Chapter Forty - Telle

Pazu had known no evening like it. The shouting, talking, laughing, fighting evenings he'd seen at the Red Cow Inn were nothing compared to this. In the Red Cow different tables or groups entertained themselves with cards, dominoes, shove ha'penny, drinking or telling stories, all small puddles of private conversation, inward looking. Very occasionally a few of the miners or engineers would bring in fiddles, tambourines, mouth organs or a squeezebox and people would sing, sometimes even dance, but these times were rare.

Compared to this they were like him staying at home alone in his cabin and reading a book. Here his mind and senses were assaulted by the noise, the heat, the smells, the colours and the motion. It was like these people needed to do this to generate heat to keep the winter away. Where he came from, if it was cold, you would eat a bowl of stew and it would feed you and warm you. Here the way to feed the spirit and warm the body and keep going was to sing, dance, play music and, it would appear, go mad.

They had reached the inn well after dark. Shuna had wanted to push on after sunset to get here. It would save pitching the tumurh and if they started early tomorrow, one more hard push would get them to Bruaendell the following night. So dark had come and with it more snow. They were high in the hills now, riding on moorland where the trees were small and stunted, struggling to grow in the thin soil and biting wind. Pazu thought Sheeta's legs must be frozen but she never once complained.

They were riding a narrow track up the side of a valley, climbing towards a dark fell when at the head of the valley Pazu saw a yellow light. They plodded on, the light growing slowly closer, the valley narrowing. At the head of the re-entrant the steepening valley sides became tumbled with rocks and scree, the wind howled mercilessly up this scarred slash in the hills and the hairy rump of the yaoko ahead of them was now white with wind blown snow. The track turned sharply left and crossed a roaring mountain brook by way of a small stone bridge. Pazu looked down. He could hear the water foaming below them but in the darkness saw nothing. Beyond the bridge the fat white rump of Shuna's trailing yaoko, almost the only thing he could see in the dark and snow, swung to the right again and proceeded slowly up a steepening grade. Pazu looked up, the yellow light was at the top of this hill. A quarter mile of steep track and the light became a lantern, squeaking and swaying in the wind above a doorway with a pair of brightly lit windows, one to each side of it.

They halted outside the building. It was of one storey, broad, squat, stone built, with outward spreading walls, deep-set tiny windows and a steeply pitched roof. A stubby stone chimney with a weather cap pierced the roof and a curl of smoke issued from it. To their left and right two other tracks came across the hills and met here, the marks of other traffic in the snow being the only sign, in the worsening weather, that roads were there. The snow was beginning to drift now, blending the building into the hill, making them one.

Shuna dismounted and led the yaoko to the side of the building and around into a courtyard protected by a timber fence. Sheeta encouraged Medisha to follow and they dismounted in the yard. Pazu was stiff from riding and his back and thighs ached from being unaccustomed to the posture. As he stepped down, he staggered and continued downwards landing on his backside in the snow.

Stepping off the footboard, Sheeta nimbly bounced down. She looked at him.

"Not a good place to rest. Stay there ten minutes and no-one need worry about soil and sky ever again, you wouldn't be going to Gondoa except in a box."
"My legs. They're agony. And my backside! Ow!"
"Ah, you're useless. Maybe I should leave you there. Go inside and find a real man."
"Help me up."
"Looks like I'll have to."

She planted her feet apart and bent from the waist, offering him both hands. He grasped them and pushed up from the snow. She leaned back and using her body weight in a smooth swift movement hauled him up. He banged the snow from his legs. He hurt all over, especially everywhere.

"Shuna, do you need help with the animals?" she called across the yard.
"No, plenty of space in the stable. I will untack and rub them down. There should be food here too. You go in. Mine is a winter ale. Hot."
"Alright. If you can't see us inside we'll be as close to the fire as we can get. Oh, Paetsu, give Shuna your rifle, you don't want to take that inside, very bad manners."

Sheeta led him to a doorway at the back of the building. Under the deep porch of what looked like thatch she stopped. Pazu saw that the side of her hair was covered with snow. He stopped and looked, she was half white, half gorgeous.

"Wait."

He knocked the snow off.

"Ow, oh, you… that went right down my neck!"
"Ah, tsuru."
"I don't think I've ever met such a clumsy oaf!"
"But you love me."
"I have no idea why. Turn round."

He did so, the back of the poncho was thick with wet snow. Sheeta knocked it off, all except for a handful which she saved.

"Done."

He turned back to her and with perfect timing she lifted her cupped hand and plopped it palm open, full of snow into his face.

"Hey! You little… come here!"

Giggling, she dodged around him and ducked past, he spun round, went after her back out into the yard. He'd only gone a few paces when his aching thigh muscles gave up and he collapsed again into the snow.

"Ow! My legs!"

She stopped and turned, breathing heavily, hands on knees. She laughed harder.

"Don't. My legs are agony! I'm cramping. Damn! Ow! Don't stand there laughing, help me up!"

She came over still snorting and coughing back laughter.

"What am I doing agreeing to marry you? You are the most hopeless boy on the planet. Come here."

