Fish Tails

by Sheri S. Tepper

  Needly took up the telling. “And once that mine pattern is broken, ­people can think past it. They see the stars are stars. They see the sun that’s setting over the mountains is a star which is part of the fabric. They see their Earth is a planet, which is part of the fabric, and they see themselves as a thread in the fabric of the world, a world which does not die when one of its threads reaches its end and is followed by another thread. They can know that happens, and let it be all right without willy-­wagging or having to promise themselves some kind of afterlife. Their thread is picked up by another thread that will continue the fabric, and their part in it will always be there, because in reality time does not pass. It always is in the mind of the Creator. The new pattern allows them to be contented with that.”

  Joshua mused, “The young ­people in this village will very soon head off in all directions, singing. Every one of those who volunteered to go has a good voice and some talent with some kind of instrument. They will find other villages that will shortly thereafter go off in all directions, singing. I have Fixit’s flier. It will expand to hold all of us if we fly across the eastern ocean and visit the towns that are over there. Who will then head in all directions, singing. Fixit has predicted that as few as fifty initial locations will blanket the globe inside ten years.”

  Abasio shook his head slowly, still finding it hard to believe. Knowing it was true, but finding it hard nonetheless. He waved at them, turned, and went back to the wagon that was actually a camp disguised as a wagon, leaving Joshua and Grandma sitting with their arms around each other, watching the sun that was a star, that did not belong to mankind, be hidden as the world (which did not belong to mankind) whirled slowly away . . .

  Watching as the edges of the galaxy blinked into view. (No, we do not say “our galaxy.” We say “the Milky Way” or “the galaxy in which the planet we have named Earth is found,” but not “our galaxy.”)

  Watching as the earth turned away into a darkness that was full of stars that were suns that had planets going around them that had life on them that did not belong to mankind.

  Watching a universe that seemed far less dark tonight than it had been at any time in the last several thousand monkey-­brained willy-­wagging years.

  THE GRIFFINS? AH, YES.

  Sun-­wings admitted she had threatened mankind with monsters that did not exist, though she had been certain they would exist, for she had watched the Edgers building their mechanical whales.

  And did everyone know about the wonderful male Griffin Fixit had found in the continent to the south? He’d been there all the time, carefully staying to himself, never seen by Despos, never having to fight him. He was a little foggy about just where he had been or who had taken care of him there. It was almost as though he had had a fairy godfather who kept him hidden. But he was fine. And so good-­natured! All the females thought so.

  Poor Despos. Fixit’s ship had found his body up there the north pole. It really got cold up there. Despos had never been cold before, so he didn’t realize lying down to have a nap wasn’t a good idea. Especially for one with serpent genetics.

  The shifter organs created for Sun-­wings and her sisters worked very well. The Griffins amazed themselves, and one another, however, by refusing to agree upon a new shape and deciding individually what shape they would adopt when. When they felt like swimming, they would swim. And when they felt like flying, they’d do that! All babies came from the egg, however, as Griffins, and wasn’t it nice that Fixit had taken three of the Griffins to a whole world of their own, via wormhole. Two of them had eggs, one of which was male. If they didn’t kill each other—­for they were extremely quarrelsome—they could have a whole planet almost to themselves except for large, prolific fish that made excellent eating.

  Because, as Fixit explained to her mother, Silver-­shanks, wormhole travel wasn’t good for children, little Snow-­foot had been left behind and had been adopted as Dawn-­song’s sister. And Needly’s. And Willum’s. And everyone else’s in Artemisia. The Artemisians had become very fond of Griffins. Snow-­foot didn’t seem to be missing her mother or her aunts at all.

  The water from Squamutch? Ah, yes.

