Haik carried it to her teacher’s house, into a back room that Rakai never entered. Her fossils were there, along with other objects: a bird skeleton, almost complete; the skulls of various small animals; and shells from Tulwar’s beaches. Laying the flipper on a table, she used a sharp knife to cut it open. Inside, hidden by blue skin and reddish-purple flesh, were five rows of long, narrow, white bones.
She had cleaned them and arranged them on the table as she’d found them in the flipper. The two outer rows were short, the thumb–could she call it that?–barely present, while the three middle rows were long and curved. Clearly, they provided a framework for the flipper. What purpose did the outer rows serve, and why had the Goddess hidden a hand inside a sea animal’s flipper?
"Well," said Dapple after Haik told this story. "What’s the answer to your question?"
"I don’t know," said Haik, afraid to talk about her theories. What did she know for certain? A group of puzzling facts. From these she had derived a terrifying sense of time and change. Did she have the right to frighten other people, as she had been frightened?
Beside them, a peshasurfaced and exhaled, rolling sideways to eye them and grin with sharp white teeth.
"Rakai told me the world is full of similarities and correspondences. The Goddess is a repeater. That’s what they always told me."
"And a jokester," said Dapple. "Maybe she thought it would be funny to make something that was a fish in some ways and a land animal in others."
"Maybe," Haik said in a doubtful tone. "I tanned the flipper hide and made a bag from it, but couldn’t use the bag. It seemed dishonorable and wrong, as if I was using the skin from a woman’s hand to keep things in. So I put the peshabones in the bag and kept them on one of my shelves; and I made a pot decorated with peshadi. It was a failure. I didn’t know how living peshadimoved. Now, I will be able to make the pot again."
Dapple ruffled the red fur on her shoulder. "Like fire," the actor said gently. "You burn with curiosity and a desire to get things right."
"My relatives say it will get me in trouble."
"The Goddess gave us the ability to imagine and question and judge," the actor said. "Why would she have done this, if she did not intend us to use these abilities? I question the behavior of people; you question rocks and bones. Both activities seem chulmarto me."
Then as now, chulmarmeant to be pious and to be funny. Dapple’s voice sounded amused to Haik; this made her uneasy. In Tulwar, after the Drowning, piety took the form of glumness, though the people there certainly knew the meaning of chulmar. They did not mean to turn their children away from enjoyment of the world, but so much had been lost; they had become afraid; and fear is the end of piety.
The ship continued south, till it was far past the Tulwar coast. During this period, Haik was preoccupied with love. Hah! It had struck her like a strong blow in battle! She could think of little except Dapple’s body: the four breasts, surprisingly large for a woman who’d never borne children; the rangy limbs; the prominent nipples, the same color as the "far-down dark grey" strata at home; and the place between the actor’s legs, which was a cave of pleasure. Haik could model a breast in clay, make a covered pot of it, with a nipple for the handle. But how could she replicate the hidden place? Or Dapple’s mouth with its golden tongue? It could not be done, especially now, with her kiln far behind her. Better not to think of pottery.
They made love often, usually on deck, under blazing tropic stars. She was drunk with love! Love had made her crazy, and she did not care!
Five days south of Tsugul Island, the ship turned west. They came to the wide harbor at Hu, guarded by white shoals. The peshadiwere gone by then; the birds had become more numerous. A low green coast emerged from misty rain.
Haik and Dapple were on deck. Peering forward, Haik made out the buildings of Hu Town: white and blue, with red or green roofs. Fishing boats lined the harbor docks. Their furled sails were red, white, green, and yellow. "A colorful country."
"That’s the south," said Dapple in agreement. As lovely as always, the actor was leaning on the ship’s rail, looking happy. "People in the north call these folk barbarians, who lack refinement and a sense of nuance. But drama is not made of nuance." She raised an arm and brought it down. "It’s the sword blade descending, the cry of understanding and anger and pain. I could not write the plays I write, if I didn’t visit the south."
They tied up among the fishing boats, empty in mid-afternoon. The acting company went on shore, Tulwar Haik among them. She had never been this far south. The people in the streets, dressed in bright tunics and kilts, were an unfamiliar physical type: broad chested, with short thick limbs. The women were taller than women in the north, towering a full head above their male relatives. Everyone had grey fur, and Haik got many sideways glances.
"I could lose you," said Dapple with amusement.
"They’re ugly," said Haik.
"They are different, dear one. When you get used to them, they will begin to look handsome."
"Have you had lovers here?"
Dapple laughed. "Many."
Their destination was an inn built around a courtyard. There were potted trees in the courtyard: skyflower and starflower and a kind Haik did not recognize, which had silver-blue leaves and frilly, bright yellow flowers. Several of the pots had been made by Rakai; one had been made by her, an early work, not bad in its way. She pointed it out to Dapple.
The innkeeper appeared, a huge woman with arms like tree limbs and four enormous breasts, barely concealed by a vest. "My favorite customer!" she cried. "Are you going to perform?"
"Most likely, yes. Haik, this is Hu Aptsi." Dapple laid a hand on Haik’s red shoulder. "And this beauty is my new lover, Tulwar Haik the potter. She has given up her pots to travel with me, until we tire of each other."
"Never!" said Haik.
"Excellent work you do in Tulwar," the innkeeper said. "I have neighbors who say nothing good comes from the north. Dapple and pots and flowering trees, I say."
They went into the common room and settled around tables. A round clay hearth bulged out of one wall. Logs burned in it. The innkeeper brought a large metal bowl, filling it with fruit juices and halin,then heated an iron rod in the fire and put the glowing tip in the full bowl. The liquid hissed and steamed. The innkeeper served. Haik wrapped her hands around a hot cup, sniffing the aromatic steam, thinking, I am far from home, among strangers, about to drink something for which I have no name. She tasted the liquid. Delicious!
"It will make you drunk quickly," said Dapple in a warning tone.
Beyond the room’s windows, rain fell in the courtyard, and the potted trees quivered. I am happy,Haik thought.
That night, as she lay in Dapple’s arms, she had a dream. The old woman came to her again, this time with clean hands and feet. "Existence is made to be enjoyed. Always remember that."
"Why did you kill my mother and my other relatives?" Haik asked.
"A storm killed them. Do you think every gust of wind is my breath? Do you think it’s my hand that crushes every bug and pulls every bird from the sky?"