The Color of Distance (26 page)

“You understand that Anito or I will do nothing to heal the tinka? If it slows us down too much, then we must leave it. Do you accept this?”

“Yes, en.”

“All right, then. Hurry. We have a long way to go today.”

Anito watched in disbelief as Eerin turned back to rescue the tinka from the jaws of the golano. Her concern deepened as Eerin bargained with Ukatonen for the tinka’s worthless life. The new creature’s actions felt deeply wrong to Anito. Nothing good would come of this. Anito longed to step in and put the poor tinka out of its misery, but Ukatonen had spoken, and she could not dispute his decision. She could only wait and hope that the tinka would die from its wounds.

The new creature poured a clear liquid that bubbled in the tinka’s wounds. Curious, Anito caught a drop of the stuff on her palm. It burned like the sting of a fire beetle. Then Eerin took a small, curved needle and a complex deathstone tool and began to
sew
the tinka’s wounds together. It was horrible beyond anything Anito had thought possible. The tinka stiffened in pain. Eerin made a low, crooning noise in the back of her throat.

“Be still now. It’s going to be all right,” Eerin told the tinka. The tinka’s struggles ceased, but occasional shivers of pain racked its tiny frame as Eerin’s needle dug into its flesh. A small, creaking sound leaked out of the tinka. “I’m sorry,” Eerin said, ochre with concern. “I know it hurts, but I have to do it or you’ll bleed to death. It will be over soon.”

Anito looked away, unable to watch. Ukatonen was leaning forward, observing. His skin was a curious shade of purple curiosity mixed with muddy patches of beige disgust and orange roils of horror.

Anito touched his arm. “Can’t you stop this?” she pleaded. “She’s torturing the tinka.”

“Eerin has accepted responsibility for the tinka. What she does with it now is up to her.”

“But it’s wrong!” Anito protested. “She is my atwa, and I cannot accept this. Please, en, stop this abomination. Kill the tinka before it’s too late.”

“Are you asking me for a judgment, kene?” Ukatonen said. “What will you pay me with?”

Anito looked down at the tinka. Its eyes were tightly shut, its mouth open in a soundless cry of agony. She looked away again; the sight of its suffering was unbearable.

It would be a terrible mistake for Eerin to accept this tinka as her bami. How could she provide for a bami when she couldn’t even provide for herself? How could Eerin teach a bami to be a wise elder when she was so ignorant? It was-deeply wrong. The new creature was Anito’s atwa, and it was her responsibility to stop her, no matter the price.

“Yes, en. I ask for judgment. What do you want as payment?”

Ukatonen looked at her, his eyes cold and calculating. “Are you sure that this is what you want? The payment will be very high.”

“Yes, en. You may ask what you will.”

“Very well, then. I ask for you. I want you to become an enkar. Do you still wish for me to deliver judgment?”

If Anito agreed to this, it meant leaving Narmolom and everything that she knew and loved, to follow the lonely path of the enkar. It was a very high price, and for a moment she almost backed down. Then she glanced down at the tinka. Its hands were curved in tight claws of pain. Eerin had finished sewing up the first deep wound and was now drawing the skin together over the pulsing vein in the tinka’s neck. Anito couldn’t allow someone capable of such cruelty to become a sitik. It was an abomination.

“Yes, en,” Anito said without taking her eyes from the tinka’s pain-wracked body.

“Very well. I will decide when we stop for the night.”

“But, en—”

Ukatonen looked at her, his eyes those of a stranger. “Yes, kene?”

It took all of Anito’s courage to reply. “The tinka is hurting
now!”

Ukatonen glanced down at the tinka, then he reached out, and sank a spur into its upper leg. Instantly the tinka slumped into unconsciousness.

“Not anymore.”

Eerin looked up. “I was afraid that the things that stop pain for my people might kill it. Thank you for your kindness.” Then the new creature turned back to her grisly work.

Anito got up and climbed through the canopy, unable to watch any more of this obscene butchery. Ukatonen came for her when Eerin was through.

