Working at it

And they were working at it.

Their work was handicapped by the Spearmen’s natural rhythm. Unlike most other races (although similar to Visser) Spearmen did not clock their activities by the rise and set of the sun. They were capable of awakening to battle immediately, and falling asleep just as quickly. Everything that they did, they could do, and do well, on the spur of the moment. Whenever Quirinus was at work, Camilla was awake too, and driving away at her tasks. When he was off, they retired together, sometimes for minutes, sometimes for days.

Thus their training was sporadic. And Spearmen were not natural teachers, so it lacked finesse. What it lacked in consistency and finesse, though, it made up for in sheer brutality.

Quirinus would range around the walls, speaking to all and sundry in his new language, and quizzing them on it. His method of teaching a language was slightly different from that which Seth, Tristan, and the others had used.

Quirinus would point, or command, or ask a question. If his latest victim got the answer right he would ask another, harder question. If you got it wrong he would knock you down.

Camilla, on the other hand, rarely knocked any of the other Wives down, but they seldom got out of a session without bruises. For minor offenses, such as a mispronounced word or a slight hesitation, she contented herself with slapping the unfortunate. But for what she perceived as an egregious or willful offense, she did not hesitate to take the victim over her knee. One young Husband, outraged at his wife’s loss of modesty and dignity, had attempted to come to her defense. He had learned that he had best become a Spearman himself before attempting to challenge a Spearwoman.

Quirinus came home. It felt odd, wrong, somehow, but he sat down at the table, as he had been doing every day. “How did you do today?” he asked.

“How are you doing teaching those Farmwives?”

“Slowly, my Husband, slowly.”

“Aye, me too.”

“My Husband,” Camilla asked, looking up from her plate, “how is Greg Smithson doing?”

“Well enough. Not the best learner, too hesitant sometimes. Of course, they are all hesitant, foolish Farmers. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Well,” she answered, after a minute, “Some things are best done when one is able to focus on one at a time, no?”

“Certainly,” he grinned.

“Well, his Wife, Trisha, is near to my best pupil. Stupid, like the rest, but still, near the best. And the two of them have always seemed − well − he leads her well.”

“Yes, that he does. I have noticed.”

“I am thinking. What if tomorrow we focus on the two of them. You on him, me on her. We pester and badger them all day. Then we send them off to bed together.”

“Perhaps,” he responded, “even more than all day. You know, one thing that separates us from the other races is that we don’t have this foolish dependency on day and night. What if we kept them at it, without food or drink, until they are ready to change. They say that to learn to be a race you have to eat, drink, and sleep it. Well, our race eats when it can, drinks when it can, and sleeps when it can. We have been allowing them to follow their Farmer schedule.”

“Ah, my Husband, that is why I have allowed you to breed my young! When shall we begin?”

“Now, of course,” he said with a mischievous grin. “They will have just gotten into bed.”

They dressed and stalked off to the young couple’s room. Several others in the compound made haste to get out of their way. At the best of times these two were dangerous, but looking like this— there was no telling.

//Get up! Open this door!// Quirinus commanded. His shout and his pounding could probably be heard all over the compound. Seconds later the young man opened the door a crack, peering around it.

//What is it, my Lord?// he managed, a phrase that Ishvi had taught him.

Grabbing him by the arm, Quirinus pulled him into the hallway and dragged him off as Camilla tromped through the now open door to the shrieks of the Wife.

//Come!// Quirinus said to his victim, and took him outside. The first thing that came to his eyes was the well. A large barrel stood next to it. He dragged his victim to the barrel. //Water!// he stated.

//Water// Greg replied.

Quirinus picked up a bucket, filled it, and tossed it onto the young man’s head, //Water is wet!// he said.

//Water is wet,// Greg agreed, beating his hands around himself in an attempt to warm up.

//And water is cold,// Quirinus continued, with another bucket.

//And water is cold!// The young man screamed in agreement. He had been dragged out of bed, out of his room, drenched twice with water, and was freezing! 145 //Run!// Quirinus ordered.

This word the young man knew well. He had been doing what studying he could, meeting together with the other men. Unfortunately, since only Quirinus and Camilla knew the language, the other soldiers had been forced to use Farmer to talk about Narro.¹ This had slowed down his learning.

Not now. As they raced around and did one thing after another, Quirinus made sure that everything that came at him was in Narro. He had started after a long shift and was already tired. His defences were down. His mind was open. He wanted nothing more than to get this done.

