Текст книги "A Woman of the Iron People"

Автор книги: Eleanor Arnason

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“We’re certainly moving in.”

“Only provisionally,” Agopian said.

We talked about the meeting scheduled for that evening, then separated. I went back to my room and changed into lighter clothing, turned on the air system and opened my notebook.

It was an unpleasant afternoon. The air coming in was hot and muggy. My work went badly. In the end I gave up. I had no gift for analysis, only for observation. The reality I saw was too complex and fluid and ambiguous to fit neatly into any theory.

Derek stopped by. “Marina wants to meet Nia. I’m taking her up the bluff.”

I made the gesture of acknowledgment. He left, and I went walking. I felt trapped, frustrated, discouraged. I needed to work, but not with ideas. I stopped in the kitchen. It was full of people making dinner. “Can I help?”

“By all means,” said the little blond man. “Take those canisters to the incinerator and empty them. Be careful. Don’t spill anything. We are trying not to contaminate the environment.” He shook his head. “I hate to destroy that stuff. It’d make a wonderful compost heap.”

“You mean we aren’t recycling?”

“Only dishes.”

I felt something akin to horror.

“We are trying to make the camp entirely self-contained. Nothing from Earth goes into the biosystem. Especially nothing organic. Either we destroy it, or we pack it and take it back up there.” He pointed at the ceiling. “It was decided notto pack the coffee grounds and the orange peelings. It’s a real pity. I hate to see waste.”

I made the gesture of agreement, then said, “We haven’t really met.”

“My name is Peace-with-Justice.”

I waited.

“My people don’t believe in family names. We don’t belong to a bloodline or a kinship group. We belong to ourselves and to all of humanity.”

“Oh,” I said and picked up a canister.

It was good hard work. The canisters were heavy and the incinerator port was badly placed. I had to lift each canister to shoulder height in order to empty it.

When I was done, I cleaned the canisters and washed the floor of the incinerator room. The canisters went into a sterilizer. The incinerator went on with much blinking of warning lights.

My shoulders ached, which felt good. My report seemed less of a problem.

I ate dinner with the kitchen crew: tofu and vegetables on top of a pile of sticky brown rice. On one side I added soy sauce with ginger and garlic. On the other side I added fermented plum juice. Delicious!

When I was finished, Peace-with-Justice said, “We’ll clean up. You’d better get ready for the meeting. Thank you, Lixia.”

I went back to my dome, washed, and changed into clean clothes, then went to the lounge. A gusty wind was blowing, and there were clouds across most of the sky. Rain, I was almost certain.

I thought of a poem suddenly. It was Anishinabe.

 
Sometimes I go around feeling sorry for myself,
and all the while
a great wind is carrying me across the sky.
 

The lounge was crowded. People were bringing chairs from the dining room. Derek and Eddie stood at the bar.

“How did it go?” I asked Derek.

“With Nia? All right. She identified the animal. It’s rare and solitary. It lays eggs.”

“Something that big?”

“The dinosaurs laid eggs. Marina is excited. She thinks we are looking at a biosystem in transition. Animals that are native to this continent are being replaced by animals from the islands or from the other continent.”

“Or from Earth,” said Eddie.

“No,” said Derek. “The med team says our bugs do very badly in the native organisms. The bacteria starve to death. The viruses do nothing. They aren’t able to use the native genetic material. They cannot reproduce.” He grinned. “The native organisms are doing rather better in us, especially several species of microscopic parasitic worm. Liberation Minh is very excited by them. They have abilities we did not expect at all.”

“You make it sound like good news,” said Eddie.

“I find it interesting. And Liberation doesn’t think the worms represent any real danger.”

“Huh!”

Derek glanced at me. “The med team says that we can go upriver.”

“Good.”

Ivanova came in, accompanied by a dozen or so crewmembers. It was disturbing to watch them. They moved as a unit and sat down together in chairs that had been saved by other members of the crew.

“Time to start,” Derek said. He lifted himself onto the bar.

I got up beside him, though less gracefully.

Derek raised a hand in the native gesture that asked for attention. The people grew quiet. “Okay. Who is moderating?”

“Someone neutral,” Ivanova said.

A man called, “Is Mr. Fang here?”

I looked around. There he was, sitting in the third row back. He was thin and wiry, with upright posture and an alert expression. His gray-white hair was fastened in a bun. He wore his usual costume: a faded blue cotton shirt over faded blue cotton pants.