They continued on their way, covering a fair distance. Eerin rigged a sling from a pair of gathering bags, and tied the tinka to her body, leaving her hands free for climbing. The tinka hardly slowed her down. The new creature’s climbing had improved dramatically since they had set out from Narmolom, and she maintained the fast pace that Ukatonen set. Even so, her fatigue was obvious by the time they stopped for the evening.

Despite her exhaustion, Eerin made sure that the tinka was bedded down comfortably before seeing to her own needs, squelching Anito’s hopes that she might tire of her burden and abandon it. They ate in stillness, a quick meal of dried provisions and hastily gathered greens and fruit. Eerin tried to feed tire tinka some honey and fruit juice, but it was too deeply unconscious to do more than swallow a tiny bit that Eerin spread on its tongue with her fingers. At last Ukatonen touched Eerin on the shoulder and motioned to her to come and sit down near the glow fungus.

“Anito has asked me to make a judgment about whether you should be allowed to adopt the tinka,” Ukatonen said, suddenly stiff and formal.

Eerin sat up, her face working the way it did when she was startled. She turned ochre with concern, orange and red highlights of fear and anger appearing here and there. “No, en, please—”

Ukatonen held his hand up to stop her. “Be still. I have not yet decided. There is much to discuss before a decision is made. Anito, please state your objections to this adoption.”

“En, Eerin is not a Tendu. She cannot raise a tinka properly. She can’t perform the physical transformations necessary for the tinka to become a bami. How will the tinka be transformed? What will happen to the tinka when Eerin’s people return? Will she abandon her own bami? That would be much worse than allowing the tinka to die now. Eerin is being frivolous and cruel, agreeing to a commitment that she cannot possibly keep. It is, after all, only a tinka, en.”

“These are important points, kene. What do you say about this, Eerin?”

“I say that they are important also, and I do not have answers for many of these questions, en. I know that this tinka is very brave, and very determined, and I think that one with such courage deserves to live, even if you and Anito and all of the other Tendu don’t. My people value such characteristics, and they have carried us very far. I believe that these other problems can be solved if the desire exists to solve them. It depends on you, en, and on Anito. I will need your help to raise this tinka well. Most of my people are raised by more than one person; often several people work together to help raise our young. It is a long task for us, en, and a
fftai
responsibility. Our young are helpless at birth, and remain so for several years. A tinka is far more capable than one of our young. I cannot reach this tinka all the things a Tendu needs to know, but I can care for it and protect it while others help it to become a good Tendu.”

Ukatonen tucked his chin, thinking deeply for a while, then looked at Anito. “Well, kene, what do you say to that?”

“I still think it’s wrong, en.”

“If it lives, what would you do?”

Anito shook her head. “I don’t know, en. It would be wrong to abandon it then. It will have a claim on Eerin. We should have left it to die. That would have been rnore merciful than what Eerin did to it today.” She paused. “Perhaps it’s not too late to leave it behind,” she went on. “Some animal will find it and put it out of its misery.”

Eerin turned bright orange and moved protectively between Anito and the tinka. “No!”

“The new creature has said that she cannot raise this tinka without help,” Anito argued. “Why should we allow her to raise it? How can the tinka learn to be a proper Tendu, learn to raise a bami of its own? If the new creature adopts this tinka, it will always be out of harmony with the other Tendu.”

“There is no way to know that for certain,” Eerin pointed out. “And there is another thing to consider, en. My people and your people are just starting to get to know each other. There will be a need for Tendu who understand my people. If I have a part in raising this tinka, then it will understand my people very well. This tinka can be a bridge between our people.”

Anito looked at Ukatonen, whose ears were lifted in surprise. “That is something I hadn’t thought of, but is it fair to lay out such a fate without asking what the tinka wants?”

“No, en,” Eerin agreed. “But surely we can ask it what it wants when it recovers.”

“Tinka become intelligent when they become bami,” Anito said. “The tinka isn’t smart enough to understand what we are asking it to decide.”

“But it isn’t fair to abandon it here, not after it has come so far at such a risk!” Eerin protested.

“It isn’t fair to let it live to be poorly raised!” Anito shot back.

Ukatonen held up a hand to still the argument. “I have heard enough. You have given me much to think about. I will tell you what I think tomorrow morning.”

