Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [71]
“Of the miraculous homecoming. We have a story of the son who disappears, then returns to us unchanged. It is said he carries a great destiny.”
Maybe so. I’m just glad I’ve turned Baby-Z2 over to his mother. She can look after him from this point on. I didn’t hurt him this time. I didn’t fail him. An astonishing lightness spreads through me, as if I’ve discharged a weight on my soul.
I glance at Vel, then bring him up to speed—and Mary, that’s weird, it’s a flip of what we did on Ithiss-Tor. He chose not to have his processor upgraded because we don’t plan to stay long. Only one of us needs to be able to communicate here.
Then he nods. Of course we should stay, his expression tells me. He’s right; it would be insulting to drop the kid off and run, and I have plenty of time until Carvati’s team comes up with a workable solution to the La’heng situation. Until I keep that last promise, my life is not my own.
“We would be honored,” I reply.
It’s still a little unnerving to hear my vocalizer making those noises. The other Mareq scatter to spread the word of the miraculous return. I hear them telling the story in snippets as they disperse through the settlement.
“You have cared well for Zeeka. This mother thanks you.”
Zeeka? Is it possible he was trying to tell us his name? We never knew why we settled on calling him Baby-Z; it was just right, or the closest we could come. Intrigued, I pose the question to Dace, and she seems delighted.
“Yes, all Mareq are born into the world bearing a true name, and they know it in their souls from the time of their coming-forth. He is a strong son indeed to try and tell his name to strangers.”
I think she means strangers in the sense that we are superweird, not unknown, though we’re certainly that, too. Vel regards me with curiosity, a welcome distraction from his heavy grief, and I summarize for him with some pleasure.
“Remarkable,” he says, when I finish.
“Let us take you to a guest shelter.” She leads the way, croaking about preparations.
My chip cuts in and out as we pass other Mareq. I hope over time it learns to compensate, or she will think I’m stupid, unable to process information from more than one source. Otherwise, so far, we’re off to a good start.
Inside the hut, it’s familiar, similar to the birthing mound where March and I knelt. Compared to the rains outside, it’s relatively snug and dry in here. I appreciate that, as there’s some risk I’ll develop a fungal infection from constantly damp skin—a small price to pay for this buoyancy of spirit, however.
“It will be intriguing to see how the Mareq celebrate,” Vel says.
I’m glad to see him taking an interest, though not surprised. For him, intellectual pursuits always offer the most distraction. It will be worth a sojourn on Marakeq if it means surcease from the blow he took on Gehenna.
“Can you understand them at all?” He downloaded the vocabulary, too, but unless it’s loaded directly onto the chip, there’s some lag time in the learning curve. Which means I might not understand them at all, or at least not as well as I imagine I do. Dace might have invited us to wait in this hut, so we could be cooked and eaten at the feast, but I don’t think so.
“Bits of it. If we remain here long enough, I will assimilate the language.”
“You’ve had a lot of experience in that.”
“Yes.”
Not all of it good. But I don’t say that aloud.
Examining the interior, I discover mounded dirt that we can use for sleeping. Soft, green moss grows atop the makeshift mattress, more inviting than you might think. Everything about the Mareq is natural and flows from their world. They exude a certain harmony, and that’s why I think they won’t hurt us, even if I’ve misunderstood about the festival.
There’s nothing to unpack, so we wait. The village hums with activity and what I take for music. A low but also jubilant sound rumbles forth, harmonies intertwining from a lighter instrument. I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m hearing—primitive pipes and flutes, accompanying the Mareq chorus. That’s lovely and unnerving because it’s so other.