Company Wars 01 – Downbelow Station

“Speak of Bennett,” Bigfellow asked, for he, like the others who came and went,

whatever the camp which had sent them on Downeblow, had passed through the human

camp, had known Bennett Jacint; and there had been great mourning in the Upabove

when the news of Bennett’s death had come to them.

“I speak,” Satin said, for she, newest here, had the telling of this tale, among

tales that the hisa told in this place, and she warmed quickly to the story.

Every evening since their coming, the talk had not been of the small doings of

the hisa, whose lives were always the same, but of the doings of the

Konstantins, and how Emilio and his friend Miliko had made the hisa smile again…

and of Bennett who had died the hisa’s friend. Of all who had come to the

Upabove to tell this tale, there was none to tell it who had seen, and they made

her tell it again and again.

“He went down to the mill,” she said, when she came to that sad time in the

story, “and he tells the hisa there no, no, please run, humans will do, humans

will work so river takes no hisa. And he works with his own hands, always,

always, Bennett-man would work with his own hands, never shout, no, loves the

hisa. We gave him a name—I gave, because he gave me my human name and my good

spirit. I call him Comes-from-bright.”

There was a murmuring at this, appreciation and not censure, although it was a

spirit-word for Sun himself. Hisa wrapped their arms about themselves in a

shiver, as they did each time she told this.

“And the hisa do not leave Bennett-man, no, no. They work with him to save the

mill. Then old river, she is angry with humans and with hisa, always angry, but

most angry because Lukas-mans make bare her banks and take her water. And we

warn Bennett-man he must not trust old river, and he hears us and come back; but

we hisa, we work, so the mill will not be lost and Bennett not be sad. Old

river, she come higher, and takes the posts away; and we shout quick, quick,

come back! for the hisa who work. I-Satin, I work there, I see.” She thumped her

chest and touched Bluetooth, embellishing her tale. “Bluetooth and Satin, we

see, we run to help the hisa, and Bennett and good mans his friends, all, all

run to help them. But old river, she drinks them down, and we come too late in

running, all too late. The mill breaks, ssst! And Bennett he reaches for hisa in

arms of old river. She takes him too, with mans who help. We shout, we cry, we

beg old river give Bennett back; but she takes him all the same. All hisa she

gives back, but she takes Bennett-man and his friends. Our eyes are filled with

this. He dies. He dies when he holds out arms for the hisa, his good heart makes

him die, and old river, bad old river she drink him down. Humans find him and

bury him. I set the spirit-sticks above him and gave him gifts. I come here, and

my friend Bluetooth comes, because it is a Time. I come here on pilgrimage,

where is Bennett’s home.”

There was a murmured approval, a general swaying of the bodies which ringed

them. Eyes glistened with tears.

And a strange and fearful thing had happened, for some of the strange Upabove

hisa had moved into the back fringes of the crowd, themselves swaying and

watching.

“He loves,” one of them said, startling others. “He loves the hisa.”

“So,” she agreed. A knot swelled into her throat at this admission from one of

the terrible strange ones, that they listened to the burden of her heart. She

felt among her pouches, her spirit-gifts. She brought out the bright cloth, and

held it in gentle fingers. “This is my spirit-gift, my name he gives me.”

Another swaying and a murmur of approval.

“What is your name, storyteller?”

She hugged her spirit-gift close to her breast and stared at the strange one who