They eventually fell into a routine. Learn, run, learn. As they went along, Quirinus would talk. Right now he was saying, //Ok you foolish Farmer, when are you going to get it? We are going to be running around these walls until you get it. Today is your last day as a Farmer, unless it is tomorrow, and the last person you are going to see as a Farmer, except for your lovely Wife, is me. You are stuck with my ugly face until…// Suddenly Greg raced ahead of Quirinus, over to a pile of straw. //Straw!// he announced.

Quirinus’ eyes widened as Greg continued, //This straw is yellow, and it is scratchy, and if I were to get in it, it would be warmer than what I am doing now, although less warm than my bed.// Leaving the straw he continued around the compound, naming things and commenting on them, going beyond the vocabulary he had been taught, and even using words Quirinus had never heard-- though he knew them instinctively. Hours and hours they ran together.

Finally Greg ran into the kitchen (causing quite a shriek from the Wife cleaning up from lunch) and ran over to his Wife, who was being lectured by Camilla.

He stood her up and, holding her by the arm, turned, and said to Quirinus, //Sir, if you are quite finished with me, I have another duty to perform.//

//Go, with my blessing// Quirinus replied, and gave him a salute.

//Come, my Wife// Greg said, after returning his salute, and dragged her by the hand across the compound, the two of them together causing stares even from those who had now become accustomed to seeing each of them alone.

//Let us go back and discuss who we will do next// Quirinus said, and they followed the couple at a more leisurely pace.

Butchering They had ‘finished off’ four other couples (one of whom was still in the ‘bedroom’ phase) when the castle underwent its first attack since the transformations had begun. The attacks had tapered off quite a bit recently, perhaps because they had managed to discourage or kill most of the animals in the immediate vicinity.

Quirinus stood on the walls, supervising the defense. He had the other three Spearmen busy training new language learners, but he had told them to hold themselves ready (not that Spearmen weren’t always ready) for the end of this attack. The poor exhausted Farmers (with four Spearmen and Spearwomen they now were able to keep everyone exhausted all the time) were doing their best to receive this attack adequately. What approached the walls now was only one Beast, but it was large.

Finally one of the Farmers got the coveted eye shot, and the Beast backed away, mortally wounded.

Now was the time! Quirinus ran toward the stairs, yelling for groups one and three. Long days of training brought them following immediately after him, spears in hand. In addition, he yelled, //Spearwomen!!// Camilla and the other Spearwomen were ready, indeed eager, for the experience. But it took them a few seconds of chivvying before they could get all of the women-- all of the women, regardless of task or dress, to join them, and gather the knives they would need. Then, at a run, (which required some further encouragement) they followed the men out of the gate.

Outside they found that Quirinus had already finished off the Beast with a mighty thrust, and was waving and pummeling the men into forming a line around the Beast, on the outside, facing away from the fort. Camilla led the confused women up to the Beast, and, using words they were familiar with, but in a context they had never imagined, said //Cut it up.//

Farmer women did not butcher. It was a male prerogative since time immemorial. The men and lads were always careful to bring an animal back from the hunt, or the butchering shed, all ‘clean and neat’: eviscerated, head off, and cut into large joints and things. The very idea of women doing butchering was unthinkable. But unthinkable ideas can become very thinkable with four Spearwomen ‘chivvying’ you, and it was only a few seconds later that everyone had begun.

It was a bloody task, and Camilla reveled in it. She and Quirinus had decided, during one of those interminable hours while they had worked through their language learning and planning, that it was for the women to do the butchering, while the men stood guard. Unlike Farmers, this was not a ‘hunt’, 147 this was part of a battle. The men would be needed to keep any other animals off, and would not have the time to do butchering.

She saw that the Farmer women were not reveling in it. They were appalled at the blood which covered them and their clothes. They would have been neater, and slower, on their own, but her seconds made sure that diffidence was rewarded with pain. It was good that they had forbidden Farmer dress − it would have been truly appalling to see what Farmer clothes would look like after this event.

She made a note to herself that the Spearmen really would need to devise some formal wear. They would need to have formal events, and of course there was Sevenday to consider.

‘Encouraged’ as they were, the women soon finished, and, forming a line, began carrying the meat inside the compound, placing it on a large tarp just outside the kitchen door under an awning that she had arranged, and coming back for more. Soon all that was left was a pile of huge bones, with even the head being taken inside.

