Gene Wolfe - Short Sun 01 - On Blue's Waters

On Blue’s Waters

Chapter 1 Horn’s Book

Chapter 2 Becalmed

Chapter 3 The Sibyl and the Sorceress

Chapter 4 The Tale of the Pajarocu

Chapter 5 The Thing on the Green Plain

Chapter 6 Seawrack

Chapter 7 The Island

Chapter 8 The End

Chapter 9 Krait

Chapter 10 Seawrack’s Ring

Chapter 11 The Land of Fires

Chapter 12 War

Chapter 13 Brothers

Chapter 14 Pajarocu!

Chapter 15 The Last Sheets

Chapter 16 Northwest

PROPER NAMES IN THE TEXT

Many of the persons and places mentioned in this book first appeared in The Book of

the Long Sun, to which the reader is referred. In the following list, the most

significant names are given in CAPITALS, less significant names in lower case.

Alubukham, a concubine.

Auk, a Vironese burglar.

BABBIE, a tame hus.

Bahar, one of the RAJAN’s ministers.

Barsat, a woodcutter.

Beled, a coastal town on Blue settled by people from Trivigaunte.

Blazingstar, a New Vironese merchant.

Blood, a crime lord, now dead.

BLUE, the better of the two habitable planets of the SHORT SUN System.

Book of Silk, HORN and NETTLE’s great literary work, also called The Book of

the Long Sun.

Brother, a small boy living with his sister in a forest northwest of GAON.

Bush, a tavern in PAJAROCU.

Chandi, a concubine.

Chenille, the woman who accompanied Auk to GREEN.

Choora, a long, straight, single-edged knife favored by the RAJAN.

Chota, a nickname given EVENSONG by her fellow concubines. Trooper

Darjan, a Gaonese boy.

Dorp, a coastal town.

Echidna, a major goddess, the mother of the gods of the LONG SUN WHORL.

Eschar, a New Vironese merchant.

EVENSONG, the concubine given the RAJAN OF GAON by the MANOFHAN.

Gadwall, a New Vironese smith.

GAON, a troubled inland town on BLUE.

Geier, one of travelers assembled in PAJAROCU.

Gelada, a convict murdered by Auk long ago.

GREEN, the worse of the habitable planets of the SHORT SUN System.

Gyrfalcon, a New Vironese merchant.

Corporal Hammerstone, a soldier in the army of VIRON.

HAN, a populous town south of GAON.

HARIMAU, the citizen who brought the RAJAN to GAON.

He-bring-skin, a citizen of PAJAROCU.

He-bold-fire, the captain of PAJAROCU’s lander.

He-pen-sheep, a hunter.

He-sing-spell, one of He-hold-fire’s subordinates.

He-take-bow, one of He-hold-fire’s subordinates.

Hephaestus, a minor god of the LONG SUN WHORL.

Hide, one of HORN’S twin sons.

Hierax, a major god of the LONG SUN WHORL, the god of death.

Hoof, one of HORN’s twin sons.

Hoop, one of the RAJAN’s scribes.

Aunt Hop, one of NETTLE’s sisters.

HORN, a New Vironese paper-maker, the protagonist.

Hyacinth, SILK’s beautiful wife.

Jahlee, an inhuma rescued by the RAJAN and EVENSONG.

Kilhari, a hunter of GAON.

KRAIT, the inhumu adopted by HORN.

Kypris, the goddess of love in the LONG SUN WHORL.

Lake Limna, a large lake south of VIRON.

Lal, a small boy of GAON, Mehman’s grandson.

LIZARD, an island north of NEW VIRON, the site of HORN’s mill.

LONG SUN WHORL, the interior of the WHORL.

Mahawat, the RAJAN’s elephant driver.

Main, the eastern continent.

Mamelta, the sleeper rescued by SILK, now dead.

MAN OF HAN, the ruler of HAN.

