Sheri Tepper - Grass

Shoethai surprised his fellow Moldy by having an idea.

“You should send Highbones after them,” the misshapen Brother suggested. “Highbones and Ropeknots and Steeplehands and the two Bridges.”

“Who the devil are you talking about?” Fuasoi blurted.

Shoethai flushed. “The climbers. Those are some of the names they call themselves. Highbones is Brother Flumzee.”

“Why should I send climbers?”

“Because they hate Brother Lourai. Because he climbed better than any of them. Because some of the younger brothers called him Willy Climb.”

“Willy Climb?”

“That’s the name they gave him. It’s a better name than Highbones, even. When they made him climb the towers and he outclimbed them all. He got up and got down again without being caught. But Highbones had a bet he would die upon the towers, so Highbones hates him.”

“It would depend, wouldn’t it?”

“On what, Elder Brother?”

“On where Mainoa is.”

Shoethai shrugged, his gargoyle face twisting into a hideous grin. “Doesn’t matter so long as he’s with Brother Lourai. If he’s at Commons, Highbones would kill him there. If he’s at one of the estancias, Highbones would kill him If he’s out in the grasses…”

Highbones had been one of Shoethai’s most diligent persecutors. Shoethai loved the idea of Highbones out in the grasses, where the Hippae were, and the hounds.

Elder Brother Fuasoi put the book in the drawer of his desk as he mumbled to himself. “If Mainoa is out in the grasses, we needn’t worry about him. No. no. The first thing to do is find out where he went. And the most likely place is Opal Hill. I’ll try that first.”

Elder Brother Fuasoi reached Persun Pollut. Persun Pollut, with a caution which was natural to him, said that he believed Brothers Mainoa and Lourai might have gone away with Lady Westriding and some other persons but he did not know where.

Shoethai mumbled, “The daughter of that house vanished during the Hunt yesterday. Everyone is talking about it. She vanished somewhere near the bon Damfels estancia. Perhaps they went there.”

Elder Brother Fuasoi regarded his assistant with unusual interest as he keyed the tell-me once more Who would have thought that Shoethai had any interest in Grassian gossip? At Klive he reached a subordinate family member who verified that “some people from Opal Hill” had come to Klive and had gone again. “Out in the grasses,” the voice said with a breathless hint of laughter, as though hysteria waited backstage for its entrance cue. “Out in the grasses, to Darenfeld’s Coppice.”

“If they went in the grasses,” Shoethai mumbled, “there will be a trail” He sighed with pleasure. “Send Highbones and the others to follow them.”

“On foot?”

“No, no,” Shoethai amended thoughtfully. “In an aircar. To find the trail in an aircar.” He thought about aircars. It would be easy to fix an aircar so that it would fly quite a long way and then fall. “I’ll get one ready for them.”

“Who did you say?”

“Brother Flumzee. Brother Niayop. Brother Sushlee. Brothers Thissayim and Lillamool. Highbones, Steeplehands, Ropeknots, Long Bridge, and Little Bridge.”

Bones, Ropes, Steep, Long, and Little — who had tortured Shoethai too many times to be forgiven. Who didn’t need to wait for the plague because they hadn’t deserved the New Creation anyhow.

“Have they hurt you?” Elder Brother asked, suddenly aware of the flame burning at the back of Shoethai’s one good eye.

Shoethai frowned and picked at a scab on his cheek, licking the blood from his finger with every evidence of relish. “Oh, no, Elder Brother. It’s just that they’re always bragging about who they’ll do in next.” He said nothing more about the aircar. Maybe it would be better not to let Elder Brother know he was going to fix it. That way, when Bones and the others didn’t come back, nobody would know it was Shoethai’s doing.

Yavi Foosh had left Elder Brother Fuasoi’s office only to report directly to that of Elder Brother Jhamlees Zoe, where he waited for half an hour to see his superior.

“What’s Fuasoi up to now?” Jhamlees wanted to know.

“Shoethai found a book Brother Mainoa had been writing, and he brought it back to Fuasoi. And now Fuasoi’s all in a uproar about it.”

“What’s in the book?”

“I don’t know, Elder Brother. Shoethai found it, and he wouldn’t let me see it.”

“He should have brought it to me!”

“Sure he should, Elder Brother, but he didn’t. I even told him he should bring it to you. But Elder Fuasoi’s his bosom friend, so that’s where he took it.”

“I think I’ll walk on down there and see what’s going on.” Elder Brother Jhamlees rose from his chair and strode down the hall. Yavi Foosh stayed a sensible distance behind. He didn’t want to be identified as Jhamlees’ man, the way Shoethai was identified as Fuasoi’s man. Once that happened, people didn’t let you alone.

The door to the office was open. The room itself was empty. Jhamlees stared at the emptiness a moment, then went in and pulled out the drawer in the desk. “This it?” he asked, waving the book as he beckoned Yavi closer.

Yavi nodded. “That looks like it.”

“You won’t say anything about this?”

Yavi shook his head. Of course he wouldn’t say anything about it. Jhamlees Zoe could take all the books in the world, and Yavi wouldn’t say a word.

Rillibee moved upward along the trunk of a giant tree, his feet finding a path in the twine of a woody vine, in the ascent of a forking branch. Branch led to branch, vine to vine, a barkway opened before him. He fumbled with the light, trading it from hand to hand as he climbed, once or twice holding it in his mouth when he needed both hands for holding on. As he came up into the first levels of foliage, however, he began to see the forest around him. The leaves glowed, some of them, or creatures upon them glowed in soft fluorescence: green puddles swam at the base of branches, yellow lines delineated twigs, blue dots gleamed from indigo masses. Branches cut darkly across these shining nebulae, these glowing galaxies, and he climbed on structures of solid shadow among moving effulgences.

A small wind came through the trees, bearing a cloud of winged pink blossoms. When the wind died, they perched all together, turning a sapling into flame. Larger wings the color and scent of melons beat slowly from trunk to trunk, the creatures at rest assuming the shape of cups in which golden light pulsed to attract other fliers, darts of violet and a blue so pale it was almost white.

“Joshua,” Rillibee whispered. “You’d have loved this. Miriam, you… you’d have loved this.”

“Heaven,” said the parrot from the top of a tree “Died and gone to heaven.”

Leaves brushed his face, exuding resinous sweetness. A hard knob of fruit knocked against his arm. He picked it, smelled of it, bit into it. Crisp, sweet-sour, the juice ran into his mouth and was followed by a tingling, almost as though the fruits themselves were effervescent.

The sounds he had heard on the ground were all around him in the trees. Voices. One laughing. One speaking, as though telling a long story to an eager audience, interrupting itself with little side chains of sound. “You’re not going to believe this, but…”

“So then, what do you think happened?” If Rillibee closed his eyes, he could see the speaker, cheerfully telling a tale, leaning across a tavern table.

He moved slowly through the branches. The sound faded behind him. He turned and moved toward it once more, caressing the branches with his fingers, loving them with his feet. The voices were off there somewhere among the glowing trees. He would find them eventually.