The women were standing hesitantly around the tarp, wondering what to do next and Camilla proceeded to show them. Grabbing one of the women, she took her over to a barrel on the other side of the doorway. To a Spearwoman like herself, a cold bath in the open air first thing on a cold morning was the height of luxury. Unfortunately the Farmer Wife did not find it so, and shrieked as Camilla doused her repeatedly. She was soon finished and set to carrying meat into the kitchen where the women would spend the rest of the day cutting, salting, smoking, and roasting it. Tonight all would feast on the meat they had roasted, eating the rest over the next few days, and providing food for the wagon trains that were even now making their way to and past the fort.

Soon the rest of the Farmerlasses were finished their bath, and Camilla and the others took theirs, spending much more time at it. The men had come back and were manning the walls again but Quirinus, Tiberius33, and the other Spearmen came and joined them by the barrel.

“Well, Tiberius,” Quirinus said, “I hope you enjoyed this bath more than that other one!”

“Yes, my Lord. It makes me realize just how sadistic you were that first night. This feels glorious, although I am sure that in my old body I would be blue to my toes.”

“Camilla and I talked about it, and we decided that one necessity for those needing to spend long hours manning the walls in the dead of night and through a cold winter was that they must not get cold easily. Thus our covering of hair, and the layer of fat,” he added, pinching Camilla. "Indeed, if I 33 Formerly Greg Smithson 148 Vonsbooks.com understand it correctly, there is also something very different about the way our blood flows.”

“Yes, there is,” Camilla put in. “That was my idea… although my body improved on it immensely. And in addition we have a special organ that is responsible for warming our blood. When our blood gets cold it, the organ, heats it up.”

Mgwan was pleased-- not pleased to have missed being assigned to the first outpost, but pleased to have been given this assignment. He had been particularly lonely recently. The work at the castle was largely finished, and Sean and Sionr had returned to Sean’s Schip. They were now often gone, traveling to and from the island with recruits and supplies.

He looked at the gathered Horsemen and Aviovamen, and even some Horsesiblings. Horsemen were incredibly hard to transport. Everyone agreed, however, that they were vital for this next phase of the project. These Horsemen would be forming a vanguard from the first outpost, designed to begin the process of building a line of outposts and a road between here and the mountains that passed through the fertile areas and the foot hills. In order to do this, however, it would be necessary not only to defend the outposts from the Beasts, but actively to hunt them in return. They were becoming more and more active, and more and more hostile.

Mgwan was in Troll form himself. Although not as quick as Horsemen, that guise had its own advantages.

They settled into a routine. Mgwan and several of the Horsemen scouted ahead, making sure none of the Beasts were hiding behind any hills, while the rest of the men guarded the Wives and the children. Moving with only Horsemen meant the trip went much faster than with the Dwarves and the carts and all, so it was closer to noon than to evening when Mgwan crested a hill and got his first full view of the outpost on this trip.

It wasn’t pretty, but it did look impressive; especially with Seth and Hadassah’s standard flying above it. The walls did seem shorter than the last time he had seen them on one of his most recent trips accompanying Dwarves with stones. He hoped that the animal attacks hadn’t caused the inhabitants to lose so much that they were still trying to rebuild the walls. Things looked peaceful enough right now, though.

As he passed over the next couple of hills, his sense of oddness increased. He was joined at the foot of the third hill by a couple of Horsemen, including the nominal leader of the party. Saying nothing, but exchanging worried glances, they mounted this hill.

They were now close enough so that, at least for Troll and Horsemen eyes, the differences they had seen were now clarified. The figures manning these walls were not Farmers.

What they were none of them knew, but they were not Farmers.

For one thing they stood taller--much taller. For another, they were all over covered in fur, and for a third thing they were much, much bigger. Mgwan and the others stood, indecisive. Should they ride back and stop the procession? Had the fort been taken by some strange new race? But as they stood, they saw something which relieved their anxiety, at least in part. They saw two Farmers, an Ellyll, and another, younger, version of these creatures 150 Vonsbooks.com appear on the walls. And the two Farmers, it was evident even from here, were Seth and Hadassah, in full regalia. The Ellyll was Wynforr.

At least Mgwan was relieved. It took him a while to convince the Horsemen, and two hours more to convince all of them. So it was fully three hours later that the group, the Wives and children in a thick column flanked by Horsemen, and Mgwan trotting out ahead with the ‘leader’ of the Horsemen, again came over that hill and started down toward the castle.

