The Strangers of Kindness (19 page)

Pasha said, “Now,” and raised its arms just as the belly of the flaming sun pulled free of the horizon. Rose and gold, the light streaked across the earth, until it reached the
nalshas
. Though they’ d both seen it before, in Pasha’s bedroom by lantern-light, nothing could have prepared them for the way the bowls caught the dawn’s beams, flashing them outward in all directions in a sparkling rainbow of pure color, bending them to send them to the next bowl, which caught or reflected or altered their colors according to the character of Pasha’s metallic linings.

Again, when the circle of living light was complete, ragged walls of blinding fire vaulted heavenward: purple, ruby, gold, indigo, emerald, countless others; obliterating their view of the alien. Jared and Anna—breathless, terrified, wounded and exhilarated by the beauty—clung to one another and watched, sobbing. The wall fell, for a breath’s span, and there was Pasha Sands in its true form, only somehow transfigured into more than a physical being by this raw sunlight, seeming twice its usual height. As though a tide gushed from it Jared felt a wave of emotion wash through him. Before he could put a name to it, the sheets of fire leaped up again, now his ears were assaulted by a clamor of music so sweet and sad he thought his heart would break. Anna twisted in his arms, and through the music he heard her cry, “Pasha!”

The sand at their feet stirred, then whipped into stinging eddies, and then the
nalsha
-cradle lifted off the beach. There were inches, then more inches, of wind-swept, shadow-tossed air and dust between its bottom and the ground. They fell to their knees. Up and up it climbed, as the sheets of light surged and ebbed, screening from them the sight of their friend. The cradle moved out above the surf. Anna sobbed heedlessly against Jared’s chest, but he said, “Look, Anna! There he is!” She looked up just in time to see the waves of light subside, and Pasha Sands waggling one of its tendrils at them. They waved at it, laughing and crying. It moved another tentacle, tipping one of the outer bowls toward them.

Over the wind and the waves they heard, “Friends—”

And it was gone.

* * *

The creature called Pasha Sands on Earth stopped talking, and its friends contemplated its story. Fat One had forgotten the tea-bowl. High above them the orange-fly trees slapped their fronds together in the light of the morning sun. Skaddle lizards clung to the bricks of the low wall surrounding the Pavilion, rotating their faceted eyes in nervous vigilance.

“You didn’t tell them,” Skeptical One pointed out. “You really lied to them.”
 

“I couldn’t explain to them what
emppakka
means,” Pasha said. “They wouldn’t have understood. They would have thought it meant I would end. Die, like they do. It would have caused them terrible grief. I couldn’t do that to them.”
 

“But you lost your token offering before all this happened anyway,” Skeptical One finally said, “And your involvement with those people—that alone would have ruined your chances!”

“Yes,” Pasha said. I couldn’t have told them that, either.”

“Then what is the point of coming here? If you have nothing to offer Geilsharah?”

Pasha’s theta-oscillations beamed warmth around the circle.
 

“It was worth it to see you all again.”

Their vibrations assured Pasha that they felt the same.
 

Then it added, “And I intend to go through with
emppakka
.”

Puzzlement and consternation, just the expected effect. “With no offering?” Fat One blustered, “Even for you, this is surprising temerity!”

Silent One gazed upon Pasha emanating, strangely, pride. Pasha didn’t take the time to wonder why. “I have no token, it is true. But I have something I wish to show Geilsharah nevertheless. Our Lord granted me extraordinary forgiveness, and I wish to let it see the fruits of its compassion.”

Pasha turned to the side and picked up the little blue
nalsha
, and tilted an eyestalk at the three friends. “It’s time. Have you not noticed? The clarion-bird has been calling for quite awhile.”

They leaped to their respective pseudopods. “So soon!” Skeptical One cried. “But—” it regarded its supplicant friend with all its
frombur
exuding passionate loyalty. “We shall wait for you,” it said, “Whatever the outcome of your interview.” Pasha touched each of them, lingering especially to entwine tentacles with Silent One.
 

“You are true friends,” it said. “This day which I have awaited, and strived for, through so many years and far-flung adventures, must end in the disappointment of my hopes. Even if I had a true offering, my actions in that world were grievously wrong, and surely do disqualify me from
emppakka
. That you will be here afterwards makes the failure easier to bear.” It took its
nalsha
and glided alone down the path to the temple.

Upon its approach, the clarion-bird ceased her calling and flew off into the trees. Pasha put its foot on the first step and the crystal portal swung open to admit the Supplicant. The walls, shining panels of glass arranged in seemingly random alignments, prevented clear vision into its recesses from outside. The space inside was much smaller than Pasha had expected. There was only the glass floor, and a pillar of marble with a flat top.
 

Pasha set its bowl upon the pillar and stepped back, then folded itself into a humble prayer-kneel on the floor. “A token of surpassing value is required as an offering for
emppakka
,” Pasha Sands prayed. “Such a token I had, then lost. I bring you now a lesser token, of my recent encounter with people on a strange world. Open its message, Lord, open my
frombur
and read what those people have written there. These are the only offerings I have, and I give them now to you. Yours was the wisdom and love that guided me to Jared and Anna, yours are all the gifts they gave to me.”

Pasha Sands fell silent and waited.

The
nalsha
started its hum. Pasha looked up. From the bowl’s interior ascended a shape made of light, clear and wondrous. It resolved into the last image Pasha had seen of Jared and Anna, their faces turned up to its cradle hovering above the beach, laughing and weeping and waving good-bye. Only now, with more time to dwell upon their features, did Pasha discern the other, tangled emotions traced there. Parting sorrow. Superstitious awe. Fear. Hope. Love. Pasha gazed at them seeing now their great joy on its behalf, in spite of their grief at its departure.

Pasha fell on its face again, overwhelmed with gratitude.
 

“Forgive me, Geilsharah, I cannot feel sorry for having changed their lives. Though it keeps me from
emppakka
, their friendship was worth it.”
 

The floor beneath its moist silicon body rumbled in a deep bass harmonic. Pasha lifted all seven of its eye-stalks to stare at the
nalsha
-image in baffled wonderment.

Without words, without voice, the message formed within its
frombur
,
Wrong again, Supplicant. Your offering is accepted.
 

Pasha Sands gasped, straightened upright. It felt a splitting of its soul, a breaking open of its being. A great light burst from the center of its body, filling the temple with beams.

– THE END –

Terry Hickman practices

aquatic biology for a
 

state agency.