

Hoku pounced from his chair. “We have some weapons. We may yet …”

Yuyahoeva waved him down. “No. What can we do that the Reed ship did not? Tuchvala, speak to your sisters.”

Hoku looked ready to dispute the old man, but the gleam in his eye wavered. He slowly nodded his head.

“But they will kill us, now,” he said. No one disagreed.

Tuchvala stepped a little closer to the cube.

“Sister? Sister?” Her voice seemed small.

“Tektakdek. Tektakdek.” The voice was as uninflected as before.

“Tektakdek is me,” Tuchvala told them, eyes wide. “Sisters.”

“You sound different, Tektakdek, now that you are dead.” No irony, no anger, just syllables.

“Listen to me,” Tuchvala began, but the voice cut over her.

“Tektakdek, tell us what to do.”

Tuchvala was silent then, her face changing with each instant, as if she were experimenting with her muscles to find the ones that would properly show her feelings.

“You two are moving,” Tuchvala said at last. “What are you going to do?”

“I think. …” the voice didn't trail off; it just stopped, and then started an instant later.

“Don't we have a planet to seed?”

“No,” Tuchvala said. “The time for planting is long past.”

“Tektakdek. There were human people on that ship, weren't there? The one that killed you?”

“There were.”

“That was etadotetak, wasn't it?”

“Yes, sister, it was. That was sacrifice, one of the six legs of etadotetak.”

“You did this also. The humans on the ship, and you.”

Tuchvala hesitated before answering. “Yes. We are all like the Makers. We have pleased them.”

“Perhaps they will come some day, and tell us they are pleased,” the voice said.

“Perhaps so. Sisters, are you still moving?”

“Yes. We are moving to a higher orbit.”

“Why are you doing that?” Tuchvala looked concerned. What would her sisters do from a higher orbit? What could they unleash upon the Fifth World?

“Tektakdek. I thought you said we should sleep for a time, as when we are in the spaces between the farms. Didn't you tell us that?”

“I may have, sister,” Tuchvala told the voice. “That would be a good idea. I, also, shall sleep.”

“We will sleep,” the voice answered.

“Dream well, sisters,” Tuchvala said, and they did not speak again.

They tracked the ships for another day, neither sleeping nor eating. The two craft went out far, where the atmosphere was very, very thin. And there they went to sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Four

That is my story. If I had been wise enough, I would have known from the beginning that my own death was the answer. After all, Hatedotik and Odatatek couldn't really think without what was left in me. There was no possibility of adjudication without Tektakdek; even the fierce certainty of Hatedotik was only the shadow of her in my own backbonebrain; without my will and life, its voice was feeble and indecisive. My death was always the answer. Did I—my other self—realize that, in the moments before the Reed warship lit me up like a prayer candle? Probably; brief moments were once an eternity to me.

Now I age and grow old, watch the children grow. I learn what it means to be human, and even more, what it means to be Well-Behaved. To be Hopi. We gave my old self a funeral; though there was no body of course. Sand and I went together to watch the clouds, to try to pick out which one was Pela, and a few days later, which one was me. We were never certain, but I think it made Sand feel better, and I myself felt some easing of sadness.

Was I a Kachina? The older I become, the more reasonable it seems. My human brain cannot comprehend the hundreds of thousands of years I once lived, condenses them into mystery—the same mystery I have been shown in the sunset and in growing things. Perhaps I was a Kachina, once. But now I am a woman, and for me that is most sufficient.

Epilogue

2445 A.D.

Sand found Jimmie on the fourth day. He had moved his farmhouse to a ridge overlooking the vast bowl where Tuchvala had landed, four years before. Jimmie himself was rocking back and forth on a stone slab, watching the stars wink open in the blue velveteen sky.

“Hello father,” she said, as she walked up to him. She thought her voice sounded rough, decided there was nothing she could do about it. Tenderness did not easily cut through pain, and she had little enough tenderness for Jimmie anyway.

“Sand. Hello.” He continued rocking, not looking at her. “Would you like some corn coffee?”

“You got corn growing out here already?”

“Yes. Big cornbrake down in the bottom there, see? Where the Kachina landed.”

Sand squinted a bit. Sure enough, she could see a dark patch of the tough plant, spreading across the crater floor.

“Good work,” she said. “Pela would like to know her land is blooming.”

“I know,” Jimmie said. “See her smiling?” He pointed up at the purple sky. “That faint star,” he told her. “She only really shines when she smiles. Kind of like you, Sand.”

“Well, I am her daughter,” Sand agreed. Then, after a moment: “and yours. Your daughter too.”

