language of the angels.'
For a thousand miles across the forests, mountains and deserts of Ea, Alphanderry had tried to recreate this strange and beautiful language of the Elijin and Galadin that no man understood. And at the pass of the Kul Moroth, for one brilliant moment, in an outpouring of perfect song that shook the very heavens, he had succeeded. But it seemed that the secrets of this language had died with him.
'Ah, too bad,' Maram said. Then there's no hope of ever understanding it.'
'No, there must be hope,' I said. 'There must be a way.'
Master Juwain brightened a bit and said, 'Alphanderry sang out the words of this language. If only we could remember them and learn their meaning, we might be able to use them to decipher it.'
I drew my sword again and held it pointing toward the sky. Its silvery surface reflected the golden astor trees and the immense blue dome above the world. Flickers of the Timpum's colors danced along the blade. The Sword of Truth, men called Alkaladur, the Sword of Memory.
'Alphanderry,' I said suddenly, 'sang
'Are you sure, Val?' Master Juwain asked me.
'Yes, to the word — I am sure.'
'But we don't know what this means.'
I gazed long and deeply at my sword, and I said, 'Almost, I do, sir. There's something about this language. In hearing it, it's like
'I wonder if it must have been that way for Alphanderry, too,' Master Juwain said. 'Can you remember more of what he sang out?'
'Almost, I can.'
'Well, you may, in time.' He rubbed his hand across the akashic crystal with the reverence he might have reserved for a book. 'We need more time. Time to gain more words, and time to learn their meaning.'
'How much time, sir?'
'I don't know. Many days, I should think. Maybe months.'
I sheathed my sword, and I, too, touched the opalescent crystal, was cool like any other stone. So, I thought, it had come to this, as I had feared it might. I looked at Ninana and said, 'We would like to borrow this, if we may.'
She looked at me as if I had suggested borrowing one of the Lokilani's children. 'Do you mean, to take the jewel of Memory from the Forest?'
'Yes,' I said to her. 'We can't remain here, and neither can this crystal if we are to learn from it what we must.'
'I understand,' Ninana said, moving closer to the head of the grave. 'But the jewel is dear to us, very dear.'
Aunai stepped forward and touched her shoulder. 'There was a time when the jewel did not dwell here, and a time when it will not again.'
Ekewai, a slight, comely man who seemed as gentle as a sheep, pointed at the crystal and said, 'The Ela'ajin brought this here for a purpose. To keep it safe, yes?'
'To keep it safe,' Aunai said, glancing at me, 'or to keep it for the Matri'aya?'
Ninana held out her wrinkled hands toward the Timpum sparking and shimmering above the akashic crystal. They seemed to gather up its colored lights as bees might a flower's nectar.
'It would be a great loss to us,' Ninana said sadly.
'It is a great decision to have to make,' I told her. 'Perhaps you could call together your elders and hold council.'
'No, that is your way,' she said. 'Our way is this: since the loss would be all the Lokilani's, all the Lokilani must decide.'
And with that, she turned to Ekewai and a young woman named Noehela and others, and she asked them if they would call their people from across the island to gather here. They agreed to this, hurrying off through the trees in different directions — or rather, walking a little more quickly than was usual for them and with new purpose.
And so we waited there in the astor grove all the rest of the day for the great council to commence. As dusk fell and the woods deepened with whatever darkness ever touched this enchanted island, the Lokiiani began arriving in twos and tens. Delectable foods were brought forth, and we sat among the mosses and flowers feasting far into the night We listened to the katydids calling in the trees; we watched the Timpum brighten the grove even as the stars lit up the sky. And still the Lokilani had not gathered in all their numbers, and so we laid out our cloaks and slept. Early the next morning, a few hundred more of the little people came singing and dancing into the grove as if to a birthday celebration. By noon, I counted some twelve hundred men, women and children crowding the ground about Balakin's grave.
Ninana finally came up to me and stood with me above the akashic crystal. The emeralds in her black and stiver hair sparkled with a green fire as she said, 'We are ready.'
'Very well,' I said, looking at Maram and Master Juwain. Atara sat nearby working a comb through Estrella's curly black hair. 'Do you need us to withdraw while you make your vote?' 'Vote?' she said.
I explained to her how certain of the free peoples chose their kings or made their laws.
'Oh, no,' she said, 'that is not our way either. We must speak with each other and reach an understanding. We must be of one mind.'
'But a thousand people can't be of one mind!' Maram said, 'And they certainly can't all speak with each other. It would take a year!'
But it seemed that the Lokilani could — and that it might take nearly as long as Maram feared. Ninana gathered in all the goodness of her voice, which was pleasant but not strong; she spoke to all assembled, giving as clear and truthful account of our quest as anyone could. When she had finished, she asked me if I or any of my friends had anything to add. We didn't. And so the Lokilani began the long work of deciding what should be done.
They broke into perhaps two hundred groups, and sat in little circles, spread out across the hills of the astor grove. For an hour or more, they did nothing but talk. The sound of their small voices was like the buzzing of the bees that flew from flower to flower spreading pollen. From time to time, one or more of them would break away from their group and walk over to join another, adding other voices to what was one continuing conversation. This mixing and mingling occupied another few hours, by which time many of the Lokilani had grown hungry, as had we. And so they sat in their circles, and they ate their hemes and bearseed bread and drank their, cool sweet wine And all the while they talked and laughed and sang their sweet songs, and it was hard to believe that they were engaged in an argument of great moment.
Toward the end of the day, while we waited near the akashic crystal, the Lokilani merged into larger groups of twenty or thirty. And still they gave voice to their thoughts, many of which seemed opposed to giving up their great jewel. That the Lokilani children felt free to speak as equals with their mothers and fathers surprised me. More than once, like kittens dancing around a butterfly for the first time, two or three of them would come over to get a better look at me and my friends; some of them even dared to ask me questions or tried to prompt me into laughter or song. Their parents came, too, and these looked harder at me, at the scar marking my forehead, and their questions were harder and more pointed. At dusk it came time for yet another meal as the men and women of the woods reassembled into yet larger groups. Finally, late that evening, with the Timpum lighting up the flowers and grasses like fireflies, the Lokilani sat all together as one, a little army of little people ready to protect that which was dearest to them, as any people would.
As emissaries, Ninana and Aunai, with Taije and Kielii, came over to us. The look on Ninana's face was both hopeful and grave. My friends and I all stood as she addressed us: 'We have spoken together all day, and still there could be more talking, much more — but we know that you desire to return to your own lands.'
'Have you reached a decision?' I asked her.
'We have, Vala'ashu.'
My chest swelled like a bellows as I waited for her to say more.
