Moonstar (7 page)

Potto seemed genuinely disappointed. “Oh no,” she said. “You'll make a much better female.”

Jobe shrugged, not fully understanding all the ramifications of gender. “Well, that's all right. Even if I do choose for Dakka. I'll still sleep with you. If you want.”

Potto grinned at Jobe's innocence. “I'll be too busy sleeping with my wives.” She grinned. But she leaned over and kissed her. “I'm glad you're all right. If you had drowned, I'd have missed you.”

“You'd have gotten yelled at too.”

“Yeah.”

“Grandpere Kuvig was born the same day that the Bundt Circle was opened for settlement. She was born to Kossar's sibling, Pola, when they lived at Strille on Weeping Crescent, under the Tartch umbrella, northeast of Nona. When she was nine, Suko's mother married into the circle, bringing eight-year old Suko with her. The Lagin Shield was already nine years growing then, and those who sailed the Lagin waters, mapping and surveying for its eventual colonization, were reporting back that there was already visible dimming of the Godheart at the zenith, and its mean temperature was failing too.

“When blush came to Kuvig just a few years later, she chose for Dakka; there had been some expectation that she and Suko would be lovers and that Suko would be Rethrik, but Suko had met Thoma—who had already chosen Reethe, so Suko chose for Dakka too. There was some question then about Suko's right to have Thoma marry into the circle, so Suko married out and Kuvig followed. If Suko's lover could not marry in, then neither would a mate of Kuvig be allowed to. There was another reason, too—the family had been planning to become a mercantile, and Kuvig and Suko did not feel at ease with such a style of life. They felt more comfortable fishing, growing fruits and vegetables, tending orchards, vineyards, stands of incense, lumber and bamboo. They preferred to grow and build and turn their labors for themselves rather than rent them out to others of no skill. As a mercantile, they would be servants of the highest bidders; and if perhaps there was no work for them, then there would be no money either. Kuvig did not mind a little mercantilism, but she believed a family should be self-supporting. So she and Suko married out and, with Thoma, sailed west into the Bundt.

“The Lagin Shield had been finished, but it would take more than a year for it to stabilize. During that time, they scouted several islands, eventually selecting one that they named Kossarlin in honor of their uncle Kossar, but they did not register their settlement as an open port, wanting neither colonization nor mercantiles on their dock step. When the circle opened, they settled on the eastern side of Kossarlin. Later on, another family leased a section of the western side. Kuvig then sailed back to Wardy, in the Bundt, and married Kirstegaarde, whom she had met when they had lived there. Once the household dome was raised she brought her out to live in Lagin.

“They had children. Suko and Thomas had Layne and Neffe and Kiva, who died at birth. Kuvig and Kirstegaarde had Davi and Dorin and Fellip. Then Kirstegaarde could have no more children, and so Kuvig brought Vialla into the circle and together they had Sola, William, Yasper, and Hojanna. Kirstegaarde resented Vialla's usurpation of her place in Kuvig's bed, and she was always slightly sour in her soul thereafter, but she did not marry out as was her right. Instead she busied herself with the running of the household and the organization of the planting and harvesting schedules, and the bookkeeping; later, when a terminal was rented, she handled most of the programming for the time we purchased. Thoma had been raised for two years by a Watichi, and so she took it on herself to teach the children all the legends of the Pilgrimage and the discovery of Satlin as promised by the Savior. She taught us of the gods, and of the prophets, and the days of The Before and The Beginning. We all learned our songs and stories from her. She taught us we were Satlik. Vialla was content to be a mother—she helped out with the children, regardless who the parents were. She taught the secular lessons—how to read and count and sail; how to cook and store and train; how to gauge the winds and read the sea. Later, she gave birth to Dida, and Toki, who died of fever when she was three.

