by Amy Thomson
point, they overlooked the long, narrow channel that led to the mating bay. A short hike in the other direction, up the point and onto the shoulder of the next ridge, and the harsel's mating bay was spread out like a huge map before them, a wide expanse of water shading from pale jade green to emerald in the depths. The bay was bordered by a wide band of drowned grass, waving like hair in the incoming tide.
They ate their evening meal on the point overlooking the channel as the sun set. Close behind and a little to one side were the moons Amphitrite and Thetis. By now the two moons were little more than a handspan apart.
"That section there is called the Narrows. Do you see the pale green water there? That's shallowest point in the passage. If Abeha's going to hang up anywhere, it will be there." Teller told them. "The harsels will begin sailing in on the tidal surge, about an hour past dawn. The tide will peak about midday tomorrow, and that's when Abeha has the best chance of getting through the channel."
"Then we should make an early night of it." Florio said.
There was little talk as they tidied the campsite and prepared for bed. Samad went to bed early, leaving Florio and Teller sitting beside the last embers of their dying fire.
They got up early, ate in silence, and walked down the point to watch the harsels sail up the channel as the first rays of the sun lit the low mountains across the bay. The water was still dark, though a few whitecaps flecked the surface. Already the initial swells of the tidal bore were rolling through the channel. A chill breeze blew, and Samad was grateful for the hot cup of tea that Teller handed him.
"Look!" Florio called. "They're coming through the channel!"
Squinting, Samad could make out a column of harsels, sailing four abreast down the narrow channel.
"They look so small from up here," Samad said.
"They are small. Those are the youngest males," Teller explained, handing him the binoculars. "The harsels come through the channel in order of age, youngest to eldest. Once the males are all in the bay, then the females come through in the same order. Abeha will be the last harsel into the bay."
Florio squeezed her shoulder. Teller managed a brief, nervous smile.
"It'll be all right," Samad reassured her.
Teller shrugged. "There's nothing any of us can do if something goes wrong. It's all up to the wind, the tide, and the harsels themselves."
All morning long the harsels sailed in a steady stream through the long, narrow passage into the bay. Thetis was completely eclipsed by Amphitrite and would remain so for most of the day. Tired of watching the parade of incoming males, they hiked over to take a look at the bay. By now, it was filled with a multicolored array of sails, as the males tacked back and forth, jockeying for favored positions.
"How can they fit any more harsels in the bay?" Samad wondered.
"I always wonder that myself," Teller told him, "but somehow they manage. Still, it's a bigger mating than most."
The column of males entering the bay was now only two abreast, and they were much larger than the first entrants.
"We should head back," Teller said. "We don't want to miss the females' passage through the channel." She glanced up at the sun, now almost at the zenith. "I hope the tide will be high enough for Abeha."
"She'll be all right, agapitee," Florio soothed.
They hurried back up, over, and down, and reached their previous viewpoint just as the last few males sailed through
the channel. There was a pause like the gathering rise of a wave, and then, one by one, singing as they came, the female harsels began sailing down the channel.
It took nearly two hours for all the females to sail past. Samad watched the tidal bore grow smaller and smaller as the tide rose toward its peak, and tried not to worry.
"There are a lot more females than usual this year," Teller commented. "I think Abeha's decision influenced a lot of other harsels to do the same." She sighed wearily. "I hope that there's no trouble in the channel," she fretted for the hundredth time that morning.
"She'll be all right, Teller," Samad reassured her once again. Perhaps if he repeated it enough, they would both believe it. '
Teller stiffened. "Look! There she is!"
Abeha was sailing around the bend in the channel. From this vantage point the great harsel appeared graceful and deceptively serene. Samad's belly and throat tightened as Abeha passed into the Narrows and reached the lighter green water that marked the shallowest point of the passage. Abeha hesitated a moment as she approached the rocky shoals. Then she adjusted her course and slid past the shallow reef as smoothly as a cloud scudding before the wind.
Teller let out a huge sigh of relief. Samad felt as though a heavy stone had been lifted from his chest.
