In the wilderness hours just before dawn he heard voices. He sat up immediately, unsure if he’d been drifting off to sleep. They could have been the start of some dream. But they weren’t human voices, or at least not ones speaking any language he recognized.
The spark of light hadn’t moved. He switched his inserts to infrared and slowly scanned around, turning a complete circle.
The voices came again. Definitely not a dream. They swept past him, causing him to turn so fast he almost lost his balance. Several of them babbling together. A nonhuman language. They sounded urgent. Frightened.
But it was only the sound. Nothing moved in the canyon. Nothing physical.
Almost he asked: “Who’s there?” Except that really was the stuff of late-night horror DVDs. Dumb.
Whispers slithered past him, somebody—something—whimpering into the distance. Ozzie dropped the sleeping bag and held his arms out, concentrating on his hands, trying to feel air being stirred, the tiniest hint of movement. He closed his eyes, knowing that a visual sense was no longer any use to him. Listening, stroking the air. The sound came again, conjuring up the old phrase “voices on the wind.” He heard what was said, and repeated it back to them softly. It made no difference. They carried on past him, paying no attention.
That was how Orion found him as the first wave of a pale dawn lifted over the canyon wall: standing motionless with arms outstretched like some religious statue, mumbling words in an alien tongue. The boy clambered out of the tent, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he yawned. “What are you doing?”
Ozzie sighed and let his arms down with a suspiciously yogalike sweeping motion. He gave Orion an inscrutable grin. “Talking to the ghosts.”
Orion’s head whipped around, trying to find… anything. “Are you all right? Did you hit your head or something?”
“Not since that bar on Lothian, and that was years ago. This world is haunted.”
“Ow come on, Ozzie, that’s not funny. Not here. This whole planet is creepy.”
“I know, man. I’m sorry. But I did hear something, like a bunch of people or aliens.”
“The Silfen?”
“No, I know their language. I don’t know what these guys were saying, but you get a feel from the tone. They were sad, or frightened. Maybe both.”
“Hey, quit it! I don’t like this.”
“Yeah. I know. I think that’s the point, man.”
“The point of what?”
“Whatever I experienced.” He frowned. “What did I experience? Accept there’s no such thing as ghosts, so… some kind of projection? Bit childish just to spook travelers. I mean, why not go the whole hog and put a white sheet over your head and jump out on them from behind a rock?”
“You said the Silfen did have an afterlife,” Orion said quietly.
Ozzie gave him a thoughtful look. “You really do pay attention, don’t you?”
“Sometimes.” The boy shrugged as he smirked.
“Okay then, let’s think about this. None of our electronics are working, so the ghosts can’t be any kind of normal projection, holograms, sound focus, that kind of crap. The Silfen are active here, which implies it must be happening with their knowledge or consent.”
“Unless it’s them doing it,” Orion said, suddenly excited. “There’s nothing alive here. We haven’t seen any animals or insects. Maybe this is their afterworld, where all the Silfen ghosts live.”
Ozzie grimaced, and looked around the stark, massive canyon. “Somehow I think not. I’d expect something a little more impressive. But I could be wrong.” He finished up by looking along the canyon. “Yo, can’t see the light anymore, either.”
Tochee slithered up between them, raising a limb of manipulator flesh. WHAT’S HAPPENING? the patterns in its eye asked.
“This should test our vocabulary,” Ozzie muttered.
By midmorning, they could see the black pillars ahead were indeed trees. Even by this world’s standards they were giants, perfect thin cones reaching over a hundred fifty yards into the air. They had been planted in a double row, half a mile to the side of the river, forming an impressive avenue down the canyon.
“Somebody does live here, then,” Orion said as they drew near to the start of the avenue.
“Looks that way.” Ozzie tilted his head back to see the tops of the first trees. “You know, either they’re made out of a wood harder than steel, or there’s hardly any wind here, ever.”
“Is that important?”
“I dunno, dude. But it’s definitely a spike on the bizarro graph.”
Orion giggled. “This whole place is a spike.”
“I’m not arguing.”
An hour later, when the canyon walls straightened out, allowing them to see ahead for miles, they made out a group of figures walking along the avenue ahead of them. Seven people, a long way in front, moving at a steady pace.
BIPEDS LIKE YOU, Tochee’s patterns declared. THEY MADE THE LIGHT LAST NIGHT.
