Kaido no Yume VII

The kelvin disappeared, with no special effects whatever.

Kohath remembered stories of kelvins: supernatural creatures with the tendency to help people, or to mislead them—you got good ones and you got ones that weren't so good.

"They are called the Present because they are always with us," Maro said, "Even though we can only see them here, and only when they want us to. They give us no other name. But you call them kerobin?"

"They're only stories where I come from."

"There are stories here, too," Nyaiya said quietly.

"We must hurry. The sun will be down shortly."

They went to the hill, moving directly towards it now. The sun was indeed nearing the horizon, and Kohath wondered how short the days were here.

They reached a point—Kohath couldn't tell what marked it—where Maro said, "Beyond here, we must be silent until we reach the serai."

So they walked. The hill in front of them became more and more opaque as the sun raced toward the horizon, until finally they were at the foot of it, and it was quite solid. They were in a small open space which was evidently a place of importance.

There was a raised platform, brightly painted with black and orange and white, and a small hut or shed, by which stood another kelvin.

"We will make a record of your presence," Maro said. "Stand on that platform, there."

Kohath stood on the platform. He watched the kelvin, who was staring into the distance, and hadn't moved since their arrival. Nyaiya went into the hut and brought out a small jar and two brushes, one larger than the other. She took these to the side of the hill, where Kohath's shadow loomed over her head, and she began painting its outline with the larger brush.

Kohath watched. The hillside already featured several tiger shapes, with simple glyphs he figured were names; most of the paint had faded with the weather, however, and only about six were still recognizeable: three adults, and three children.

Nyaiya finished the wolf's silhouette and picked up the smaller brush. She began to write, but before she had made the first couple of strokes the kelvin who had been silently overseeing this ritual narrowed his eyes and stretched out his left arm. Nyaiya dropped the brush.

"I cannot write your name, Kai—K—K—" she said. "You must write it yourself."

The wolf stepped off the platform and took up the brush. The dark paint was too wet, and dripped down the smooth rock, refusing to make coherent shapes. Kohath was frustrated by it. This was the tigers' monument, and his contribution, his smeared name, was nothing he could be proud of.

He handed the brush back to Nyaiya when he was done. She gave brushes and bucket to the kelvin, who saluted and disappeared just like the first one had.

Nyaiya laid a paw on his shoulder.

"Come, we are nearly there."