"She made it! She's all right!" Teller exulted. She hugged Samad and Florio, and danced around in joy, shouting, "She made it! She made it! She made it!" over and over again. Florio and Samad danced with her, finally collapsing breathless on the grass.
Teller got up first and began picking up her backpack. "Come on," Teller urged. "If we hurry, we can see her coming into the bay!"
Florio and Samad hurriedly gathered up their gear and
followed Teller back up the hillside, cutting across the point that the harsels were sailing around. They reached the ridge overlooking the bay and collapsed in a breathless heap.
The view was spectacular. The wide, long, emerald-green expanse of water was packed with male harsels, all facing the entrance to the bay, watching as the last of the females made their entrance. They were singing. From this far away, the sound was clear but not overwhelming, like church bells tolling in the distance. Inside his head, Samad could hear the mindsong as an echo behind the sound of the harsels' voices. The song was majestic and sad, celebrating the sacrifice the females were making. Even at this distance, Samad's heart swelled with bittersweet sadness in response to the song.
All the females had entered the bay except for Abeha. There was an expectant pause. The singing died away. The only sound was the hiss of the grass as the wind passed through it, and the faraway carol of a greenthrush. "Where is she?" Samad worried. "Is she all right?" "Shh!" Teller whispered. "She's the eldest. Wait." Then Abeha glided into the bay; her sail spread majestically, nearly a third larger than any other harsel there. She was greeted by a joyous shout of welcome from the assembled harsels. Abeha was the oldest female, and her appearance marked the formal beginning of the mating ceremony. She paused and waited until the other harsels' clamor ceased. Samad's ears rang in the sudden silence. His head felt suddenly empty and light as an old eggshell.
The other females sailed out to meet Abeha, falling majestically into line behind her in order of age. When they were all in order, Abeha began to sing. One by one, the other females joined their voices to the chorus. The males fell back, opening an aisle for the females. As the females sailed into their midst, the males began to sing back, their
beautiful, layered harmonies rising and falling in call and response. Soon the ordered chorus broke up into thousands of individual songs, shimmering like sunlight on choppy water.
"They'll keep this up for hours," Teller declared. "Let's eat."
So they sat in the tall grass and ate bread, cheese, and fresh fruit. Florio brought out a small skin of wine, and they formally toasted Abeha's successful passage through the channel.
As the afternoon passed, Thetis appeared from behind Amphitrite's crescent, while the bay resounded with the harsels' songs. It was almost as if they were singing the moons apart. The songs grew in intensity and volume as the sun, trailed by the barely visible crescent moons, sank toward the horizon, and the tide ebbed. As sunset neared, the harsels were crowded together in the deepest part of the bay, singing and jockeying for position. The long, narrow channel had dwindled to a slender ribbon of water, winding between the exposed fangs of the rocky bottom. The water gleamed like blood in the westering sun. Low as the tide seemed now, it was still more than three
hours from its lowest ebb.
"The males will begin to release their milt at low tide, when the water is still," Teller said. "By sunrise, the bay will be red with it. With no moons, we won't be able to see much tonight. But the harsels will be mating continuously for the next two days. We'll get to watch all day tomorrow and the day after. They'll leave at high tide of the third day. That will be the dangerous time for Abeha. The tide will be almost a meter lower, and she might hang up in the channel. I wish she'd leave early, but she's too much of a traditionalist."
Teller looked grim, and Florio took her hand. She gave
him a thin, unconvincing smile. "I know, I know, don't think of it until the mating is over. But it's hard."
"I know it is." Florio glanced up at the setting sun. "Why don't you come with me to the taverna tonight, and listen while I tell stories. You can set me straight if I tell something the wrong way."
Samad snorted. "What does it matter if a bunch of ignorant off-worlders hear the stories wrong?"
"It matters a great deal," Teller chided. "Off-worlders carry our stories to the stars. If they hear a tale told wrong, then they will tell the wrong story to the rest of the galaxy." She looked out over the bay, toward Abeha.
"There's nothing you can do for her," Florio said gently.