He whispered to the young woman next to him. She stood. “Mr. Fang does not feel able to moderate. His voice is not strong enough.”

“Then you do it,” the man said.

The young woman blushed. “I am Mr. Fang’s apprentice. I know nothing about public speaking.”

At that point I stopped listening. In all likelihood the Chinese had picked someone to moderate. But they wouldn’t put the person forward. That would be undemocratic and immodest. Instead there would be a discussion. I looked around the room trying to estimate the size of the crowd. Over a hundred. About a third were crew. They must have brought in everyone from the rocket planes. I smiled at people I knew. Harrison Yee stood in the back, leaning against the wall, his arms folded. He raised a hand in greeting. Funny, I should have seen him before this.

The moderator was picked. A middle-aged Chinese woman. She had a strong firm voice and not much of an accent.

“It is getting late. These people have to get up early. I am going to suggest a very limited agenda. I think two questions are of special interest to everyone here.

“First, what happened to Lixia and Derek? Why did we lose contact with them?

“And second, what do they think is going to happen tomorrow? What are the natives going to do?”

The agenda was approved by a show of hands. Derek gave a report on our accident. He was brief and clear. I stood next to him, feeling uncomfortable. I wasn’t especially fond of meetings, and I did not like being the center of attention. I was an observer. I wanted to be in the audience. When he finished, the moderator asked if I had anything to add.

“No.”

“Do you want to answer the next question?”

“What are the natives going to do? I have no idea.”

Derek added, “They are used to travelers; and they aren’t afraid of strangers. But the strangers are only passing through. As far as we can tell, each culture is discrete. They don’t mix. Maybe because they don’t have a tradition of war. They don’t conquer their neighbors. They don’t carry one another off into slavery. They don’t rape. They don’t steal wives.”

“Is this a tangent?” asked the moderator.

“No. If we were travelers, they’d welcome us. But we are going to ask for permission to stay. I have no idea how they will respond.”

Harrison Yee raised his hand. The moderator pointed at him.

“This situation can’t be completely new. This planet has diseases and volcanoes. There must have been villages that were so damaged by some natural disaster that they couldn’t continue on their own.”

“Yes,” said Derek. “But we haven’t heard about them.”

Another person said, “Are you sure there has been no exchange of genetic material? Have you seen evidence of inbreeding?”

“No,” I said. “And I think Derek is overstating the situation. We know that individuals move from one culture to another. There is probably enough of this kind of movement to prevent serious inbreeding. But as far as we can tell, there isn’t the kind of mixing of entire populations that has been common on Earth.”

“In that case,” the person said, “there ought to be a lot more genetic diversity. I think you’re wrong. I think these people are managing to interbreed.”

“I’m only telling you what I’ve seen. And my conclusion, which is—we don’t know how these people will react to a bunch of strangers who want to settle down in their midst.”

“We are not talking about a permanent stay,” a woman said. She had an East Indian accent. “Are we?”

“Please raise your hand before you speak,” the moderator said. “We do not want this meeting to get out of control.”

A black man raised his hand. The moderator pointed to him. He said, “I know it was decided to send a mixed group. Men and women. I think that’s crazy. The natives have driven away how many men? Gregory. Derek. Harrison. We’re just going to make them angry.”

Ivanova said, “I agree with you absolutely.”

Eddie said, “We are not planning to go into the village until we’ve explained the situation and asked for permission. If they say the men can’t come in, we won’t.” He smiled briefly. “Which could be a problem for my position. If necessary, I will ask Lixia to give the argument for nonintervention, though I’d prefer to give it myself.”

“They’re likely to tell all of you to go away,” the black man said. “What you are doing has nothing to do with honesty. This is lack of respect for the culture and beliefs of another people.”

Ivanova nodded. “You are right. But remember—we have already achieved what we wanted in this region. Derek and Lixia have been rescued. If the natives tell all of us to leave, not much is lost. We can send a team of women to another village.”

“If honesty doesn’t work, we can always try a lie,” a woman said.

The moderator said, “Please.”

People kept talking. Nothing new was said and no one went back to the question asked by the Indian woman, either to answer it or ask it again. We are not talking about a permanent stay. Are we?

The meeting ended. I jumped off the bar. Harrison came up and hugged me.

“Where have you been?”

“On one of the planes. Eddie’s been keeping me busy, sending reports to the ship.”

I must have looked dubious or maybe hurt.

“He said you were having trouble adjusting to the camp. You needed time alone.”