Maytera MARBLE, the former sibyl who accompanied the colonists to BLUE and

resumed her vocation there, a chem.

MARROW, a New Vironese merchant.

Mehman, the RAJAN’s head gardener.

General Mint, the heroine of VIRON’s revolution, also known as Maytera Mint.

Molybdenum, a name assumed by Maytera MARBLE.

Mota, a citizen of GAON.

The Mother, a monstrous sea-goddess of BLUE.

Moti, a concubine.

MUCOR, a young woman possessing paranormal powers.

NADI, a river flowing past GAON.

Namak, an officer in the horde of GAON.

Nauvan, an advocate.

NEIGHBORS, BLUE’s sentient native race.

NETTLE, HORN’s wife.

NEW VIRON, the town on BLUE founded by colonists from VIRON.

Olivine, a young chem of VIRON.

OREB, a tame night chough.

OUTSIDER, the only god trusted by SILK.

PAJAROCU, a phantom town on BLUE’s western continent.

Pas, a major god, the father of the gods in the LONG SUN WHORL.

Pehla, the RAJAN’s principal concubine. fig, a mercenary of the LONG SUN

WHORL.

Patera Pike, Patera SILK’s predecessor.

Quadrifons, an aspect of the OUTSIDER in the LONG SUN WHORL.

Patera Quetzal, the inhumu who became Prolocutor of VIRON.

The RAJAN OF GAON, the narrator.

Rajya Mantri, the RAJAN’s principal minister.

Ram, a citizen of GAON.

The Rani, the ruler of Trivijfaunte.

Patera Remom, the head of the Chapter in NEW VIRON.

Maytera Rose, an elderly sibyl, now dead.

Roti, a citizen of GAON.

General Saba, an officer in the horde of Trivigaunte.

Sciathan, the Flier who accompanied SILK, HORN, and others to Mainframe.

Scleroderma, a friend of Maytera MARBLE’S, now dead.

Scylla, a major goddess of the LONG SUN WHORL, the patroness of VIRON.

SEAWRACK, a one-armed maiden.

Shadelow, HORN’S name for the western continent.

She-pick-berry, He-pen-sheep’s wife.

SHORT SUN, the star orbited by the WHORL.

Patera SILK, the caldé of Viron at the time the colonists boarded their landers,

also called Caldé SILK.

SINEW, HORN and NETTLE’s eldest son.

Sister, a small girl living with her brother in a forest northwest of GAON.

Generalissimo Siyuf, the commander of the Rani’s horde.

Skany, an inland town some distance from GAON.

Somvar, an advocate.

Captain Strik, a master mariner of Dorp.

Sun Street, a wide diagonal avenue in VIRON.

Tail, the southern end of LIZARD Island.

Tamarind, a fishmonger’s widow.

Tartaros, a major god of the LONG SUN WHORL, the god of darkness and

commerce, and the patron of thieves.

Thelxiepeia, a major goddess of the LONG SUN WHORL, the goddess of

learning, trickery, and magic.

Three Rivers, an inland town near NEW VIRON.

Tor, a rocky peak on LIZARD Island.

Trivigaunte, a desert city well south of VIRON.

Toter, Strik’s son.

Tuz, one of the travelers assembled in PAJAROCU.

Urbasecundus, a foreign town not far from NEW VIRON.

Vanished Gods, the gods of the NEIGHBORS.

Vanished People, the NEIGHBORS.

VIRON, the city of the LONG SUN WHORL in which SILK, HORN, NETTLE,

and many others were born, also called Old Viron.

Vulpes, an advocate of the LONG SUN WHORL.

West Foot, the westernmost peninsula of LIZARD Island.

The WHORL, the generation ship from which the colonists came.

Wichote, a riverine village on BLUE’s eastern continent.

Captain WIJZER, a master mariner of Dorp.

Tksin, the traveler who robbed and deserted SINEW.

Zeehm, the daughter of the RAJAN’s head gardener.

