The Color of Distance

Chapter 25

ISut Gikitonen said that the population levels of ganro in the upper Hirrani valley were more influenced by rainfall than by the levels of mik-karra,” Anito said to Ninto.

“Yes, but the levels of mikkarra are dependent on rainfall. You can’t separate the two factors.”

Juna sighed and looked away. She was tired of these abstruse technical discussions of ecological theory. She would be glad when it was all over. The last three years had been a steady grind of tutors and training. The intense study had taken a heavy toll on Ninto and Anito. They were thin and weedy-looking, their tempers short, and they thought of nothing but their training.

A flicker of resigned agreement passed over Moki in response to Juna’s sigh. Juna brushed his shoulder affectionately. The others’ focus on the upcoming test had thrown the two of them together more often, strengthening their bond. It was one of the few good things to come out of all this training.

“It’ll be over soon,” she told him. “Ninto’s test begins tomorrow, and Anito’s will start four days after that. We’ll be done with all of this in less than half a month.”

“Can we go fishing when the testing’s done?” Moki asked in plaintive hues.

Juna laughed and flickered agreement. “Yes, we can go fishing after the testing is done. Until then we need to take care of Anito and Ninto.”

Ukatonen and Ninto went off to spend the night before the test in the peaceful refuge of the forest. Juna and Moki stayed in the gathering with Anito, helping her review for her test.

Ninto and Ukatonen returned the next day, and headed directly to the center of the ring of na trees for Ninto’s first test. Anito joined the other two candidates waiting to be tested. Juna and Moki were sent out to gather food; Ninto would be hungry when she was done with the examination. They came back with bulging gathering sacks of fruit, game, greens, and omkina tubers. Moki peeled the tubers and pounded them into a smooth paste while Juna butchered game and laid out the fruit and greens.

Ninto came back from the questioning weak, shaky, and exhausted. She was too tired to speak more than a few words. They fed her, washed her, and helped her into bed. She was asleep when Anito came in.

“How is she?”

“Exhausted,” Ukatonen told them. “It was a difficult session.”

“Did she do well?” Moki asked.

“I won’t know whether she passes or fails until everyone has been tested. It will depend on what the judges think,” Ukatonen said.

Juna thought Ukatonen seemed worried and withdrawn. She glanced at Anito, but she couldn’t tell whether she had noticed it too. She remembered her own dissertation defense. She had been an utter wreck by the time it was over. She understood what Anito and Ninto were going through.

These tests were a trial of the candidates’ endurance as much as a test of their knowledge and skill. Each examination left Ninto more drained and exhausted than the last. Ukatonen, Juna, and Moki fed her, linked with her to repair her exhaustion, and helped her into bed. Anito tried to help, but Ukatonen sternly forbade her to do more than prepare and serve dinner. She had to save her own energy for the upcoming test. Flickers of rusty red frustration passed over Anito as she watched them heal Ninto.

The final examination tested the candidate’s skill at quarbirri, and was open to anyone who wanted to attend. Ninto performed a solo quarbirri, and took part in a multiple quarbirri, both chosen at random by the judges. Then the judges asked her to act out scenes from the traditional quarbirri that Naratonen had taught them.

This was one of the most physically demanding tests. Even though Ukatonen had linked with her between phases of the test to give her strength, Ninto was visibly tired by the end of her final scene. Ukatonen helped her back to their room. She ate a little fruit and honeycomb, linked briefly with Ukatonen, and then fell asleep. Anito squatted protectively beside her tareena’s bed.

“Worried?” Juna asked, sitting near her.

Anito looked away. “Ninto’s older, more experienced than I am. If she’s this tired, how will I do?”

“You’ve both studied very hard. You’ll do all right,” Juna reassured her.

“I wish we had never left Narmolom. I’m not ready for this.”

Juna patted Anito on the knee. “Yes, you are. Just don’t wear yourself out worrying. Eat well, sleep a lot. Let us help you through it as much as we can. That’s what we’re here for.” Juna held out her arms.

Anito flickered her thanks, and the two of them linked, Anito sharing her fear, and Juna reassuring her. Then they unlinked and Ukatonen shooed them off to bed.