"Yes, I know," Teller replied. "But I'd like to be alone tonight. I trust you to tell the stories correctly, Florio. Why don't you take Samad with you? It's time he made his debut."
Samad's eyes went wide. "A-are you sure I'm ready, sera?"
Teller nodded. "You're ready, and Florio will be there to look after you."
"You'll be all right here?" Florio asked.
"Abeha's still alive, Florio," Teller said. "I'll be all right! I just need some time alone. Please."
"You're not coming?" Samad exclaimed in a hurt tone.
Teller shook her head. "No, Samad. It's traditional for an apprentice to tell his debut tale without his teacher present. Florio will witness your first telling for the Guild. There's just one more thing you're going to need." She drew a flat, square box out of her backpack.
She handed it to Samad. "Go ahead, open it."
He opened the box and drew out a black cape. Around the hem was a border of the same multicolored cloth that made up Teller's shawl and Florio's cape. He looked at Teller; his mouth opened and shut, but no words came out.
Teller smiled. "It's your Journeyman's cape, Samad. Wear it with honor."
"Teller!" Samad managed at last. He threw his arms around her. She hugged him back, tears sparkling in her eyes. Samad wiped his face on his sleeve when he drew back. "Thank you, Teller!" he said, sniffing.
"Congratulations, Samad," Florio said.
Teller draped the cloak around Samad's shoulders and stood back, looking at him. "Looks good on you, Samad. Now, go and earn it."
"You ready, Samad? We should leave before full dark, so we can see where we're setting the beacons."
"Give me a minute to grab my pack!" Samad said.
Samad carefully folded his good shirt and pants and put them into his backpack, along with a flashlight. He glanced over at Teller, seated in front of the low fire.
"Is there anything you need before I go, sera?"
Teller smiled, "No, Samad. I'll be fine. Go with Florio, and pay attention. There's a lot you can learn from him."
"Yes, sera," Samad replied, concerned despite her reassurance.
"And stop worrying about me, Samad. You need to focus on what you're going to be telling tonight," Teller told him. "I'll be all right. I promise."
"Yes, sera," Samad repeated as he shouldered his pack. He followed Florio up the hill, glancing back just before they rounded the flank of the slope. Teller was watching them go. He lifted his hand in farewell, and she lifted hers in return.
Samad placed the last of the trail beacons that would guide them back to camp in the darkness. Florio stood waiting for him, a short, dark cipher in the twilight. They had reached the main road that led to the taverna. The road was little
more than a glorified herder's track, but it was well trodden and easy to follow, even in the gathering dusk.
"Do you really think that Teller's all right?" Samad finally ventured to ask.
"Yes, Samad, I do. I'm more worried about what will happen when Abeha dies. Teller's life is so intertwined with Abeha's." He shook his head. "Abeha was right. You are good for Teller. You're not afraid to poke her when she crawls into her shell. Most of Teller's friends are too much in awe of her to do that."
"What's so special about Teller?" Samad asked. "She gets so mysterious sometimes. I can't even worm out of her how old she is, or where she was born. I swear, it would be easier to get a stone to talk."
"It would be," Florio agreed. "I never could get her to talk much about herself either."
They walked in silence for a few minutes. Samad could see the lights of the taverna twinkling in the distance. If Florio knew any of Teller's secrets, he wasn't telling.
"So, do you think you're ready to tell a story tonight?" Florio asked.
"Do you think I'm really ready?"
"I wouldn't have agreed to be your Guild witness if I didn't," Florio told him.
"Does Teller really think I'm ready?"
Florio nodded his head. "She suggested it, Samad. So she must think so. But Teller sprang it on you with very little warning. Are you prepared? Do you have a story to tell?"
Samad thought this over, turning various stories over in his mind, trying to find one that would fit tonight's audience. "I'd like to tell the story of the Compact. But it's more of a historical account than a true tale."
"Yes, but it's an excellent choice for tonight. If you hadn't decided to tell it, I would have. The off-worlders
need to hear it," Florio said. "Do you know it well enough to tell it?"
