The following day brought some level of pomp and circumstance given the planned memorial service. Uyutuk excitedly roused the travelers shortly before sunrise, which was an unexpected emotion for the human, considering the solemnity of the day’s events. Namo had fallen asleep on Martin’s shoulder, but if Uyutuk found this inappropriate, he did not outwardly display any disapproval. Soon after breakfast, which consisted of some kind of pumpkin puree spread over a warm kind of flatbread, with additional greens that Martin kindly passed on, the travelers and their host family made their way to the village square. Dozens of villagers had already gathered in a similar formation to the previous night’s town hall meeting, chattering amongst themselves. Some brought instruments: lyres, drums, and flutes. A few individuals sang in a mellow chorus, perhaps practicing for the formal ceremony. In the center of the village-square-turned-amphitheater, where the brazier had blazed and the councilors had presided over the meeting the previous night, now three funeral pyres had been erected, towering as sober reminders of the grim tragedy the village had faced. Martin cast a glance at Namo, who silently stared at the pyres, though her face betrayed no emotion.

Shortly after the group took their seats, an usher spotted them and walked down the aisle, summoning them to join the councilors in the center of the village square. As they approached the center, the elder of the two women on the council proclaimed, in Kepmuun: “Welcome, traveling guests of honor. Please, be seated among us. This ceremony is about you as well.” She gestured to a group of fauns to their left. “These are the representatives who will be leading the mission to Fordham to find mutual understanding behind the treachery the humans who visited us committed.” The remaining four councilors provided some welcoming words to the pair. Unlike the previous evening, when the five were relatively cold and stern, today they were all smiles, to the point where Martin felt suspicious that their demeanor from either the previous night or this morning was simply an act.

As they now sat essentially at the front of one of the five rows of seating that constituted the village plaza, Martin resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at Namo’s friend and his family. Namo couldn’t resist the urge, even going so far as waving at them. The hapless thief instead watched people filter in to the other four rows of seating that he could see. He noticed that many brought in instruments. Does every faun sing or play an instrument? Martin wondered, perhaps a bit more snide than was appropriate for the situation. Martin felt in one of the side pockets of his duster and twiddled a cold metal bar between his fingers.

Once the sun had crested the oaks above the horizon, the elders called the chattering crowd to order by directing the ushers to sound the hand drums they carried. Rhythmically and synchronously, the ten ushers drummed a slow rhythm. As the noise from the crowd lulled, the younger of the two women of the council began the ceremony. The faun woman translated a eulogy for the fallen fauns. First came Chief Osojuu’sno; his wife, Osomasuuko; and their youngest son, Osokuup’sno, all of which had been prepared together in the central pyre. Next, in the pyre on the left, their eldest son, Osojin’sno and his wife, Oso’uno’opan - Namo’s friend. Finally, in the pyre on the right, their only daughter, Osomanote, and her husband, Osopek’snonuu. The recitation of each of their names gave Martin a glimpse at faun naming conventions from the patterns each name followed. He briefly wondered if he could guess who Namo’s relatives were just based on their names, as well.

The woman recounted the life of each of the members of the clan in turn, listing the impact they had on the people of the village and the legacy they would leave behind. A few people uttered exhortations when the speaker conveyed a sentiment that was particularly proud, and the village mourned together for the passing of these apparently widely beloved individuals. Namo translated the best she could, but Martin didn’t push her when her speed faltered. Martin noticed her translating ability was particularly challenged during an anecdote about how Uno’opan met the man she would eventually marry. The human understood; how hard it must have been to hear the story of how her friend fell in love only in the context of her friend’s funeral. Martin placed a reassuring hand on Namo’s back as she fought through her welling tears.

The deliberate drum rhythm continued unwaveringly through the entire eulogy, and Martin noticed that as the eulogy progressed, fauns joined in, playing their instruments softly. The atmosphere was remarkable and unlike anything he had witnessed - the woman carried her voice loud enough to where she cut through the background accompaniment, but it was as if the fauns surrounding him had rehearsed for a symphony orchestra. By the end of the eulogy, the drums, lyres, flutes, shakers, and other instruments had composed a mournful yet hopeful symphony; the councilor delivering the eulogy served as the conductor through her words alone. As she concluded speaking, the instruments kept playing. Additional ushers appeared from the ends of each of the five aisles, each carrying a torch. The five ushers passed the blazing torches to the village elders, who, as one, lit each of the funeral pyres, with a farewell incantation:

Jenuu motose lekano’o,

Motuuse mokano’o banto!

Jenuu mokano’o motuuse,

Mobetose kano’o jote!

Namo wasted no time translating this incantation, which she apparently knew well. “It’s a prayer of honor to our loved ones who are no longer with us.” The village leaders needed only repeat the incantation once before nearly everyone in the village joined in, Namo included:

You who walked among us,

We guide to the sky!

So that you may guide us,

On our path henceforth!

