I could use a favor, Charles Wallace kythed.
He'd learned to be patient, to not expect an immediate response nor to fiddle with the time zones in his mind and calculate what Meg might be doing. His interruptions did not rouse her from rest, nor from working in her increasingly house-turned-den of experiments, but poke at the edge of her consciousness and eventually she'd be inspired to respond in kind. Here?
Anywhere, he answered. I need to go to work.
I can't just drop everything and tag along. You know that. Before he could protest, she added, Not because I've changed, not because I'm too—much older and wiser, or anything, but I have work to do here, too.
And you think it's all that straightforward, that you'd get back months and days after you left? His merriment crossed walls, borders, oceans.
Meg's frustration rippled back. Sometimes that's how it works.
I'd ask you to bring the children along, they might have—insights—you and I don't. But all I want is an anchor, someone to keep me grounded.
You know you never have to ask.
But I thought it might be better to tell you in advance, then when I'm in the middle of a setback.
So I have time to fret over you?
So you have time to come up with some brilliant idea.
Meg shook her head. Don't forget to let me know when you get back and rush off into something else.
Will do, said Charles Wallace.
Then he turned to his companion, a creature that glided above him on long red wings. "Lead on, Sharsi," he grinned, reaching up to grasp for a trailing feather. Sharsi swooped low, and in a moment, they were both gone.
Human and avian emerged onto a windy hillside. The sky was clear, saving a V of smaller birds on the horizon. Charles Wallace let go of the feather, catching his breath. "Is this your home?" he asked.
Sharsi flew higher, circling slowly. "I have lived here a long time," she finally said.
"It's beautiful."
"There may be violence and destruction even in the most beautiful of places. Come," she said, leading the way down the hill, a route that was significantly easier for her than it was for Charles Wallace.
"Is there a war? Here?"
"That is what I fear. Generations ago, many of my cousins shed plumage over the seeds of the dirgeflowers in the valleys below. At great cost, the war was ended, and it is a distant memory to the oldest of them now. But now the young ones of the people have been acting—unwell."
"Fighting?"
"Not yet. The victors and vanquished still live together. But every once in a while, the children lose what is dearest to themselves. Not beloved, not food, not life itself, but memory. They go disappear for a spell, and emerge with no knowledge of what has come before. I fear the ancient adversaries are at work among us again."
"And you don't know what's causing it?"
"I am old, and far from inconspicuous. The youth will not go as they will with someone like me chaperoning!" Sharsi let out a squawk of what Charles Wallace took for laughter. "I sent for another ally to aid me in this battle against the unknown. He, too, has been searching, but to no avail. Perhaps you and he can work together."
"Let's hope," said Charles Wallace, at last reaching the bottom of the hill as Sharsi did laps above.
It was yet another trek across the flatlands to reach a stand of trees where Sharsi's "cousins" perched in wide nests that balanced precariously on expansive limbs. Smaller birds, nearer in size and muted colors to the familiar warblers of New England, they nevertheless flew and spoke as quickly as she did. "Another human!" one called. "Have you made away with the first?"
Sharsi's recruit was an Earthling, and she had not bothered to tell him that? No, he corrected himself, a human. There were other planets where the denizens looked like him, as different as they might be within. "No," he said. "My name is Charles Wallace Murray. Feel free to call me Charles Wallace."
"Well met, Charles Wallace. I am Kelet."
"And I am Sunur."
"Neslaw."
Charles Wallace judged it unwise to ask Sharsi if there was any obvious difference between the once-warring clans. Though there were broad continuums of differences—some birds had ever-rounder beaks than others, some had ever-sharper claws than their neighbors—nothing stood out at first glance as being a distinction that would lead to strife. Instead, he asked, "Is there a place where I might sleep? I'm afraid I'm a weak climber, and those nests are high up for me."
"Kee, kee! You are too big, too big to perch here," Sunur cackled. "You can come and meet our human."
"I'm afraid our diet will be a bit bland for you," Sharsi explained. "You see, we do not eat much meat."
"That's quite all right," Charles Wallace said. "I trust Sharsi wouldn't have brought me here to starve."
It was another long detour around the trees to a shorter tangle of bushes, with purple berries poking out of the snarl. "The ripest ones are at the bottom," said Sunur. "Eat those, and let the others bloom first."
"Thank you," said Charles Wallace.
"And here comes Human now!"
The man who approached had many wrinkles in his pale skin, and bright blue eyes. He leaned on a transparent cane that was half-filled with an iridescent green liquid Charles Wallace had never seen before. It quivered as he walked, and sunk into the ground with each of his steps, as if softening the burden.
