Changelings

CHAPTER 2

JUST in CASE a seventy-five-pound track cat standing over her was not enough of a hint that she should wake, Sean was saying, "Yana, love, it's time to rise. The drums have begun and the babes are hungry again."

"Yes, I got that idea," she said, looking up into Nanook's black-and-white marked face before Sean shooed the cat back to the floor. He had been so good, getting up to change the babies during the night and tucking them in with her so she could breast-feed without disturbing her rest unduly. She attempted to roll out of bed with her customary agility, only to find it sadly lacking. The birthing had not felt too traumatic, thanks to the underwater method Clodagh had employed to ease the way of the children into the world. But what pain had been spared her yesterday seemed to be catching up with her now.

A muted buzz went off in the adjoining cube, which was the main office of the Shongilis.

Sean paused halfway to the nursery cube, waiting until a second mechanical noise clicked in.

"It's working?" Yana asked in surprise. This was not the latest or most up-to-date answering machine, but it was the one that worked on their planet. They all listened for a second click, and then a red light appeared on the bar above the door into the cube, indicating a message was waiting. More efficient communication was one of the "improvements" that almost had to be implemented with all of the attention-most of it unwanted-Petaybee received from offworld interests. One com shed could no longer handle all of the messages, now that Intergal communications had pulled out when Space Base was dismantled. The landing area and fueling station had been left intact, and for a small consideration and a trade agreement regarding the fuel for visiting vessels, Kilcoole was allowed to retain it as a civilian concession.

"That thing can wait," Sean said. While recognizing the need for the "labor-saving" device, at the same time he resented its intrusion into what had once been their comparatively peaceful life. "I'll help you with the twins."

First he had to help her hobble into the "nursery." Coaxtl looked up, yawned, stretched, and padded out. One's shift was over, one presumed. Nanook joined the snow leopard, and the two stood by the door until Sean retraced his steps and opened it for them to go out.

The blast of cold air that blew in when the cats departed chilled the overheated room that had been so efficiently warmed by the woodstove and the hot burning Petaybean alder wood. The nursery cube, like the office cube also attached to the cabin, had its own temperature and humidity-controlled environment, which was why they had chosen it for the twins, in spite of its lack of the individuality that characterized Petaybean dwellings.

Both twins were wide awake and smelly. The little girl held up a fist full of white fur. "Coaxtl got too close to you, I see, my little Monster Slayer," Yana said, pulling off the dirty diaper and cleaning the child with the moistened moss compresses Clodagh recommended for the job. "You need to choose your monsters more wisely, though, my love. Coaxtl is a friend."

"Hee," the little girl said.

"Hee," echoed her brother, spraying his father with urine the minute the diaper was removed and air touched his skin.

"Here now," Sean said. "I think your mummy said your role model was called Born for Water, not Born to Water!"

"Hee," the baby said again, so of course his sister had to say it again too, so as not to be outdone.

Sean held the boy and walked him around the cabin, talking to him while Yana fed her daughter. Then they switched babies. Finally the little ones were fed, changed, rediapered, and swaddled in clean furs.

Yana had finished washing up and pulled on a pair of old uniform trousers and a fleece top when someone knocked on the door.

She opened it to admit Bunny Rourke, Sean's niece and her closest friend since she had first arrived on Petaybee. Beside Bunny was Aoifa, Bunny's sister. Coaxtl considered Aoifa her two-legged cub.

"Clodagh said we should come to help with the babes while you and Sean get ready."

"Clodagh's reputation as a wise woman is richly deserved," Yana said thankfully. "You missed the messy bits for the time being, but they can use distraction for a moment."

With the help of the girls, the entire family unit was ready to mobilize within an hour. Yana and Sean carried the twins, while the girls followed with their changes of diapers, their packets of moss wipes, and extra furs in case the twins messed the ones they were wrapped in.

"We look more like an expeditionary force than a family," Yana remarked.

Sean smiled. "You've not been around all that many families up till now, love. Families with new babies can make expeditionary forces seem underpacked."

"Good thing we brought the snocle," Bunny said. "And a curly coat to carry the gear."

"Have packhorse will go next door," Yana quipped when the girls loaded the supplies on the shaggy little Petaybean horse with its thick curly coat. Sometime during the night it had begun to snow. A blanket three or four inches deep covered the well-tramped path to the river road. Snow still sifted down from a light pewter sky. Soon the sun, which had just risen, would be setting again.

Aoifa led the horse, while Sean and Yana-who were clad in parkas, snow pants, hats, mittens, and mukluks-squeezed themselves and their fur-wrapped offspring into the snocle beside Bunny.