“Maybe.”

People were leaving, taking chairs. Gustavo moved in behind the bar. His eyes shone green. He said, “I’m reopening. Can I get you anything?”

Harrison and I ordered wine.

Eddie said, “Be careful with that stuff. We want to start early tomorrow.”

“When?” I asked.

“Sunrise.”

“I’ll be careful. Are you sure that you want me to give the argument for nonintervention? If you can’t, I mean?”

“You know the argument. You know how to speak to the natives. You believe in democracy.” He smiled. “Maybe more than I do. If the natives are going to make an informed decision, they need to know what I have to say. You’ll see that they get the information.”

“I guess I will.”

He paused for a moment. “As Derek would say, we have to learn to deal with people as they are. If they can’t be corrupted, then we have to find a way to use their honesty.”

“You’re talking in the first person plural, Eddie. That’s always a dangerous sign.”

“You’re right.” He made the gesture of farewell.

Harrison watched him leave, then said, “What was that about?”

“Eddie is having trouble dealing with the current situation.”

Harrison nodded. “If he doesn’t get himself together, I think we are going to have to find another coordinator for the team.”

“No more politics! Tell me what’s been happening on the ship. The gossip. Not the faction fighting.”

He did. I finished my wine.

Gustavo said, “In my role as a bartender I should offer you another. But I’m also a psychotherapist, and you don’t need any more alcohol.”

“You are?”

“Of course. My area of competence is psychopharmacology.” He took my glass, then wiped the ring of moisture off the bar. “You don’t have to worry. I took a course in bartending. I can mix almost anything you might want to drink.”

Harrison grinned. “And then tell you what kind of damage it will do.”

Gustavo nodded. He took Harrison’s glass. “Sunrise, Lixia. You might want to pack tonight.”

He was right. Harrison and I left the lounge. The air outside was damp and cool, and the clouds above the river bluffs had spread. Now they covered a third of the sky.

“New weather,” said Harrison. “I envy you. I have to go back to the plane.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Eddie wants me to handle communications between you people and the ship, which means I’ll be trapped out there—” He waved at the lake. “I don’t really mind. There is the most beautiful young man on the communications team. They thawed him out recently. His eyes are like the sky in summer, and his hair is like autumn wheat.”

“Huh,” I said.

Harrison glanced at me and grinned. “Now, Lixia, you know I have not been in love with anyone for a long, long time. Not since we went to sleep. I think it may be a side effect of hibernation. Are bears amorous when they first awake?”

“I haven’t the vaguest idea. But some people are. Remember what Derek was like when we were coming into this system.”

Harrison laughed. “Maybe people recover from hibernation at different rates. Maybe some bears are amorous when they first awake.” He paused. “I’d better go find out when the last boat leaves. If I don’t make it, I’m going to have to swim.”

We said good-bye. I went to the supply dome and got a bag, went to my room and packed.

I did not sleep well. My dreams mixed the planet with the ship. I walked down a corridor made of cermet and ceramic. There were natives there, moving among the shipboard humans. I turned a corner and was in a garden. An enormous quadruped grazed on lettuce plants. It regarded me serenely with a tiny dark eye. The ugly-nasty scuttled over a floor of yellow tile. I heard the clicking of its nails.

I turned another corner. There was a native camp in the middle of a ceramic meeting room. Smoke rose from a fire. A native woman was crouched over a metal cooking pot. A native child was playing with a cat. It was a perfectly ordinary Earth cat, a domestic short hair, half-grown. Its fur was spotted black and white. The child’s fur was brown.

Derek woke me. I stared at him, thinking about the cat. Marina was right. We ought to grow a few.

“Rise and shine,” he said.

“I’ve been having damn strange dreams.”

“You’ve been getting too much information. And you’re trying to process it.”

I got up and went to the bathroom.

We ate breakfast in the dining hall. It was empty except for the people who were going upriver and Peace-with-Justice. He recommended eggs Benedict.

“The egg gives you cholesterol. The ham does damage to your karma. And the sauce contains enough calories to—”

“Have we started killing the pigs?”

He nodded. I felt queasy. They were a special miniature breed, originally developed for lab work. They were bright, clean, well mannered, and extremely cute. I could eat the chickens. I could eat the iguanas. But I wasn’t sure about the pigs.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll fix you a serving with no ham. I can tell by your expression that you are willing to do damage to yourself in this life only. So—here you are.” He gave me a plate. “Cholesterol and calories, but no bad karma.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I ate. The sun rose. The landscape outside the dome became visible.