"Is your name Human?" Charles Wallace asked.
"Sharsi brought him here. He gave no other name. I thought he was human as Sharsi is Sharsi—one of his own kind."
"You might as well call me Human," said Human. "Everyone does."
"And where have you come from?"
"Most recently? Indolen," he said. "Though I spent some time forging this on the moon Mwale."
"My name is Charles Wallace," Charles Wallace explained. "I come from Earth."
Human broke into a smile. "A troubled planet, but it has its fair share of champions."
"Will there be enough for both of us?" He bent down to pluck one of the berries.
"I trust so. Now that you're here this shouldn't take too long. I've been at my wit's end."
Charles Wallace bit into it; sour, but edible. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."
"This is no laughing matter," said Sharsi, who had rushed to join them. "Defending our young ones is not a democracy."
"Would it be better if it were?" Sunur responded. "Are there more of those in the cosmos who would come to our aid than wish us harm?"
"Let us hope," said Human, yawning as he stretched out on the ground. Rather than grass, the flatlands were covered by a yellowish moss. It did not take long before he had fallen asleep.
"Rest, if you can," Sharsi said. "Tomorrow our work begins in earnest."
"I'll try," said Charles Wallace, attempting to find a comfortable position to lie down on the other side of the bushes.
Before sleep came, though, a familiar voice reached out across the galaxy. I don't know about him. He seems dangerous.
I think he's on our side, Charles Wallace replied, though too glad of Meg's presence to disagree much.
Perhaps. But take care.
Easier said than done, he noted, drifting off into an uneasy sleep.
Upon awaking, Charles Wallace found the purple berries every bit as sour as they had been the previous night. Sharsi joined him soon after. "Well?" he asked. "Anyone feeling brave enough to show me around?"
"The less I pester the youth, the better, I reckon," she said. "Neslaw said she might be by soon, though she strikes me as a bit flighty."
"All of you seem quite flighty to me," Charles Wallace quipped.
"Excuse me?" Sharsi fluffed her feathers.
"Never mind," Charles Wallace said hurriedly.
From beyond the hedge, Human yawned, stretching himself and grasping for his strange cane. "If you are ready, let us be about," he said, with a nod to Sharsi.
"Very well," she called, soaring past the bushes and off to continue their investigations.
It was all Charles Wallace could do to wait, but in time one of the smaller birds emerged. "Neslaw?" he hoped.
"Aye!" she sung, somersaulting in mid-air as if to show off for her otherworldly visitor. "You'll be Sharsi's friend, eh?"
"Indeed," he said. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I was hoping you could show me the dirgeflowers? I've journeyed a long way to see them."
"Kee, kee!" Neslaw cawed. "If you can keep up."
"I'll try," Charles Wallace sighed.
Neslaw proved to be not an especially forthright companion on her way down to the valley, but at least not too frustrated about being separated from her peers to entertain a stranger. The moss faded from yellow to a burnt gold as they journeyed, and then a tall grass took root again, so that Charles Wallace almost lost his footing in the undergrowth.
Then they emerged into a cluster of flowers with deep red petals, like roses curling away from the yellow sun. An Earthlike star, Charles Wallace noted, as if that mattered.
"Not here!" Neslaw indicated. "Keep going!"
Only beyond them did he see the other flowers. Short, with a few small white petals like young daisies, but many more tiny seeds running together in the center of each. Neslaw dove low to the ground. Each stem was taller than she was; they would have made formidable weapons indeed.
"These are the dirgeflowers?" he ascertained.
"Yes," she said. For a moment she did not elaborate, but finally said, "I am othli. You might eat of one, if you are with me."
"I don't want to cause a diplomatic incident."
"You will not. Only, take care."
Charles Wallace wished he could say he was devoted entirely to the work he'd been called to do, looking for any clue as to what had gone wrong. Part of him, however, just wanted something else on the planet to eat. He carefully picked a flower, then scooped up the seeds, which came apart easily in his hand. Then he swallowed them.
Or tried to. Almost as soon as he closed his mouth, he felt the urge to sneeze violently, and turned away just in time. "Dangerous territory indeed," he muttered. "Do you poison your enemies' food with these?"
"Kee, kee! These did not grow for a human's mouth. Listen now." Neslaw landed and bit off a stem of another flower, then tore at the seeds. For a moment, nothing happened. And then she burst into song:
"Alas for Direbo, for the fallen moons,
Alas for the wings of Karel and of Pudrah!