Smoke poured from the smoke hole of the latchkay lodge, a great plume among the pinion feathers emitted by the chimneys of Kilcoole's other houses. In front of the lodge, men stirred soups and stews in sterilized fuel drums over open fires. The smells didn't travel far in the air, which was so frigid it froze the hairs inside people's nostrils.

The drums drowned out all other noises now, calling the people together. Their beat was so strong the snow seemed to fall in time to it.

The babies wiggled in their parents' arms, wanting to see what all the noise and fuss was about. The thing in which they had been squeezed, the thing that roared and slid, stopped, and suddenly they felt cold air rush in through their furs. It felt wonderful!

Strange and familiar voices mingled all around them. Their parents walked forward until the cold went away and the babies were enveloped in great warmth and felt themselves being passed from their parents to other people. When they were handed back, their furs were removed and their mother had changed from the furry beast she'd transformed into outside back to the soft-slender-dark-haired-sweet-milk-smelling giver of food and cuddles who spoke to them in long utterances and smiled often.

Many faces peered down at them, touching their cheeks and chins, toes and fingers, all of the features of their land shapes. People spoke in odd voices that had "ooo" sounds.

They had slept well and were as curious as the cats who prowled among the people sitting and standing in the hall. The drums stopped for a while as people ate. During the eating, several people stood and spoke, saying things that seemed to make their mother happy.

Then they were both in their father's arms as the one drum began again and their mother stood and danced with other mothers, a slow pacing dance around the center of the big space. Father spoke to them then. He was easier to understand than anyone else, and half of what he said was inside their heads, his meanings confusing and mysterious but clearly important clues to what lay before them. His silvery eyes shone happily down at them as he spoke, and his voice held a lilt of laughter and good feeling.

"Children, we are at your naming latchkay. What's a latchkay? I'm glad you asked. The people of our village and I come from two peoples of Old Earth-the Inuit and the Irish.

When something wonderful or important happened, the people would gather to eat and speak, dance and sing together. Among the Inuit, this was called a potlatch. Food and gifts were given to all. Among the Irish, it was a kay-lee, where there was much music and food and drink. We on Petaybee celebrate our occasions with something that mixes the two customs and we call it a latchkay. At this one, people will give us gifts for you. When you are five, we will hold a latchkay to redistribute the baby gifts you no longer use, and you will add gifts of your own to ones we make or barter for. Today your mother and I shall sing and dance with you, and everyone will suggest names and explain why they are good names. Clodagh will probably come up with the best ones. Clodagh was the lady you both saw yesterday, before you saw your mother's face or mine. Your mother has finished dancing now and it is my turn.

Any questions?"

"Hee hee," the twins said. Then," 'Kay."

But their father, passing them to their mother again, didn't hear.

Then Father picked Her up and mother picked Him up and they all danced, a happy jiggly rhythm such as the parents had used to put them to sleep. Two drumbeats, twin hearts, moved the people up and down, back and forth, up and down.

After that there was some more fun. Mother and Father sat down, each still holding one of them, and a round lady not Clodagh brought bright-colored soft things with shiny little round things in pretty patterns all over the front.

"Thank you, Aisling," Mother said. "Carry pouches are exactly what we need. Now the twins can see what's going on too." Mother handed Him to Father and stuck her arms into the bright soft thing she said was "kind of a cobalt blue." Father handed Him back to her, and she put Him into the thing, so that His legs were apart but stuck through the front, His middle held in by the strip with the shiny round things that sparkled in the light, and His head, though cradled between Mother's food-givers, faced forward. He could see everything! Everything!

Father handed Her to Mother too. Mother had a hard time hanging on to Her, because She wanted to see too and tried to twist in Mother's arms. Mother's cuddle wasn't as comfortable as usual because He was in the way.

But Father put on his new soft bright thing, which he said was "Hot pink, not my color, but Hers," and then She too faced forward.

Thus they were able to see all of the gifts. Soft warm things, not furs, for covering during sleep. Moss wipes and haunch harnesses, as the cats called them, though Mother and Father called them diapers. Small versions of Mother's fur-faced thing that made her big when she went outside. Other things like that, garments, clothes, they were called, that their parents held against them or stuck over their arms and legs a little ways to show.

The pile in front of them grew and grew until they couldn't tell one thing from another. Then two men came forward, "Seamus" and "Johnny." If the first thing was the best so far, these last things were best too. They brought between them a cot surrounded by a box that had images of fishes swimming all around it. The bottom had things they took off and put on again.

