Universal Language (4 page)

 

*****

Chapter 8

This time, Jalila's trip through the underground tunnels wasn't nearly so harrowing. The passages were still pitch black, claustrophobic, and convoluted, full of twists and sharp angles and drop-offs and cave-ins, but Folcrum set a humane pace and seemed genuinely considerate, unlike Nalo.

After a long crawl through uninterrupted blackness, Jalila glimpsed Folcrum's hindquarters in front of her in a dim light filtering from somewhere up ahead. She could see her hands as they pressed into the tunnel floor...and then the rough red earth around her as the glow grew brighter.

When she followed Folcrum around a tight bend, the light flared, and she could see it pouring in from an opening a few meters off. For an instant, she allowed herself to hope she was about to emerge on the planet's surface...but then she realized the light she saw, bright as it was, wasn't sunlight.

Fortunately, that realization didn't rob her of the thrill she felt upon emerging from the tunnel into the underground garden.

Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the brilliant light, she crawled out after Folcrum and let him help her to her feet. As soon as she took her first breath, she was assailed by a rich mixture of sweet floral perfumes.

It was like stepping into a greenhouse or arboretum when all the flowers were in full bloom--a whirl of heady scents commingled into one breathtaking fragrance. As Jalila inhaled it, she knew at once it consisted of a multitude of parts, each scent on its own as agreeable as the next...and yet, she was unable to pry apart the whole and single out one piece from another.

Not only was the fragrance intense and multi-layered, it shifted as she stood there, component scents ebbing and flowing. A sharp sweetness was preeminent, then a citrus, then a nutmeg...the soft tones of something like a rose wafting up and sliding away before a piquant mix of mown grass and daffodil. The transmutations were continuous and mesmerizing, stirring up new and beautiful combinations in progressive waves like strains of music.

The restless perfume was unexpected, even shocking after all the musty dirt Jalila had crawled through...but no less so than the sights that greeted her as she looked down from the sloped rim of the cavern in which she stood.

The space was so huge, it made Nalo's hideaway look like a mouse hole. Instead of a makeshift camp, a tidy village nestled amid lush and colorful gardens; Vox gardeners moved through the vegetation individually or in groups, tending the harmoniously arranged plant life. Waterfalls cascaded from the walls, splashing from opposite sides of the grotto into foaming ruby pools.

Light sparkled on the surface of the pools and bathed the village and gardens, cast from the illuminated walls and ceiling. The cavern was blanketed in glowing white moss like that in Nalo's cubbyhole, but more developed. Tendrils hung from it, studded with giant blossoms like sunflowers that shone with steady white incandescence.

Earlier, Jalila had been captivated by the beauty of the surface world with its see-through rainbow buildings and blown-glass architecture...but the cavern's natural beauty easily rivaled that. She had a hard time tearing herself away from the panoramic view when Folcrum started down the slope.

As he led her into the gardens along a winding gravel path, however, Jalila found herself absorbed in drinking in the scenery from a new perspective. The beauty of the gardens enfolded her, limitless varieties of spectacular flora vying for her attention.

The leaves and vines and stems were tinted a thousand shades of red--pink, rust, copper, fuchsia, scarlet, crimson, and more. The flowers, on the other hand, were a riot of colors, sizes, textures...and light. Like the moss and flowers on the walls and ceiling, many of them glowed from within.

Tiny blue blossoms blinked like clusters of Christmas tree lights. Yellow bell-like flowers flecked with mauve hung from lacy blood-red webs of vine, the tips of their waxy stamens blazing like candles on a birthday cake. Atop stiff vermilion stalks, giant eye-level blooms changed color as Jalila watched, emerald light flowing into azure into gold into silver. Pale aquamarine fronds brushed her arms and face, twinkling like fiber optic strands.

Even the butterfly creatures glowed with inner light. They were five times the size of any butterfly Jalila had ever seen, with furry bodies that looked more mammal than insect, and their wings swirled with luminescent pastel colors like the electrostatically active panels of the buildings on the planet's surface.

Wide-eyed, Jalila trailed after Folcrum and took it all in, marveling at the intricate display of color and light and life. If not for the pressure of time and worries to move her along, she easily could have spent hours on that path, lingering spellbound at each remarkable sight. The fragrances alone were enough to mesmerize her, richer and thicker than ever in the heart of the perfumed gardens.

As Jalila lagged further behind, Folcrum stopped and waited for her to catch up. "
Do you hear it?
" He drew in a deep breath. "
Do you hear the garden talking?
"

Jalila took a deep breath of her own, inhaling the intoxicating mixture of scents.

"
This is the Garden of Yesterday
," said Folcrum. "
It has existed for countless generations. If you know how to listen
,
you can hear the history of the world in here.
"

Jalila breathed deeply again. The complex blend of scents was different now, though she hadn't moved and there was no breeze to stir the fragrance. When she drew another breath, it had changed again, the acrid smell of coffee replaced by a syrupy sweetness with a mild vinegar undertone.