To Every Town:

Like you we left friends and family and the light of the Long Sun

for this new whorl we share with you. We would greet our brothers at

home if we could.

We have long wished to do this. Is it not so for you?

He-hold-fire, a man of our town, has labored many seasons where

our lander lifts high its head above our trees. The gray man speaks to

He-hold-fire and to us, and it is his word that he will fly once again.

Soon he will rise upon fire and fly like the eagle.

We might clasp it to our bellies. That is not the way of hunters,

and there are many beds of hide. Send a man to come with us. Send a

woman, if it is your custom.

One alone from each town of this new whorl, whether he or she.

With us the one you send will return to our old home among the

stars.

Send soon. Send one only. We will not delay.

Speak our word to others.

The Men Of

PAJAROCU

—1—

HORN’S BOOK

It is worthless, this old pen case I brought from Viron. It is nothing. You might go

around the market all day and never find a single spirit who would trade you a fresh

egg for it. Yet it holds...

Enough.

Yes, enough. I am sick of fancies.

At present it holds two quills, for I have taken the third one out. Two were in it when

I found it in the ashes of our shop. The third, with which I am writing, was dropped

by Oreb not so long ago. I picked it up, put it in this pen case, and forgot both Oreb

and his feather.

It also holds a knife for pointing pens and the small bottle of black ink (more than

half full) into which I dip mine. See how much darker my writing has become.

It is facts I need—facts I starve for. To Green with fancies!

My name is Horn.

This is such a pen case as students use in Viron, the city in which I was born, and

no doubt in many others—a case of black leather glued over pressboard; it has a brass

hinge with a steel spring, and a little brass clamp to keep it shut. We sold them in our

shop and asked six cardbits; but my father would accept four if the purchaser

bargained awhile, and such purchasers always did.

Three, if they bought something else, a quire of writing paper, say.

The leather is badly scuffed. More facts later, when I have more time. Rajya Mantri

wants to lecture me.

*

* *

Reviewing what I wrote yesterday, I see that I have begun without plan or foresight,

and in fact without the least notion of what I was trying to do or why I was trying to

do it. That is how I have begun everything in life. Perhaps I need to begin before I can

think clearly about the task. The chief thing is to begin, after all—after which the

chief thing is to finish. I have finished worse than I began, for the most part.

It is all in the pen case. You have to take out the ink and string it together into the

right shapes. That is all.

If I had not picked up this old pen case where my father’s shop once stood, it is

possible that I might still be searching for Silk.

For the phantom who has eluded me on three whorls.

Silk may be here on Blue already, after all. I have dispatched letters to Han and some

other towns, and we will see. It is convenient, I find, to have messengers at one’s

beck and call.

So I am searching here, although I am the only person here in Gaon who could

not tell you where to find him. Searching does not necessarily imply movement.

Thinking it does, or rather assuming it without thought, may have been my first and

worst mistake.

Thus I continue to search, true to my oath. I question travelers, and I write new

letters subtracting some facts and adding others, composing flatteries and threats I

hope will bring this town and that to my assistance; no doubt my scribe thinks I am

penning another such letter at this moment, a letter that he, poor fellow, will have to

copy out with broad, fair flourishes upon sheepskins scraped thin.

We need a paper mill here, and it is the only thing that I am competent to do.

I wish Oreb were here.

Now that I know what I mean to do, I can begin. But not at the beginning. To begin at

the beginning would consume far too much time and paper, to say nothing of ink. I

am going to begin, when I do, just a day or two before the moment at which I put to

sea in the sloop.

Tomorrow then, when I have had time to decide how best to tell the convoluted

tale of my long, vain search for Patera Silk—for Silk my ideal, who was the augur of

our manteion in the Sun Street Quarter of Our Sacred City of Viron in the belly of the

Whorl.

When I was young.