Anito woke just before dawn. Today her testing began. She stared up at the thick grey night mist, and tried to remember what she needed to know. For a terrifying moment, nothing happened. Her mind was blank. Then she remembered the pollination cycle for the ika flower, and everything else flowed into place. She was as ready as she could be. Even if she failed this time, as most of the enkar candidates did, she could test again next year. Most candidates passed on their second attempt. A few failed and went on to a third try. Those that passed became enkar; the rest no one spoke of.

She rolled over and woke Ukatonen. They got up and gathered fruit and greens for breakfast. Anito bagged a sleeping urranga, which they butchered and ate immediately. After washing off in the river, they raced each other back to the gathering. Anito won, bursting into the midst of a solemn procession of enkar heading for the testing, nearly bowling one of them over before she could stop herself. She started to apologize, but then Ukatonen hit the same branch and collided with another enkar. The entire group rippled with amused laughter, and escorted Anito to the center of the ring of na trees.

Fear descended upon her like a falling branch as she entered the crowd of assembled enkar. Ukatonen touched her shoulder in reassurance. Anito fanned her ears wide and flickered acknowledgment. She noticed Eerin and Moki in the crowd. Eerin raised a hand and turned a deep, reassuring blue.

Moki slipped through the enkar, and handed her a leaf-wrapped package of food. “For when you get hungry,” he said, and slipped away again.

Anito glanced down at the neat package in her hand. She looked at Ukatonen, at Eerin, and at Moki, and felt her nervousness ease.

“You’ll do fine,” Ukatonen said. “I’m proud of you.”

Figotonen, the eldest enkar in the gathering, held up her hand, fingers spread, and the flickering conversations stilled.

“Who sponsors this candidate?” she asked.

Ukatonen stepped to the speaker’s mound. “I do, en.”

“Tell us about her studies.”

As Ukatonen named the enkar who had taught her, and described what she had learned from them, Anito remembered her training. They had traveled up and down the length of the land, and spent time swimming with the lyali-Tendu while Moki and Eerin worked at Lyanan.

She and Ninto had learned the name of every village between the coast and the mountains, as far north and south as the Tendu’s territory extended, and the names and locations of other Tendu enclaves around the world. Ukatonen had taught them about the various councils and gatherings of enkar, what they did, and how they worked together. They had studied tracking and hunting with a thin, wiry mountain hermit who seemed as old as the mountains and as serene as a cloudless sky. Narato-nen had taught them the full traditional cycle of quarbirri, and many more that were not part of the cycle. He had also coached them in the art of public speaking and formal manners.

Makitonen taught them how to link. She was the enkar who had taught Ukatonen. Linking with her had been like linking with the earth itself. She was one of the oldest Tendu now living, and had seen generations come and go like so many short-lived kika flies.

It had been a long, demanding three years. Most enkar candidates took five years to learn what Anito had learned in three. Some of the enkar doubted the wisdom of pushing her so hard, but Ukatonen wanted her to be an enkar by the time the new creatures, the humans, returned.

Ukatonen’s recitation of her training ended, and Anito snapped out of her reverie. The testing was about to begin.

Ukatonen stepped off the speaker’s mound and brushed Anito’s shoulder, flickering reassurance at her.

Figotonen stepped forward. “Greetings, candidate,” she said. “Tell me about the villages south of the Wainu River.”

Anito suppressed a flush of relief. She was starting with an easy question. “There are only four villages south of the Wainu, en. They are Balla-nari, Anakra, Frenamo, and Wallana.” She went on to describe the four villages’ boundaries, their population, and the names of their chief elders.

There was a long silence, as if Figotonen was waiting for something else.

“There is another village site south of the Wainu, en,” Anito said at last. “It was the village of Manalim. It was abandoned after the last Cold Time, and allowed to return to the wild lands. When the next Cold Time comes, it will be started up again.”

“Very good, candidate,” Figotonen said. “Please describe the mating dance of the kinirri.”

“Do you want me to describe the dance of the mountain kinirri or the lowland kinirri?”