But woe to the egg that lies abandoned in my valley,
Woe to the warriors and shelters unwoven!"
She paused for a moment, and then blinked, as if noticing Charles Wallace anew. "Dangerous, I say. I am no zealot, but it is well that we othli control the dirgeflowers, and no others."
Flowers that transformed even a typical youth into a harbinger of lament? He had seen stranger things. "I see. Thank you."
"Sharsi says that all things are interconnected. These seeds may have grown just this way by chance, but now that they are within me, it is as if it were their will I should carry them towards the nest."
"You do not trust her?"
Neslaw took to the sky. "I do not like it here. Too much of a past that is not mine."
"Then I must apologize for bringing you here. Perhaps tomorrow you can show me somewhere more to your liking."
"Kee, kee! Yes, that is better. And you will like it too, I think. If nothing else, it will not make you cough so!"
"Well, then I'm certainly willing to try," Charles Wallace grinned.
That night the purple berries—"cloudberries," he heard Neslaw call them, though he still had yet to notice a cloud hiding the golden sunlight—tasted a little bit sweeter. Had they finally come into season, or was he just glad of something he could swallow?
Did you recognize any of those things she sung about? he kythed to Meg.
No, she responded slowly. I'm not entirely sure she did either.
She said it was not her own past. Do you think the flowers themselves were singing?
Who knows? Perhaps it would be a different message for every speaker.
Every speaker who can keep it down.
Ask Sharsi if she's tried it?
I think she likes to stay above the fray. Literally and figuratively, Charles Wallace speculated. Anyway, I have another lead with Neslaw for tomorrow.
Good luck, then.
Thank you.
The morning saw Human and Sharsi depart for yet another huddled conference, while Neslaw impatiently swooped and hummed, waiting for Charles Wallace to ready himself for the day. He could make do, he supposed, and Sharsi hardly seemed the type to complain, but occasionally he wished he'd been sent to a planet with a bit more running water.
That time they walked past the trees, underneath many more limbs bearing nests just as wide as Neslaw's own. "Found a guest, eh?" someone called to her.
"He found me, really," Neslaw teased.
"She's a very kind tour guide," Charles Wallace offered, but this didn't seem appreciated.
"Is it true that there are hollow trees where you come from?" asked another curious bird. "And worms as big around as a nest is high?"
How could he answer that? "Sometimes."
"And two suns in the same sky?"
"Not on my world. But there are other planets—not like mine."
"Ignore the old fogeys," Neslaw warned, "they'll bore your brains out if you let them."
"Watch who you're calling old, aunty. Kee, kee!" chirped another bird, to general acclaim.
Neslaw set a faster pace, and Charles Wallace hurried after her until the trees thinned out and the sun's heat bore down on them. Were those shadows in the distance, though? She drifted toward them, catching a burst of wind, and he followed in her wake until he could detect their shape. They were great gray stones, each carved like tripods with long legs touching the ground, as tall as any tree. Clearly, these could not be the work of Neslaw or her people; neither Sharsi, old as she might be. Some vaster appendages had hewn these.
"Thank you for taking me here," he said, approaching the nearest of the rocks. "Have you been here many times?"
"Not many. Usually when I'm racing braggarts like Thwalm. Someone whose squawk is louder than his wingspan."
"I see," said Charles Wallace. He walked underneath and reached up to the stone. Even in the shade the legs cast, it was hot to the touch. "You don't know how long they've been here?"
"Of course not. Not even Sharsi remembers, the old Sharsis."
"Do you know if there was a war here, before the dirgeflower war?"
"War! Why is it that all the old folk want to talk about is war? And you call us young ones foolish."
"I never—"
"Yes, you do. You think strangers come here to hear us sing our own songs? Or build our own nests? You are as bad as Sharsi—you fear a shadow on this world, but you will burn in the heat of sun." She skimmed the top of a rock formation till she nearly cut her talons on it, then took off for the trees, leaving Charles Wallace standing alone amidst the ruins.
Hoping against hope he would find something—some glyphs, carvings, something that would tell him what had passed on this world of dizzying heights—he let her coast ahead, confident he could find his own way back. It was not like there was much to distract him from the path they had set. But while all the other stones proved just as warm, moved by some inner heat, they were each as inscrutable, and only when Neslaw had faded into the distance did he return towards the trees.
"Is Neslaw there?" he asked, straining his neck to peer up to the highest nest, where only one bird at a time sat weaving twigs.
"No," called down an annoyed voice. "She's gone."
"Missing?"
"Of course not, she just—up and left, her and Thwalm and the youth."
