Eleanor Arnason - The Actors

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ELEANOR ARNASON

THE ACTORS

A Hwarhath Historical Romance

THERE WERE TWO WOMEN who fell in love. At first this was no problem. Their

families were allies and trading partners whose ships plied the narrow ocean

between the coast of Sorg and the Great Southern Continent.

The northern family was Sorg itself. Numerous, prosperous, clever and arrogant,

these folk gave their name to an entire region.

In recent centuries the coast of Sorg has been improved in many ways: land

drained and turned to agriculture, canals dug to carry away excess water and for

transportation. The coastal people still prefer boats to the railroad, which

they claim is noisy, dirty and unnatural. "If the Goddess had meant us to ride

on iron rails, she would not have given us so much water."

Most of the year a steady wind blows off the ocean. Modem silent windmills stand

everywhere, their metal blades flashing "like a flock of little suns" in the

words of a famous poem. These power the country's many drainage pumps and the

even more numerous air cooling machines, which make the climate of Sorg

tolerable to foreigners as long as they remain indoors.

In ancient times the coast was a place of brackish marshes, slow rivers, shallow

bays and heat. The inhabitants would have been gray if they'd kept all their

fur, as they do now, being influenced by air conditioning and the opinions of

other cultures. In those days, however, both men and woman cropped their outer

layers of hair, leaving only the soft white undercoat; and many decorated

themselves by shaving certain areas down to the bare dark skin.

Imagine a folk with snowy fur so short that it hides no detail of the bodies

underneath. Dark lines zigzag or coil over their angular shoulders and long

narrow backs. (The Sorg have always been a tall and bony people.) Often their

faces are partially shaved as well, becoming patterned masks from which stare

eyes as blue as the ocean. Savages, we'd call them now. In their time they were

matriarchs, warriors, explorers and merchants.

Their country was rich, providing them with fish, shellfish, birds of many kinds

and luatin, which came into the coastal bays to breed. Though it is never easy

to kill these massive animals, lust makes them less wary than usual; and many of

the bays could be turned into traps. In the coastal marshes the wis plant

bloomed, red as blood or fire. Its sap made (and makes) a famous scarlet dye.

The southern family was Helwar. Their home was an island which lies off the

northeast corner of the Great Southern Continent. A polar current runs up the

continent's eastern coast and coils around the island, bringing cold water, cool

air, rain, and fog. The rain nourished the Helwar forests; the icy current gave

them fish; the cool air made their flocks grow long thick wool. The family

wealth, such as it was, came from these four sources: fish, wool, lumber, and

ships. At the time of this story the Helwar made the best ships in the world.

It was the Helwar ships, seen in their own harbors and other places, which drew

the Sorg south, traveling in wide wallowing barges better fit for rivers than

the ocean. As rich as they were, they lacked the Helwar skill. To gain it, or at

least the use of it, they offered an alliance.

How could the Helwar refuse these towering white and black people? An agreement

was made and confirmed with gifts, though the Sorg did not offer the one gift

that makes an alliance unbreakable: their men as fathers for Helwar children. No

bond is stronger than kinship. The offspring of such a mating would connect the

two families as long as they and their descendants lived.

The Helwar made hints, which the Sorg pretended not to understand. Growing

desperate, for they really wanted this alliance, the Helwar matriarchs made an

offer of their own. They would send the five best and most promising young men

in their lineage north to father children among the Sorg. The Helwar's new

allies hesitated and consulted among each other, while the Helwar waited

anxiously; and some of the islanders began to mutter that this might not be such

a good deal. Maybe they ought to find more willing trading partners. Finally the

Sorg agreed, though in a way that seemed grudging and reluctant.

"This is a beginning," said the Helwar matriarchs to each other. "Once they have

our ships, they will understand the appeal of a stronger alliance."

When the Sorg left, five Helwar men -- sturdy warriors -- traveled with them.