“Time to go,” said Ivanova.

I gulped my second cup of coffee. Peace-with-Justice said, “Good-bye.” We went down to the boats.

Nia and the oracle were there, standing on the dock, looking uneasy. Nia had a bow and half a dozen arrows with pale gray feathers. The color reminded me of Marina’s biped, the one that hadn’t been eating.

“Five people on each boat,” said Ivanova. “I have given thought on how to split us up. The natives should stay together. Lixia will go with them. And Agopian. And Tatiana.

“The rest of us will take the other boat.”

Eddie frowned.

“You are putting all the politicians on one boat,” Derek said. “Is that wise?”

“We will aggravate each other,” Ivanova said. “But the other people will be safe.”

“It’s fine with me,” I said.

“And with me,” said Mr. Fang. His apprentice was with him. “Poor Yunqi may suffer. She has no interest in politics.”

The young woman blushed and nodded.

“But it is good for the young to experience adversity.”

I climbed onboard and stowed my bag, then went out on deck. Ivanova had already started her engine. Agopian was casting off for her. The two natives were on the dock, watching. They looked interested and nervous.

“Come on,” I said. “Get on.”

Ivanova’s boat moved out from the dock and turned, going in a wide circle away from shore. Tatiana started the engine on our boat. Agopian cast off. I leaned on the railing and felt relaxed for the first time in days. I was moving again. There was nothing I liked better than travel.

We followed the first boat out into the lake, turning south, then east, then north. Ahead of us was the dark river valley.

Angai

A wind blew. The lake was flecked with foam. Ahead of us and to one side Ivanova’s boat bounced over the waves. We were bouncing, too. Nia and the oracle grabbed on to the railing.

“This thing goes quickly,” the oracle said.

“What makes it move?” asked Nia.

How to explain the internal combustion engine?

“There is a fire inside,” I said finally.

She frowned. “That does not make sense. Fire can move, but it does not make other things move, unless they are alive.”

The oracle made the gesture of agreement.

Nia looked at the water. “I have seen the plain on fire with everything running before it. Bowhorns and osupai.Every kind of bird and bug, the ones that fly and the ones that jump, all hurrying ahead of the fire. Even the killers were running and the little animals that tunnel underground.

“But they were alive. Fire changes. It does not carry.”

“Maybe Derek can explain.”

We reached the north end of the lake midway through the morning. The wind dropped as soon as we got among the little forested islands. The sky remained partly cloudy. There were patches of sunlight on the river and on the green and blue-green trees.

The boats moved slowly. Tatiana said, “Keep an eye out for debris.”

After a while I saw a lizard. It was in midchannel, swimming steadily, its head held out of the water. The spines along its back were visible, but nothing else, and it wasn’t easy to estimate the animal’s size. About ten meters long.

“Aiya!” said the oracle. “I am glad we are not in Ulzai’s boat.”

“Going south,” said Agopian in English. “I wonder if it is true about the migration?”

By noon we had seen five lizards. All were big, and all were heading south. Only one was out of the water. That one dragged its enormous bulk over a mud bank, going south like all the rest.

The radio crackled and spoke Russian.

Tatiana said, “Ivanova has warned the camp. If those animals decide to leave the water, there may be trouble.”

We ate lunch in the cabin: sandwiches and tea. The natives had the haunch of a biped.

“Sacrificed by Marina,” Agopian said. “And cooked without anything. It ought to be safe.”

“How does it taste?” I asked in the language of gifts.

The oracle made the gesture that meant “it could be worse.”

“It needs salt,” Nia said. “And other things. I will be glad to be in a village again.”

I took food out to Tatiana. She remained at the wheel, guiding the boat with one hand while she ate a smoked-fish sandwich.

“We are almost to the tributary. If the satellite pictures are not telling a lie, we ought to be able to go up it.”

I made the gesture of acknowledgment.

The others came out on deck.

“It’s frustrating,” Agopian said. “I’m sitting with people from another star system. My mind is full of questions; and all I can do is point and make faces.”

“He has been making improper gestures,” said the oracle. “And baring his teeth.”

“We decided he is ignorant, like most of your people,” said Nia.

About this time I noticed the bugs. They had bright yellow wings. I saw two of them fluttering over the water. Another pair rested on a log that floated past our boat.

Agopian pointed at an island. The trees were dotted with yellow. More bugs, resting on the foliage.

