* * * *
Back near the queen’s residence, workers were making final preparations to the outdoor amphitheater’s stage. On the lawn nearby, there were large open-top grills being set up here and there, with charcoal laid on and lit ablaze. Great piles of fruits and vegetables were being sliced and skewered on tables nearby. And all around there was a low humming, the bustle of humanity, received not so much in Lina’s ears, as in her core. Coupled with the cool moisture of the path she walked—a path shaded by the branches of the Great Tree—and the scents beginning to fill the air, Lina couldn’t help but smile.
A handful of musicians took to the stage, carrying with them instruments fashioned from old, cast off branches of the colony’s Great Tree, some taller than the musicians themselves, stripped of their bark and painted in festive and colorful designs Lina had seen in the Book of Origin. Lina was about to ask An Ming what they were when the first low, droning note was struck and began mixing with the hum that was all around.
“Oh good, they’re starting,” An Ming said.
The row of diploid women, seated with their backs to the cliff face, each raised a long wooden instrument to her lips in turn. The result was a layering of sound that would rise and fall, sometimes overtaking the steady hum of the people all around, but most of the time mixing in with it, adding layers of complexity that brought joy to Lina’s ears.
In Lina’s mind, with her new knowledge, she could see the compression waves in the air that started from the performer’s mouth, magnified by sympathetic vibrations from the long wooden tube, and finally spilling out into the surrounding air. The waves in the air reflected off the cliff face, growing stronger still, until finally combining with the natural resonance of the vases placed around the amphitheater, being amplified yet again to create a massive wall of sound. This sound was picked up by the branches of the colony’s Great Tree and transmitted into the ground by its roots to be felt in everyone’s feet.
Drummers arrived next. On the stage now, the gaily-painted diploids were beginning to bounce on their toes, bounding over in greatly exaggerated arcs to stop in front of waist-high drums. One by one they began slapping and stroking the tops with their bare hands, adding their sharp, percussive sound to the low droning hum all around. A large drum, that no single person could handle, was lifted to the stage and held on a slant by a pair of diploids. A third went to work on it with a pair of mallets the size of Lina’s forearm. Like the long, droning horns, the resulting sound of the big drum was felt as much as it was heard.
The droning pipe players began to take turns improvising solos to go with the overall sound—the music rising and falling and swirling around. As if on cue, the crowd began to take notice. The people attending to the grills started to synchronize their movements to the rhythm that was all around, tossing skewers into the air and catching them on platters, dancing behind their grills. Those not engaged in food preparations wandered into the open spaces, dancing and twirling, moving toward the amphitheater. An Ming smiled as Lina, too, began to dance, before joining in with a few twirls herself.
“Royalty is supposed to be above all this,” An Ming said, “but what fun is that?”
Lina spied Arabel, along with I and the medicine woman’s apprentice being escorted to the first row in front of the stage. The gold of Arabel’s tattooed back was still faintly visible here and there under the colorful and festive robes she wore. Others began filing in behind them, and soon the area was filled, except for a single, open aisle down the middle.
Then, just as the drummers had slowly added their contributions to the music, they each, one at a time, stepped back from their instruments. The pipe players tapered off as well, until there was only one droning pipe left, and then nothing. Even the constant buzz of the people was restrained.
There started in a low humming, not from the amphitheater, but over the rise opposite it. All eyes turned to the source of the new sound, as a mob of cheerful, humming children crested the ridge on their way toward the stage. They brought with them what looked like a miniature cloud skimmer that took three of them to carry. Another of the children had leaves and branches bound to her arms with twine, and still another had her entire back painted in gold and clutched a book in her hands. Lina didn’t need a vision to tell her what was taking place as the children took the stage.
“I am I,” shouted one of the children, “I will bring the medicine woman.”
Another child popped her head up from the center of the little cloud skimmer. “I am Lina. I am very sick.” The child proceeded to make such convincing retching sounds that the otherwise rapt audience began to chuckle.
“She needs the royal wine, then she can be her true self,” said a young girl painted up to look like the medicine woman. She handed a cup to the one portraying Lina.
The Lina on stage took a drink, promptly stuck her tongue out, and slumped over, so convincing in her act that the audience collectively sucked a breath.
“Will she be alright?” said the one with the golden painted back, who Lina assumed was playing the part of Arabel.
The girl with the leaves and branches was making her way to center stage now. “I will watch over her now,” she said, and spread her leaf covered arms over Lina’s body.
Things settled down, with the on-stage Arabel and I sitting at Lina’s bedside. Arabel was paging through the book on her lap and the one