“Please describe both, candidate.”

The questions continued for hours. Each one contained tricks and details that required close attention and subtlety of thought to catch. Figotonen stepped down and was replaced by Naratonen, who was replaced by another enkar, and then another one after that. The afternoon rains began and ended as the questions continued. Anito’s skin was tired and sore when Ukatonen stepped forward to ask a question.

“What is the name of the chief elder of Narmolom?”

A ripple of amusement ran over the assembly.

Anito stopped, examining the question carefully on all sides, looking for the catch, the trick that would slip her up and make her fail. She could find none. Perhaps the trick was that there was no trick.

“Miato is the chief elder, en. You chose him yourself.”

“Very good, candidate. The questioning is over. You may rest now. Tomorrow we will test your skill at allu-a.”

“Thank you, en,” Anito said. Though she felt like dropping on the spot, Anito stepped off the speaker’s mound and strode out of the central clearing as if she were fresh and ready for more questions. Eerin and Moki followed her. Ninto met her at the door to their room. Anito collapsed as soon as she was inside.

“How did it go?”

“Hard,” Anito said. It hurt to talk. “Hungry. Thirsty. Need rest.”

Ninto handed her a gourd of pounded omkina tubers mixed with honey, bird blood, and arana eggs. Eerin handed her a large gourd of water.

The sweet, starchy omkina roused her appetite. She gorged herself with food and drink, then burrowed into the damp, comforting warmth of her bed.

The next morning, her skin felt tight and bruised from too much talking. She got up slowly, stiff muscles protesting, and limped over to where a large breakfast had been laid out. She ate, and then settled herself in a corner and turned her awareness inward to ease her aching, overused skin and sore muscles. She wanted to balance herself today, as a warm-up for the test of her skill at linking. Afterwards, she ate a little more, then went back to bed until it was time for the test.

Ukatonen woke her shortly before noon, and escorted her to Figotonen’s room for the examination. Her teacher Makitonen was there among the senior enkar. Anito’s ears lifted, surprised at Makitonen’s presence.

“Are you ready for your test, candidate?” Figotonen asked her.

“Yes, en,” Anito replied.

Figotonen gestured at Makitonen. The ancient enkar held her arms :ut, spurs up. Anito’s skin stripes tightened in fear. Familiarity only intensified the fear and awe she felt when linking with Makitonen. She had been a tough, fair teacher, and Anito was sure that her testing would be as thorough as her teaching.

Anito glanced at Ukatonen. He nodded, a gesture of encouragement they had both learned from Eerin. Strengthened by Ukatonen’s reassurance, Anito reached out and laid her arms on Makitonen’s, grasping her teacher’s forearms near the elbows. They linked, and she was plunged into the cold immensity of Makitonen’s presence.

Once, during their training, Ukatonen had taken them into a cave in the mountains to show them the strange blind frogs, white lizards, and misshapen pink fish that lived in its depths. They entered a large cavern, and Ukatonen had them uncover all of the many glows they’d brought along. Eerin cried aloud in noisy, echoing wonder when the glows illuminated the glittering walls of the cavern. There were fragile crystal formations so delicate that a breath would crumble them into powder, and rippling limestone walls like waterfalls turned to stone.

Eerin had been delighted by the cave, but it frightened Anito. She had never seen a place with so few living creatures in it. The cave would still be there, unchanged, long after she had crumbled to dust. Nothing there would decay and return to life again. It would merely exist, changeless and perfect. Makitonen’s presence reminded her of the cold, eternal beauty of that cave.

Makitonen moved through Anito, examining her minutely, searching for physical flaws, imperfections in the way she maintained her body. Anito looked on, worrying. Had her self-repair been adequate this morning? There were still signs of fatigue in her body, which she hadn’t repaired because she was afraid it would leave her too drained for this test.

Finally Makitonen pulled back, radiating mild approval. Anito’s physical body was acceptable, even with its flaws.

Then Makitonen had Anito examine her. The enkar’s body seemed as ancient and strong as the hills. There was no weakness, no flaw. Makitonen’s body felt as static in its cold perfection as that beautiful, lifeless cave.