“It looks like autumn,” said Tatiana. “At home when the poplars start turning.”

We passed other islands where the foliage was partially yellow. Clouds of bugs drifted over the river like leaves in the wind. But there was no wind—at least none sufficient to explain this whirling and dancing.

Bugs landed on the roof of our boat, on the deck and railing.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“Going south like the lizards,” Nia said. She looked pleased. “We see them on the plain. They are lucky.”

The bugs took off one after another, rejoining the migration. We were almost through it by now. A few stragglers danced in the air, and the surface of the river was dotted with bugs, like a river on Earth dotted with the leaves of poplars.

Ivanova’s boat turned toward the western shore. We followed, entering a new channel.

“This is the tributary,” Tatiana said.

The water changed color, becoming a deep clear brown. It moved quickly between steep banks covered with forest. Above the trees were limestone cliffs, close to us on both sides. We were going almost due west.

Midway through the afternoon we came to rapids. They were nothing to write home about: a series of gradual drops. No rocks were visible. There was only a little foam. But they closed the river. We weren’t going any farther. Above us a trail of white smoke twisted out from the top of the valley wall.

The other boat turned toward shore. We followed, edging in against the bank. Agopian clambered forward and tied our prow to a tree that leaned over the river. I wrapped a second mooring line around a sapling near the stern. The engine stopped. I heard leaves rustle, the cries of birds. The muscles in my neck relaxed.

“Do you notice,” I said, “the sound of machinery is always an irritant?”

He looked surprised. “If that is so, we’re in trouble in space.”

He was right. Every ship and station was full of the sound of machinery.

Nia said, “I have been thinking.”

I made the gesture that meant “go on.”

“It’s a bad idea to show anyone too many strange things at once. You come into the village with me. If Angai is there, and she ought to be, we’ll explain about your people. She can decide what to do. Maybe she will permit the men to come in.”

“Okay,” I said.

We climbed out of the boat.

Eddie came toward us along the bank. “I’ve talked to Ivanova and Mr. Fang. We think you ought to go up to the village, alone or with Nia.” He smiled. “Ivanova is worried about Nia, since she has had a difficult relationship with her people. But I want her to go. Mr. Fang thinks we ought to leave the decision to you and Nia.”

I glanced at Nia. “The people on the other boat have come up with the same idea. They want the two of us to go.”

“It is hard to understand your people, Li-sa. When I begin to think that you are ordinary, you do something that is utterly crazy. When I decide you are really crazy, you make a decision like this one, which is ordinary and right. I never know what to expect.”

I made the gesture that meant “maybe so.”

We pushed through the bushes at the river’s edge. Beyond was a trail. Nia turned onto it. I followed her up the river bluff.

On top was the plain: almost flat here. An erratic wind swept over it, changing direction often. The vegetation changed color as leaves flipped over. Tan. Yellow. Gray-green. Silver-gray. The colors moved across the plain, through light and shadow, brightening and darkening.

Nia said,

 
“Now, at last,
there is room enough.
“Hai-ya!
There is room!
“My inner person
is able to straighten.
“My inner person
is able to expand.”
 

Off to our left was a village made of tents and wagons. Smoke rose from many fires. Beyond the village—to the north and west—animals dotted the plain. Bowhorns. The edge of the herd. Or were these merely the domestic animals?

“Come on,” said Nia. “I want this meeting over.”

There were children playing at the edge of the village: about a dozen. Some wore kilts. Others were naked, except for various kinds of ornamentation: belts made of leather and brass, copper bracelets, necklaces of brightly colored beads.

The children were organized in two rows, which faced each other. Between the rows were two children with sticks. The children in rows tossed a ball back and forth. The children with sticks tried to knock it down.

That much I figured out before the children saw us. One shouted. A couple ran. The rest turned and stared.

Nia said, “This person looks strange, but she is more or less ordinary. There are more like her below on the river. They have come to visit. They have fine gifts and interesting stories.”

“Hu,” said one of the children. I could not tell the gender. He or she was tall and thin, with auburn fur and a yellow kilt. The kilt was embroidered with dark blue thread. The child wore a pair of silver bracelets, one on each wrist. He or she held a stick. “You are certain they are not demons?”

“I have traveled with this person all the way from the eastern forest. She has never done anything the least bit demonlike. She’s a good companion.”

“Hu!” the child repeated. “You’d better come with me. My foster mother is the shamaness.”