*

* *

The mainshaft had split—I remember that. I was taking it out of the journals when

one of the twins ran in. I believe it was Hide. “A boat’s coming! A big boat’s

coming!”

I told him that they probably wanted to buy a few bales, and that his mother could

sell it to them as well as I could.

“Sinew’s here, too.”

Just to get rid of Hide, I told him to tell his mother about it. When he had gone, I

got my needier from its hiding place and stuck it in my waistband under my greasy

tunic.

Sinew was stamping up and down the beach, lovely shells of purple, rose, and

purest white snapping beneath his boots. He looked surly when he saw me, so I told

him to bring the good telescope out of the sloop. He would have defied me if he had

possessed the courage. For half a minute we stood eye to eye; then he turned and

went. I thought he was leaving, that he would put out for the mainland in his coracle

and stay there for a week or a month, which to tell the truth I wanted much more than

my telescope.

The boat they came in was indeed large. I know I counted at least a dozen sails. It

carried a couple of jibs, three sails on each of its big masts, and staysails. I had never

seen a boat big enough to set staysails between its masts before, so I am sure of those.

Sinew came back with the telescope. I asked whether he wanted the first look,

and he sneered at me. It was always a mistake to try to treat him with any courtesy in

those days, and I could have kicked myself for it. I put the telescope to my eye,

wondering what Sinew was doing the second I could no longer watch him.

It was a good instrument, made in Dorp they said, where they are good sailors

and grind good lenses. (We were good sailors in New Viron, too—or thought we

were—but did not grind lenses at all.) Through it I could see the faces at the gunwale,

all looking toward Tail Bay, for which their boat was plainly making. Its hull was

white above and black below—I recall that, too. Here on Blue the sea is silver where

it is not so dark a blue that it seems it might dye cloth, not at all like Lake Limna at

home where the waves were nearly always green.

I had become used to Blue’s blue and silver sea long ago, of course. Perhaps I

only think of it now because we are so far from it here in Gaon; but it seems to me, as

I sit here to write at this beautifully inlaid table the Gaonese have provided for me,

that I saw it then through the glass as though it were new, that there was some magic

carried in the big black and white boat that made Blue new to me again. Perhaps there

was, for boats are magic—living things that ordinary men like me can shape from

wood and iron.

“Probably pirates,” Sinew snarled.

I took my eye from the telescope and saw that he had his long, steel-hilted

hunting knife out and was testing its edge with his thumb. Sinew could never sharpen

a knife properly (Nettle did it for him in those days), although he pretended he could;

but for a moment before I returned to my study of the boat, I wondered whether he

would not stab me and try to join them if pirates in fact came again. Then I put my

eye back to the telescope, and saw that the faces at the gunwale included a woman’s,

and that one of the men was old Patera Remora. I should make it clear here that he

and Marrow were the only ones I knew well.

There were five besides Gyrfalcon’s sailors, who had been brought along to work

die boat. Perhaps I ought to list all five now and describe them, since Netde may want

to show diis to others. You would do everything much better, darling, I know,

working in the descriptions cleverly as you did when we wrote The Book of Silk; but

it is a skill I have never possessed to die same degree.

No doubt you remember them better dian I, as well.

Gyrfalcon is fat, with busy eyes, a noble face, and a mop of sinknut-brown hair just

starting to turn gray. It was his boat, and he let us know that the moment diat he came

ashore. Do you remember?

Eschar is tall and stooped, with a long, sad face, slow to speak until his passions are

roused. He was on our lander, of course, just as Marrow and Remora were.

The woman came later, perhaps on Gyrfalcon’s lander. Her name is Blazingstar. She

has humor, as you do, a rare thing in a woman. I know you liked her, and so did I. She

talked about her farms, so she must own at least two in addition to her trading

company.