“Layne and Neffe went Rethrik and married out. Marro, who was Dakka, married in. Davi went for Reethe and married Anyo. They built a dome far down the beach and kept mostly to themselves, until one winter when they disappeared without farewells. Dorin went for Dakka and stayed on. Fellip died. Sola came down with Virulent Fever during blush and ended up a deviate, without a Choice at all. She left the island as soon as she was able, believing herself to be a great embarrassment to the family; she became a nomad because there is no home for deviates. William chose for Reethe, married someone from the western-side and moved away. Yasper died.

“Grand-Uncle Kossar decided then that she was tired of being a mercantile and came to Lagin to live with her family-sons. She brought Frijkin and Wene with her. Dorin married Rue, who gave birth to twins, Porro and Potto. Marro and Marne (who came from the western-side) had Yuki and Olin. When Aunt William returned, she brought Dardis with her. Hojanna chose for Reethe and married Frijkin, who fathered me, then died with Wene in the great scour; their boat was smashed upon the rocks of Hard Landing. Hojanna married Kinam from the western-side, but would mother no more children after me. I was born and Uncle Kossar died. All of this is recorded in the files at Authority. Had it not been for Kirstegaarde's diligent programming of the terms of each person's marriage contract, we would not know what share of what belonged to whom. When Anvar married in, she had not even finished blush, but she became a fine young Dakkarik whose interest in computers became an interest in Kirstegaarde, and they slept together for a while. Dardis died. Porro chose for Reethe and went to live at Strille on Weeping Crescent, under the Tartch umbrella. Her new family owned a fine plantation and hired mercantiles to work their fields.”

The evening meal was a time of gathering. It was intended as a joyous regrouping, a time when family bonds could be strengthened, food and intimacy could be shared. But it didn't always work out that way.

It was the duty of the younger children to set the glasses and chopsticks on the table. It was a special prize to be allowed to heat the wine. The children who were nearing blush were entrusted with the responsibilities of arranging a centerpiece to reflect the mood of the season, the day, the moment and the special feelings of the family. Tonight, it was a flower piece—a surprisingly stark one; there were black leaves framing white hope-flowers, with purple joybuds all around—all unopened like mass-presents—omens of future decisions.

Several of the adults eyed the flower piece thoughtfully as they seated themselves on their mats. Jobe stood apart shyly for a moment, then seated herself next to Potto, a gesture that did not go unnoticed. Potto wrinkled her nose in annoyance—part of the blush-game she sometimes felt she had to play; “I'm too old to play with children anymore”—and made a rude sound. Jobe pretended not to notice, but after a moment, she got up and moved around the table and sat next to Hojanna, her birth-mother. Suko, without looking up, said, “Potto, you will see me later.”

“Yes, Grandpere.”

Kuvig cleared her throat then and all fell silent for her invocation.

“We are the descendants of animals,” Kuvig intoned. “We are animals ourselves, and we must never forget that we cannot be human until first we have fulfilled our basic animal needs. To know the laws of Reethe and Dakka does not exempt us from them. At some point we were killer apes, and at some point we were aquatic ones. At some point we were prairie dwellers, and all of these things have shaped us into the kind of creatures we are now. Such is what the scientists say. Yet, there is no evidence of this world that any of these suppositions may be true. We have not pasts here. We are the children of Pilgrims.

Kuvig continued. “Perhaps they both are. If we are the children of apes, then today we will resolve no longer to be apes, but something nobler—we fancy ourselves to be human; we must make such a label a proud one. And if we are the children of Pilgrims, then we must do no less than live up to that heritage too. So let us sit together and eat together in joy. There is much that we have to share, and there is much that we have to learn. And perhaps also, there are Choices to be made. May we do so with love.”

She bowed her head for a moment of silent meditation to indicate that she was finished, then looked up again.

It had been a lengthy speech for her, and some of the younger children—not really understanding what she was saying—had grown restless. But the older ones and all of the adults too, were still with quiet attention. Kuvig's statement had been a declaration of intent. Something that had been simmering too long was going to be brought out and settled. Tonight. And because of that, not a word was spoken of the subject during the meal. And would not be spoken until Kuvig herself began. Such was the usual pattern, but tonight was not to be that way.