"Right. Well, if you see her, tell her I'm sorry." It was not the most honest apology he could have made, not one given in the fullness of understanding, but it was a step away from silence.
"Like she has time to pause and speak to auld Plift, here. Kee, kee!"
Charles Wallace shrugged. "Don't count yourself out. I like your chances better than mine."
That night, as he tried yet another cloudberry—they were approaching the category of "tasteless" by then—he thought to ask Human, "What do you think of these?"
"They're quite good!" Human perked up. "I've eaten much worse. On Rulla we tasted very little of anything grown in the ground. I made do, but found myself bored."
"Rulla?" Charles Wallace asked.
"A fine moon! With bountiful cities and much progress, but anguish still."
"Is that your home?"
Human paused, yawning. "My home is far from this world, little human. I joy to return there, but I have dear friends across the cosmos."
Wondering if he had hit on a sore point, Charles Wallace said, "I understand," and left him alone until the other man was sleeping.
It was a long time before he could find rest, however, and he felt himself kything for reassurance. Did I cross a line?
Maybe, Meg suggested.
That's not very helpful!
Are we any more reasonable? There are a myriad ways to thoughtlessly give offense on Earth, and every time I cross borders I have to learn and forget thousands more. Multiply that by the number of cultures on the planet, and is it any wonder we're not losing our minds more often?
So what, we all need to become the same? The image seemed ridiculous as soon as he formed it, but bouncing ideas off of Meg helped him derive the reduction ad absurdum. No, of course not. But what can I do?
What you did. Apologize, even if you don't know you're being heard. And try again tomorrow.
You don't know I'm going to do that.
You're right, I don't. Are you?
Of course.
So trust pays off.
Charles Wallace glanced up at the unfamiliar constellations, then closed his eyes again.
When he woke it was without semblance of a plan. The first thing to do, he decided, would be to figure out whether Neslaw was still on speaking terms with him and then take it from there. He went over to the trees and was glad to find he could pick her out of a crowd; her wings were shorter than many of the friends who crowded on a lower limb with her, her talons more tightly curled.
"Good morning," he said cautiously. "Neslaw?"
She fluttered her wings with a start, and the birds clustered nearby gave way. "You must be the visitor Sharsi was all excited about."
Was she playing standoffish, pretending the previous afternoon hadn't happened? "Yes!"
"You see?" Sharsi tutted, hovering above them. Human was standing behind her. "Dreadful, simply dreadful."
Charles Wallace glanced up to Sharsi, then back to Neslaw. Of course. Neslaw had not forgotten just the previous day. Whatever disaster had befallen this world had struck again, and she did not remember meeting him at all. He could not make things right.
But in that case…
He took the gamble. "My name is Charles Wallace Murray. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard that this is a beautiful planet and I've been hoping to visit it for myself. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I would appreciate getting to see where the young people of this world spend their time."
Sharsi, so scared of what the loss of memory did to the young birds, would not have been bold enough as to simply ask, would she? For a moment, he waited in silence, until Neslaw said, "Kee, kee! It will be a long walk on your ground legs."
"I think I can manage," he smiled. "If you don't mind waiting for me."
"We'll see how well your flat feet keep up. Come on! Who wants to fly with a giant?" she called, and a few other birds dove off the limb in wild pursuit.
This time, instead of leading him out beyond the forest, or down into the valley, Neslaw flew back the way he'd originally come—up towards the mountains. One of her friends spoke. "You're new here, so you wouldn't know, but our grandtiercels fought a war over senseless things. Like who would lose their freedom, singing songs they don't understand."
"I...see," said Charles Wallace, beginning the ascent.
"They claimed to seek peace. All of us living together. And we have peace now. I am idri as Neslaw is othri, but that would never stop us from being friends or even nestmates if we wished."
"Your world surely does have great peace. Mine could learn from yours."
"But still the old never tire of lament. Each day is a new telling of shame, a new anthem of woe. How can there be joy or rest if we must always bear the names and the misdeeds of our clan?"
"Perhaps they want you to remember what has come before? So that you will not repeat their mistakes?"
"Pfaw!" Neslaw said. "They do not trust us, their bitterness would clip our wings if they had the chance. That is why we come here."
She pivoted into a cave, and the others flew in behind her single file. The entrance was small enough that Charles Wallace had to duck to climb in, but once inside, he found that it stretched back deeply. At the back of the cave there was a pool of standing water.
"In here the past is gone," Neslaw explained. "There are no idri nor othri, no dirgeflowers and no war. Only our friendship, and what is yet to come."
"You drink this?"