  Through Fixit, the World Spirit of Squamutch sent a gift to the new World Spirit of Earth: several plants of the celebrated Squamutch water lily. Rooted in the seafloor, the miles-­long stems would reach the tops of the tallest mountains and the full-­grown pads were larger than the playing field of one of those ancient outdoor games humans had played. Kick-­sphere? Put-­down-­ball? Whatever it had been called, the pad was big enough to hold a small village. One large panel of leaf, curved into a half cylinder, with two semicircular endpieces, made a house. Peel the outer green layer away, one was left with a translucent membrane: a window. The cut edges of the leaf grew into the leaf below, and the house went on being alive. And the lilies reproduced readily, very readily. Each seed pod made two boats, each flower petal a blanket. One of the first things done by the educational department of the confederated tribes of watery Earth was to offer classes in aquatic architecture.

  The new world spirit? Ah, yes.

  And at last the new world spirit arrived. He emerged from the sea off the coast near Tingawa, and emerged, and emerged, and emerged. He towered into the sky, and his trident pierced the clouds. He had a curly beard and an enormous laugh and a trumpet made out of a huge, curly shell. His name, he said, was Neptune, and he was on lengthy, perhaps interminable vacation from a large solar planet previously given that same name under the mistaken apprehension that it had water on it. Which it did not. Nor, unfortunately, did it have any appreciable life on it, and really, unless one was for some inexplicable reason fond of gases, there was very little amusement to be had out of them. This world, however . . . this one was going to be fun!

  The new spirit was particularly grateful to Fixit, for Fixit had taken giraffes away. And elephants. Warthogs. Hippos. Also lions, tigers, leopards, wolves, weasels, foxes. About fifty kinds of antelopes. Had Earth really needed fifty kinds of antelope? Well, luckily, Fixit had taken all of them to a distant planet named Terra Firma, so the new world spirit would not have to struggle with them! Lovely forests, prairies, mountains, lakes, small seas there, but no mankinds on Terra Firma, and no creature that might evolve into mankinds. Any creatures that might evolve into a mankind sort of thing had been taken elsewhere, to a world where survival meant strenuous, continuing effort. No forests to chop down. No mines full of metal. Destruction would be, in every case, counterproductive. Mobwows very probably wouldn’t survive it.

  Still, all the creatures that Fixit had not taken away had to be adapted to living in the seas. The new Earth spirit couldn’t wait until the oceans were full! So much to do! Gracious, but there was still so much to do! Whales now. Leviathans. He had to learn whale and he was finding it difficult. Could one of the small beings who were turning into octopods help him out by introducing him to the Sea King, the Kraken, who no doubt spoke whale? No, no, it was quite all right for Kraken to retain the title of Sea King. He, Neptune, was the Sea GOD, not to be confused with the Creator, merely a member of a subrace, and HE, Neptune, had titles enough already.

  This was really going to be so much fun! Now, did everyone here understand about bao? Because if they didn’t, Neptune was going to start giving classes. Required classes.

  The End. Ah, yes. And bao . . . to us all.

  Author’s Note

  Author’s note, following, include a note on the chronology of the books whose characters are mentioned in Fish Tails, as well as the story of the Kindly Teacher.

  Chronology

  The books that precede Fish Tails are not listed in the chronological order of their publication. This listing follows the chronology of the story, though the publication date of each book is given.

  The story begins with The Song of Mavin Manyshaped (Ace Original, March 1985) in the world of Lom, to which humans fro
m Earth came some time before. The first character met is Mavin Manyshaped, a young woman who helps her sister escape a life of pain and abuse, and then escapes a similar fate by taking her younger brother, Mertyn, and absconding—­in the guise of a horse. She meets the wizard Himaggery, a man of many and vast enthusiasms, and kindly Windlow the Seer. She will not stay with the wizard, but she promises to meet him twenty years later. Leaving her brother in Windlow’s care, she begins her search for her sister.

  In The Flight of Mavin Manyshaped (Ace fantasy edition, June 1985), she goes far across the seas to look for her long-­lost sister and finds her in one of the strange cities of the chasm, cities that hang forever in structures built upon vines that hang between the great beasts of the land above and the weirdly wonderful creatures of the chasm bottom. Mavin’s sister dies in giving birth to twins. Mavin brings her infant nephews back to the lands of the True Game so they may be raised among kin in a shifter demesne. The time for the twenty-­year reunion she promised Himaggery is coming closer.

