The Color of Distance (23 page)

Juna replied with the most formal assent she knew. Lalito’s ears lifted in surprise. Juna picked up her implement with a small, secret smile, and strode over to the starting place.

“Do well,” Anito said. Her skin patterns were a gentle, encouraging blue.

“I will try.”

Anito handed her a gourd full of sweet honey-water. Juna drank from it, then slung it over her shoulder. She stood waiting, her cultivator at the ready.

The two bami were receiving last-minute instructions from their elders. At last one of them picked up a cultivator and stood beside her.

Lalito and Ukatonen stood on either side of the contestants. They raised their arms. “Begin,” they said in unison.

Juna plunged the tines into the loose dirt at the starting line, placed her foot on the crossbar, and pulled back on the two handles. The tines lifted and broke the seared crust of dirt from below. A quick shake broke down the larger clods. She lifted the cultivator and plunged it in again.

A ripple of concern washed over the villagers like an ochre dust cloud as they saw how fast Juna could turn over the dirt. The bami glanced over its shoulder and darkened with worry as it saw how much dirt she turned. It began to dig faster. Juna smiled and kept on digging.

The steady lift-and-pull motion loosened her muscles. She fell into a work trance, as she did back home, working in her father’s garden. She glanced up after a while and realized that she was several meters ahead of her rival. A short time later, the second bami took over from the first. The gap between them narrowed until the bami was digging beside her. After a while it pulled ahead, a meter, then another. Juna continued the steady pace of her digging. She had once cleared half a hectare of ground in a single afternoon, on a bet with her brother, Toivo. Experience had taught her that a steady, unvarying pace always won.

Sure enough, she pulled even with the second bami, and then ahead. A while later, it dropped out. Juna stopped for a couple of minutes to drink a gourd of honey-water, and to gulp down a couple of handfuls of sweet, sticky mush. Then she rinsed off her hands and started digging again.

The afternoon wore on. It began to rain, a heavy downpour that slowed to a steady, unrelenting drizzle. Where the ground had been worked, the mud was knee-deep. Juna found herself pushing just to keep ahead of the mud. Her arms ached. Her back was a solid sheet of pain, and the skin on her hands was chafed and blistered. She concentrated on maintaining a steady rhythm of dig, pull, lift. She was slowly pulling ahead; now she was consistently more than a meter ahead. The sun, only a bright spot of glare behind the thick grey clouds, was sinking toward the horizon. She might win after all. She looked back at the trees where the villagers were sheltering. There was no sign of them, save an occasional rustling of the branches. No wonder the Survey had missed these people.

Then the second bami came out of the forest. Instead of relieving its partner, the two began to dig together. Juna groaned inwardly as she saw her hard-earned lead shrinking. Holding her hand up between the tree line and the sun, she estimated the amount of daylight left. Less than an hour. If she could hold her lead that long, the race would be over. She bent to her digging, feeling the drag of the handles against her hands as she dug, pulled, and lifted. A blister burst with a warm trickle of fluid. It greased the handles of the cultivator. Dig, pull, lift. The bami were even with her. She continued, ignoring pain, ignoring exhaustion, refusing even to spare a glance at her rivals. She must win. She would win. Dig, pull, lift. The shadows grew long and the villagers came out of the forest, their skins a whirl of bright colors as they encouraged their bami. There was a chirring noise and Lalito lifted her arm, signaling the end of the race. Juna fell to her hands and knees, then collapsed into the churned red mud, gasping for breath. She was having trouble breathing, her throat was sore. Hands turned her over. She felt a pinprick on her arm, a brief presence inside her. Then a wave of darkness rolled over her.

Anito craned her neck anxiously, straining to see what kind of progress Eerin was making. Once the sun touched the trees, the race would be over. Eerin glanced up and increased the pace of her digging. When the sun finally touched the treetops, Eerin and the bami appeared to be just about even.

Lalito chirred loudly, signaling the end of the race. Eerin fell to her knees. The two bami leaned against each other, exhausted. The village streamed out onto the path between the two expanses of dirt that each side had cultivated, eager to see who had won. Anito pushed through the crowd to the front. Ukatonen crouched beside Eerin. She was sprawled on the ground, chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. Her palms were bleeding.