As flames licked heavenward from the bottoms of the pyres, the volume of the melodious incantation increased, and with it, the sentimentality behind the chanting and the instrumental accompaniment. Several minutes passed, to the point where the crowd began shouting more than singing, and many began standing from their spots on the ground and dancing in place, and in some cases with the people around them. If the goal was for their ancestors in the sky to hear the exultations of the villagers, Martin supposed it may have worked. Namo, for her part, remained seated, but Martin got the sense it was only because she recognized that her role in the upcoming send-off ceremony was a bit more formal. As he looked over at her, he nevertheless saw her eyes screwed shut as she chanted the chorus alongside all of the other fauns.

Once the bonfire had completely engulfed the pyres and the sun was well into the sky above them, the five elders raised their ten combined hands simultaneously, prompting a slow return to order. Once some level of attention on the elders had been restored, they thanked the attendees for their participation in the ceremony. The forlorn-looking man among them, who had been the most vocally opposed to allowing Namo and Martin to carry out the diplomatic visit to Uat’sn, implored the audience to remain in attendance for a little longer. “In addition to gathering to send off our departed chief and his family, we are gathered here this morning to send off our representatives to the village of Uat’sn and the human village of Fordham.” In lieu of applause, some of the members of the village played mismatching licks and rhythms on their instruments, creating a cacophony of discordant notes that on their own would have been pleasant and musical had they not clashed with each other. Martin was astounded that there were no apparent signs of disagreement that a pair of outsiders had been chosen to relay the message to Uat’sn. The support they experienced likely was a reflection of the trust the village placed in the elders, particularly in this time of uncertainty.

The elder faun raised his hands in a gesture to hold applause. “As our messengers, the seven individuals you see before you are, for the diplomatic tasks they have been assigned, members of our community, and we will provide for them as such,” he continued. Then, turning the seven individuals that included Namo and Martin, he announced: “To this end, we offer you gifts, and a symbol of our authority. Use them respectfully and bring honor to the people of Benuun.” The elder stepped aside to gesture to a wide, flat bowl made from a richly stained solid wood, itself perched on a round, ornate wooden table of the same wood and stain, situated in the center of the village square for the occasion. The bowl contained seven cloth bags, one for each of the representatives who had been assigned to meeting with Uat’sn and Benuun. Martin supposed that included him and Namo. “Please rise to accept our gifts to you.” Martin was able to context-clue the command without a translation based on the fact that the representatives to their left stood after it was uttered.

As they stood, a pair of the elders approached each of them in turn. One had hoisted the heavy-looking dish containing the sacks, and other had produced a pair of beaded necklaces, one dangling from each hand. Each of the representatives, in turn, received one of the intricately woven bags, but only two people received the necklace: the faun to the left of Namo, and Martin himself. Martin, last in the procession, stuck his neck out so that he could be offered the necklace after lifting the last of the bags off of the dish.

“You are to present those medallions to the leaders of their respective villages as a symbol of the urgency of the matter. Their acceptance of the medallion is a symbol of their trust and good faith in our desire to exchange information and seek cooperation.”

Martin raised an eyebrow at the assumption that humans would be privy to the nuances of faun diplomatic exchange, even if they were to meet with the mayor of Fordham. However, he felt that it was not his place to call the ritual into question. At the very least, he and Namo had the relatively easier job of performing the exchange with people who understood its meaning…or so he hoped, anyway.

The remainder of the funerary and send-off service concluded with more instrumentation and song as the messengers were told to, in effect, smile and wave before the crowd. However, all ceremonies must come to an end, and the ceremony they took part in was no exception. As the crowd slowly began to disperse, they were eventually joined by Uyutuk, So’onuu, and Sonoko, while they were receiving the last of their instructions from the elders.

“So, just to reiterate - we’re to find headwoman of Uat’sn. Nino’opanaat, you said her name was? And present her with this medallion.” Martin started, in English.

“And then, if she accepts it, then we will tell her what happened!” Namo concluded, also in English.

“Yes, that is correct. It is a simple task, but one that is very important. We trust you to carry it out with honor to yourself and the people of Benuun.”

The elders bid Namo and Martin farewell as they briefed the other delegation on their task. Uyutuk, a smile on his face, clasped a firm hand on the shoulders of Martin and Namo and said, in heavily-accented English to the pair, “Very good!” followed by a compliment to Namo in Kepmuu. Namo giggled, then gave him a playful swat on the shoulder and offered a playful retort.

“What’d he say?” Martin asked.

“Ahhh, oh just, um, he said we did a good job in the ceremony,” Namo said, avoiding eye contact. Martin raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue.

The group chatted about plans for the rest of the day. Martin indicated that he was under the impression that the village elders expected them to be on their way soon, which the others in the group confirmed based on previous diplomatic ceremonies they had been privy to. The fauns decided it would be best to say their goodbyes now, with the promise that they would meet again for a longer visit someday soon. Martin even got a goodbye handshake from little Sonoko, who had only just begun warming up to the strange-looking bearded alien who intruded on his village.

After their friends had said their goodbyes, Namo turned to Martin. “I’d like one more chance to say goodbye to Uno’opan, if you don’t mind.”