  In The Search of Mavin Manyshaped (Ace edition, September 1985), no one knows where Himaggery is, except that he is sought by the deadly shadow. The Daylight tower and bell have been destroyed and the shadow is free to eat all living creatures. Mavin finds Himaggery in a form the shadow cannot recognize; she brings him through a long, dangerous journey to safety, stays with him for a time, and becomes pregnant—­a fact that everyone in the place recognizes—­except Himaggery. His many and vast enthusiasms, Mavin realizes, don’t leave room for him to really look at anyone, certainly not a woman or child; besides, if her child should be a shifter, it will need special rearing. She leaves Himaggery to have the child elsewhere. He says he will find her. When he finishes this latest project . . . or the next one . . . or certainly the one after that.

  The story of Mavin and Himaggery’s son, Peter, begins with King’s Blood Four (Ace edition, April 1983). It is the story of ­­­­­­Peter, a boy of unknown parentage, fostered in School Town and there taught the rudiments of the True Game. The ­people on Lom came from Earth, long ago. The talents that make them gamesmen and gameswomen were given to them by Lom. Those who received no talent are mere pawns, a separate class of beings, all too often sacrificed “in play.” In this book, Peter is betrayed, taken hostage, held for a ransom he has no way of paying. It is here he first meets his cousins, and sees his mother for the first time since she left him in School Town, shortly after his birth. It is while he is captive that his talent comes to him, out of nowhere, and he learns he too can shift . . . into almost anything. He escapes, taking with him his fellow captive, the healer Silkhands.

  In Necromancer Nine (Ace edition, September 1983), the boy must find his mother, Mavin Manyshaped, who has left a set of enigmatic directions. In finding her, he at least partially finds himself. There is a puzzle in the lands of the True Games, and Peter, Windlow, Himaggery . . . all are seeking to solve it.

  In Wizard’s Eleven (Ace Original, February 1984), the boy becomes a man, knowing who and what he is and regretting what he is, for he is a gamesman, which means that his best friend, a pawn, is unworthy of friendship. To gamesmen, the untalented are mere pawns, now awaiting death in the game. By this time he has met the girl named Jinian, and together with her and the eidolons of the first, great gamesmen, they fight a great battle of the dead with the dead for the soul of their world.

  We meet the girl first in Jinian Footseer (a Tor book, September 1985), a child who for no discernible reason is treated with scorn by her family, who is despised by her supposed mother, abused by her supposed brothers, taught witchcraft by several old women in and about the place, has a marriage arranged, seemingly to her advantage, but is fortuitously kidnapped, escapes, and finds her own way to School Town, where in time she is joined by the six other women who make up her “Seven” in witchcraft.

  In Dervish Daughter (a Tor book, March 1986), we learn of Jinian’s true parentage, and she finds herself fighting a lonely battle for the soul of Lom, against a mysterious creature that calls itself an Oracle and seems to be a devil.

  And in Jinian Star-­Eye (a Tor book, August 1986), she prevails, learning she has a talent that she alone possesses. She joins with Peter to unite the present with the past. In their claiming of the world for their own, the talents given by that world are taken from them.

  Then in Plague of Angels (Doubleday, 1993), we meet Abasio, the farm boy turned ganger turned mystic who flees from a dying city and on the way meets a girl named Olly. They go toward the city from which the ships flew to Lom, all those centuries ago. Olly is captured and taken into the city, fulfilling a long-­promised destiny, and leaves there in the last spaceship, taking with her the threat that would have meant death to the world. Abasio is left alone except for Blue, the horse who somehow, along the way, has learned to talk. Abasio believes the ability to converse is a gift from the great beings he can think of only as angels, a gift so that he will not be left totally alone.

  And, in Waters Rising (Harper Voyager, 2010), we meet Abasio and Blue again, now seeking a child named Xulai, whom he has been told he will find in Woldsgard far to the west. One last monster left over from the Big Kill tracks them relentlessly as their travels lead them to far distant Tingawa, and to the birth of their children, the first sea-­children, the twins Bailai and Gailai.