Anito’s ears spread in surprise. She had expected this judgment discussion to take longer. Often, Ilto had talked for most of a night before he retired to think. She felt uneasy. Perhaps asking for this judgment had been a bad mistake. The price was painfully high. A misty ripple of sadness clouded her skin as she thought of Narmolom. She longed to wake up to its familiar sounds and smells; she wanted to see the people she had known for almost her entire life, certainly all of the life that mattered to her.

She looked at the wounded tinka. It was impossible to tell its condition without linking, but it looked pale and its skin was dry and tight. She doubted that it would live through the night, and the thought saddened her. She had made a great sacrifice for one with no future. Why had she done it? How had this little tinka inspired such interest? Was Eerin right? Was this tinka somehow special? Anito rippled uncertainty, and began fluffing up the leaves in the nest in preparation for sleep.

As she crawled beneath the damp leaves, she saw Eerin moistening the tinka, and the bedding around it. She remembered Eerin’s patient, gentle care when she had been sick. The tinka might survive.

The tinka lived through the night. It was still pale and unconscious, but its skin was more moist and yielding than it had been, a testament to Eerin’s care. Anito approved. At least the new creature knew how to make her charge comfortable, despite yesterday’s butchery.

Ukatonen awoke, bathed, and relieved himself over the side of the nest. Then he settled himself against the edge of the nest and assumed the stiff, formal posture of an enkar.

“I have made the judgment,” he announced. “If the tinka is strong enough to recover from its wounds, then Eerin may adopt it as her bami. Anito and I will teach Eerin how to raise a bami properly, and we will teach it the things that Eerin can’t. When the time comes for Eerin to return to her people, then the tinka will become my bami. If the tinka recovers, we will ask if this is acceptable to it. If it decides not to accept Eerin as its sitik, then my price for helping to select the new chief elder of Narmolom is that they make a place there for this tinka. That way. the tinka will not have to fight for a place in the village. It is to be hoped that one of your elders will adopt it, Anito. Are there any questions?”

Anito shook her head. It seemed like a mistake to her, but she had asked for the judgment, and couldn’t question it. “No, en. I have no questions.”

“Thank you, en,” Eerin said. “It seems a fair judgment to me. I have no questions either.”

“Good. Then let’s eat and get started. The lowlands are already flooding. We’ll have to hurry to get to Narmolom before the migration starts, and the tinka will slow us down.”

Juna lifted the tinka and put it in the improvised carrying
sling.lt
was as limp as a freshly killed animal; its eyelids didn’t even twitch as she lifted it. Had saving the tinka’s life been a mistake? She thought about the little alien, tense and shivering with pain, but so silent, emitting only one small noise despite its agony. The tinka’s ear was crumpled against the mesh of the sling. Juna gently smoothed it out. This one deserved to live, if it could. Saving its life might be a bad idea, diplomatically speaking, but she didn’t regret her decision.

Anito beckoned To her. It was time to go. She picked up her gathering bag and followed the aliens through the canopy. The tinka remained unconscious all that day, responding only reflexively to the pre-chewed fruit pulp and honey that Juna trickled into its mouth when they stopped. The Tendu watched her curiously as she did this.

Juna suppressed a surge of anger at the aliens for not helping her with the tinka. Anger wasn’t useful here. She was pushing things pretty far with the Tendu already. They were very upset with her interference in the fate of the tinka. As for the Survey— Juna shook her head, trying not to think about all of the Survey regulations she had broken by adopting the tinka. Interference to such an extent could result in some serious penalties, possibly even a dishonorable discharge.

Two days went by with no response from the tinka. The exertion of carrying it began to tell on Juna, slowing her down and making her clumsy. On the evening of the second day, Ukatonen touched her shoulder.

“The tinka is slowing us down too much,” he said. “If it isn’t better by tomorrow, you must leave it behind.”

“No,” Juna protested. “I won’t abandon it. Not until it dies.”

“Then we will leave you behind. Anito must get back to her village. Already the lowlands are starting to flood. Her village will be leaving soon. I have promised that she will be there in time to go with them. She has endured much for you. It isn’t right that she should be forced to spend the flood season alone. You have been selfish and difficult. It is time to think of others beyond yourself.”