The motion of the Sorg barges was terrible, they reported later. "No wonder

these folk want our ships. And the heat of their homeland! We're surprised that

we didn't shrivel up like fish in a smoke house. But the job is done. All five

women are pregnant."

Reassured, the Helwar built ships for their new allies: deep-hulled ocean

flyers. When the ships were finished, sailors had to be trained; and this is how

this story's heroine came to Helwar. She arrived in the southern autumn, along

with other young folk, female and male. All had short hair. Many shaved. What a

sight they must have been among the furry, fog-gray southerners!

The Helwar divided them, assigning each gender to the proper kind of ship. Like

most of the peoples of the narrow ocean, they had both male and female vessels.

The former explored new regions and traded in areas known to be dangerous. The

latter kept to established routes, doing business with allies.

Sorg Ahl ended on the Foam Bird. The captain -- Helwar Ki -- was short, sturdy,

and as gray as the winter ocean or the cloud-wrapped peaks of her island home.

Now we have brought together the story's first pair of lovers, as gangling Ahl

walks up the gangway of the Bird, carrying her journey bag over one shoulder. Ki

looks down at her, admiring the foreign woman's grace and evident confidence,

but despising the unfamiliar haircut.

There are dark triangles below Ahl's eyes, both pointing down. A third triangle,

this one pointing up, occupies most of her forehead. Rows of dark squares go

down her arms. A final downward-pointing triangle rests between her upper pair

of breasts, in no way concealed by her vest, which seems scanty to Ki.

The ship had two private cabins. One was for the captain. Ki put the foreigner

in the other one, safely away from the test of the crew. She was the only

daughter of Sorg on board.

At first, as might be expected, Ahl kept herself aloof, though she was a hard

worker and eager to learn. Then one day Ki noticed Ahl had stopped shaving. She

asked about this,

"It's not easy to shave on board a ship," the northerner answered. "Especially

in the weather we've been having; and I don't enjoy the feeling that ice-cold

rain and spray produce when they beat against my bare skin. Finally --" She gave

Ki a sideways glance. "I'm tired of looking like a foreigner."

After that Ahl became more friendly. By midwinter she'd stopped cutting her fur.

"You people look so comfortable," she told Ki and ran a hand along the other

woman's arm, ruffling, then smoothing the winter-thick hair. Ki noticed she was

falling in love, but kept quiet, having no idea how to court a person who came

from so far away.

In early spring they carried a cargo of pickled fish to a harbor on the eastern

coast of the Great Southern Continent. The trip was stormy. By the time they

reached land and tied up in protected water, all of them were exhausted.

Nonetheless most of the crew went on shore. The lineage that held this part of

the coast was connected to the Helwar by generations of interbreeding. They all

had relatives in the houses that lined the harbor town's narrow, winding

streets.

Ki and Ahl stayed on board, Ahl because she was not kin to anyone in the town,

Ki out of courtesy and affection. The storm had blown out to sea, and the sky in

the east was black; but where their ship rested, the sun shone, and the clouds

were mostly white. Farther west, above low hills covered by a semitropical

forest, the sky was clear. Hah! It was pleasant tolie on the Foam Bird's deck,

sharing sunlight and a jug of halin. Ahl had unfastened her vest. Her four

breasts were visible: rather flat, especially the lower pair, but with prominent

nipples and large oval areolae so dark that they seemed black. Ki felt desire,

stronger than before. Something about the day-- the stillness, the brightness,

their fatigue, the jug of halin -- made it possible for her to speak. Voice

halting, she confessed her love.

Ahl listened courteously, head tilted, blue eyes half closed. When Ki finished,

she said, "If that's so, why don't we have sex?"

Ki could think of no reason.

An awning had been raised in the middle of the ship and thick rugs laid under

it, so crew members could sleep in open air. They went there and, in the dim

light coming through the canvas, gave each other pleasure and release. When they

were done, Ahl rolled onto her back and sighed. "It's been a long time."