“What is your name?” asked Nia.

“Hua,” said the child.

“I am Nia.”

The child had turned, ready to lead us. Now she turned back, regarding Nia with large, clear yellow eyes.

“How is your brother?” Nia asked.

“He is getting difficult. Angai says the change is coming.”

Nia frowned. “Isn’t he too young?”

“It will be early. But not that early. You have been gone a long time.”

“That’s true,” said Nia.

The child led us into the village. The tents at the edge were small and widely scattered. I saw no people around them.

“What are they?” I asked.

Nia answered. “They belong to the men. The old ones, who have come into the village.”

“I don’t see anyone. Where are they?”

“Hunting. Or maybe sitting where they are not visible. Men set up their tents so the entrances face the plain. If they are home, they will be—” She made a circling gesture.

“What’s wrong with this person?” asked Hua. “Doesn’t she know anything?”

“Not much,” said Nia.

Farther in, the tents were larger and closer together. They were made of leather, stretched over a series of poles. Each tent had six to eight peaks. In spite of their size, they were not especially tall—more like a mountain range than like a tepee.

The flaps were open, held up by poles so they formed awnings, which shaded the entrances. Women sat under the awnings, and children played in the streets.

The women called out in a language I did not understand. Hua answered in the same language. The women got up, leaving their work. They gathered their children and followed. Soon we were at the head of a procession.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“They are asking about you. Hua is telling them—come along and listen while Angai finds out what you are.”

“Oh.”

Nia added, “I do not like being followed.”

I made the gesture of agreement.

The village was obviously new to this location. Plants grew between tents and under wagons. Flowers bloomed. Bugs jumped and hummed. A tethered bowhorn ate leaves off a bush in the middle of what seemed to be the main thoroughfare.

We passed the animal. It stopped eating and looked at us, then lifted its tail and defecated.

More evidence that the village was new. I had seen very little dung or garbage.

I looked at the wagons. They were everywhere, scattered among the tents. They had rectangular bodies made of wood and curved tops made of leather stretched on a frame of wood. The sides were elaborately carved. The tops were decorated with strips of brightly colored cloth that hung down in the front and back, making curtains of ribbon that fluttered in the wind: red, yellow, blue, green, orange. Each wagon had four wheels, bound with iron. The spokes were carved and painted.

We crossed an open area, full of more plants. Hua stopped in front of a tent. It was large, and there were poles around it: standards. One was a metal tree, full of gold and silver birds. Bells hung from the lower branches, moving in the wind and chiming.

“I know that,” Nia said. “I made it.” She looked at her hands. “I have been traveling too long. I need to have tools again.”

The other standards were animals made of bronze or brass: a bowhorn, a killer of the plain, a biped.

“My name-mother made the others,” Hua said. “They are very old.”

Nia’s teacher. I remembered now. “Did you know her?” I asked the girl.

Hua looked shocked. “No! Never! How can you ask a question like that? What do you mean by it?”

“This person comes from a long way off,” said Nia. “When I first met her, she didn’t know the language we are speaking. I sometimes think she doesn’t know it yet. Don’t worry too much about the things she says.”

Hua made the gesture of acquiescence. But she looked worried.

A woman came out of the tent. She was tall and thin, dressed in a full-length orange robe. Her fur was dark brown, flecked with gray, though I didn’t get the impression that she was old. She wore at least a dozen necklaces made of gold and silver and amber. Bracelets covered her arms from wrist to elbow. Like the necklaces, they were a mixture: gold, silver, copper, ivory. There were even a couple made of carved wood. She had a gold stud in the side of her low, flat, furry nose.

She looked us over, then spoke to Nia. “Can you never behave in an acceptable fashion? What are you doing back here? And where did you find a person like this one?”

“This is my foster mother,” Hua said.

“Her name is Angai,” Nia said. She gestured toward me. “This person is named Li-sa. I met her in the east, in the village of the Copper People of the Forest. I’ve been living there.”

“This is no Copper Person,” said Angai.

Nia made the gesture of agreement. “I don’t know where she’s from. A long distance away, she told me. But I met her in the village of the Copper People in the house of their shamaness Nahusai.”

People murmured in back of me. A baby started to cry.

“There are more hairless people below the village in two boats. They want permission to come up.”

Angai frowned. “What have you told them about us, Nia? Have you been lying? We always make visitors welcome! There is no reason for them to wait below.” She paused. “Unless they are sick. Is that what has happened to their hair?”