Anito pulled back, radiating awe. Makitonen had her look again. Their communication was wordless, deep, but Anito understood her perfectly. She looked again, and suddenly there was a tumor growing in the enkar’s liver. Anito repaired it. Another problem replaced it, this time an irregularity in Makitonen’s heart valves; that too was fixed. A broken leg. A ruptured kidney. A stomach blockage. The nightmare procession of physical problems went on and on. As soon as Anito repaired one, another would spring into existence. At last, a deep, hemorrhaging wound proved too much for her. She had no strength left to heal Makitonen. She was exhausted, her reserves gone. If she healed this injury, it would kill her. She stopped, drew back, prepared to pull out of the link and summon the help of the enkar who were watching.

Makitonen stopped her, holding Anito in the link. As she watched, Makitonen arrested the bleeding and healed the ravaged flesh. Then she restored Anito’s depleted reserves, and repaired the physical toll of fatigue that the test had taken.

Makitonen broke the link, and Anito emerged. To her surprise, it was only the middle of the afternoon. It seemed to her that it should be nighttime.

“We will eat and rest for a while before continuing with the rest of the examination,” Makitonen announced.

Anito fought back a flicker of surprise and chagrin. She had thought the test was over. A quick ripple of amusement passed over Makitonen.

“First we tested your physical abilities in allu-a. Now we must test your emotional skills.”

Anito bolted down as much food as she could hold and stretched out in a corner to sleep for as long as they would let her.

It seemed as though she had only closed her eyes when Ukatonen woke her later that afternoon. She sat up and stretched, trying to force her sleep-sodden brain into wakefulness.

Makitonen sat like a stone in the same spot she’d been in all day. Anito sat down before her, and they linked. Makitonen began testing Anito’s defenses, pushing against them, probing for weaknesses, then lunging with sudden feints, and pulling back again. Each time, Anito blocked Makitonen’s thrusts.

At last the ancient enkar yielded, flooding the link with her approval. Anito held her defenses tight. Only after Makitonen lowered her shields, leaving herself vulnerable, did Anito let down her own guard. She risked offending the ancient enkar, but it was better than being caught unprotected.

As soon as Anito relaxed her defenses, the next phase of the test began. They moved together, cautiously at first, then merging, blending into harmony. Each time they approached harmony, Makitonen threw the [[.-;]] out of balance, plunging them into emotional turmoil. Laboriously [[-.-".:o]] drew them back into harmony. The struggle for balance was wear[[- -.£.]] her down. If the test continued, the next fall would be her last. She :.;used her entire being on achieving equilibrium, on blocking Makito[[- -en’s]] attempts to unbalance the link.

Makitonen drew Anito in. They spiraled toward equilibrium, drawing coser and closer to harmony. Anito relaxed. Makitonen was going to let things proceed to a balance point. She had passed the test.

Then Makitonen took her down again. Anito fought all the way, scrabbling against the force of Makitonen’s presence, but she had been taken by surprise. Utterly exhausted, she was plunged into the maelstrom of her cwn pain. She felt anew her grief at Ilto’s death, her anger at being forced to care for the new creature, her loss at leaving the village. It was like falling into a nest of fireworms. She writhed and struggled against her own fear and despair, but she was caught like an insect in a dinnari’s silken trap. Escape was impossible. She collapsed, exhausted by pain and the effort spent fighting it, and lay there amidst her grief. She had lost control and failed the test. She let her anger and loss go, let it sweep through her and drain away, leaving her as empty as a broken gourd.

Makitonen lifted her up, filling her with joy and peace, letting her rise like a bubble toward the surface. They joined in exhausted harmony for a few moments. Beneath the cold, ageless, impassive depths of the enkar’s presence, Anito felt a deep, echoing emptiness. She wondered how Makitonen could live with such emptiness inside her. Anito reached out instinctively to fill it, despite her exhaustion and failure, but Makitonen blocked the attempt and broke the link.