Seth and Hadassah were not on the walls by the time Mgwan’s party could be seen. When the party came fully in site, the creatures that were on the walls did something that surprised everyone. They began to sing, and sing well, incredibly well. Never had Mgwan heard such singing.

The song, indeed songs, continued as the party came closer and closer. When they were a mile out, however, the singing stopped and the castle gate opened. Mgwan’s party stopped. They had gathered together much more closely.

Out from the gate came three people on horseback: two Farmers and an Ellyll. Striding beside them was one of the young of this new species − obviously young but taller in his youth than the shortest of the riders on horseback. As soon as they cleared the gate, two files of the creatures ran out, to either side of the party on horseback. Each were male, and each carried an enormous spear. They were dressed in bright robes, unlike the ones on the walls. They formed two lines, obviously some sort of honor guard.

Seth, Hadassah, and Wynforr (for such proved to be the three riders) continued forward, accompanied by the young creature. Mgwan couldn’t help staring at him as he came forward. It was amazing how a creature so enormous could still look young.

The creature was staring at him, too. In fact, it was grinning at him. It was--Tristan! A Tristan that was twice his size (or his weight at least)! What was this mystery? A new race of humans? Had they been living here all along?

As he pondered these things Seth and the others had come up in front of them, and he bowed. “My Lord Prince, may I present, the Hunt Leader.”

Seth inclined his head, and returned the introductions. “Mgwan, Hunt Leader, may I present my Wife, the Princess Hadassah; Wynforr, Ellyll Expert, and Tristan, my Kolchnar − Tristan is currently practicing his other expertise, of transformations.”

The Hunt Leader then, to Mgwan’s eternal gratitude, said, “I will admit, my Lord, that I am not familiar with his current form. What race is that?”

Seth smiled and said, “They call themselves ‘Spearmen’. I am sure you can see why. We are just learning about them ourselves. I am sure that their form will be an excellent addition to our races. As you can see, they are incredibly strong. I can hardly lift one of their spears. In addition, they are suited to life on the walls. They can't get cold, and can stand duty for hours at a time without getting bored. Then, when off duty, they can eat, drink, sleep, or whatever, whenever they need.”

“It sounds like they were designed to work the walls, my Lord.”

“They were. And here we have one of the designers." They had now come up to the line of Spearmen, and Seth had led them up to the first Telumato on the right. Mgwan stared.

“Hunt Leader, may I present Quirinus, watch commander of the Spearmen, formerly Ishvi Gregson of the Farmlands.”

The Hunt Leader bowed and then remarked, "So, these Spearmen are a new form of Farmer?"

“No, not exactly, you see…”

Mgwan woke to a pounding at his door, "Wake up. Your presence is required in the conference room."

Mgwan leapt out of bed, startled. What could they need him for, and in such a rush? He hurriedly dressed and stepped out of his room where one of the Spearman was standing. The Spearman gave him a curt nod and led off.

He led Mgwan to a small room. It held only a table, Seth, Hadassah, and Quirinus and enough chairs for the four of them. Hadassah looked like she had been crying, and she turned to him with concern in her eyes. Seth and Quirinus were both impassive, and waited in silence until he was seated.

"Mgwan," Seth said, "after your Father and I had agreed that you could come with me as a cook, pharmacist and all (and indeed you have been much more than that) he took me aside and told me that, under certain conditions, I was to also operate as your Father. I have called you here today in that capacity, not as your employer."

Mgwan nodded, "My Father told me the same thing. What do you have for me to do?"

Seth turned to Quirinus, who began the explanation.

"A few minutes ago, not even an hour, one of our Spearmen was killed. It was a freak accident, a bit of wall giving way in the middle of a battle."

Mgwan started to say something, but Quirinus waved it off, "It is our way. We are designed for warfare. We grieve our loss, but we move on quickly."

He paused, then continued, "One way in which we move on quickly is the question of a mate. Our way does not permit a mature female to remain unmated."

"If this had happened later, it would not have been an issue. We do not forbid polygamy, and one of the others could have taken her. If we had young males, even one of them could mate with her. Our young will grow up fast when they need to."

"But we have no young, not yet, and our people are too new to this life for polygamy to be good. Our women are busy adjusting to their new forms. It is too much, we feel, to ask them to learn to share a Husband as well."