  And finally, in Fish Tails, Abasio and Xulai and their children travel though the sparsely populated land, stopping in villages to recruit those who are interested in becoming sea dwellers. While on this journey, they welcome strange visitors from far-­off Lom, Mavin Manyshaped, Jinian Star-­Eye, and Silkhands the healer, returned to the land of their origin. These three have been called by the spirit of the planet to come and assure that the other creatures of Earth—­particularly self-­aware creatures like the Griffins Sun-­wings and Dawn-­song—­made by man and for whom man must be responsible—­are also made ready to live in a world that is forever to be an ocean without a shore.

  (Balytaniwassinot learned, by the way, that the Edgers were responsible for making the Griffins, not the Edgers around the old city of Fantis, but those that lived on the west side of the Stonies, in the land that is lost. From what we can learn, there were two places from which Griffins came: an Edge, not far west of where Wellsport is now, which was drowned when the seas came in; the other an Edge far to the southwest on the southern continent. That one may still be in existence, and if there is time, we may send an expedition to find it. I am told it would be helpful to know what genetics went into the making of the Griffins, even though Precious Wind tells me that the Tingawans are very close to figuring it out on their own.)

  The Story of the Kindly Teacher

  Once upon a time there was a very kindly man, a good teacher, who wished to help ­people. Each day he put on his robe, took up his staff, and went among the ­people of the earth telling them his teaching. Each time, when he met a group of ­people, he said, “I have a gift for you, this is a good teaching, which can lead to happier lives. My teaching is this: be kind.”

  (If there are children listening, this is where we put our fingers to our lips and nod at them, as though saying “listen.”)

  People heeded the good teaching and many lived happier lives. There was only one instruction in the teaching: be kind. There were no sacrifices demanded, no offerings required. There were no rites that were obligatory. It was all very simple. “Be kind,” the teacher would say. Then he would give some examples of kindness—­to ­people, to chickens, to bees, to horses. There is a song he wrote . . .

  Be kind to all creatures, wherever they be;

  Be kind to the robins who live in your tree;

  Be kind to the sparrow, be kind to the finch,

  Be kind to the inchworm and give him his inch.

  Don’t hurry, don’t worry, don’t grab, and don’t clutch;

  Don’t drive yourself crazy by doing too much.

  (These tw
o lines are sung by women)

  Be kind to the husband who gives you a pain,

  you know he can’t stop, there’s a flaw in his brain . . .

  (These two by men)

  Be kind to your wife when she fusses and nags,

  Wives who are hugged do not turn into hags.

  (Everyone)

  Be kind to the gopher, be kind to the mole,

  Be kind to all creatures who live in a hole.

  Be kind to the cricket who lives on your shelf.

  Be kind to your critics. Be kind to yourself!

  Many ­people disregarded the Teacher, but they were no worse off than before, so the teaching did not hurt them. Those who listened did have happier lives. The Teacher was old and a little lame, so some of his followers offered to help him, three of them in particular. One was a Drover, one a Lawyer, one a Soldier. These men admired the Teacher and told him they respected his teaching, and always as the Teacher went from one place to another they would hear him say, “I have a gift for you, this is a good teaching.”

  One day the Teacher had a sore throat and could not give his teaching, so his friend the Drover said, “I know your teaching, word for word. I can tell it, Teacher.” And he went out among the ­people, saying, “I have something good for you: this is the only true teaching.”

  When the Teacher heard what the Drover had said, he told him, “I don’t say the only true teaching, my friend. I simply tell ­people that it is a good teaching.”

  “Oh, but, Teacher,” said the Drover, “that is because you are modest. Everyone knows your teaching is the best one. Besides, ­people will only really pay attention if they think they are getting the very best of anything. Some of them ask me questions. Just today a man asked me, ‘How can I be sure being kind is right?’ I told him how I do. So long as the oxen don’t wander, I’m kind to ’em. If the oxen wander, I touch them with the whip, to bring them back on the road. I keep a close eye on them. I don’t let them wander off to eat grass or drink water when they have hauling to do.”