"Rockers for in the house,'' Johnny said. "Runners for sledding them over the snows," Seamus said. "Wheels for when it's dry," they both said, attaching round things to the front and back and taking them off again. "And when you're near water and you don't want them in it, use nothing at all on this and it will float tight and dry as any boat."

Best of all, it was not one cot but big enough for two. Mother and Father laid the twins together in it, so they could see each other and snuggle together. It was very nice but the twins did not let them get away with it, of course. Sleep could not come without food.

Before the latchkay adjourned to the communion place for the Night Chants, the singing was interrupted by the howls of the dogs tethered outside and answered by dogs running toward them. The lodge's doors were flung open and three figures, heavily covered in fur parkas, snow pants, and boots, stamped inside. Bunny and Aoifa Rourke, Diego Metaxos, and young Chugiak rushed out to tend to the newcomers' teams.

"Friends, we're so pleased you've come to honor these children and their parents!"

The first person, now stripped of his parka, was a small dark-haired man. In his plaid shirt and snow pants, he walked in among the celebrants and said, "We are not the only ones to honor them! For weeks the seals have been gathering along the beach, thick as snowflakes. Dolphins and whales come too in great profusion, not to their killing grounds but near our settlements, as if waiting for something to happen. Then yesterday the ice began to crack and break up as if it were spring. Finally, a giant wave came rolling in and crashed onto the shore, carrying fish and other creatures, some we have never seen before, and washed away half the village.

We heard twins were born here in Kilcoole at the same time the wave rolled in, and the three of us, who have the fastest teams in our area, were sent to greet the children and bring them naming gifts."

The twins, seemingly oblivious to the noise, were asleep in their new cradle when the coastal people arrived, but by the time the visitors stood dripping melted snow from their hair in front of Sean and Yana, the little ones had awakened again.

One man pulled out a length of string and began making figures with it a few inches above the twins' faces. "A story string to amuse them and help them trap the best stories in its net. It is made of good strong synweb too, so they can use it to snare rabbits if they want."

The next person, a woman, handed Yana two knives: a dagger, and a blade that looked as if it were a quarter cut from a circle, the point removed and replaced by a bone handle. "A hunting knife and an ulu, so they will never go hungry or cold."

The third person, also a woman, handed Yana a large-eyed steel needle with a cutting end.

"My mother always said a needle was the true magic of our people because without a needle, we would not be able to make the clothing we need to survive. Actually, my mother wanted me to bring you her old treadle sewing machine, but there wasn't time to load it, even if there had been room on the sled."

Yana and Sean laughed and thanked them all.

The baby girl reached up and snagged the story string in her tiny fingers.

The man who had been demonstrating its use beamed.

Then the food was served, musicians brought out their rusty instruments, and people began dancing the reels and figure dances from long ago, separated by occasional waltzes.

Marduk, the orange and white striped cat who had adopted Yana when she first arrived at Kilcoole, hopped into the cradle and wrapped himself around the twins' feet, purring when a baby hand patted his magnificent bushy tail. Nanook and Coaxtl reappeared and sat on either side of the cradle. Nanook looked expectantly up at Sean.

"I think that's my cue to ask the mother of the honorees to dance."

Yana was still sore and stiff from sitting so long, but the happiness of the occasion gave her something only a little less earth-bound than wings. Taking her husband's arm, she slid to the dance floor and they half waltzed, half polkaed to the plunk and wheeze of instruments that had been frozen and thawed many times and played through many latchkays.

"This has all been a lot of fun, Sean," she said. "Exhausting, but fun. But even though everybody's had suggestions, I still don't know what to call the kids. Do you?"

"Not really. I sort of liked Seamus and Siobhan, but it's a bit too much like Sean and Sinead, and we're not even twins."

"Aisling suggested Murray, which is a sea name, I'm told, and Mairead, but that's not a water name. Muriel is, but I'm afraid we'd confuse them. Murray and Muriel sound awfully close."

She dropped her voice so he could barely hear her above the drums. "To tell you the truth, I think those alliterating names for twins are just a bit on the cutesy side."

"It will come to us, love. There's still the Night Chants."

Shortly afterward everyone took a break in the festivities while the dog teams of people from distant villages were hitched up again, the little curly coated horse was loaded with the gifts to be deposited at the cabin on the way, and local people returned home and hitched up their dogs or saddled their curly coats for the trip to the hot springs where the Night Chants were held.

The drummers arrived ahead of everyone else so that drumbeats greeted each new party.