A circle of senior enkar welcomed them as they emerged from allu-a, enfolding teacher and pupil in a gentle, healing link. They treated Makitonen’s presence with profound awe, faintly tinged with pity, fear, and curiosity. They knew about the empty place inside Makitonen. Anito could feel them carefully avoiding that emptiness as they replenished the ancient teacher’s depleted reserves. What must it be like to be Makitonen? Not only to live with that emptiness, but to be treated with such pity by the others.

Then the enkar enfolded Anito in their solicitude, and the puzzle of Makitonen fell into the depths as she was flooded with joy. Anito emerged from their link feeling euphoric, despite her poor performance on the test.

Ninto and Eerin had a meal waiting when Anito and Ukatonen returned to their room. The remnants of Anito’s euphoria faded as she began to eat.

“I’m sorry, en,” Anito said, when she was through eating. “I failed the test of my allu-a. I hope you will forgive me.”

“How do you know you’ve failed?” Ukatonen asked.

Anito described the test, how she had given in to her anger and despair.

Ukatonen touched her shoulder. “Tomorrow is your final day of testing. Focus on tomorrow, not today.”

Ninto touched her tareena’s arm. “I felt bad after this test too. In some ways it’s the hardest. It gets easier after this. You’ll think hard, and work hard, but the emotional strain isn’t as bad. Wash up and get some sleep.”

Anito brushed Ninth’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, grateful for her tareena’s gentle sympathy.

She fell into sleep like a koirah diving onto its prey, and slept till nearly noon. Waking, she stretched luxuriously, scattering leaves from the pile. The enkar’s healing had gone deep. For the first time in days, nothing hurt. She stuck her head out of the bed of leaves and looked around.

Ukatonen was sitting beside her bed, eating a tumbi fruit. “The others are out hunting, but they’ll be back in a bit. How are you feeling?”

“Very good,” Anito told him.

Ukatonen nodded. “Most candidates do on the morning after the allu-a test.”

Anito sat up and studied Ukatonen. He looked worn and tired, and his skin seemed stretched over his bones. He was sponsoring two candidates at once, healing them and giving them strength. It must be very draining.

“You’ve been giving too much of yourself to us.”

Ironic amusement flickered over his chest. “I’ll be all right,” he told her. “Today’s the last day of testing. I’ll manage.”

She was failing Ukatonen, after he had given so much of himself to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking away. “I’m going to fail, and you’ve done so much…”

Ukatonen brushed her shoulder. “Stop that,” he said. “Don’t fail yourself. The enkar don’t always judge you the way that you think they will; I’ve been a judge myself, and I know. Keep going. If you stop to doubt yourself, you will fail.”

“Thank you, en,” Anito said. “I’ll try not to worry about yesterday.”

Ukatonen gestured toward the water gourds standing in the corner. “Get up and eat. Take the afternoon off, but don’t do anything too strenuous. You’ll need your strength for the quarbirri test tonight.”

Anito spent the afternoon lounging in quiet solitude beside a water fall, occasionally diving into the pool below for a leisurely swim. It was good to get away, to let the afternoon pass moment by moment, like thick drops of honey. How long had it been since she had an afternoon with nothing to do? One year? Two? Whether she passed this test or not, she was going to do as little as possible for a while. Moki and Eerin had been talking about a fishing trip. Perhaps she would go with them.

Long, golden beams of late afternoon sunlight were gilding the pool when she took her final swim and swung back to the enkar’s gathering. One more examination, and then she could rest for a while.

When it was time for the quarbirri test, Ukatonen led her out to the na tree grove, where all the enkar were seated in a circle. They watched her walk to the speaker’s mound, where she had stood for her first examination. Stepping to the top of the low mound, she turned toward the judges, ears spread to indicate her readiness.

Figotonen stepped forward. “Greetings, candidate. Perform the quarbirri of the river hermit Hassa.”

Relief soared through Anito like a rising flight of birds. She knew this story well, and liked it.