Marrow is large and solid, not so fat as he was at home, but balder even than I was

then. When we were children, he owned a greengrocery as well as his fruit stall in the

market. He still deals in vegetables and fruits mostly, I believe. I have never known

him to cheat anyone, and he can be generous; but I would like to meet the man who

can best him in a bargain. Marrow was the only one of the five who helped me after I

was robbed in New Viron.

His Cognizance Patera Remora is of course the head of the Vironese Faith—quite tall

but not muscular, with lank gray hair he wears too long. He was at one time coadjutor

in Old Viron (as we say it here). A good and a kind man, not as shrewd as he believes,

prone to be too careful.

They were too many for our little house. Hoof and Hide and I made a rude table on

the beach, laying planks across boxes and barrels and bales of paper. Sinew carried

out all the chairs, I brought the high and low stools I use in the mill, and you spread

the planks with cloths and set what little cheer we had before our uninvited guests.

And so we managed to entertain all five, and even Gyrfalcon’s sailors, with some

show of decency.

Marrow rapped the makeshift table, calling us to order. Our sons and the sailors

were sitting on the beach, nudging one another, whispering, and tossing shells and

pebbles into the silver waves. I would have sent them all away if I could. It did not

seem to be my place to do so, and Marrow let them stay.

“First let me thank you both for your hospitality,” he began. “You owe us no

favors, since we have come to ask you for a big one—”

Gyrfalcon interrupted, saying, “To grant you a privilege.” From the way he

spoke, I felt sure that they had argued about this already.

Marrow shrugged. “I should have begun by explaining who we are. You know

our names now, and even though you live so far from town, it’s likely that you also

know we’re its five richest citizens.”

Remora cleared his throat. “Not, um, so. No—ah—intent to, um, contradict, but

not, er, I.”

“Your Chapter’s got more gelt than any of us,” Eschar remarked dryly.

“Not mine, hey? Custodian—um—solely.” The sweet salt wind ruffled his hair,

making him look at once foolish and blessed.

Blazingstar spoke first to you, Nettle; then to me. “We are the five people who

have jockeyed most successfully for money and power, that’s all. We wanted them,

we five, and we got them. Now here we are, begging you two to keep us from cutting

our own throats.”

“Not, um—”

“He’ll deny it,” she told us, “but it’s the gods’ own truth just the same. Our

money belongs to us, mine to me, Gyrfalcon’s to him, and so on. Patera here is going

to insist that his isn’t really his, that it belongs to the Chapter and he only takes care

of it.”

“Brava! Quite—um—ah... Precisely the case.”

“But he’s got it, and as Eschar said he’s probably got more than any of us. He’s

got bravos, too, buckos to break heads for him whenever he wants.”

Stubbornly, Remora shook his own. “There are many men of— ah—high heart

amongst the faithful. That I, um, concede. However, we—ah—none—”

“He doesn’t have to pay his,” Blazingstar explained. “We pay ours.”

Eschar asked Remora, “If it isn’t so, what are you doing here?”

Marrow rapped the table again. “That’s who we are. Do you understand now?”

You looked at me then, Nettle darling, inviting me to speak; but all I could think

of to say was. “I don’t think so.”

Marrow said, “You don’t know why we’re here, naturally. We haven’t told you.

That will come soon enough.”

Gyrfalcon snapped, “New Viron needs a caldé. Anybody can see it.”

You nodded then, Nettle darling. “It’s become a terrible place.”

“Exactly. We came here to escape the Sun Street Quarter, didn’t we? The Sun

Street Quarter and the Orilla.” Gyrfalcon chuckled. “But we carried them with us.”

“It isn’t just crime,” Blazingstar declared, “though there’s much too much of that.

The wells are polluted and there’s filth everywhere.”

Gyrfalcon chuckled again. “Just like home.”

“Worse. Filth and flies. Rats. It isn’t just that the people want a caldé, though

they do. We do. We’re businesspeople at base, all of us. Traders and merchants.

Sharpers, if you like.”

“I must—ah,” Remora began.

