had asked, drew in a great breath. Storyteller. Her skin prickled at such an
honor from the strange Old One. “I am Sky-sees-her. Humans call me Satin.” She
reached a caressing hand to Bluetooth.
“I am Sun-shining-through-clouds,” Bluetooth said, “friend of Sky-sees-her.”
The strange one rocked on his haunches, and by now all the strange hisa had
gathered, to a muttering of awe among the others, who gave way to leave an open
space between them and her.
“We hear you speak of this Comes-from-bright, this Bennett-man. Good, good, was
this human, and good you gave him gifts. We make your journey welcome, and honor
your pilgrimage, Sky-sees-her. Your words make us warm, make warm our eyes. Long
time we wait.”
She rocked forward, respecting the age of the speaker, and his great courtesy.
There were increasing murmurs among the others. “This is the Old One,” Bigfellow
whispered at her shoulder. “He does not speak to us.”
The Old One spat, brushed his coat disdainfully. “The storyteller speaks sense.
She marks a Time with her journey. She walks with her eyes open, not only her
hands.”
“Ah,” the others murmured, taken aback, and Satin sat dismayed.
“We praise Bennett Jacint,” the Old One said. “He makes us warm to hear these
things.”
“Bennett-man is our human,” Bigfellow said staunchly. “Downbelow human: he sent
me here.”
“Loved us,” another said, and another: “All loved him.”
“He defended us from Lukases,” Satin said. “And Konstantin-man is his friend,
sends me here for my spring, for pilgrimage; we meet by Bennett’s grave. I come
for great Sun, to see his face, to see the Upabove. But, Old One, we see only
machines, no great brightness. We work hard, hard. We do not have the blossoms
or the hills, my friend and I, no, but we still hope. Bennett says here is good,
here is beautiful; he says great Sun is near this place. We wait to see, Old
One. We asked for the images of the Upabove, and no one here has seen them. They
say that humans hide them away from us. But we still wait, Old One.”
There was long silence, while Old One rocked to and fro. Finally he ceased, and
held up a bony hand. “Sky-sees-her, the things you seek are here. We visit
there. The images stand in the place where human Old Ones meet, and we have seen
them. Sun watches over this place, yes, that is true. Your Bennett-man did not
deceive you. But there are things here that will make your bones cold,
storyteller. We do not speak these secret things. How will hisa Downbelow
understand them? How will they bear them? Their eyes do not see. But this
Bennett-man made warm your eyes and called you. Ah! long we wait, long, long,
and you make warm our hearts to welcome you.
“Ssst! Upabove is not what it seems. The images of the plain we remember. I have
seen them. I have slept by them and dreamed dreams. But the images of Upabove…
they are not for our dreaming. You tell us of Bennett Jacint, and we tell you,
storyteller, of one of us you do not see: Lily, humans call her. Her name is
Sun-smiles-on-her, and she is the Great Old One, many more than my seasons. The
images we gave humans have become human images, and near them a human dreams in
the secret places of the Upabove, in a place all bright. Great Sun comes to
visit her… never moves she, no, for the dream is good. She lies all in bright,
her eyes are warm with Sun; the stars dance for her; she watches all the Upabove
on her walls, perhaps watches us in this moment. She is the image which watches
us. The Great Old One cares for her, loves her, this holy one. Good, good is her
love, and she dreams us all, all the Upabove, and her face smiles forever upon
great Sun. She is ours. We call her Sun-her-friend.”
“Ah,” the gathering murmured, stunned at such a thing, one mated to great Sun
himself. “Ah,” Satin murmured with the others, hugged herself and shivering,
leaned forward. “Shall we see this good human?”