Folcrum closed his eyes and inhaled again. "
Lots of secrets
,
i
f you know how to listen.
"

Jalila smelled roses and sawdust and wine...then salt water and leather. The fragrance of the garden shifted with each passing moment, scents rising and fading and resurging in unpredictable combinations.

Or were they so unpredictable after all? Perhaps, Folcrum wasn't speaking figuratively when he said that the garden was talking. Perhaps, there was more to the scents than a random mixture of olfactory stimuli.

Folcrum opened his eyes and nodded. "
There
'
s a secret here for you
,
too
.
The secret of the word you said.
"

Jalila frowned. She smelled walnut and cucumber and gardenias.

"
Nalo could not tell you
," said Folcrum, "
but I know how to listen.
"

Inhaling again, Jalila strained to detect patterns in the play of perfumes, but they still seemed to fluctuate without reason. Even if what she was being led to believe was true, she was not able to take advantage of it. Even if there was a fourth language on this world, and vital information was flowing around her in the form of scent signals, she could not understand it.

"
I will tell you this much now and the rest later
," said Folcrum. "
The Vox people were not the true mazeesh.
"

Jalila stared at him, stunned. If not for the gag, her mouth would have fallen open in dumbstruck shock.

 

*****

 

Chapter 9

By far, Oric and Giza had the most elaborate markings of any Vox Jalila had yet seen. As Folcrum introduced them, Jalila found it impossible to look away from the ornate tracery that decorated their fur coats.

Typically, Vox sported the painted designs on their scalps, backs, and abdomens, but Oric and Giza were
covered
in them. Every conceivable shape appeared on their bodies, covering every inch of fur, creating an impression at first of great chaos and then of great artistry the longer Jalila looked.

Oric was the first to step forward and offer his hand. "
Welcome
.
Thank you for coming.
" Swirls and stars and intersecting rays were painted in silver on the black fur of his chest. Intricate characters ran along his arms and legs, etched in multiple delicate brush strokes. Interlocking diamonds and loops encircled his waist in a chain, and a beautifully detailed burst like a bouquet of flowers bloomed in gold and turquoise on his belly.

Giza stepped forward next, his bright blonde fur a sharp contrast to Oric's dark coat. Deep red whorls and curlicues twined around his head and down his throat like interlaced vines. Dark green characters scrolled in double diagonal streams from his left shoulder to his right hip. His arms were crosshatched in violet on one side, stippled in umber and aqua on the other. A blossom of overlaid figure eights graced his every joint, from his elbows and knees to the knuckles on his hands.

"
I am honored to meet you
." Giza bowed, then gestured toward a simple stone bench. "
Have a seat if you like.
"

As soon as Jalila sat down, one of the furry butterfly creatures fluttered into the gazebo and lighted on her knee. She jerked involuntarily, but the beautiful lifeform remained in place, its luminescent wings slowly fanning.

"
It won
'
t hurt you
," said Folcrum. "
It
'
s a kava. It
'
s good luck.
"

The creature was much larger than butterflies back home, and its wings were as big as Jalila's hands, but it seemed to weigh nothing at all. As it looked up at her with frosted, prismatic eyes, a yellow tongue zipped out and flickered in the air.

Jalila couldn't take her eyes off the
kava
, partly because it was so lovely and strange and partly because she wasn't sure what it would do next. Giza might have realized this, because he came over and gently lifted the creature from her knee, then placed it on his shoulder.

"
I could use some luck too
,
if you don
'
t mind
," he said, and then he made a sound like a chuckle. "
We all could. Maybe we better pass this around.
"

As Giza slowly returned to his seat, Oric coughed loudly. Both of them had a touch of unsteadiness in their movements, as if they were very old...older than Folcrum, certainly, or at least not in good health.

"
Jalila
," said Oric. "
I wish we could hear your voice. Unfortunately
,
silencing voices is one thing our leaders do well.
"

Jalila winced. For a while, she had been distracted and hadn't paid much attention to the gag...but at the mention of her condition, she realized how much it still hurt.

"
I want you to meet someone
." Oric nodded at Folcrum, who got up and left the gazebo. A moment later, he returned with a female Vox in tow...copper-furred and scrawny, carrying a garden hoe.

Apparently, she was one of the many Vox tending the Garden of Yesterday...but that was of secondary interest to Jalila. Her attention was immediately drawn to the Vox's mouth...specifically, what was covering it.

It was the same kind of gag that was locked in place over Jalila's own lips.

"
This is Yama
," said Oric. "
Six years ago
,
the Vox spoken language underwent a major revision. It was decided that the revision was too extensive for the existing
Lexicons
to be
reed
ucated.

"
So they were silenced
.
Yama and many like her.
" Rising from his stone bench, Oric went to Yama and took her hand in his. "
She hasn
'
t spoken a word in six years. She has only been able to eat by inhaling a nutrient-rich mist.

"
Some of us escaped
," said Oric. "
Like Giza
,
Folcrum
,
and myself. But Yama was not so lucky. She did not make it to the Garden before the damage was done.
" Raising her hand, he kissed it gently, then released it. "
But her suffering is nothing compared to what will happen tomorrow.
"

"
A revision conference is set for tomorrow
." Giza stroked the fur of the
kava
perched on his shoulder. "
Every
Lexicon
in the world will gather in one place
,
in the capital city above us
,
for
reed
ucation. They are supposed to learn of the changes being made to the Vox languages by our government.

