Awakeners by Sheri S Tepper

What had made them grow so angry? There had never been anger among free fliers before. They had fought only the mock battles of conjugation, vying for the dancing males.

They had not fought one another. Was it something in the look of the plains? In the trembling silence of the few weehar?

“Find bigger herd,” Shishus demanded, lifting away from the many bodies that littered the ground. Perhaps they should not have killed so many. They could have killed only three, one for each of them, though they could have eaten only a tiny fraction even of that. Already grouped in -a wide circle around the corpses were the silly fliers, those with no speech, waiting for their own time to rejoice. Shishus and her huntmates winged toward the Talons, uneasy as distances drifted by, uneasier yet when they came within sight of the peaks.

There the hunters of Thraish, free fliers, gathered in their hundreds of thousands, thick as grass, their clattering so loud it reached the huntmates when they were still far away.

They had flown half around the world, had arrived at the Talons, but there had been no bigger herd of weehar.

There had been no herds at all.

They arrived to sounds of the summoning rattle, propelled to and fro on its flexible sapling base by young fliers, telling Talkers to come out of their rocky towers. Speaker’s rock was empty. No Talkers sat upon it. Rattle went on as sound of Thraish grew louder, more agitated.

Then silence, for Talker came out, old Talker, blue with age, eyes deep-pouched, beak silver and ragged-edged. He came from a dark hole in rock, perched on doorstep, peered nearsightedly at great throng there, said in a dry, uninterested voice, “Rejoice, people of Thraish.”

There was only muttering from free fliers. Shishus, alone among throng, called response. “Rejoice!”

All eyes came to Shishus, fastening upon her. Muttering grew louder. Talker fixed his old eyes upon her, called to her.

“You found weehar then, flight leader?”

Shishus could not reply. This was not the way ceremony went: Talker asked again, and yet again, before Shishus could think to say, “Huntmates have rejoiced.”

“How many weehar did you find?”

Shishus conferred with Shusisanda. How many had there been? Five claws? About that. Fifty.

“And when you had rejoiced, how many left?”

Three claws, perhaps. Or less.

Silence then upon Talons. A long, uneasy silence, unbroken except by rustling of thousands shifting from foot to foot in an agony of apprehension. “Promise of Potipur,” one called from midst of free fliers, whining. “Promise of Potipur.’’

“Ah, well,” cried old Talker. “If Potipur has promised, then free fliers of Thraish have nothing to worry about.”

Muttering began again, angrily this time. Potipur had promised plenty, but there was no plenty. So. So. There must be fault somewhere. Evil. Sin. Talkers, most likely. Their fault. Their sin. Doubting.

The old Talker might have read their minds. “Who told you free fliers last warm season not to eat weehar?”

Muttering. It was true. Talkers had told them that. Talkers had said weehar were too few. Free fliers had told Talkers something different instead. Free fliers had told Talkers to keep quiet. Had told them, “Promise of Potipur.”

“Last warm season, who told males not to dance? Who told free fliers not to breed last Conjunction? Who told the fliers to break their eggs?”

The Talkers had told them. Talkers said to eat fish. Foul fish that softened beaks, made feathers fall, which made free fliers unable to fly at all. Talkers said not to nest. Not do Conjunction. But flight leaders had cawed laughter. Promise of Potipur. Shishus had cawed laughter with all free fliers. Do will of Potipur! Breed. Grow more numerous. Have plenty!

“Who told fliers to eat, breed?” Old Talker had a voice like rocks rubbing together in flood. “Flight leaders said eat, breed. Flight leaders, like Shishus there. She called shame on Talkers. Told you Potipur would provide plenty. So. Ask flight leaders where is rejoicing Potipur will provide.”

The Talker had gone then, quickly, down inside the stone, where it would be safe against Thraish, for Thraish were very angry at Talkers.