The younger children took their usual advantage of the parental damping of conversation to dominate the evening with their own chatter. The main subject, of course, was Jobe's narrow escape.

“We ought to consider doing something about that northern spit,” Kirstegaarde remarked. “What would you have us do?” asked Suko, in that quiet way she had.

Kirstegaarde didn't answer immediately. The answer was not obvious.

“We might,” suggested Vialla, “teach the children to swim better, and post some warning buoys.”

Thoma said, “Kaspe, Olin, you may begin serving the gelatins.” Then, to the decision at hand, “When do you plan to start, Vialla?”

Vialla raised her hands to protest, “Oh, please no—I have too many other things to do. The winter harvest will be poor enough as it is—”

Thoma shrugged apologetically. “As you wish. It was a good idea. Perhaps you will have more time after one of the children drowns.”

Vialla flushed. “You are too persuasive, Mamma,” she said affectionately. “You're right, though. Nothing gets done unless someone is willing to accept responsibility for it. Perhaps we can share the responsibility for implementation.”

“If I can get computer time, I can run an analysis of the permanent current patterns to find the best places to put the buoys,” Anvar put in.

Thoma looked sidewise at her. “You don't ever stop, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nagging us to get a computer of our own. Besides, if you'd look in the commonbook, you'd see that Grand-Uncle Kossar charted the permanent currents twenty years ago.” Anvar ignored the latter half of her statement. “If we did get a computer,” she said, “we could rent out time to the other families in the South Reach—perhaps enough to offset most of the investment.”

“I have never denied that a computer would be a good investment,” Kuvig said, startling the others with her premature entrance into the discussion. Usually, she sat back and waited. “I would be particularly interested in one that can generate its own programs. We pay far too much for our software as it is. Timesharing with fourteen other circles gives us access for only our most important processing. But what I most wonder about is whether or not we have the skill yet to make optimum use of the computer's potential—the answers are only as good as the questions asked.” She hesitated, shifted her mental gears and added, “I would be willing to undertake the investment expense if it were known that we would have members of this circle who were capable, ones who were educated to the knowledge necessary.”

Most of the adults fell silent at that.

“Perhaps,” Kuvig added, “we should consider it seriously for a change. We are no longer a wild frontier settlement. We have not been for some time. It is time that this family began to learn some gentility—and that includes you, Kaspe. Get down from that chandelier.”

“I think we are genteel enough,” replied Hojanna. “Kaspe, you heard your grandpere.” This time, Kaspe complied.

“I would like some of my offspring, at least, to have had the benefits of a full education. The Circle at Option is a first step.”

“An important one,” agreed Vialla, who had done the study of it for the family—at Kuvig's request. “But what we are talking about here has nothing to do with the college.”

“It has everything to do with the college,” Kuvig replied. “If either Porro or Potto ever expects to be accepted in polite society, then they must have some experience with it. Option is a good place to learn.”

Grandmere Thoma said slowly, “The children have always been raised at home, and have always made their Choice here or among their playmates.”

“And some of those choices have been wrong,” said Grandmere Kirstegaarde.

At that, there was silence. The family did not like to refer to Fellip, who had chosen incorrectly and returned to the sea out of sorrow. But Kirstegaarde added, “Fellip was forced into a bad decision because someone”—and here, she avoided looking directly at Kuvig, but the words were like knives—“someone wanted another daughter. Fellip wanted Dakka, but someone”—and she paused again—“insisted that we follow . . . let me see, what was it that time? Geneticism?”

Kuvig was rigid. She looked at the wife. “Kirstegaarde, there are times when you make it very difficult to love you. Do you not think I have tortured myself for that mistake a thousand times over? Do you not think that I still cry for my lost son? We gave Fellip a Dakkarik wake so that she might live in the sea as a male, but I have never forgiven myself for being so insensitive and everyone in the family knows it. How many times must you reopen the wound?” And then, in a softer tone, she added, “That is why I encourage the freedom of choice now—so that we will never have another Fellip—that is why I want Porro and Potto to go to Option.” Kuvig lowered her hands to her lap and fell silent.