Alec snugged the last buckle on his pack. “Yeah, and I don’t even believe in this stuff!”
“Do you not?” Uki said behind him. “Well, do you believe in thunder or in rain? In the green earth? In living things?”
“Of course!”
“Then surely it is not that much harder to believe in me.”
“Well,” Alec hedged, “I’ve
seen
you.”
“And I you, but a hundred years from now when I tell my sisters’ sons—should they ever be so fortunate as to marry,” he added wryly, “that I entertained the likes of you, do you suppose they will believe me? They will not have known a time when our lands lay close together and it was as easy for our folk to visit you as it is for your folk to come here. You, at least, have songs and prayers; we have none for such a purpose, and in your land, who would listen?”
“We would,” Calvin affirmed instantly.
“No doubt,” Uki sighed. “But come, you have a pressing errand and should be about it.”
“Right,” said David, getting up. “Just let me get my staff.”
“Speaking of which,” Calvin said, “I guess I should return my bow.”
“No,” Uki told him. “It is yours. Perhaps it will lose some medicine in your world, but much of its strength is in the thing itself, and that will not change wherever you take it. And,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “while we talk of gifts, I have others for you.”
“But we don’t have anything to give you in return,” David protested, “and you’ve helped us out so much!”
“You have given me tales for a long evening’s telling, and food for thoughts that will span longer still.”
“Well, if that’s enough…”
“And more than enough. But come.”
Uki led them into the outer cavern (the snakes were beginning to re-emerge, David noticed, stepping over one). There he opened a chest made of the shells of two tortoises hinged together with rawhide thongs. From it he took a small earthenware jar and a pouch of the ubiquitous white deerskin. The latter he passed to Calvin, which proved, upon being emptied, to be an uktena scale.
“I have given it a special power,” Uki said. “Too long I have ignored happenings in your land, and from what you have told me, perhaps that has been an error. It would be good for me to learn more; and you, Edahi, would be an excellent teacher. Should you ever desire to return to Galunlati, burn this scale and step into the smoke that ensues, call my true name, and you will be here.”
“But what
is
your name?” Calvin asked suddenly. “I mean, you’ve never told us.”
Uki lifted an eyebrow. “I have not, have I? Here we hide our names, for fear they be used to witch by; yet I have just asked you to conjure by mine! But since you are leaving, I think I can trust you with it.” He paused, took a deep breath. “Know, then, all of you, that I am called
Hyuntikwala Usunhi,
which in your tongue means Darkthunder.”
“Darkthunder,” David whispered. “Nice!”
“The thunder in the heavy clouds at the end of a hot summer day,” Uki said. “I trust it to you; use it wisely.”
“But wait a minute,” David blurted out. “If all we had to do to get here was to burn a scale, why’d we have to spend all that time sitting around in an asi?”
“For several good reasons,” Uki told them. “The first is that the scale requires special preparation which few here know how to do. The second is that your friend had only one scale, which would not have sufficed for the four of you. Thirdly the scale can only take you to places where you yourself have been, and none of you had been to Galunlati. And finally, it requires that you know the true name of someone of power in this place, and my uncle with whom your friend visited gives his true name to none.”
“Makes sense, I guess,” was all David could manage in reply. Uki smiled at him. “Ah, you are ever the clever one, Sikwa Unega; I believe you would find out every secret in all the lands, given time—but for now I would have you discover a closer one: your gift.” He paused, and motioned his sisters forward. “Since you already possess an uktena scale, I have for you a twin bow to Edahi’s. To this I would add what you have already won: the waters of the lake Atagahi. Little remains in your strange metal flask, but it may still do you some service. I have mixed it with water from my own river, and said certain Words over it. I cannot be certain that its magic will go with you into your land, but my hope is it will retain some of its healing virtue even there. One thing more I should tell you, though: Not only can it heal the body, but also the spirit. Use it sparingly.”
David took the gifts, bowed solemnly, and backed away.
Finally Uki faced Alec. “I have already spoken of the power of names, my young friend; and well have you worn that which I gave you: Tawiska: the Smooth One. But you have passed a mighty trial since I called you so, and have thereby earned another. I hereby declare Tawiska dead and your new name to be Tsulehisanunhi: the Resurrected One!”
“Uh…thank you, sir,” Alec stammered.
Uki did not reply, but took the jar, uncapped it, and shook out a second leather pouch, which he gave to Alec. David could tell by the way Alec’s hand sagged beneath it that whatever it contained was disproportionately heavy for its size. Alec hesitated a moment before emptying the contents into his palm.
A glitter of jewel-broken colors told David what it was before Uki identified it.
“It is what you have earned at great cost,” their host said: “It is the ulunsuti, the stone from the head of the uktena. The beaks of the birds have freed it.”
It glittered in Alec’s hand, like an immense rough diamond: crystal-clear except for one vein of red through its center. That vein seemed to pulse in a gentle, subtle rhythm.
“It has many powers,” Uki continued, “but I know not how they may work in your land, or if; except to say that its primary virtue is to prophesy. You must keep it in both jar and pouch at all times, and once a week it must have blood—a single drop will suffice. Twice a year it must have the blood of some large animal or it will grow restless and seek sustenance on its own. Blood also it must have for any major working. It is a dangerous thing to deliver into the hands of the inexperienced, but I give it to you with a wish for luck, and a warning: Study it, but use it not capriciously or in vain, for it marks you a strong adawehi. See that it not make you a foolish one.”
“But I don’t deserve this,” Alec protested, as Uki passed him the jar.
“You rid me of a threat I could not have done myself,” Uki replied. “You risked your life for your friends. That marks you a man of great honor and power.”
