Later that night, the female paka returned humming another off-tune refrain. After listening to the paka screech for a time, Skye, with a false sense of calm, asked, “Why do you sing like you’re tone deaf when you are not? It is grating to those of us who can hear you.”
The silence was absolute. Skye didn’t lift his head from where he stared into the fire, yet somehow he knew the paka’s entire body radiated disbelief. For several minutes neither said a word. He threw another piece of wood onto the fire and straightened his legs to stand at his full height.
The female had plopped back on her haunches, wobbling from shock. Her eyes were nevertheless unswervingly steadfast on him with her ears perked forward. The look in her eyes almost made him laugh out loud, though his heart sank at the same time. The paka was indeed the voice he’d heard. If only the library clerks were present in this moment.
“What are you looking at,” he demanded.
In a whisper he felt more than heard, she asked, You can hear me?
He sat down on a patch of dirt and glowered in her direction. “Of course, I can hear you. You torment me in this hellish darkness with your rambling words and songs. I’ve no idea why.”
As if he hadn’t spoken a word, she repeated, You can hear me?
Skye didn’t bother responding. He was surprised to feel a trickle of pity for her. He inwardly grimaced. He, who had no qualms using the paka for his own gain, felt pity for this animal. He needed information—information that would help him escape and return to Talon’s company. Casting off the pity, he reminded himself she’d been bred by the heathens through magical means.
His brows flattened into a scowl. He snarled, “And I care not why, if you’d refrain from the music you spout at every turn.” In disgust, he realized his effort was wasted upon the animal. She didn’t hear a single, scathing word he said. The paka’s excitement rolled off her in waves, her emotion so strong.
She bounded up and leapt back and forth like a wild bird. She proclaimed, My wish has been granted. He can really hear me! Goddess, thank you, thank you.
Her exuberance was catching. Even with his resolve to use the paka, he could not keep the small smile from his lips. He had never seen her exhibit this much energy and excitement.
Say, the Goddess is good.
When he refused, she faced him squarely, a look of yearning and doubt warring in her eyes. Please, say it, for I cannot believe it as true.
Though he almost refused, he mumbled the phrase. The animal screeched with joy, a noise so loud his ears rang. He shook his head at the sight of her bounding around the tunnel like a rambunctious, three-year-old child.
Seeing his amusement, she stopped her joyful antics, and with far more dignity than he thought possible, she thanked him. The formality of her words caught him off guard. Skye responded without thought, “I have not done anything, except be forced to listen to your ramblings.”
In genuine innocence and confusion, she asked, Why was nothing said before today? Why now?
He rolled his shoulders and cocked his head to one side. “I believed the voice came from a disembodied spirit. I didn’t realize the voice came from you.”
As she turned his statement over, he stood up and stretched. His arms reaching into the air like he was reaching for the sun. Several loud pops filled the cavern.
I humbly apologize for any untoward comments I made on your behalf. Had I realized you could hear me, I would not have sung the phrases.
He detected within her apology her abject embarrassment. Skye turned to look at her again and said, “That was the first time I heard you. I could not determine where the voice was coming from.”
She ducked her head in horror. For some reason, Skye had trouble remembering the paka was a means to an end. Every time she spoke to him in her real voice and not the insane disembodied shriek, a small, comforting quake spread through his core.
Amusement broke through her embarrassment. She blinked her eyes and flicked her ears back and forth. I am to be at the hall if I want to eat. I find, however, conversation has tipped the scale over hunger for the evening. After a short silence and with great humility, she asked, Would you mind if I conversed with you this night? You may turn down my request, and I will leave you in peace.
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Disconcerted by her sincerity, he said with studied nonchalance, “My jailor will be bringing my meal soon.”
Taking his answer for acquiescence, she laid down without saying another word. Every once in a while, she emitted a short hum in disbelief and delight. He studied her in fascination. “Why does no one else speak to you? It is why I didn’t tie you and the voice together.”
The paka dropped her head in a movement conveying her shame. I was born this way, able to speak, but unable to be heard. You are the first to hear me. With a small sigh, she continued, I had long ago despaired of ever being understood, and I believe I have been going mad without the ability to communicate with anyone. At least the humans are able to communicate with their hand signals. She rolled over onto her side and lifted a dainty, black paw. As you can see, this is unfeasible for a Paka. I can only convey vague impressions in this feline form, much like any other animal.
She rolled into her original position and stared at him again. As much as he fought against it, Skye was drawn into the supposed miracle. “Although I can hear you, I have a hard time accepting the fact that I am having an intelligent conversation with an animal.”