Could have done, Ozzie wrote.
THEY MOVE SLOWER THAN US. WE CAN CATCH THEM TODAY IF WE INCREASE SPEED.
Ozzie had been thinking the same thing. Of course if he really wanted to attract their attention there were several flares left in his backpack, though he didn’t want to use them for anything less than a genuine emergency. And the group in front would have to be looking around at the right moment. He was slightly surprised they hadn’t seen them already, especially given the way Tochee’s fabulous technicolor coating clashed against the drab ironstone.
Speeding up will be hard on us. We will reach them eventually.
AGREED.
In the afternoon, when they’d been walking down the empty avenue for several hours, they came to the first ruin. A small stream wriggled across the canyon, running from the base of the cliff wall down to the river, crossing through the avenue at right angles. At some time long ago, a simple curved stone bridge had carried the path over it. Now all that was left were the solid foundations on either side, sticking up from the dusty ground like a set of broken teeth.
There were gentle grooves in the stonework, resembling the trails snakes left in sand. Ozzie couldn’t tell if they were natural wind-erosions or ancient carvings. Thinking about the trees again, he suspected carvings. How long it would take for them to wear away like this he had no idea. Centuries, at least.
“I wish my arrays were working,” he sighed. “They could carbon date this right down to the afternoon it was built.”
“Really?”
“Pretty close, yeah.” It was always slightly unnerving how little Orion knew about technology. He had to be careful what he said, especially jokingly, which wasn’t an Ozzie trait. But the boy tended to take everything he said as gospel.
They splashed through the little stream, and carried on walking. Ozzie resisted the urge to carve his name into the bridge. He was mildly surprised that no one else had, especially the guys who’d left the soda can.
By the time they made camp they’d passed another ruined bridge, as well as a big circular depression in the ground whose edges were made from tight-fitting stone blocks. Neither archaeological remnant provided any clue as to what kind of creatures had built them. A bridge was a pretty basic design for any species, as were sturdy foundations, which is what Ozzie suspected the circle to be.
Through the day, they’d managed to close the distance on the group of travelers in front of them to about a mile. Once they got the tent up, the gold light became visible in the gathering darkness.
“That’s just about where they are,” Orion said. “You should fire a flare, Ozzie. There’s no way they can’t see it now.”
Ozzie gazed at the steady point of light. “They know we’re here. If they don’t want to talk to us, there’s no sense in trying to force them.”
Orion nodded cheerfully, and cut into one of the big fruits. “I get that about people now, you can’t rush somebody who doesn’t want to be rushed, right?”
“You’re learning.”
“So I let the girl set the pace.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And she’ll always find a way to tell me when she’s ready to go to bed? You’re sure about that?”
“Uh, yeah.” Ozzie was beginning to dread evenings around the campfire. The boy did have an amazingly one-track mind. “But, look, man, it’s going to be subtle. You’ve got to be alert and in tune.”
“Like how do you mean?”
“Okay, if she’s happy for the date to go on as long as you want, that’s a good sign.”
“I thought you said don’t try to get her to bed on the first date?”
“Yes, yes, that’s right. But this is the second date, or later.”
“Okay. So it goes on all night. Do I ask them home, or will they ask me?”
“I don’t know, man. It depends on the girl, okay? Use your judgment.”
“But, Ozzie, I haven’t got any, that’s why I ask you.”
“Want another line to use?” He’d found that was always a good way to make Orion stop, although the cost to his own dignity was always painfully high.
“Yeah!”
“All right. But you’ve got to have a ton of self-confidence for this one, okay, show no fear. ‘Is it me or do you always look this good?’ ”
“Maybe,” Orion said dubiously. “But you’d have to have a good follow-up line.”
“Hey, I’m just showing you how to open the door, once you’re in the room you’re on your own.”
The voices returned in the deep of night. This time they were slightly louder, occurring more frequently.
Orion woke with a start as one set of voices passed right beside the tent. Ozzie was already sitting up in his sleeping bag, listening to what was spoken and the way it was said.
“It is ghosts, isn’t it?” Orion said solemnly.
“Kinda looks that way, yeah. You scared, man?”
“Ozzie! It’s ghosts!”
“Right. Well, I’m scared, just in case you wanted to know.” He wriggled out of his sleeping bag and unzipped the tent. The night air was alive with sound,
