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Witnessing
a Sending
"Come on, Hess!"
Tristan urges, giving my hands a squeeze. "Take a look at this."
I lean forward on his
back and peer over his shoulder. One Alula has broken from the ring of
faces and, eyes still closed, has begun walking quietly forward. She is
no older than I am and, from the expression on her face, not much braver
either. I recognize her at once. Often I have flown in the same flit
with her, but never have I tried talking to her or responded with much
friendliness when she tried talking to me. I'm glad of it now, too.
Glad she won't be yet another Alula for me to miss.
Tristan whispers. "Is
she--"
"Shhh. Yes," I say. "She
is the one they're Sen--"
"Shhh! Look."
As the Alula takes her
place at its center, the circle closes up, and another Alul--one of
the Council member--spreads her wings and lifts her wrinkled face
toward the treetops swaying beyond her shut eyelids. The other Alulas
raise their heads as she speaks:
"Great Alula, Goddess
of the Winged Women, please take this child safely to the plane of our
choosing: the human plan--an existence parallel to ours, at once here
and not here. Please guide her to fulfill her duty there. We sacrifice
her for the good of all the planes, and our blessing goes with her."
She pauses, then cries, "Great Alula, we give her to You!"
I shiver. There is a
visible relaxing in the circle, then a flurry of wing--wings that fly
up and down as if moved by another force, like leaves dancing on
windblown boughs. I can still feel Tristan's hands in mine, and I hold
them tight. When the beating finally stops and the circle starts to
break up, the Alula in the center is gone.
"Wow," Tristan
breathes.
"All right, it's
over. Time to go," I say, spreading my wings anxiously.
"I wonder why they Sent
her to the human plane," he ponders, ignoring my words.
"Come on, let's get out
of here."
"I wonder how it felt
for her," he says.
"Well, it felt pretty
unpleasant for me, so can we jus--"
"Okay, okay."
The Alulas are walking
away now, heading for the nearest entrance to the High Skymount's
interior. They look content, at peace. But it's a cold content, a
proud peace. Tristan lets out a final wistful sigh, and we briefly
gallop as best we can between the trees, then lift off. We're just
about to clear the skymount's edge and dive down into the black sky
when I feel uneasy and glance back over my shoulder.
My uneasiness is not
calmed by the sight of a young Alula, face upturned and eyes open wide,
staring right up at me.
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