She hissed, displaying her pointed teeth. You have much to learn, young Pyranni. I am no mere animal, I am a Paka. Pakas have been upon this world long before any humans came into being. It should rather be myself exclaiming I am in awe of the fact an animal speaks.
Skye couldn’t think of one thing to say. Was it possible pakas existed long before humans ever strode upon the land? Taking in the paka’s rigid stance, he realized he had insulted her. Silence was perhaps the best answer. He could ill afford to offend the paka during their first conversation.
Genuine laughter cut through the silence like a knife through butter. You, my Pyranni, have much to learn. And learn you shall. I will not allow my one chance at communicating with someone to dissipate simply because of your ignorance. Before he could take umbrage at her words, she shifted into a more formal position. With sides still heaving with laughter, she said, Now, let us begin again. I am named Eiren of the Pakas, from the city of Luthis. She gracefully bowed her feline head.
Not expecting the formality used in her introduction, he stood for a moment before he replied with a bow, “I am Skye Silverhand from the Pyranni city of Gharra.” Straightening, he lifted his hair away from his face and smiled at the paka. Despite the darkness surrounding him, she brought a lightness of heart he could not explain.
The paka twisted her head toward the right tunnel, pricking her ears as she listened for a sound he didn’t hear. Gliding around the corner, Eiren said, Your jailor comes with your dinner. I will return once she is gone.
He opened his mouth but closed it when his ears picked up the woman’s tread. With his back turned, Skye listened as the quick, purposeful strides approached. In the days he’d been here, caught like a rok in a trap, the woman never spoke to him, looked at him, or even acknowledged his presence. It’d been a lonely several days. He smiled. At least the paka had broken the monotony of his stay.
Eiren came back as stealthily as she had left. Neither spoke while the paka watched him eat his meal, lying with both front feet straight ahead of her.
May I ask how you have come to be here?
While chewing the tough bread, he debated his answer. If her claim that no one else could hear her was true, he had nothing to lose in sharing the story of his capture. As he had told his interrogators, he knew nothing of his king’s plans.
He waved his hand toward the tunnel in front of him. “I found one of the tunnels the Kurite spies use on the outskirts of Gharra. What little I was told by my captors was that they possessed timely information that necessitated their return to a man named Jaure at their base camp.” A stone, jutting out from the wall, pushed against his back. He slid down the wall until he found a depression fitting his body more comfortably. “We spent several days in the tunnels until we came to a staircase leading into the Gais Desert.” The foreboding feeling from the desert hit him without warning, almost oppressing him with its soundless weight.
Seeing the wary look enter his eyes, Eiren told him, I have heard of this desert many times, but have never entered the place. What is it that makes all whom pass through its boundaries have the same look you now carry in your eyes?
Holding back a shudder, he tried to find the words to explain the experience. “Imagine yourself in a place where nothing moves. Even the wind does not blow. Sounds don’t carry. As soon as you step onto the sand, there is heavy silence. The only things you hear and see are the people with you. The moon even seems dimmer in the desert, almost as if a thin piece of cloth keeps out its light.”
With a thoughtful nod, Eiren said with measured words, It is true then. Even after a thousand years, nothing has grown on the land.
Seeing his confusion, she explained. The land you speak of was not always a desert that feels, she hesitated, searching for the correct word, so wrong. Flicking her ears in distaste, she said, Long ago, a great battle took place on the land. It once held trees, lakes, and the cities of my countrymen. And then something happened. Everything was wiped out of existence. Nothing stood. The castles, villages, and trees were gone. This once beautiful land is now known as the Gais Desert. A once fruitful land turned into a wasteland where nothing grew or lived after the Last Battle. A war fought a thousand years before.
Eiren shook her head to dislodge the regret for what happened in the past. The war ended. Nothing wanted to go against a power that could destroy the land and everything on it.
Skye tried to imagine the desert he had passed through as it might have been. He couldn’t do it. The Gais Desert was so much more than a wasteland of sand. “Why have I never heard of this battle?”
She gave a paka’s equivalent to a shrug, lifting her spine and settling again. Most Kurites have forgotten the reason for the desert as well. Time is known for allowing people and pakas to forget its past. Please, continue with your story.
Fiddling with a rock he picked up from the ground, he said, “I was brought in front of your interrogators. They asked their questions, questions I couldn’t answer. I expected torture, but not one finger was lifted against me. It makes no sense.”