Alec flushed and stared at his feet. “I…I’m not at all sure that’s why I did it, actually. I…”
Uki cut him off. “But you did it, which is what is important. The stone is, in truth, far too little reward.” He paused and grinned—disarming in one so tall and stately. “Perhaps you would like one of my sisters as well? Or perhaps the set. Or perhaps one of your companions would like one.”
“Uh, thanks,” David said quickly, “but—well, they’d be hard to explain, and we…”
“We—” Alec began, but then broke off, blinking rapidly. “We—
Damn,
what a headache!”
“We already
have
girlfriends,” Calvin finished obliviously.
“Ah, but what of wives? Of those how many?”
“None.”
“None! But surely you are of an age… Why had I known I would have performed the ceremonies myself!” David exchanged horrified groans with Calvin, then risked a surreptitious glance back at Uki and saw that his eyes were twinkling. “It was a thing to be hoped,” their host said, “not expected.”
“Sorry,” David managed.
“I guess we’d best be going,” Calvin prompted. “Hey, you okay, McLean?”
Alec shook his head. “Just a twinge of migraine, I reckon.”
“A result of too much excitement so soon after his illness, no doubt,” Uki said, as he led them to the ledge behind the falls. “Here lies the fastest way back to your world. Though it is not without peril, it is best that Tsulehisanunhi return to his own country as soon as possible. A day’s journey overland would do him no good service.”
“Anything,” David said. “I’m bloody sick of walking.”
“Right,” Alec agreed, having evidently recovered.
“Good-bye,” David said, extending his hand.
Uki hesitated for a moment as if confused, then took it, and followed David’s lead in a handshake.
Alec and Calvin did the same.
“I meant what I said about returning,” Uki told them. “I grow tired of my own company—and all these women and their pets.”
Alec cleared his throat self-consciously. “Come on, guys,” he said. “Let’s boogie.”
“Very well,” Uki replied. He reached into his pouch and produced three more uktena scales, which he distributed among the boys. “When I tell you, hold the scales aloft and close your eyes. The rest will be as happens.”
A moment only they stood there, lids shut, arms extended over their heads. David could feel the prickle of spray against his skin, the energy of the ionized air. Behind them, Uki begin to chant: louder and louder, until his voice screamed above the thunder of falling water. Then, as abruptly as he had begun, there was silence—followed by three hand claps, which were answered immediately by three flashes of lightning that crackled down from heaven and smashed through the falls to enfold the scales.
“Farewell!” David heard Uki call as fire exploded through him. Then he was falling into blue-white flames.
His eyes popped open—saw only mist. But around him the heat grew greater as phantom hells consumed him, crisped his skin black, then sent it flaking away into ashes. Hotter and hotter, and pain beyond pain. And a distant thunder, like drums.
—which grew steadily louder until an agony of sound banished that all-consuming heat with an even more appalling agony: one that shook his very being into fragments of fire and rained them into the mist.
One final clap of white noise, and abruptly there was solidity beneath his feet.
White still filled his eyes, though; and the heat had scarce diminished. But an instant later a brush of clean air broke in upon them, ripping the veils from their eyes, as the thunder rumbled away.
They were standing in the wreckage of Uncle Dale’s smokehouse. Apparently it had been struck by lightning.
“You are back,” Oisin said, rising from the porch of the nearby corncrib, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. “Yet surely you did not have to arrive with so much…exuberance. Could some other way not have been found…?”
“We did it!” David gasped, leaping across the blasted threshold. “We did it, Oisin! Finno’s on his way.”
“Yeah,” said Calvin, shouldering past David while he dug in his pocket for the precious disk. “And here’s a record of everything that happened.” He froze, and David saw his face darken as he realized what he had just done to a blind man. “Sorry,” he mumbled quickly. “I forgot.”
“So do I, sometimes,” Oisin said quietly, taking the disk. “But I must leave now to deliver the tidings to Lugh. I am certain he will be pleased.”
“I hope so,” Calvin sighed.
“Me too,” David added.
“Farewell, young heroes,” Oisin called, turning. “And congratulations.” With that he started up the hill toward the forest.
“He’s sure in a hurry,” Calvin noted.
“You’re not kiddin’.”
“You know what
I
want to do?” Alec asked suddenly.
David grinned at him. “I’ll let you tell me.”
“
Take a hot bath and go to bed.”
“That,” David said, laughing, “sounds like a remarkably good idea!”
“Now why would you want to do somethin’ like that?” Uncle Dale chuckled, sauntering into the backyard. “Seems to me you’d be more interested in explainin’ how
you came to blow up my pore ole smokehouse. Boy howdy! Bolt of lightnin’ falls out of a clear sky in the middle of the mornin’! I’ve seen it all now, I reckon.”
“Sorry,” David said sheepishly.
Dale shot a bemused glance at the departing Oisin. “Well,
he’s
makin’ tracks, ain’t he?—though I ’spect he don’t have much say in the matter.” He winked at David. “Reckon I oughta send them folks a bill for a little construction one of these days?”
Alec had managed a glimpse at the old man’s watch. “And speaking of days, guys, whatever one it is, it’s nine-thirty in the morning.”
“It’s Friday,” Dale said, laying an arm across David’s shoulders and drawing him toward the house. “You boys was gone four days.”
“More than that passed in Galunlati, though.”
The old man ruffled his nephew’s hair. “You can tell me about it over breakfast—that is, if you fellers’re up for any.”
David shook his head and patted his tummy. “We ate before we left.”
Dale stared at him fondly. “Well, you better get on home, then. Or”—he shifted his gaze to the ruined asi—“I
might
just decide to put your young fanny to work! Seems to me like you owe me ’bout a week’s worth.”
David rolled his eyes. “I’ll never get out from under at this rate. Unless…” He eyed Calvin speculatively.