‘Viggies?’ asked Jamieson. ‘Is that viggies?’
‘I’ll cut in the translator,’ she said. ‘Now listen.’
The same melody, translated. ‘Let the edges sleep. Let one half sleep,’ sang the translator, ‘let it sleep in peace, let it rest, let it rest, let water run deep, let the edges grow, let the way come clear, soft, soft, let the fingers sleep, let one half sleep.’
She cut off the machine. ‘There’s more. Not a lot more words, but a lot more music, and very repetitive. That’s what Erickson suggested – that I record a group of viggies near a Presence without a Password. Well, I got lucky, I hid. I heard them singing off in the night, and I recorded that first thing.
‘However, the translator could only give me a few words. I doubt if any translator, up until now, could have done even that. It told me it needed more, lots more. So, I hid in a hole in that cliff up there for over a week, recording viggy songs and chatter and describing what they were doing until the translator had enough that it could start to give it to me clearly. We got words for water and fingers and sleep right away, but it took some time to get the rest. The viggy language is more complex than you can imagine. Once I had the translation, I learned their words, then came here and sang the thing. That’s what I used. I sang that to the Enigma, all of it, for about an hour. I don’t have much voice, but it didn’t take much. You heard it. Simple.’
‘And you were recording whatever sounds the Presence made?’
‘Of course. At first, only noise. Whatever different kinds of noise there are. Like back in the valley, like most places, just a garble, a kind of whistling, chuckling, squeaking, snoring noise. But as I sang, it quieted down. I’d already figured out what questions I wanted to ask. Do you have a name for yourself you would like me to use? I thought that would get us off on the right foot. So, as soon as everything was quiet, I sang that. Loudly.’
‘And the answer was, as I recall from when you played it for us, Messengers know to whom they come. Right?’ asked Jamieson.
‘Right. Not exactly responsive, but it did make sense. So, I thought I’d give it some information at that point. I sang, I am not one of the usual messengers.’
Clarin said, ‘And the reply to that was None of them are.’
‘That’s right. Up until that point, everything had been very peaceful. Then I started to go on to my next question. The minute I started, it shook. Just a little, and only on one side, but I thought – well, I thought, hell, I had enough. I’m no linguist, no philologist, no specialist in alien communication. Suppose I slashed it off, all unwitting. So I went back to the first song, the peaceful water one, and I sang that while I backed off.’
‘So your intention is to repeat that sequence?’ Clarin asked again, staring upward. ‘With us as witnesses.’
‘Why didn’t we try it on some other Presence, something closer to where we were?’ Jamieson wanted to know, also staring upward. There was something ominous about the bloody glare coming from the Enigma, something threatening about the darting, dancing light.
‘I tried the viggy music on some other things, and it didn’t work. Evidently it’s specific to this Presence. And I haven’t had time to record any other viggy songs and try anywhere else.’
‘Would you say the viggies are sentient?’ Clarin asked.
‘I didn’t think so before,’ Don cried. ‘I thought of that, of course, because the translator was taking their babble and making words out of it. Nobody has ever seriously alleged that they were. They’re so elusive. It would have been hard to prove. But, yes. Once the translator began to make words out of their songs, I believed they were. Not that they’ve offered to talk to me to prove it.’
‘Which isn’t the point right now anyhow,’ said Tasmin. ‘Anybody want to stay down here?’ He looked Jamieson full in the eye. ‘You should, you know, Reb. Stay here with Clarin and the translator. You’ll be able to hear, but you should be out of danger. Then if something happens to Don and me, you two can still carry the word.’
‘Master Ferrence?’
‘Yes, Reb.’
‘With all due respect, Sir. Of the two of us, I’m quicker. I agree that some of us should stay down here. You, Sir. And Clarin.’ His eyes were clear as he said it. He didn’t look toward Clarin, though Donatella knew he wanted to.
‘He’s right,’ Donatella agreed. ‘You’re good, Tasmin. But he’s better.’
‘Ah, the confidence of youth,’ Tasmin said, smiling weakly. They were right, of course. He should be able to accept it without its hurting, but damn it, it did hurt. Jamieson had never been afraid to try things, even forbidden things, even foolish things. And it told. He had learned, learned along the edges where Tasmin had always forbidden himself to go.
‘Luck, Reb,’ he said at last, biting his lip. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Loudsingers,’ gasped one of the troupe of Chowdri, galloping wildly into the camp, antennae waving. ‘Loudsingers on the Mad One.’
‘Who dares?’ cried Chowdri. ‘What Loudsinger dares? Has not the Mad One killed enough of them?’
‘Same one as last time,’ the messenger chanted, breathlessly. ‘The female one. And one called Tasmin and one called Reb and one called Clarin.’
‘Tasmin!’ called Bondri, thrusting through the surrounding troupe members, Vivian close behind him. ‘Tasmin Ferrence?’
‘They are holding a song captive in a box,’ the messenger cried. ‘I heard it. The female one has it.’
The troupes rose with one accord. ‘I cannot let Tasmin Ferrence come to harm,’ Bondri chanted. ‘He is part of the debt.’
‘Neither can the song be left captive,’ Chowdri asserted, showing his fangs.
‘Let me talk to him,’ Vivian cried. ‘I’ll make him understand, Bondri. There’s no need
