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could see the maia's flaps stop moving. And, in the space of but a few seconds, all color fade from her
mantle, until there was nothing but gray. It seemed, to Indira, the dullest gray she had ever seen.
She found herself fighting back tears. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped fighting, and
let the tears flow freely. All the humans, adult and children alike (except Adams), were doing likewise.
And she saw that, across the mantles of the living maia, stately waves of brown and green were slowly
moving.
A few minutes later, the maia began behaving strangely. Several of the maia left, heading back toward
the oruc grove. One of those remaining began a peculiar movement on a patch of soil next to the
vines a kind of slow side-to-side two-step, dragging its peds.
After a minute or so, Indira saw that two mounds of earth were slowly piling up on either side of the
patch.
Understanding struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her mouth agape, she turned to Julius.
But Julius was not there. He was already striding up the slope of the mountainside, heading toward the
shell of the shattered landing boat. The place where the colony stored its tools.
Not long after, she saw him return. He was carrying a shovel in each of his hands. And over his shoulder
were draped strips of various types of cloth and fabric. Green fabric. Brown fabric.
He smiled at her crookedly, but said nothing. He made a gesture to Koresz with one of the shovels.
Koresz took the shovel without hesitation. And the doctor did not have to be told to drape strips of
colored fabric over his shoulders.
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That done, the two men advanced slowly onto the patch of cleared soil, facing the maia who was
creating it.
The maia stopped, stared. Ochre bands were added to its coloration. Julius made shoo-ing motions with
his hands, which, to a human, would have signaled: "Move back."
When he saw that the maia wasn't moving, Julius sighed heavily.
"Ever play football?" he asked Koresz.
"Please! I am not a barbarian."
"Well, rookie, lend me a shoulder anyway."
So saying, Julius stooped and lowered his upper body until his shoulder was butted gently against the
cowl of the maia. Koresz, uncertainly, followed suit.
Then, slowly but with as much strength as he could muster, Julius attempted to push the creature back.
It might have moved an inch. Maybe. But the hoot which it emitted carried a clear tone of surprise.
Julius straightened up, grimacing, rubbing his lower back.
"As I feared," he muttered. "It's like trying to block Lawrence Taylor."
"Who?" asked Koresz.
"An ancient legend from the dawn of time, Vladimir, whose name is known only to barbarians like me
who happen to be the few football fans left on Earth in these effete modern days. A hero, from the
Golden Past. A demi-god. Think of Hercules, or Theseus. Or both rolled into one. Sorta like that."
He stared at the maia, chewing his upper lip.
"I guess we'll just have to try to dig around "
Suddenly, the maia edged back until it was clear of the patch.
"Well. Thank you. Took you long enough, dimbulb."
He started digging. He and Koresz.
It took a long time to dig a grave big enough to accommodate the body of Wolugo, especially since
Julius insisted on what he called "the regulation six feet." Indira, when she took her turn with the shovel
(all the adult humans took a turn in the grave, even Adams although he only lasted fifteen minutes),
suggested to Julius that the maia were probably accustomed to shallow graves. But Julius had been
unmoved.
"Yeah, probably so. But I finally found something that humans can do for them that they can't do very
well for themselves, and I'm not about to do a slipshod job of it."
Despite her aching muscles, she found herself suddenly in agreement with his point of view.
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By the time they were finished, it was late in the day. Indira was not surprised to see that, while the
humans had dug the grave, the maia had been gathering clumps of oruc.
Food, to sustain the dead in their voyage.
Nor was she surprised to see that Joseph had organized the children to provide their own gifts. And so it
was that when the body of the maia Wolugo was lowered into her grave, she was accompanied not only
by clumps of oruc but by strips of cloth, small tools (whose use she would not have understood), toys,
trinkets, and several of the small bowls that the colonists had made to eat the maia-food.
It was those last gifts, more than anything else, which brought tears to Indira's eyes.
Bowls. So that the gentle giant, if she encountered starving children in the afterworld, could once again
give life to the dead.
The next day, Indira left the human camp and went to live with the maia. She remained there for months,
refusing all contact with adult humans (even Julius; but he was not hurt, because he understood), and
refusing to speak to the children if they used any Terran language.
When she returned, the adults gathered about the evening campfire. Her first words were simply:
"The name `maia' is wrong. They are calledowoc ."
When she told Joseph, he nodded, and corrected her pronunciation.
Interlude: Nukurren
For Nukurren, the first two days after her capture were a blur. She recovered consciousness briefly, at
several intervals. But beyond a vague awareness of Dhowifa, she recognized nothing before lapsing again
into darkness.
Then, just after dawn on what she would learn was the third day since the massacre of the caravan, she
awoke clear-headed. Very, very weak. But clear-headed.
The first thing she saw, out of her good eye, was Dhowifa. He was nestled under her cowl. From his
closed eyes, and the way his beak and arms twitched, she thought he was dreaming.
"You're so cute when you're asleep," she whispered softly.
His eyes popped open, glaring at her balefully.
"I amnot asleep. I'mthinking ."
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She began a retort to the effect that, the last time she remembered, he was as mindless as a snail. But the
look of love in the curl of his arms, and the green hues which rippled across his mantle, stopped the
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