The veiled Representative of Commerce also joined them, along with a fourth alien that Talis was not introduced to. She supposed xe was a guard, though xe carried no weapons. Xe did not acknowledge her, so she ignored xin in kind. She was far more curious about the Representative’s presence, when the captain had been clear that xist role was limited to monetary discussions. Were they going to bribe Onaya Bone for the information they needed? Or her priestesses, to ensure the meeting even happened? Talis almost laughed at the thought. They’d gotten Wind Sabre’s help with the flash of money, sure, but Cutter smugglers were as far different a breed from Bone priestesses as she could imagine.
If the two ships could have put down right over the temple, Talis could be done with this business in hours. But the pilgrimage to the Temple of the Feathered Stone was a cultural necessity. An act of proving oneself against Onaya Bone before one could enter her sacred places. To do this right, they couldn’t moor closer than a day’s ride through the hot sands.
Of course, the pilgrimage could also be a total farce if one had means, and comfortable litters could be hired in which to make the journey. Considering all the delicate skin exposed by the depth of the Representative of Commerce’s carvings, and that she had the money to spare, Talis elected to hire such transportation. The winds sweeping across the undulating landscape brought sand to Talis’s eyes as she arranged for their passage.
The aliens stepped up into the shade of the luxurious taxi, and Talis looked back to see Dug watching her from the lower transom. They exchanged a long silent look.
What Dug wanted her to do, exactly, she couldn’t be sure. It was too late now to go back and turn down the contract. Too late to pull a fast one on the aliens and renege on their agreement, as it sounded like Hankirk had done. Too late, moreover, to go back and never take that salvage run for the ring.
She tightened her lips, willing Dug to understand, then turned from him and climbed into the pillowed cabin with her Yu’Nyun clients.
To best distribute their weight for the bare-chested strongmen that would carry their taxi, one of the aliens—the one she’d never met—sat beside her on the rear-facing cushioned bench of the passenger compartment.
Talis felt a twinge of surprise and disappointment that Scrimshaw remained opposite, seated between xist captain and the Representative, whose name was apparently less important than xist function. She was not feeling her previous aversion at being in a tight space with the foreigners. It had almost been a relief to climb into the car with them and get out from under the gaze of her best friend.
She needed a stiff drink, but the icebox in the litter provided only skins of water for their journey.
Back among xist crewmates, Scrimshaw was less talkative than xe had been aboard Wind Sabre. Either xe was constrained by some dictate of rank or xe could not find a place to speak for xist-self around the enthusiastic discussions xist captain initiated. For hours they talked about climate, cultural identity—that of the Cutter folk and Bone of course, not the Yu’Nyun—and all that the alien had learned in the libraries of the Rakkar. Scrimshaw assisted when a word needed help, but otherwise xe remained quiet and still, matching the behavior of the Representative and the fourth alien.
Despite the heat and wind, they opened the litter’s curtains when the cabin master called out the next morning that they were approaching the Temple of the Feathered Stone. Talis pulled her goggles down against the outside light, and the Yu’Nyun closed their translucent nictitating eyelids.
A tableland rose before them, standing proudly against the line of Fall Island’s distant edge. A gulch was formed by two high walls of wind-shaped stone, outlined in radiant green by the light of Nexus. Framing its mouth, two enormous statues of Onaya Bone towered several stories above their taxi, and the Yu’Nyun leaned out to appreciate their scale.
The stylized icons were carved into square pillars and painted with shocking, brilliant colors, in pigments that seemed to enhance the tones of the landscape. Each side of the pillars mirrored the others, showing the fearsome goddess gripping tight the hilt of a curving sword. The details of her carved features were maintained with care by the order of priestesses, so that the high arching sweep of her cheekbones and the length of her distinguished nose would not be worn away by the exfoliating sand that scoured the landscape. The eyes, painted a vibrant magenta, seemed to follow the small group, and Talis felt the gaze of the great stone Lady on her as they passed beneath.
An arching entrance dwarfed them as they left the litter behind and entered the temple. The stone image of an enormous six-eyed raven stretched its wings in welcome, or warning. Ketszali, the only creature of his kind. The impressive bird was Onaya Bone’s preferred companion. The feathered guardian. Her favorite creation, her familiar and friend, whose plumage she styled after her own.
The feathers sculpted to frame his head were painted to suggest the purple and green tones of his iridescent color-shifting mane. The flesh around his dangerous, razor-edged beak and three pairs of eyes was sculpted to show the scaly and pebbled featherless surface. He was not a beautiful bird. As with the people Onaya Bone had created, tiny feathers began at Ketszali’s temples, continuing out to the sides of a pair of dark eyes in the usual place behind his beak. The feathers were little more than enlarged pores