A long, strained silence fell between them, Jimmie suddenly taking an interest in the ground near his feet. But after a while, he answered her.

“That's good to know, Sand.”

She just nodded. She took him up on the offer of the coffee; it was good enough, a little bitter. He had probably boiled it too long.

“Remember,” Jimmie asked—almost as if he were asking Pela, up there in the sky—“Remember that time the three of us flew out here? The first time you ever flew in a Dragonfly?”

Sand shifted uncomfortably.

“I remember. I do remember that.”

“That's a fine new one you have.”

“Yes it is. It can carry five hundred more kilos than the other one, too. I seeded that back stretch, near the mountains, while I was looking for you.”

“What with?” He started rolling up a cornhusk cigarette.

She forced a little laugh. “Taproot dandelions. What else would grow there? Two years, maybe some fire clover.”

Jimmie nodded. “Maybe. Maybe three.” Another uncomfortable silence, until Jimmie had the cigarette going. Then he half turned to her, offering her a smoke. She took it, delicately, between thumb and forefinger.

“What's going on down there?” He asked, as she kissed the four winds, the sky and the earth with her smoky breath.

She shrugged. “A lot, I guess. My cousin Tali just had twins. Big news, in the pueblos. Twin boys.”

“I can see her uncle bragging, now. Insufferable. I never liked him much,” Jimmie confided.

“You never liked anybody much,” Sand said, then wished she hadn't.

“Yuyahoeva died a while back. We tried to find you, but you were hiding out somewhere.”

“Just as well,” Jimmie said, taking back the smoke. “Just as well. I hate funerals.”

“Me too. Maybe I got that from you.”

“Maybe. If you got anything from me, it was probably some kinda hate.”

Sand considered a reply, but nothing seemed appropriate. Instead she went on. “The elections finally settled out, down in the lowlands. Hoku came out pretty well, the bastard.”

“He always will,” Jimmie said. “But people are watching him, now. It won't be like it was before.”

“No. After the truce, things just started breaking up. A lot of the lowlanders came home. Some of them complain about tradition, but it's better than it was, I guess. And the lowland council has real power again. And the Kachina thing—well, they had a referendum on that. Started an independent counsel, lowlanders and pueblos alike. Guess I'm sort of on it. The offworlder, too. Alvar.”

“A politician,” Jimmie said, smiling a bit. “Shoulda known that's what you'd come to, one day.”

“Oh, no. I'm strictly an advisor. But we've decided to move ahead. Hoku was right about that. The Reed will come, probably sooner than later. Tuchvala thinks it might be possible to use her sisters, somehow. But as yet, we don't know.”

Jimmie flinched a bit on hearing Tuchvala's name.

“She's not mother, dad,” she said.

“I still can't stand to see her, Sand. You either, really. It's too hard.”

“Selfish to the last,” Sand remarked, a last taste of acid on her tongue.

“Yep.”

Sand stood and dusted of her pants. “None of that's what I came here to say, father. You should come down to the pueblo. They can cure it, you know. There's still time. They can have you well in a couple of days, and you can come right back out here and hide.”

Jimmie stubbed out the cigarette. “You happy with her?” He asked.

“Yes,” Sand told him. “The two of us are thinking about marrying Kaso's boy for a year or two, maybe have some kids. You could be a grandfather.”

Jimmie shook his head as if nodding affirmation. “One time, I thought I was gonna live forever,” he said. “For that, your mother suffered and died. There it is.”

He stood up, too, and after a moment, offered his hand.

“Thanks for coming out, daughter. Don't reckon I'll probably see you again.”

She took his hand and squeezed it, hard.

“Bye, dad,” she told him, turned and walked back towards her Dragonfly. She looked back once. He was staring back up at the sky, at Pela where she was smiling.

About the Author

Greg Keyes was born in 1963 in Meridian, Mississippi. When his father took a job on the Navajo reservation in Arizona, Keyes was exposed at an early age to the cultures and stories of the Native Southwest, which would continue to influence him for years to come. He earned a bachelor's degree in anthropology from Mississippi State University and a master's degree from the University of Georgia. While pursuing a PhD at UGA, he wrote several novels, including
The Waterborn
and its sequel, 
The Blackgod
. He followed these with the Age of Unreason books, the epic fantasy series Kingdoms of Thorn and Bone, and tie-in novels for numerous franchises, including Star Wars, Babylon 5, the Elder Scrolls, and Planet of the Apes. Keyes lives in Savannah, Georgia, with his wife, Nell; son, Archer; and daughter, Nellah.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Greg Keyes

Cover design by Kat Lee

978-1-4976-9990-8

Published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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