“How is she?” Anito asked.

“Completely exhausted,” Ukatonen replied. “She won by three and a half hand-spans.”

Anito examined Eerin’s palms. The protective layer of skin was worn completely through in spots, oozing blood. Glancing up at the handles of Eerin’s cultivator, Anito saw that they were slick with blood, almost black in the last, dying rays of the sun.

She linked with Eerin long enough to stabilize her. When she emerged from the link, a cluster of tinka looked on anxiously. They helped carry Eerin back to the tree and placed her on the bed.

“I’ll need to do some deep work, en,” Anito told Ukatonen. “Will you monitor me?”

“Of course, kene.”

They linked and entered the new creature’s body. The depth of Eerin’s exhaustion amazed Anito. Her blood was sour with fatigue. She had used up her body’s reserves of energy, and had begun to consume her own muscles. Anito was surprised at this. No Tendu would work that hard except over a life or death matter. Why had Eerin done it? It was only a race. She didn’t even need to win it in order to gain the respect of the village.

Anito broke down the proteins that Eerin’s strange body reacted to so strongly, and filtered out the accumulated poisons. Then she turned to rebuilding Eerin’s muscles and replenishing her energy reserves.

Ukatonen broke the link.

“You were giving too much of yourself, kene,” Ukatonen told Anito. “Let the creature’s body repair itself.”

“But she won’t be able to work tomorrow,” Anito argued.

“She’s earned a day off,” Ukatonen said. “If Lalito protests, then I will call her leadership into question. I may do it anyway. She lacks harmony.”

Anito’s ears spread wide in surprise. She had never heard of an enkar actually questioning a village chief’s leadership, except in ancient tales.

“Would you really do that, en?” she asked.

Ukatonen gestured with his chin at Eerin, lying unconscious on her bed. “Lalito nearly killed Eerin with this foolish race.”

“But, en, it was I who spoke first. I goaded the villagers into it. This race is my fault.”

“Lalito allowed her villagers to make fun of Eerin; she even encouraged it,” Ukatonen said. “It is one thing to be angry before restitution is agreed on. It is another to maintain a grudge this way after a judgment has been made. It shows no respect for you, and no respect for Eerin. It shows even less respect for the enkar whose judgment Lalito agreed to abide by. If this agreement doesn’t work out I will be obliged to die. She is putting my life at risk with her lack of harmony.”

“No, en!” Anito said.

“It won’t go that far,” Ukatonen assured her. “Lalito lost a lot of face today. She would lose even more if she refused to grant a favor to Eerin after such a heroic performance. It will take several days for the villagers to prepare the soil that Eerin and the bami cultivated today.”

A soft, chirring call interrupted their conversation. They looked up. The two bami who had raced against Eerin were standing in the doorway, with their sitiks.

“Please excuse us, en, kene,” one of the bami said in simple, humble speech. “My name is Ini, my sitik is Arato, and this is Sarito and his bami, Ehna,” he said, gesturing at the other bami and her sitik. “We didn’t mean to interrupt, but we wanted to see if the new creature was all right.”

“Please come in,” Ukatonen said. “Eerin worked so hard that she made herself sick. She’s asleep now. She’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

“I’m glad to know that,” Sarito said as they entered the room and sat down. “If there’s anything we can do—”

“Thank you,” Anito said. “It’s very kind of you to be concerned.”

“Why—” Ehna said, then stopped, embarrassed.

“What is it, Ehna?” Ukatonen asked in soft, gentle hues. “It’s all right.”

“Why did the new creature work so hard that she threw her body out of harmony?”

Ukatonen looked at Anito, ears raised questioningly.

“That’s a good question, Ehna,” Anito replied. “We still don’t understand the new creature very well. I think that she thought it was very important to win the race. I know she wanted the people in the village to treat her better. Perhaps she thought that winning the race would help.”

“She’s very strong,” Ini conceded. “But—”

“Yes?” Ukatonen prompted.

“But maybe not very smart, to work that hard, and selfish, to ask you to repair her.”

“There are many things that Eerin doesn’t understand yet. She is like a new bami, still half-wild,” Ukatonen explained. “It will take time to bring her into harmony with us.”