“All right, all except His Cognizance, who never hedges the truth even a finger’s

width. Or so he says.” Blazingstar gave Remora a scornful smile. “But the rest of us

need to carry on our businesses, and it’s become almost impossible to do that in New

Viron.”

Marrow added, “And getting worse.”

“Getting worse. Exactly.”

You asked, “Can’t one of you be caldé?”

Gyrfalcon laughed aloud at that; he has a good, booming laugh. “Suppose one of

us became caldé tomorrow. How about old Marrow there? He wants it.”

“I feel sure it would be a wonderful improvement.”

Marrow thanked you. “For you and your family it would be, Nettle. What do

think it would be for them?” He glanced around at Gyrfalcon, Remora, Eschar, and

Blazingstar.

“An improvement, too, I think.”

“Not a bit of it.” Marrow had rapped the table before; now he struck it with his

fist, rattling our mugs and plates. “I would take everything I could get. I would do my

best to ruin them, and if you ask me I would succeed.” He smiled, and glanced around

at the woman and the three men I had believed were his friends. “They know it well,

my dear. And, Nettle, they would do the same to me.”

Eschar told you, “We need Caldé Silk here. I was the first to suggest it.”

“He’s still in the Whorl, isn’t he? And... I don’t like to say this.”

“Then I will.” Blazingstar reached across the table we had made to cover your

hand with her own. “He may be dead. I left sixteen years ago, and by this time it’s

certainly possible.”

“Hem!” Remora cleared his throat. “Theocracy, hey? I have suggested it, but they

will, er, won’t. Not if—ah—me. But, um, Patera Silk, eh? Yes. Yes, to that. Third

party. Still an augur, eh? Indelible—ah—consecration. So, um. Modified? A

mitigated theocracy. We, um, two in concert. I concur.”

Gryfalcon summed up, “It’s that or we fight, and a fight would destroy the town,

and all of us, too, in all probability. Show them the letter, Marrow.”

*

* *

Hari Mau and I have formalized the court. Up until now, it seems, litigants have

simply done whatever they could to come before the rajan (as their ruler was called at

home) and made their cases. Witnesses were or were not called, and so forth. We

have set up a system—tentative, of course, but it is a system—in a situation in which

any system at all will surely be an improvement. Unless they choose otherwise,

Nauvan will represent all the plaintiffs, and Somvar all the defendants. It will be their

duty to see that evidence, witnesses, and so forth are present when I hear the case. In

criminal cases, I will assign one or the other to prosecute, depending.

I feel like Vulpes.

They will have to be paid, of course; but demanding fees from both parties should

encourage them to come to agreement, so that may work out well. Besides, there will

be fines. I wish I knew more about our Vironese law—these people don’t seem to

have had any.

Back to it.

I swore an oath, administered by Remora, with my left hand upon the Chrasmologic

Writings and my right extended to the Short Sun. That is the part I wish very

fervently that I could forget. I cannot recall the exact words—in all honesty, I am

tormented more than enough as it is—but I cannot forget what I swore to do, and not

one day passes without my conscience reminding me that I have not done it.

No more letters. What farce!

Gyrfalcon offered to take me to New Viron. While thanking him, I declined for three

reasons that I might as well list here to show where my mind was when I left Lizard.

The first was that I wanted to speak to my family privately, and that I did not

want to subject them—to subject you, Nettle darling, particularly—to the pressure

Marrow, Blazingstar, and Gyrfalcon himself would undoubtedly have brought to bear.

I waited until supper, then longer so that we could dispose of the questions and

gossip our five visitors had provoked. As I was carving the roast Sinew had supplied,

he asked what had been said when you and I, Remora, and the others, had walked to

the tip of the tail.

“You heard us earlier,” I told him, and continued to carve. “You know what they

wanted.”

“I wasn’t paying much attention.”