"Do you have a lover at home?" asked Ki.

"I did, a woman whose family is closely tied to mine. Most likely, she has found

someone else by now."

Ki repeated that she was in love.

Ahl raised herself on one elbow and looked at the little southerner. "More

likely you find me interesting because I'm foreign."

No, said Ki. It was the true emotion. To prove this she listed the qualities she

loved: Ahl's hardworkingness, her courage, her even temper, her sense of

justice. "There ought to be a fifth quality, but it doesn't come into my mind."

"This sounds like respect to me," said Ahl.

"Well, then, I love your thin body, your small breasts, your silver fur, your

laugh and the place between your legs, which bas a taste faintly reminiscent of

fish."

Ki loved fish, especially when just pulled from the ocean and lightly cooked in

the grill on deck, so this was not an insult.

Ahl laughed. "Maybe you're in love. Let's continue and see what happens next."

At first they tried to be secret. But it's difficult to keep anything hidden on

a ship full of women. Soon Ki's cousins took her aside. "Stop this acting and

sneaking back and forth between cabins. Everyone knows what's going on. Be open

and honest!"

The two women became acknowledged lovers, holding hands in public, kissing and

using the personal form of "you" and "she." This continued until Ahl's training

ended, and she was ready to go home.

"I'm going to ask my mother to send me back here as soon as possible," she told

Ki. "I don't know if I'm in love; it's not a word that comes easily to me; but I

know I'll miss you and the Foam Bird."

Ki could say nothing. All her words had become stuck together in a lump at the

back of her mouth. Sorrow lay in her mind like a heavy stone.

They parted, Ahl going up a gangway onto one of the ocean-flyers that Helwar had

built for Sorg. The flyer spread its sails like great white wings and carried

her away across the ocean. Little Ki went back to her own ship to grieve.

THE TRIP NORTH was easy, except for the jokes that everyone made about Ahl's

long fur. She ignored her relatives, remaining quiet and aloof.

"Is anything wrong?" they asked finally.

"I'm thinking."

"Don't make yourself ill with ideas."

At home it was the dry season. The marshes of Sorg baked under a cloudless sky,

their vegetation turning yellow. The great house where Ahl's mother lived was

surrounded by gardens, kept watered except in times of severe drought. Ahl

carried her journey bag past brightly colored ornamental plants. She dropped the

bag in the entrance room and went looking for her mother.

The matron's favorite place was a porch at one end of the house. The walls were

carved wood screens, pierced by many holes. White gauze curtains hung inside the

screens, keeping out most bugs, but admitting whatever light and air came though

the holes.

This is how you should imagine the room: mostly shadow, but flecked with

sunlight which has been slightly dimmed by its passage through gauze. In the

middle is a large square table, where Ahl's mother does her accounts, arranging

colored stones in rows. Now and then a gust of wind stirs the curtains. When

this happens, the room's pattern of light and shadow flickers and shifts.

"Well," the matron said, looking at her daughter. "You need a haircut."

"It's cold in Helwar; I'm planning to return there."

Her mother frowned, then moved a stone from one row to another.

"I'm not certain the alliance will hold."

"Why not?"

"They are a small lineage and far away. Aside from their ships, they aren't

important. Allies should be neighbors or lineages so powerful they can't be

avoided. That's the rule. Everyone knows it." Ahl's mother lifted her head,

giving her daughter another look. "None of the children fathered by Helwar is

alive."

"What happened?" Ahl asked sharply.

"One woman was not pregnant, though she seemed to be; or possibly she miscarried

almost at once. Another woman miscarried at midterm. Two women remained

pregnant, but their children died at birth." Her mother's tone permitted no

questions. Maybe the children had been deformed or too weak to survive. If so,

the midwives would have killed them, rather than let them die slowly or live in

pain.

"There's one you haven't accounted for," Ahl said.

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Eleanor Arnason - The Actors

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