She crouched beside the assembled musical instruments, thinking over the quarbirri. Hermit Hassa told of the hermit’s life along the Hassa River. He sat on a big rock beside the river for many seasons. Generations of trees grew tall, grew old, and died while he sat there. Whatever he needed, the river provided. It was said that the river brought him fish and fruit, even honey and yarram. The river spoke to him, in patterns of light on the water, teaching him all the things that the river knew. It taught him the flavor of each stream that gave itself to the river; it taught him the art of making stones smooth, and the dance and shiver of the fish in its depths. It taught him the power of the rapids, and the gentle, patient grace of slow water.

Hermit Hassa had a friend, an enkar named Mubitonen, who would come and sit beside him. Sometimes Hassa talked to her about what the river had taught him. One day, Mubitonen asked if she could become Hassa’s disciple. She wanted to learn everything that he knew about the river. Hassa refused. Several years later, Mubitonen returned and asked again. Again Hassa refused. Each time Mubitonen visited, she asked the hermit if she could become his disciple. Hassa always refused. This went on for many, many years.

Finally Mubitonen asked Hassa why he wouldn’t teach her. The hermit sat still for a long while, watching the river.

“I don’t know enough yet,” he said. “You may become my disciple when I am a worthy teacher.”

Mubitonen went away with a sorrowful heart, and she didn’t visit her friend Hassa for many years.

Then one day, as she was returning from a journey by a route thai took her close to the place that Hassa lived, Mubitonen decided to visn her old friend.

Hassa greeted her excitedly. The river was about to tell him its final story. Once that happened, she could become his disciple. To celebrate they went on a long fishing trip up one of the tributaries. While ther fished, Hassa told her countless stories of the river. Mubitonen drank them in, happy that Hassa was finally going to let her become his disciple The enkar and the hermit feasted on fish and remembered the good times they had spent together.

They returned to Hassa’s place by the river near sunset. Hassa was very happy. Tonight, the river would tell him its final story.

“What story is that?” his disciple asked as they sat beside the river eating dinner.

“I want to know what happens to the river when it meets the sea,” he said. “I have learned everything but this one, final secret. Now it is time for me to learn that. Then everything I have learned will be yours.”

Hassa went out to the rock where he always sat to watch the river. The enkar went to bed, eager for the next day to come. In the morning Mubitonen went down to the river to see what Hassa had learned. In his place was a large upright boulder. The river had taught Hassa his final lesson and taken him away.

Anito mused over the story while she tried various flutes. One of the reasons that she liked it was that it could mean so many things. Told one way, it was a tragedy about the death of Hassa; told another, it was a teaching story about rivers. It could be the story of two old and devoted friends, or a parable about trying too hard to be perfect.

She found a flute with a tone that she liked and selected a set of wrist and ankle rattles made of shells. How should she tell this story to the enkar? What did they want to hear?

She looked up at the audience, the judges, the enkar, the candidates. Ukatonen was sitting right in front, with Moki and Eerin beside him. She wondered what Eerin would think of the story.

Then she knew how she wanted to tell this quarbirri. It was risky, but then, after failing her allu-a test, it really didn’t matter. She would tell it in a way that felt right to her, even if it defied every tradition of storytelling.

She looped the thong of a hand drum over her wrist, picked up a rainstick, and stood, flute in one hand, rainstick in the other. She spread her ears wide to let the judges know she was ready, and drew herself up proudly.

Anito inverted the rainstick, and the tiny pebbles inside pattered like falling rain as they dropped to the other end of the stick. With gentle, almost invisible motions of her heels, she began to shimmer the rattles on her ankles. She lifted the flute, and played a simple thread of melody: Hassa sitting beside his river.

She began the story, describing Hassa and his history, creating a word portrait to match her sound portrait, lulling her audience with the ancient, traditional story.

Then she introduced Mubitonen. She used human skin speech, delivering Mubitonen’s lines in a mixture of human and Tendu. The enkar sat up, magenta with surprise, ears spread, but too fascinated by her storytelling to look away to talk to each other. Anito continued, using the story of Hermit Hassa as a parable of humans and Tendu, of the friendship they could have, of the things they could teach each other, and the danger of being swept away by too much change.

When she finished, the audience was still for a long moment. Anito swallowed, afraid that she had offended them. Then they erupted in ripples of excited approval. Anito bowed her head, closing her eyes in relief she dared not show on her skin. As she stepped off the speaker’s mound, Naratonen came up to her.