"Kee, kee, you must be very dull on your planet," her friend said.
"Only making sure," he asked, reaching down to splash it. Yes, it was water, cool to the touch for having been in the dark cave.
"Shall we have another sip?" Neslaw ventured.
"Not today," her friend said. "I am trying to impress Sunur, and cannot go forgetting everything just now."
"Thank you for showing me this, you have a truly fascinating planet. I need some air," said Charles Wallace. "It's a little hard to squat here on my big human legs, kee, kee."
This seemed to amuse them long enough for him to make his exit. And there, climbing the hill to draw near, was Sharsi, with Human panting behind her.
"There you are!" she called. "We thought you disappeared."
"Don't go near here," he said. "I'm afraid they'll—think me a traitor if they thought I led you here."
"You didn't lead us," she said. "We followed."
"It isn't that easy," said Charles Wallace, and he began recounting what he had found in the cave.
"All this time," Sharsi finally concluded, "and I had no idea what power lay in these very hills."
"This is a threatened planet indeed," Charles Wallace said. "But I don't believe that the cave is only a tool of the powers of darkness, nothing more. The young ones will need new faith that their elders trust them, but I don't know how to restore that."
Oh, Meg, he cried out, what can I do?
Are you taking on a burden that's not yours? she kythed back. You weren't sent here to heal the planet, only to discover what ailed it. Maybe you've done your part.
But before he could thank her, he felt a jolt almost like an electric shock, and he noticed that Human had trembled at the same time. "Meg?"
"You heard her too?" Charles Wallace blurted. "You know her?"
"I don't understand how this can be," Human said. "I've wondered since you arrived. But among other humans, well, my name is Charles Wallace Murry."
"I did warn you," Sharsi said, unconcerned, "that this was not your own time."
"You did not tell me I had come here before, in my own past, when it was once my present!"
"I didn't know to expect him."
"So you are still...a traveller?" Charles Wallace asked. "My—our—family, all of our friends, how are they?"
"Do you really want me to tell you?" Human laughed.
"Yes. No? I know you've come from tremendous places, I know the triumphs that shake the cosmos have been won in the pettiest troughs and I don't need to worry so much, I'm guessing as old as you are you still worry anyway, or you wouldn't be here."
That's my brother, Meg answered back, and Human almost flinched at the connection. Had it been a long time, then, since he needed to kythe?
"What can I say," he said in return. "I do get wanderlust."
"I want to hear all your stories. I want to know that my nephews and nieces are doing great things, I'm sure they are. But there's something I want even more."
"What's that?" Human asked. But he was squinting, calculating, unweaving a puzzle.
"Not now. Sharsi, what do you need from me? You know where the cave is, you know what's been happening to the young ones. What more can I do here?"
Sharsi paused mid-preen to address him. "While I'd normally be all for a diverse approach, I reckon the next step is something the elders are going to need to solve for themselves. I think you bipeds have done your part."
"Will you take me back to Earth, then?"
"Of course. Whenever you're ready."
He nodded. "Just one more thing. What I want most, right now, is to be free to choose the future, when it comes. Not knowing what it'll take."
Before Sharsi could protest, he turned and sprinted for the cave, past the crowd of birds, who were gossiping about such pleasantries as who could beat who in an altitude sprint, and took one gulp from the water.
He emerged feeling refreshed but chilled, and nearly hit his head on the top of the cave standing up. Around him, a handful of birds squawked in derision. Another bird with larger plumage entered. Her name was Sharsi, he remembered from a previous adventure; the darkness of the cave made it almost impossible to make out, but she had bright feathers, some almost a glowing red.
"We'll talk later, Neslaw, Thwalm," she said. "This is—not forbidden. You may come as often as you like, but I hope we may speak of our future together."
Odd, how stiff her voice was. Had the others broken some law?
"Charles Wallace, you can come with me whenever you wish."
"Gladly," he said, reaching out to hold onto her resplendent tail, and they vanished.
"I'm sure you'll hear from a colleague whenever you'll need to host a friend. Or travel on," she mentioned, once they were Earthbound again. "Until then, thank you for everything."
"Of course," he blinked. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."
"You were just fine," she said, taking off with another flash.
Is everything all right? Meg tentatively asked.
I don't know, Charles Wallace admitted. Sometimes these worlds will ask me for help, and then as soon as I get there just admit that I don't fit in.
You don't have to solve everything alone, she said. And either way, I'll always be here for you.
You can't prove that for sure! he half-teased, half-feared.
I can trust. That's enough for today.
And come what may, that would be something to remember and hold onto.