Martin nodded. “Of course.” Though hesitant to admit it, he also appreciated the chance to say goodbye to this friend of Namo’s he would never meet.

The pair approached the pyre, smoldering but no longer a roaring flame, that contained the remains of Uno’opan and her husband, though her spirit had long departed. Namo bowed her head in reverence and was uncharacteristically silent.

Martin didn’t consider himself a spiritual man. He had been raised in a family who instilled in him a reverence for religion and custom; the real world, however, had instilled in him the reality that life ends at a moment’s notice, that life ends before your work is finished, and that an end to existence can be more merciful than any afterlife. Nevertheless, he wished to honor the memory of this person who had been so important to Namo. The man thought back to the day they left from Fordham, no more than a week ago: The sound of the harmonica lilting along the marshy road; Namo’s remark about wanting her friend to hear the strange human instrument she encountered. Martin fumbled with the metal bar in his duster pocket a moment longer, then pulled it up to his mouth and started playing a simple melody that he had learned long ago.

“Another week behind us, eh Davin?” Martin said, flicking the cap off a bottle of whiskey and taking a swig, before setting it on the ground next to his friend while he started a fire. Clementine and Strider nickered as the flames grew, hitched as they were to a couple of trees reminiscent in form to juniper. Behind the horses, Martin could see a diminishing chord of the sun shrink below the horizon. The lizard-birds of the day were closing out their final evening choruses, only for the evening cohort to begin the next movement of the circadian orchestra.

“Sure enough, and I reckon not a moment too soon,” the bear-like man replied. He took a moment to cradle the ember he created, breathing life into it. Martin took the opportunity to retrieve the bottle and take another small swig before setting it back by Davin’s side.

After Davin had created a self-sustaining fire, he and Martin spent the next hour passing the bottle back and forth. Ms. Arbour had departed on fieldwork earlier in the week after disclosing that soon they would be supervised by one of her colleagues with whom they had never been acquainted. The news was fresh on their minds and the young men couldn’t help but speculate.

“I wonder if she’ll be as ancient as Madame Helena,” Davin quipped sarcastically, ignoring the decorum she always demanded when being spoken to or of.

“Come on, Helena’s not that old.” Martin replied with a laugh.

“I’m pretty sure she was around when people first arrived on Penelopeia. Maybe before. Maybe that’s where she’s going? Off-world?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘not this again’? Humans on other planets is real, Martin. It’s our history!” Davin objected, not offended so much as he was impassioned by the topic. He leaned forward on his haunches. “I’m telling ya, there are whole other worlds out there that humans probably live on. Doesn’t it make you wonder where we came from? What it was like on Earth? I mean, what it is like on that planet right now? The planet that gave us Chopin, that gave us Shakespeare, that gave us Galileo,” He took a swig and passed the bottle to Martin before reaching into his pocket, producing a metal harmonica. “That gave us this!”

Martin gratefully took another swig from the half-depleted fifth of whiskey while Davin fiddled with his harmonica. “The only thing I wonder about is why the hell have they not bothered reaching out to us, if they still do exist. Maybe we’re the only humans left in the universe.”

“I believe they’re still out there somewhere, playing their own harmonicas and wondering which planets out there have people on them.” Davin wrapped a hand around the metal instrument and began playing a slow, simple melody. It reminded Martin of the yearning one experiences for something just out of reach, the if only things had ended up a little differently. But as he repeated the simple four bar, improvised melody, Martin got a sense that it was not quite bitter, more bittersweet. If only things had ended up a little differently, but things could be worse.

The apprentice surveyor watched as Davin played the melody to nobody in particular. Perhaps he played it for himself. When he concluded, he looked up at Martin, as if realizing that he were still there. He held out the instrument to his friend. “Wanna try?”

Martin accepted the instrument in his hand, making an exchange for the whiskey bottle. “Sure, why not.”

As Martin recapitulated the old beloved melody, Namo, interrupted from her silent prayer, wheeled around in surprise. Her eyes went wide, her mouth slightly agape in sheer dumbfounded amazement. The tune carried skyward with the smoke from the pyre’s embers, and he hoped that, if she were up there somewhere, that maybe she could say hello to Davin for him. Namo watched in silence, tears welling in her eyes. It was clear this gesture meant as much to her as it would have to Uno’opan, or Davin, for that matter.

When the man concluded a scant thirty seconds or so later, he put the harmonica back in his pocket and was nearly tackled in a hug by Namo. “I… I didn’t know ya played the… the mahonica,” she exclaimed, the fact her head was buried in his shoulder doing little to muffle her voice. She pulled her head out of the fabric of his duster, staring up at him. Tears matted her cheeks, but she was smiling. Martin could see her fleshy nose pad twitch simultaneously with her ears in apparent joy. “Thank you, Martin. That was beautiful beyond words.”

Martin held Namo and managed a soft smile. “Davin taught me that one. We used to take turns playing it by the fire, a few years ago. Thought maybe your friend might like it.”

Namo tightened the embrace ever so slightly. “I’m shore she did… I did, too, Maa’ko.”