“Eerin may not be very wise, but she is not stupid,” Anito said. “She learns quickly, and well, when she is given a task that she can perform.”

Ini held out the basket he was carrying. “We brought you a couple of ooloo, and some arika roots from the storeroom. Perhaps they will help Eerin recover more quickly.”

It was clearly a peace offering, and a generous one. Arika roots were a great delicacy this time of year. They would not be ready for harvest for another six months. These must have been the last of their supply. Anito was equally happy to see the ooloo; they had been under protection in Narmolom for the last several years, and it was her favorite kind of game.

“Thank you very much,” Ukatonen said as he accepted the gifts. “We were about to eat. Will you join us?”

It was not often that one got to eat with an enkar in private. Usually that privilege was reserved for the village chief and a few special cronies. The visitors accepted eagerly. Anito was worried that there wouldn’t be enough, but Ukatonen pulled out some preserved delicacies from the bottom of his pack, and Sarito and the others fetched honey, fruit, and fish. They ate well, and the party became quite cheerful.

“It will be hard,” Ukatonen said in rueful shades, “telling Lalito that Eerin will be unable to work tomorrow. She will not be pleased. I hope she doesn’t make us stay longer because of it. Anito needs to return to her village before the floods. We will have to hurry back as it is. Their village doesn’t have a chief, and Anito has asked me to help them decide who the new chief should be.”

Sympathy flared on the visitors’ chests.

“I don’t think that Lalito will protest,” Arato said. “Your new creature did four days’ worth of work today, and so did our bami. It’s a good thing that we have enough netting and leaves to protect the soil from the rains.”

“Some of the other elders are unhappy about the race,” Sarito told them. “The village lost much face today. They think Lalito is not acting wisely.”

“Has she been chief long?” Ukatonen asked as he finished off the last bite of fish.

“Only five seasons,” Sarito replied.

“It must have been hard for her,” Anito mused, “having all of this happen so soon after she became chief. My sitik was the chief elder of Narmolom. It isn’t an easy task, bringing so many conflicts into harmony.”

“She will learn, I’m sure,” Ukatonen said. “Batonen chose Lalito, and he makes good choices. This disaster would be difficult even for the best chief. Lalito cannot bring harmony to Lyanan by herself. The elders must disagree with her when she’s wrong, as well as support her when she’s right.”

Arato and Sarito flickered agreement. “We will try, en,” Sarito added.

“Thank you, kene,” Ukatonen said. He stood. “Your bami must be very tired.” He gestured with his chin at Ini, whose head kept dropping onto his chest as he dozed off.

The elders and their bami said their farewells and left. As soon as they were gone, Ukatonen leaned back against the wall, and shut his eyes. Anito was surprised at how exhausted and worn he looked.

“Good,” he said. “That was a good evening’s work. I think tomorrow will be easier.”

“You look tired, en. Is there anything I can do?”

Ukatonen flickered negation. “It’s been a long month, for me as well as for Eerin. I’ll be glad when it’s over.” He got up slowly, “I need a good night’s sleep.”

He burrowed into his bed. Anito sat up a little longer, looking at the sleeping forms of Eerin and Ukatonen. She was tired too. It would be good to be going home again.
Narmolom,
she thought to herself, picturing the village’s name-symbol in her mind. Once everything she knew and loved was there. Now she had traveled and the village seemed smaller, but it still held everything she loved.
Almost everything. There
was Ukatonen, who reminded her so much of Ilto. It was good having someone to teach her things. It gave her something familiar to cling to during the difficult transition to adulthood.

Anito crawled into bed. She fell asleep thinking of home.

Juna awoke in a bed of leaves. She shifted slightly, wincing at the pain in her back and shoulders, remembering the race. Had she won? Slowly, painfully, she sat up. She was alone. She hobbled over to the night-soil basket and used it, grateful for the chance to move her bowels in privacy for once. She picked up the water jug and drank deeply, then washed herself off. Checking her computer for the time, she saw that she’d slept for more than sixteen hours. No wonder her stomach ached with hunger; she had eaten nothing but some kayu mush yesterday.