“That was very well done,” he said. “People will be talking about tonight for a very long time.”

“Thank you, en. You were my teacher.”

“ ‘The student honors the teacher by surpassing him,’ ” Naratonen said, quoting an ancient saying. “Ever since that argument I had with Ukatonen and Eerin about learning from the humans, I have been trying to think of a suitable way to talk about it in a quarbirri. Now you’ve done it for me.”

Ukatonen held out a packet of omkina paste and a gourd of fruit juice.

“There isn’t much time. Eat, drink. You’ll need the energy.”

She bolted the food, washing it down with the fruit juice and a full gourd of water as the judges finished conferring. She rinsed herself off with another gourd of water as Figotonen stepped to the speaker’s mound to announce the next quarbirri.

Ukatonen squeezed her shoulder. “You did well,” he said, and slipped back to his place at the front of the crowd.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of concentration. First there was the group quarbirri; then she had to reenact scenes from a number[[ : ]]other quarbirri.

“Thank you, candidate. That is all for tonight,” Figotonen announced.

It took Anito a moment to realize that the test was over. Her knees were weak and watery; her skin felt tight and tired. Eerin and Ukatoner? were heading toward her. She longed to collapse into their arms and 1; them carry her back to her room, but she was going to be an enkar. Sh wouldn’t let them see how tired she was. She drew herself up and walke^ out of the circle of enkar unaided, and then somehow forced her tirec muscles to make the long, hard climb home.

As soon as she readied her room, her legs folded beneath her, weak as waterweed. Eerin gathered her up in her short, strong arms and set her on the bed. As Eerin piled the bedding around her, Anito remembered how patiently the new creature had cared for her when she was recovering from werrun. So much had passed between them in the four years since. She reached out and touched Eerin affectionately on the arm, flickering thanks.

“The Hermit Hassa piece was wonderful,” Eerin said, taking her hand. “I’m glad I recorded it. It has a lot to say to my people, as well as yours.”

Eerin slid her hand up Anito’s forearm, until their spurs were lined up for allu-a, her skin darkening to the purple of inquiry.

Anito flickered Yes, and they linked briefly, feeling the human’s alien strength flowing into her body, along with her gentle, warm spirit, so different from the Tendu, yet so good to link with. Eerin had given her so much. She felt her gratitude rise and enfold Eerin, felt the human’s familiar, deep affection well up and receive her thanks.

Gently, Eerin slid Anito out of the link, patted Anito’s arm affectionately, and piled the rest of the bedding over her. Anito settled herself into the warmth of her bed and fell asleep.

Anito stood with Ninto, waiting for the judges to come out and announce which candidates had passed the test. The ten-day fishing trip had done a lot to restore them all. Ukatonen had lost most of the worn look he had acquired during the testing. Moki was as happy as a fat ooloo in a patch of sunlight, and for that matter, so was Eerin. Ninto was beginning to put on some weight and no longer looked like a walking skeleton.

Ten days of lazy living beside the river had improved her own spirits. Her energy level was higher, and she no longer lost her temper at the slightest provocation. She would be glad when the test results were announced and they could go back to the river for some more fishing. Anito wanted to do as little as possible for the next month or two.

The crowd of enkar parted to let Figotonen and the other judges walk to the speaker’s mound. The candidates and their sponsors fell in behind them. Moki and Eerin squeezed through the crowd until they were standing just behind Ukatonen and the others.

When everyone had settled into place, Figotonen held his hand up to indicate he was about to speak. The assembled enkar settled into stillness to watch his words.

“The following candidates have passed the test: Hisatonen, Anitonen, Bikotonen, Gesatonen, and Suzatonen. Jisato, Ninto, and Konito may return to be tested next year.”

It took Anito a moment to recognize her new fourfold name sign, changing her name to Anitonen. Her initial surge of joy died quickly as she realized that Ninto hadn’t passed the test. She looked over at her tareena. What would they do now?

Ninto laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Anito—I mean Anitonen. I’m sorry I didn’t pass.”

