"Who will buy that?" asked her relatives. "You can’t put a tree in it, not with that cover."
"My lover Dapple," said Haik in reply. "Or the famous war captain of Ettin."
At midsummer, there was a hot period. The wind off the ocean stopped. People moved when they had to, mouths open, panting. During this time, Haik was troubled with dreams. Most made no sense. A number involved the Goddess. In one, the old woman ate an agala. This was a southern fruit, unknown in Tulwar, which consisted of layers wrapped around a central pit. The outermost layer was red and sweet; each layer going in was paler and more bitter, till one reached the innermost layer, bone-white and tongue-curling. Some people would unfold the fruit as if it were a present in a wrapping and eat only certain layers. Others, like Haik, bit through to the pit, enjoying the combination of sweetness and bitterness. The Goddess did as she did, Haik discovered with interest. Juice squirted out of the old woman’s mouth and ran down her lower face, matting the sparse white hair. There was no more to the dream, just the Goddess eating messily.
In another dream, the old woman was with a female bital. The shaggy beast had two young, both covered with downy yellow fur. "They are twins," the Goddess said. "But not identical. One is larger and stronger, as you can see. That twin will live. The other will die."
"Is this surprising?" asked Haik.
The Goddess looked peeved. "I’m trying to explain how I breed!"
"Through death?" asked Haik.
"Yes." The Goddess caressed the mother animal’s shaggy flank. "And beauty. That’s why your father had a child in Tulwar. He was alive in spite of adversity. He was beautiful. The matrons of Tulwar looked at him and said, ‘We want these qualities for our family.’
"That’s why tame sulinare furry. People have selected for that trait, which wild sulinconsider less important than size, sharp teeth, a crest of stiff hair along the spine, glittering patches of scales on the sides and belly, and a disposition inclined toward violence. Therefore, among wild sulin,these qualities grow more evident and extreme, while tame sulinacquire traits that enable them to live with people. The peshaonce lived on land; the bitalclimbed among branches. In time, all life changes, shaped by beauty and death.
"Of all my creatures, only people have the ability to shape themselves and other kinds of life, using comprehension and judgment. This is the gift I have given you: to know what you are doing and what I do." The old woman touched the smaller bitalcalf. It collapsed. Haik woke.
A disturbing dream, she thought, lying in darkness. The house, as always, smelled of clay, both wet and dry. Small animals, her fellow residents, made quiet noises. She rose and dressed, going to the nearest beach. A slight breeze came off the ocean, barely moving the hot air. Combers rolled gently in, lit by the stars. Haik walked along the beach, water touching her feet now and then. The things she knew came together, interlocking; she achieved what we could call the Theory of Evolution. Hah! The Goddess thought in large ways! What a method to use in shaping life! One could not call it quick or economical, but the Goddess was–it seemed by looking at the world–inclined toward abundance; and there was little evidence that she was in a hurry.
Death made sense; without it change was impossible. Beauty made sense; without it, there couldn’t be improvement or at least variety. Everything was explained, it seemed to Haik: the pesha’s flipper, the claw-handed bird, all the animals she’d found in the Tulwar cliffs. They were not mineral formations. They had lived. Most likely, they lived no longer, except in her mind and art.
She looked at the cloudless sky. So many stars, past all counting! So much time, receding into distance! So much death! And so much beauty!
She noticed at last that she was tired, went home and went to bed. In the morning, after a bad night’s sleep, the Theory of Evolution still seemed good. But there was no one to discuss it with. Her relatives had turned their backs on most of existence after the Drowning. Don’t think badly of them for this. They provided potted beauty to many places; many lineages in many towns praised the Tulwar trees and pots. But their family was small, its future uncertain. They didn’t have the resources to take long journeys or think about large ideas. So Haik made more pots and collected more fossils, saying nothing about her theory, till Dapple arrived late in fall. They made love passionately for several days. Then Dapple looked around at the largely empty town, guarded by dark grey cliffs. "This doesn’t seem like a good place to winter, dear one. Come south with me! Bring pots, and the Ettin will make you very welcome."
"Let me think," said Haik.
"You have ten days at most," Dapple said. "A captain I know is heading south; I asked her to stop in Tulwar, in case your native town was as depressing as I expected."
Haik hit her lover lightly on the shoulder and went off to think.
She went with Dapple, taking pots, a potter’s wheel, and bags of clay. On the trip south–through rolling ocean, rain and snow beating against the ship–Haik told Dapple about evolution.
"Does this mean we started out as bugs?" the actor asked.
"The Goddess told me the process extended to people, though I’ve never found the bones of people in my cliffs."
"I’ve spent much of my life pretending to be one kind of animal or another. Interesting to think that animals may be inside me and in my past!"
On the same trip, Haik said, "My family wants to breed me again. There are too few of us; I’m strong and intelligent and have already had two healthy children."
"They are certainly right in doing this," said Dapple. "Have you picked a father?"
"Not yet. But they’ve told me this must be my last trip for a while."
"Then we’d better make the most of it," Dapple said.
There had been a family argument about the trip; and Haik had gotten permission to go only by saying she would not agree to a mating otherwise. But she didn’t tell Dapple any of this. Family quarrels should be kept in the family.
They spent the winter in Hu. It was mild with little snow. Dapple wrote, and Haik made pots. Toward spring they went to Ettin, taking pots.
Ettin Taiin’s mother was still alive, over a hundred and almost entirely blind with snow-white fur. But still upright, as Taiin pointed out. "I think she’ll go to the crematorium upright and remain upright amid the flames."
He said this in the presence of the old lady, who smiled grimly, revealing that she’d kept almost all her teeth.
The Ettin bought all the pots Haik had, Taiin picking out one with special care. It was small and plain, with flower-predators for handles, a cover and a pure white glaze. "For my mother’s ashes," the captain said quietly. "The day will come, though I dread it and make jokes about it."
Through late winter, Haik sat with the matriarch, who was obviously interested in her. They talked about pottery, their two families and the Theory of Evolution.
"I find it hard to believe we are descended from bugs and fish," Ettin Hattali said. "But your dreams have the sound of truth; and I certainly know that many of my distant ancestors were disgusting people. The Ettin have been improving, due to the wise decisions of my more recent ancestors, especially the women. Maybe if we followed this process far enough back, we’d get to bugs. Though you ought to consider the possibility that the Goddess is playing a joke on you. She does not always speak directly, and she dearly loves a joke."