The Children of the Sky

They walked out from under the awnings, and stood at their full height, visible to all. Just as when they emerged from the stable, the audience fell nearly silent. Jefri and Ravna turned in opposite directions, raising their arms to show off their hands. Ravna was scanning the crowd, watching for yam throwers. These stands were similar to Woodcarver’s meeting place at her old capital, but even larger. Each tier was built almost directly above the one below, and the “seating” was delimited mainly by quilted sound absorbers and premium boxes. Amdi’s moment of sunlight was past and the grandstands were in deepening gloom. It was hard to say how many packs were up there; they were crammed together closer than she had ever seen. There were heads everywhere, almost all focused downwards, on the two humans.

And then she and Jefri were face to face again. She reached out, brushed his sleeve with her hand. “I never guessed we’d end up here.”

Jef’s tense expression broke into a smile. “And I’ll bet you never guessed that my juggling was a survival skill.” He caught her hand for an instant and then they parted, Ravna retreating to the edge of the arena.

Amdi surrounded Jefri, continuing his showman’s spiel. He wasn’t translating anymore, but Ravna recognized the chord “five-tentacle paws.” He walked to the wheelbarrow that was set near center of the arena, and tossed three colored balls to Jefri.

Jefri began cautiously, with just the three balls in a simple up and across. Then he launched them higher and higher, brought them down low, bounced the cycle of tosses off the ground. Amdi threw him a fourth ball. That had worked well enough when they were practicing in the stable—but now Jefri lost control. It took him several tries to keep all four in the air. Ravna looked across the stands. Still no rotten yams, and the storm of clicking sounds was applause. To these packs, the impressive thing was that this monstrous, teetering singleton could juggle anything at all.

The most popular part of Jefri’s act was a bit of luck right at the end: A persistently rowdy pack in the second tier tossed a single yam down at Jefri. Jefri snagged it without getting splattered—and now he was juggling five!

“Toss it back,” said Amdi, and shouted some kind of warning into the stands. Jefri brought the other balls down to earth, then stood eyeing the stands. No pack could have seen much in the beclouded twilight, but after a moment, Jefri stepped back and threw a high, slow lob—that plinked exactly the member of the pack who had tossed it.

Ravna held her breath. She had no idea what such an insult might mean to these creatures. But everyone was laughing. The fellow looked around, even its own heads bobbing with amusement. It had other veggies, and after a few tries—and a sturdier yam—the pack and the two-legs were playing catch.

Before there could be more audience participation, the Magnificent Amdi waved Jefri out of the arena—and gestured to Ravna. Her show business debut was at hand.

•  •  •

Alas, the knot-tying made a limp finale. Even with the heavy ropes the Innmaster supplied, there wasn’t much for the audience to see, especially in the fading light. On the other hand, it didn’t challenge her sense of balance—and no one tossed rotten yams at her. As she held up her latest creation, she looked across the stands. The applause wasn’t wild, but she sensed a kind of somber speculation looking back at her. Perhaps she had not proved her super-singleton intelligence, but she had demonstrated that, for close work, a two-legs was defter than any full-bodied pack.

In any case, her act did not go on as long as Jefri’s. Amdi began to wind things down, waving at Screwfloss to do one more comedy go-around. But as the remnant untied Ritl, the Innmaster came strolling out from his private box in the grandstands. His gobbling carried liquid overtones. He was asking for something, all very politely. Whatever he was saying met with loud approval from the audience.

Amdi dithered in surprise. Jefri was walking out onto the arena.

“What? What?” said Ravna.

Jefri gave her an odd smile. “I think our host wants permission for a select few of the audience to come down and … um … pet us.”

Amdi had turned his attention to Ravna and Jefri, and for the first time his posture slumped out of magnificence. “That’s exactly right. None of these packs have met humans before; if even a few are hostile … what do you want to do?” Now all of him was looking at Ravna. And so was Jefri.

“I—” she looked up at the crowd. At this moment the vast majority were actively friendly. And we may need that tomorrow, when we try to leave. It was the story of her life on this world, making scary near-term bets. “Tell them ‘yes,’ Amdi.”