“You’ll pass next time,” Anitonen told her. “I’m sure of it.”

“What should we do now?” Ninto asked Ukatonen.

“I don’t know. First, I need to talk to Figotonen and the others, and find out what you need to work on to pass next year’s test. Then we can worry about what to do next.”

They huddled disconsolately in their room, repairing fishing gear, and picking disinterestedly at their dinners until Ukatonen returned. He looked tired and defeated.

“What happened?” Anitonen asked.

“Well, they want Ninto to choose a different sponsor. Naratonen volunteered. I think he would be a good choice; the judges said that Ninto needed to work on her quarbirri some more. It was, apparently, a very close decision. She should pass next year with no problem at all. There’s one more thing, though,” he said, addressing Ninto directly. “They want to separate you and Anitonen.”

“What!” “Why?” Ninto and Anitonen said almost simultaneously.

“They think that the two of you are too close.”

“Why?” Eerin wanted to know.

“Because Anitonen is an enkar now. She is expected to be solitary, to avoid ties that might sway her judgment.”

“But you aren’t solitary. We’ve been living in gatherings full of other enkar.”

“This is a gathering, not a village, Eerin, and we are enkar. We are expected to avoid deep emotional ties to any person or place. Ninto and Anito are from the same village, and they are tareena. That is a deep tie, and if they are both to become enkar, this tie must be cut. This is why so few villagers are willing to become enkar. We have no people and no place of our own. We are expected to be complete in ourselves, even when we are among others.”

“How soon will we be leaving?” Anitonen asked.

“We’ll be staying here. It’s the closest gathering of enkar to Lyanan. Ninto, you’ll have to talk to Naratonen about when and where you two will be going.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Eerin asked.

Irritated by Eerin’s persistence, Anitonen looked away. No, there was nothing Ukatonen could do. She was an enkar now, and was not allowed to have any ties. It was probably inevitable that they would be separated like this.

Ninto touched her shoulder, and Anitonen looked up. “They can send us far away from each other, but they can never separate us where it counts,” Ninto said, brushing Anitonen’s head and spurs. “We will always be together inside ourselves. You are my tareena. We are linked by our sitik and our memories, no matter where we are.”

“When you pass your test, and we are both enkar, then we can spend more time together,” Anito responded.

Ninto flickered tentative agreement. “I hope so.”

Naratonen came in then and addressed Ninto. “Ukatonen told you about the judges’ decision.”

Ninto flickered yes.

“Are you willing to take me as your sponsor?”

“Yes, I am,” Ninto replied in formal patterns.

“Then we will be leaving early tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, en. I will be ready.”

“Good,” he said briskly. He glanced over at Anitonen, who was the color of a heavy-bellied rain cloud. “I’ll leave you to pack and make your farewells,” he continued, in softer, gentler patterns.

“Thank you, en,” Ninto told him.

Anitonen looked away, anger and grief boiling just beneath the surface of her skin. She was losing her last connection to her former life. Soon there would be nothing left but her memories.

Ninto touched her cheek. Anitonen looked up at her tareena. Ninto held out her arms for a link. Anitonen nodded and the two of them sat across from each other, clasped arms, and linked.

It was one of the most intense links Anitonen had ever experienced. They merged as deeply and completely as possible. It took a long time to separate and return to themselves, and perhaps the separation wasn’t entirely complete. Ninto’s presence clung to Anito like a lingering scent. It was very late when they emerged from the link. Ukatonen was sitting in the shadows of the darkened room.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Fine,” they replied, in unison. “We’re fine.”

“Let me see.” He reached out and linked briefly with each of them. “Yes, you’re all right. Just barely, but you’re all right. I’ve packed your things, Ninto. Get some sleep. It’s late.”

Naratonen had taken Ninto away when Anitonen awoke the next morning.

“Ninto wanted your linking last night to be her goodbye,” Ukatonen told her.

“It doesn’t feel like she’s gone. She’s right in here,” Anito responded, gesturing at her chest with her palm.

“That will fade in time.”

“Perhaps, but it’s enough for now.”