Mgwan sat in shock. It was obvious where this was going, and his heart was pounding furiously.

"We thought of Tristan, already in Spearmen guise. But he is very young; younger, as a Fashgen, than you are. If he transformed back into Ellyll he would be − he wouldn't be a proper mate."

“You want me to…” Mgwan's voice trailed off.

Hadassah broke in, “She’s a very nice girl. She’s upset now, of course.

But I talked to her and she understands that it has to happen this way. It is the 153 Telumato way. She understands the problems it would cause else. And she-- she can’t bring herself to transform back to Farmer.”

“Once you are mated, she will be willing to do whatever you wish.

Farmer, Troll, or back to Sjefen − although for the last two you would have to do quite a bit of teaching.”

Seth finally spoke. “As your Father I have pledged you to this mating.

However, as your Prince I also have a request, or perhaps an offer. We will soon be building another outpost. Tiberius will be commanding it. I would like you to be his second--to remain as a Telumato and, with your Wife, be the second in command there.”

“But I do not command it. I command the mating. Our need is great-- indeed we will have to take precautions against this happening again, and so I must command that. But I do not command that you remain a Telumato.’ “My − Father −” Mgwan stammered, “I will obey you, but-- but I don’t know…”

“Hadassah, Quirinus,” Seth said, “leave us please.”

A half hour later Mgwan walked nervously down the hallway, flanked by the three others. Seth’s talk had been very encouraging, and informative, but he was still nervous; very nervous. He didn’t know this girl at all. She was older than he was, had already been married, was pregnant with her first child.

And she was a Spearwoman. She would tower over him, at least until he had changed. At least he was in his Troll guise − he would have been even smaller as a Svømte. And, he suddenly realized, he didn’t even know her name. He thought of asking, but was too intimidated. Oh, this was great! He was marrying a girl, and didn’t even know her name! As they walked down the hall he began to hear wailing coming from up ahead. His heart began to pound. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. He couldn’t do it! Instinctively, he turned ‘invisible’. Hadassah who was walking at his left, saw him change, and gripped his arm. He turned to her. She was crying, and looked up at him through her tears, “Don’t worry. You can do this. And she is very, very special. You will do fine.”

He hoped so.

When they reached the door, Quirinus pounded on it. Gradually, the wailing ceased and eventually the door opened. Camilla stood before them, her face stained with tears, her body covered with ashes. Behind her was a mass of other Spearwomen.

“Call her!” Quirinus said. Camilla stepped aside, and, out of the midst of the crowd came one of the Spearwomen.

“Bring a basin!” Quirinus commanded.

Another Wife brought a basin full of water from the back of the room and stood in front of Quirinus.

“It is written,” Quirinus said: “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.”

“The time for weeping is over,” he said, looking at the Wife. “Wash your face.”

She came forward to where the other Wife was standing, and splashed her face over and over again with the water. Someone brought her a towel, and she dried herself, standing up straight in front of Quirinus.

“The time for weeping is over, now is the time to laugh.” He turned to the women, “The time for mourning is over, wash yourselves.”

One at a time the others came forward and first washed and then dried themselves. Finally Camilla and the woman who had held the basin washed each other, dried each other, and stood up again.

“The time for mourning is over, now is the time to dance.”

He turned back to the Wife, “You have no Husband,” he said.

“I have no Husband,” she answered, bowing her head.

“It is not good that a young woman be unmarried. I have found for you a Husband.”

She bowed her head to him again.

He pulled Mgwan forward, placing him in front of her. “This is your Husband. His name was Mgwan. He has proven himself loyal and diligent.”

She knelt before Mgwan. Taking his hands, she placed them on her head.

Mgwan was unsure what to do, but Quirinus took over for him, “The time for mourning is over, now is the time to dance. Women, go and bring food, for these will need it.”

The women rushed out, beginning a new song. The corridors echoed with their rejoicing. Soon only the six of them stood together. Mgwan’s hands burned where they lay on top of the girl’s head. Finally he could take it no longer, and reached down (not very far down!) and raised the young woman to her feet.

He was afraid that no one would say or do anything, but Hadassah came forward and hugged the young woman. “Congratulations!” Soon all of 155 the others were hugging, shaking hands, congratulating, etc. But Mgwan stood still − seeing the Wife cast an occasional glance at him.