Yana as always was struck by the beauty of the hot springs. You saw the steam first, rising above the snow, and then, between ice-encrusted banks, the curtain of water pouring from the top ledge into a deep pool that cascaded into a second, then a third pool, the water through the steam like jewels behind a sheer veil. That this was the place where she had first made love with Sean and only yesterday birthed her babies added immeasurably to its beauty for her. But the most powerful enchantment it held lay beyond the waterfall, in the communion place.

People stood aside to allow Yana, Sean, and the twins to slip into the cave behind the upper falls. Clodagh was there ahead of them and, surprisingly, the three newcomers from the coast.

Soon the cave was crowded with the bodies of neighbors and friends. Yana was a bit surprised to realize that all of these people were from Petaybee, most from Kilcoole. None of their offworld friends were here. She wondered if the naming ceremony wasn't hastened in order to prevent the attendance of offworld folk. It seemed a bit discriminatory, especially when some of them would never have survived some recent events without the help of those friends.

When everyone arrived and settled, Clodagh said, "Desmond here is the shanachie of his village. He heard how we were looking for sea names for the babes and said he has a song to share."

Desmond spoke so quietly everyone had to be still to hear him. He also seemed to be well aware of the special nature of the cave.

"The seals came to remind me of my mother's song from her mother. The song she sang in its original tongue, so I will tell you about it before I sing. It tells of a lonely widow who had lost her husband and her only child to the sea. Every day she walked the beach and watched the seals play. One day when she could not go to the beach because of the rain, a strange mute girl came to her door to be her daughter. The woman called her Murel, Bright Waters, and for seven years the mother and daughter lived together. Then one day when they walked the beach, a seal called from just offshore. 'Ork ork ork!' he cried. 'That is Ronan, the little seal,' the woman told the girl. But the girl knew already. 'Ork ork ork!' she cried, and the widow knew it was time for her daughter to return to the sea."

He then began singing quite a long song in a language that bore only a distant resemblance to the Gaelic people sometimes sang.

Yana didn't pay too much attention, after the translation, because she was pondering the names of the seal children, Murel and Ronan. Bright Waters and Little Seal. They had a ring to them that she liked. Of course, when the kids got older, she supposed she'd have to figure out how to change the boy's name so it meant big seal, but that could wait. She exchanged a look with Sean over the heads of the twins. By the bioluminescence that made the stone cave walls glow softly and the water wall glimmer, he smiled and nodded.

The cave was warm and cozy, and the bioluminescence had begun to scribe patterns on the cave walls. Desmond's song had a bit of a drone, but the children all liked it when he made the seal sound, which seemed to figure in the chorus. Her own children were no exception.

With every ork, the babies squirmed, and for the first time ever she wished the ceremony over and them back at home.

When the song was done, Clodagh turned to them, smiling, her brows raised in question.

"You have the names then, do you, Yana? Sean?"

Vina and Scan nodded once to each other. Then Sean took the little girl from Yana's arms and held her out to Clodagh, who had taken a place of prominence in front of the waterfall. "Right then, pet," Clodagh said softly to the baby. Then she raised her head, her voice still quiet and calm enough to keep from alarming the child but carrying above the roar of the waterfall to everyone in the cave. "People of Petaybee, and our beautiful home, here is Murel Monster Slayer Shongili born to us to live among us."

Yana had been struggling to pay attention but now her eyes snapped open in dismay. "I never..." She began to say that she had not seriously meant for Monster Slayer to be part of her daughter's given name, but Clodagh was passing Murel Monster Slayer Shongili to Aoifa, who sat next to her, and accepting Yana's son.

"And this fine one here, people of Petaybee, is Ronan Born for Water Shongili, born to us to live among us."

But as she turned to hand Ronan to Aoifa, who had been trying to pass Murel to Bunny Rourke, sitting beside her, Aoifa fumbled. That seemed to be the chance Murel had been waiting for. With a fishlike twist, the infant spurted from Aoifa's grasp and into the waterfall.

In the confusion, Ronan escaped Clodagh's embrace and dived in after her. "Heeeeee," they cried, followed in a moment by "Ork."

Before anyone could start breathing again, Sean eeled past them and dove into the water himself.

Yana slid to the cave's entrance and ran out, snatching up furs from the snocle as she ran downstream. Behind her, Clodagh commanded everyone to stay put.

By the snowball moon she saw the large sleek head of a seal break water in the lower pool.

Using his nose and mouth, he shoved two tiny silvery white seals onto the shore, then climbed out himself, blocking their way to the water while they orked merrily at the prank they'd played on everyone. Yana reached them and flung the furs over her family. Inside the furs, Sean shook himself like a large dog and the little ones instinctively followed suit.

Yana's heart began beating again. Being the only full-time biped in her family was going to take some getting used to.