Samad closed his eyes and ran the story through his mind like a rosary of beads, then nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do."
"Okay," Florio said. They shared the preoccupied silence of two storytellers readying themselves for their audience.
The taverna was crowded and hot when they arrived. Conversation was loud in the public room, and there was the pungent, alien scent of some strange smoke lingering in the air. Sera Uberagua greeted them with a smile that changed to concern when she saw that Teller wasn't with them.
"Is Teller all right?" she asked.
"She needed to be alone tonight. She sent me and Samad instead," Florio told her. "Teller has said that he's ready to tell his first story tonight."
"What a shame Teller will be missing it!" Sera Uberagua declared.
"It is a tradition among storytellers that the teacher not be in the audience for an apprentice's first tale," Florio told her. "That way the apprentice focuses on the audience instead of their teacher. Teller wasn't there when I told my first story either. But we are both satisfied that Samad is ready."
"Please thank Sera Teller for honoring us with Samad's first story," Sera Uberagua said. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"
Samad shook his head, suddenly nervous and queasy.
"Go sit outside for a bit, Samad," Florio suggested. "I think the off-worlders' dreamsmoke is getting to you."
Samad stepped out onto the quiet patio and stood looking out at the dark, distant bay. The taverna was farther back from the bay than their campsite, and the harsels' songs sounded
very faint. He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to hear their mindsongs with his inward ear.
Footsteps interrupted his inward listening. He turned. It was Florio, carrying a tray.
"I brought you some soup and bread. Eat. It'll settle your stomach."
Samad tried the soup. Rich and warm, it undid the knot in his belly. He finished the bowl and ate a soft, sweet crusty roll. He had been hungrier than he had thought. The nervous flutter in his stomach was nearly gone, and he felt more solid and alert with the food in his stomach.
"Thanks," he said. "You w
ere right, it did help."
Florio shrugged. "I still get a little nervous just before I go on. You get used to it, in time."
Samad nodded. They sat in silence, listening to the harsels for a few minutes.
"You ready?" Florio asked.
Samad nodded, his throat suddenly tight.
"Let's go. I'll tell a couple of fillers to warm them up, and then introduce you."
He followed Florio to the small dais that served as a stage at one end of the room. Karmel Uberagua came up.
"Since these off-world people don't know how to shut up and listen properly, I've set up the sound system." Karmel handed them each a loop of cord. "Put these around your necks," he told them.
Florio slipped the loop mike over his head, adjusted the fit, and then helped Samad with his. "After I tell the story of Nazreddin and the three har captains, I'll introduce you," he told Samad.
"I'll be ready," Samad told him. He went and sat down at a small, round table just beside the stage. Karmel gestured to a shadowy figure behind the bar, and a spotlight slowly
came up. The audience quieted. Karmel stepped into the spotlight, and waited a beat until everyone's attention was focused on him.
"Tonight, esteemed sers and seras, we are honored to present to you two generations of storytellers, both trained by Teller, one of our world's most revered Master Storytellers. Our local patrons need no further explanation, but to our guests who have come from far across the sea of stars, I will tell you that here on Thalassa, storytelling is considered a fine art. Ser Florio Hakiapulos is an acknowledged master of the art. For over fifteen years he has enthralled audiences around the world. And tonight, we have a special treat; Teller's current apprentice, Abd al-Samad Bernardia, will be making his debut performance. They will tell you some of our traditional Thalassan folktales, as well as some of the history and legends surrounding the harsels, so that you will have a greater understanding of the harsels' ways. Sers and seras, I give you Master Storyteller Florio Hakiapulos, and Apprentice Storyteller Abd al-Samad Bernardia."
There was a polite patter of applause with a few cheers from the locals as Florio moved to the center stage, his storyteller's cloak dashingly draped over one shoulder. Florio seemed taller, broader, and more commanding onstage. His gaze roved over the audience, measuring it and gathering their attention. When all eyes were on him, he put his wide-brimmed hat down on the hatrack placed on the stage for that purpose, seated himself on the barstool under the spotlight, and began.