Soon the women were back, bringing in trays and baskets of food. And bringing − his Troll ears blushed at comments his life as a Svømte had not prepared him for. It seemed they had used the time to invent questions − questions that were bothering him as well − and put them extremely crudely.

However his new Wife, in language which also burned his ears, answered each comment.

Soon, that too, was over, and the last Wife had said goodbye.

Somehow he had found his way into the room, and the door closed behind him. Mgwan still stood, bemused, where they had left him. His new Wife sat on the bed, looking at him. Eventually she spoke, “Do I scare you that much?”

He looked at her. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

That was one of the things that was bothering him − taking as Wife a woman who had just lost her Husband.

“Thank you. But that part of my life is over. We Spearmen, we mourn deeply, but quickly. You are my Husband now. So, do I scare you that much?”

He tried again, “A lot has happened to me today.”

“Me too. Now, do I scare you that much?”

She was persistent, anyway. Finally he decided that perhaps honesty might work. “Well, you’re big − very big. You’re from a race that is known for its violent temper. You have been married for months and are pregnant, yet have suddenly had this naïve lad foisted on you, a naïve lad that is totally lost and has no idea what to do next.”

She laughed. “What shall I call you? That is my privilege, you know, according to our rules. Let me see.”

She paced back and forth across the room. Then suddenly she stopped and looked at him, a grin on her face, “I know. I will call you Amandus.

Do you know what that means?”

He shook his head.

“It means ‘Beloved one’.”

Mgwan gazed at her, longing for her fighting with fear in his heart.

Finally he asked, “And what is your name?”

“That’s up to you. You are my Husband.”

Mgwan moved across the room to the bed where the girl sat. He had heard something in her voice; and now he saw the same thing in her eyes. She was afraid, too.

“I guess we’re in this together,” he said.

It was almost sunset, and the Schip was cruising easily along the coast. Instead of going back right away for another load, it had been decided that they would go further along the coast and see if any other landing spot could be found. Now that there were at least three Schippen making the journey, theirs was not so crucial.

Sean asked his Father to come to the rail with him. This was a common spot when one wanted to have a private talk.

“My Father,” Sean said, “I would like to take a Wife.”

Of all the races, Visserknaapen make the least fuss about taking a Wife. And they placed the geas on the young male to start the process. Of course, nothing could happen without the Fathers’ approval, but it was up to the boy to get the ball rolling. Sean supposed that everyone had been wondering what had taken him so long. He had wondered that about several of his friends before they had gotten married. He marveled at how scary it was to start this conversation.

“Very well my Son, and who would you like?”

Sean had thought about this question. There were only three girls of the proper age who were not forbidden by reason of blood. One was the cutest. One was less cute but also less inclined to chatter. The third… “My Father, I would like to take Lisa Gaylesdaughter as my Wife.”

His Father grinned at him, and he felt as though he should explain. “My Father, you know that I have formed a friendship with those others, Seth and Tristan, Mgwan and Wynforr.”

His Father nodded, and Sean went on, “It may be that I will leave the sea, at least for a time. Things are happening, and they are happening to my friends. In my current form I am not very useful to them.”

“I want a Wife because it is time, and because I want to see my own young come forth from her. But I need a Wife who is intelligent and committed.

I need a Wife with strength. I believe that Lisa has more strength than the other two, even if less beauty.”

“I believe you have chosen wisely, my Son. Beauty will come. Any true Wife is beautiful to her Husband, and I believe that Lisa will be a true Wife. But intelligence and strength, those are harder.”

“You might have a hard chase, though. You know that she has been rejected already by two boys. You would think that would make her eager to accept anyone that comes along, but in my experience it is often the reverse.”

“I have heard, Father, that a long chase makes for a more exciting end.

Is it not so?”

His Father laughed, “We shall see; I will look forward to your report.

Water or hold?”

“Oh, hold, definitely--more obstacles.”

Sean was standing by his hammock, as everyone got ready for bed.

He had received the go-ahead from his Father: the Captain and the girl’s Father were both OK with the match, and now Sean was waiting for Lisa to get to her own hammock.

Visser had no marriage or betrothal ceremonies. A betrothal was arranged, and only the fathers, the Captain, and the boy had any idea that it was going to happen. His heart pounding, Sean walked up behind Lisa and put his hands on her hips, claiming her as his Wife.