You sighed then, Nettle, and I recalled your listening at the door when Silk

conferred with the two councilors. I leaped to the conclusion that you had listened

while I talked privately with Marrow and the others, and I was ready for you to

explain everything to our sons when you said, “They want us to stop writing. Isn’t

that really it?”

I thought it so ludicrously wrong that I could have laughed aloud. When I denied

it, you said, “I was sure that was what it really was. I still am. You look so gloomy

now, Horn, and you’re always such a cheerful person.”

I have never thought myself one.

Hoof said, “They wanted to get paper on credit. Things are bad in town. Daisy

just got back, and she says it’s really terrible.”

And Hide, “Did you give them credit, Father?”

“No,” I told him, “but I would have.”

“Those cardcases.” Sinew sneered. “You’d have had to.”

“You’re wrong,” I told him, and pointed the carving knife at him. “That’s what I

have to make clear from the beginning. I don’t have to do what they want. They

threatened me, or at least Gyrfalcon did. I ought to say he tried to, since I didn’t feel

threatened. He could bring some pressure to bear on us, perhaps. But in less than a

year I’d have him eating out of my hand.”

Sinew snorted.

“You think I couldn’t? You think it because I’ve always been gentle with you for

your mother’s sake. It wasn’t like that in my family, believe me. Or in hers either. If

you find yourself begging me before shadelow tomorrow,” to emphasize my point, I

struck the table with the handle of the knife, “will you admit you were wrong? Are

you man enough for that?”

He looked surly and said nothing. He is the oldest of our sons, and although I

loved him, I did not like him. Not then, although things were different on Green.

Nor did he like me, I feel certain. (Nettle knows these things, naturally.)

She murmured, “This is worse than anything that they said to us.”

Hoof asked, “What did they say, anyhow?”

Hide seconded him, as Hide often did. “What did they want, Mother?”

It was then, I feel certain, that I passed the slice I had been cutting to you,

darling. I remember what it looked like, which I find very odd tonight. I must have

known that something enormously significant was happening, and associated it with

our haunch of greenbuck. “In a way,” I told you, “you’re quite right. It was our book

that brought them, though they were very careful not to say it until I got them in a

corner. You, Hoof, are right too. Things are getting harder and hungrier for everybody

every year. Why do you think that is?”

He shrugged. The twins are handsome, and to my eyes take after your mother

more than either one of us, though I know you pretend to think they look like me.

“Bad weather and bad crops. Their seed’s giving out.”

Hide said, “That thin one talked about that. I thought it was kind of interesting.”

I gave Sinew, who had always eaten like a fire in good times and bad, a thick

slice with plenty of gristle. “Why is the seed yielding a poorer crop each year?”

“Why are you asking me? I didn’t say it was.”

“What difference does it make whether you asked or not? It happens to be true,

and you being older than your brothers ought to be wiser. You think you are, so prove

it. Why is the seed weakening? Or were you too busy throwing stones at the waves to

listen?”

Hoof began, “I still want to know—”

“What those five people wanted. We’re talking about it.”

Sinew said slowly, “The good seed is the seed from the landers. That’s what

everybody says. When the farmers save seed, it isn’t as nearly as good. The maize is

worse than the others, but none of it’s quite as good.”

You nodded, Nettle darling. “That’s one of the things they said. I knew it already,

and I’m sure your father did, too, but Eschar and Blazingstar lectured us about it

anyway. Let’s talk about maize, for the present. It’s the most important, and the

clearest example. Back home we had ever so many kinds. Do you remember, Horn?”

I nodded, smiling.

“At least four kinds of yellow maize that I can remember, and it wasn’t

something I paid much attention to. Then there were black, red, and blue, and several

sorts of white. Have any of you boys ever seen maize that wasn’t yellow?”

No one replied.

I had cut more slices while you spoke; I gave them to Hoof and Hide, saying, “I

never saw any at home to equal the first crop we got on our farm. Ears a cubit long,

Gene Wolfe - Short Sun 01 - On Blue's Waters

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