Fluke: Or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings

black grain running through it, polished to a smooth satin and as hard as ebony. There was a high-peaked galvanized-tin roof with a vented tower in the center to draw heat out the top and cool air in from under the wide eaves that surrounded the whole house. There were no windows, just open sliding walls. You could look through any part of the house to the other and see the tropical garden. The Old Broad's telescope and "big-eye" binoculars stood on steel and concrete mountings in front of where Clay sat, looking very much out of place: the artillery of science planted in paradise. At Clay's feet a skinny cat happily crunched the legs off a scorpion.
    The Old Broad handed Clay a tall, icy glass and sat in another emperor's chair beside him. She was barefoot and wore a flowered caftan and a yellow-and-red hibiscus blossom in her hair that was half the size of her face. She had probably been a dish back around the time of Lincoln, Clay thought.
    "It's so nice to see you, Clay. I don't get many visitors. Not that I'm lonely, you know. I have the cats and the whales to talk to. But that's not like having one of my boys to visit with."
    Oh, jeez, Clay thought. One of her boys. Oh, jeez. He had to tell her. He knew he had to tell her. He had come up here to tell her, and he was going to tell her, and that was that. "This is excellent tea, Elizabeth. Mango, you say?"
    "That's right. Just a little bit of mint. Now, what is it you needed to talk to me about?"
    "And ice? I think the coldness makes it, gives it a fantastic, uh…"
    "Temperature? Yes, ice is an essential ingredient in iced tea, Clay. Thus the name."
    Sarcasm is so ugly on the aged, thought Clay. No one likes a sarcastic oldster. He said, "Iced tea, you mean?" Oh, this is just going to kill her, he thought.
    "If this is about a new boat, Clay, don't be shy. I know how you loved that boat, and we'll get you another one. I'm just not sure we can go for one quite that nice. My investments haven't been doing well the last couple of years."
    "No, no, it's not the boat. The boat was insured. It's Nate."
    "And how is Nathan? I hope he's handling his little infatuation with your new researcher with a bit of dignity. He was wearing it on his sleeve that night at the sanctuary. You'd think a man as smart as Nathan would have better control over his impulses."
    "Nate had a thing for Amy?" Clay was going to tell her, really. He was just working up to it.
    "You said 'had,' " said the Old Broad. "You said Nate 'had' a thing for Amy."
    "Elizabeth, there's been an accident. Three days ago Nate went into the water to get a better look at a singer, and… well, we haven't been able to find him." Clay put down his tea so he could catch the old woman should she faint. "I'm very sorry."
    "Oh, that. Yes, I heard about that. Nate's fine, Clay. The whale told me."
    And here Clay found himself balancing on another dilemma. Should he let her have her belief, no matter how crazy it might be, or should he dash her spirits to earth with the truth?
    Although Nate had found Elizabeth's eccentricities irritating, Clay had always liked her insistence that the whales spoke to her. He wished it were true. He scooted to the edge of his chair and took her hand in his.
    "Elizabeth, I don't think you understand what I'm saying -"
    "He took the pastrami and rye, right? He said he would."
    "Um, that's not exactly pertinent. He's been gone for three days, and they were right at the wind line toward Molokai when he was lost. Rough sea. He's probably gone, Elizabeth."
    "Well, of course he's gone, Clay. You'll just have to carry on until he gets back." Now she patted his hand. "He did take the sandwich, right? The whale was very specific."
    "Elizabeth! You're not listening to me. This is not about the whales singing to you through the trees. Nate is gone!"
    "Don't you shout at me, Clay Demodocus. I'm trying to comfort you. And it wasn't a song through the trees. What do you think? I'm some crazy old woman? The whale called on the phone."
    "Oh, Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, I don't know how to do this "
    "More tea?" asked the Old Broad.
    * * *
    As Clay made the long drive down the volcano and back to Papa Lani, he tried to fight letting his spirits rise. The Old Broad was completely convinced that Nathan Quinn was just fine and dandy, although she could give no reason other than to say that the whale, after ordering a pastrami on rye, had told her that everything would be all right.
    "And how did you know it