She jumped, startled. She almost turned to look at him, but caught herself and quickly skirted across the room to where one of her girlfriends slept. Sean followed, but not quickly. He had seen her glance at him as she went--a technical violation of etiquette, but a common one. The girl was supposed to accept or reject marriage itself, not a given Husband. Again he came up behind her; and again she moved.

He had thought that this would be embarrassing, chasing her from hammock to hammock. But instead he found himself glorying in it. And she was leading him a real chase. She was trying every hammock where she might possibly find someone to let her sleep with them. She even tried some hammocks where she probably wouldn’t have been welcomed, though no one objected tonight.

Everyone was watching, of course. The room had gone almost completely silent. And they all knew how it would end. If Lisa had truly been unable to take the thought of marriage, or marriage to Sean, she would have gone to her parents in the first couple of moves-- announcing herself, in effect, too young to marry. But she had not slept in her parents’ hammock for more than a year, and before then only occasionally. Going there now would have been very embarrassing for everyone concerned. They knew her Father must have approved the match, both because it was rare for a boy to try without the Father’s approval, and because the Father would have intervened long ago if he had meant to. Even that hammock would have been refused her.

Eventually she ran out of hammocks. She stood next to an elderly Maiden Aunt of hers, the last person on board (except for her parents) with whom she could reasonably expect to sleep. She stood still there, finally, and let him come up behind her. She stood for a few moments while he held her again, and then she slowly moved --this time to his hammock. His buddies had, of course, found somewhere else to sleep.

“Why me?” she whispered, hours later.

“Why not you?” he responded.

“I’m not as pretty as some of the others. I was passed by twice!”

“More fools they, then.”

“But why?”

“I wanted you for your mind.”

“Oh, really? That hasn’t seemed so obvious up to now.”

“Ok, not only your mind. I want your children as well. But seriously, you were my best choice. I want to get off Schip, and you are the only one that I think is smart enough, or strong enough, to help me.”

“Off Schip?”

“Yes, with Seth and them.”

Sean, still bemused from last night, wandered the deck aimlessly. By Visser tradition, he and his new bride were excused from all duties for a week.

Lisa was sleeping − not having gotten much last night, but he couldn’t sleep.

He saw Sionr over at the rail and wandered over next to him.

//Qua na bwak.// Sionr was saying. Sean leaned over the railing.

Dolphins were so beautiful, and this one was no exception − racing alongside the Schip and talking to Sionr. Sionr noticed he was there, and turned toward him.

“Greetings, and congratulations. You have a beautiful Wife.”

“Thank you. Who’s your friend?”

Sionr stared at him and, for a few seconds, didn’t answer.

“I have to talk to you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I − I’m going to leave you.”

Sean studied him. For quite a while it had seemed like something was wrong with Sionr. He had been ‘moody’, an extremely strange word to use for an Elf. They were always so aloof, even one who, as now, was in Visserknaap guise.

Sionr continued, “Last night convinced me, your marriage. For a long time I was torn, torn between learning and −” he stared out over the water… “And living. But, I talked to my Father the last time we were home, and he and Mother released me. But I hadn’t truly decided until last night.”

Sean looked at the water, “So you’re going back to them, then?”

“Yes,” Sionr said, beginning to remove his clothing. “Back to her, specifically.”

He finished and stood on the deck naked − and yet seeming less and less so as he spoke. “You asked me her name. It is Quanaqua. I met her when I was a Dolphin and she − proposed to me. It is their way.”

“I turned her down. Or rather, I said I couldn’t decide. That I had things to do first.”

He mounted the railing, holding on to a rope with one hand. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and stared at this strange sight. A sight becoming stranger and stranger as his skin was changing as he stood there.

“She said she would wait for me!” he shouted out over the wind, now speaking to everyone on deck. “They don’t do that, you know! They live for the moment, they don’t ‘wait’ for anything. But she did, and she came for me now.”

He looked back at Sean, and tears were streaming from his eyes.

Quietly he said, “I can’t thank you for all you have done for me.”

“Come by some time and say ‘Hi’,” Sean responded. “Teach your young bride to speak Taal!”

Sionr looked shocked, and glanced down at the water. The Dolphin was now leaping beside the Schip, calling to him.

“I just may do that. I don’t think it has ever been done but −” he looked a Sean “since when has that stopped us? Goodbye.” Raising his voice he shouted to the others, “Goodbye!” And he leapt from the railing.

---

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Von

1. Telumato language