"
Instead
,
they will be massacred by the Free Speakers
," said Giza. "
This so the Speakers will be able to replace current languages with a forbidden tongue.
"

"
Their own version of it
,
anyway
," said Folcrum. "
One that will pave the way for their ultimate goal.
"

"
Revolution
," said Giza. "
Ending with power in their hands.
"

Oric bowed to Yama, and she left the gazebo. "
Who is in power makes no difference to us
," he said, turning to Jalila. "
We do not concern ourselves with such matters
.
But we will not stand by while
Lexicons
are slaughtered. Even if it means we must sacrifice our own lives in the process.
"

Giza chuckled. "
Not that we expect the same sacrifice from you
,
Jalila
.
Don
'
t worry.
"

Jalila worried anyway. She wondered if they were suggesting their plans included a suicide component.

"
Your being here with us has already hurt the Free Speakers
," said Oric. "
You were to be the figurehead around which everyone would rally.
Nevertheless
,
one thing is certain. They will go on without you.
"

"
And we will stop them
," Giza said firmly.

Jalila wanted to ask how they planned to accomplish that and what role she would be expected to play...but she couldn't speak through the gag. She couldn't even write in the dirt, because the Vox wouldn't understand.

After thinking for a moment, she reached into the right hip pocket of her gray jumpsuit and drew out the handgun she had taken from the Free Speakers' camp. Lifting the weapon, she aimed it away from everyone and pretended to fire it several times, jerking the barrel up as if there was a recoil after each shot. Then, she pointed at the gun and shrugged, raising her free hand with palm up in a questioning gesture.

"
Guns?
" said Oric. "
No guns.
"

"
We won
'
t use them
," said Giza. "
We won
'
t need them.
"

Jalila waved the gun and pointed over her shoulder, indicating the direction from which she had come...and by extension, the Speakers.

This time, Folcrum spoke, perhaps because he had seen her acquire the weapon in the first place. "
We know the Free Speakers are armed
.
Don
'
t worry. We have a plan to stop them without firing a shot.
"

Lowering the gun, Jalila replaced it in her pocket. The Vox could go unarmed if they liked, but she had no intention of relinquishing her weapons until she was safely back onboard the
Ibn Battuta
...if she ever got there.

Raising her hands, she again shrugged questioningly, hoping the three Vox would divulge more details of their plan. They either didn't understand what she wanted or chose to ignore her curiosity.

"
You must excuse me
," said Oric. "
I have much to do to prepare for tomorrow.
"

"
As do I
." Giza rose from his bench. As he stood, the
kava
drifted from his shoulder, fluttering past Jalila and out of the gazebo. "
We leave soon.
"

"
In the meantime
," said Folcrum, "
perhaps you
'
ll try the nutrient mists that sustain Yama. This has been a long day for you
,
and you
'
ll need your strength tomorrow.
"

Though Jalila was reluctant to ingest anything on Vox that she hadn't had the opportunity to analyze, she nodded. Because of the planet's light gravity, she had felt lightheaded since stepping out of the scout barque...but she was convinced that the more extreme lightheadedness she now felt was due to a combination of exhaustion and hunger. She hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast onboard
Ibn Battuta
, which seemed like an eternity ago.

As Oric and Giza headed off into the garden, Folcrum led her down a path between rows of tall scarlet cacti draped in winking green and gold blossoms. The air smelled like cedar and lilac and baking bread all at once...then tobacco and pepper and coconut.

As they walked, Folcrum placed a hand on her shoulder. "
I hope you
'
re not too worried
.
Everything will work out
,
I promise.
"

Jalila nodded and tried to look confident, though she was anything but.

"
We
'
ll protect you
," said Folcrum. "
And when the
Lexicons
are safe
,
we will find your friends.
"

At the end of the cactus-lined path, Folcrum led her to a hut with walls of red bamboo and a roof of thatched crimson fronds. When he opened the door and ushered her inside, she found herself immersed in aromatic steam.

"
Breathe deeply
," he told her, "
and slowly. Give yourself time to absorb it before breathing out.
"

The steam was thick and smelled of concentrated honey and warm milk. In the middle of the hut, she saw its source--a stand of chest-high plants topped with glowing purple cups like the pods of poppies, emitting plumes through the holes in their sieve-like caps.

Jalila pulled back her glossy black hair and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and held it in her lungs, then released it. She felt fine...and, amazingly, a little less hungry.

As she continued breathing in the nutritious fumes, she wondered what the next day would bring. She wondered what would happen when the Lexicons and Free Speakers clashed. She wondered if al-Aziz and Farouk were still alive, and she wondered if they still had a hope of saving the world from the invasion fleet.

She swore she would do everything in her power to make things come out right. She'd been given a second chance after what had happened on Pyrrhus VII, and she wasn't going to waste it.

No matter what it cost her.