She bent again and held her arms out. He took them, and instead of boosting himself up, he pulled her down. As she over balanced he rolled aside and she went face first into the snow making a surprised sound.

"Ek!"

While she was still down he rolled back and smacked her bottom.

"Oi! You!"

He got up, looked down at her as she rolled over, covered in it.

"Not a good place to rest. Stay there ten minutes and you wouldn't be going to Gondoa except in… nah!"

He received a face full of snow suddenly kicked up from her boot.

"Right, princess or not, that's it."

He caught up an armful of snow and dumped it on her but she rolled aside and it harmlessly showered her back. She rose onto all fours and scooped up a large handful at him. He responded with snowballs and for five minutes they ran around the yard, yelling, squealing and laughing. Eventually his attacks were too much, her face and hair full of snow she ran off squeaking like a mouse. He went after her but his legs ached so much he couldn't catch her. After two noisy circuits of the yard they stopped, she by the inn doorway, leaning back against the wall, chest heaving, he squatting down, elbows on knees, gasping with the soreness of his muscles.

"If I wasn't so stiff, you'd be a snowman by now."
"Oh, very funny. Oh, har, har, har. Some prince you are. Noble? I don't think so."
"Come on, princess, let's get you warm."
"Not if it involves those freezing hands in my shirt you don't."
"Hm, spoilsport."

She went to him.

"Come on, get up."

She held a hand out, balancing well back in case he pulled her. He gave her his hand and she hauled him up.

"Hm, I can feel I'm leaking. Oh, no. I need my bag and the latrine. Give me your water canteen as well. Hm, and your lantern. Wait here."

Pazu stood in the snow in the yard while she went to clean herself. Behind him he could hear the faint sound of voices and music from inside the inn. He walked a few steps to the yard entrance, the wooden gate. He looked out at the white hills, up at the sky. It was black, a solid base of snow cloud down from which the flakes whirled and swept and spiraled around in the wind. There seemed to be nothing here at all except this cross roads and this inn, nothing but the hills, the storm, the winter and the dark. And him. And her. Alone in a winter at a crossroads. A journey almost over. A journey just beginning. He sighed and his breath plumed out, smoky in the dark. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to be with her forever. He wanted to lay with her, love her and protect her always. No Muska, no men in suits would ever come to hurt her. He wanted to fly, to build beautiful flying machines. But here wasn't the right place. Her village, her farm would never see industry, never need science. Although a fearful part of him knew that one day science would come. Whether the Gondoans wanted it or not, men would bring it. It was in their nature, time, like a river, flowed on. Gondoa might resist. Ten years, fifty, a hundred, but science would come, if not from Paetsu, then from someone else. He would pass away, she would pass away, the yaoko and the farms would pass away, only airships and machines and science would go on. This rural way of life was changing, dying. This wasn't a country, it was a museum. He exhaled again. For now he had no answers, for now all he could do was go where she went, follow where she led. Soon he would lead. He wanted to. But first he had to know more about these people, this country, these customs. The dark stormy implacable night spoke to him with its breathing silence.

--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I

She came crunching back across the dark snowy yard. She had dusted the snow off, rolled down her thick socks, brushed back her hair and wore a fresh blood mark bright on her forehead. The aviator's jacket was open at her throat, the collar still turned up. Her neck was white, there was bright pink colour in her cheeks and life, so much life, in her eyes. She smiled at him. He was lost, so hopelessly in love.

"Come here."

He reached for her and kissed her. Hugged her.

"Yau al-dhu' ulve om."

She answered, quietly, breathy and close.

"Yau taemo-dhu,(1) Paetsu. Stay with me, always."
"I want to. I will."
"Welcome to Gondoa."
"Here?"
"Yes. You're in Gondoa. Since the bridge at the head of the valley. The stream is the border. You're home."
"Not quite yet. Your farm is my home."
"Our farm."
"Yau taemo,(1) our farm."
"Let's go inside. I'll show you some Gondoan hospitality. Are you ready for this?"
"Yes."

She grinned at him,

"No you're not."

She pushed the door open and they were in a vestibule. Wooden racks lined the walls, in which were piled all kinds of footwear, heavy fur lined boots mostly. Numerous hooks held a forest of coats and animal furs. A second door was beyond and the sound of music and laughter was louder.

"Boots off. Everyone barefoot inside," she said, kicking her shoes off, pulling at socks.

He did the same. He pulled the heavy wet poncho off over his head and hung it up. She cast a smile over her shoulder and pushed the inner door open.

--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I

The heat and sound smacked his face like a punch. The two of them stood, side by side inside the doorway. He looked at the room and she looked at him. It was a large room with a beamed ceiling and rugs covering the floor scattered around much like inside Shuna's tent. There were a few low tables towards the walls, some with shoulder high wooden partitions between them so that those seated would have some privacy but much of the room was an open space, a number of cushions scattered around. No chairs; at the tables were cushions also.

In the centre was a round stone hearth with a big fire. Over the fire was a set of cooking irons consisting of two or three large stew pots, an open grill and a big iron skillet. Food was cooking and two women seemed to be in charge here. The wall to the left was made up of a large wooden bar behind which two men and two more women were serving drinks from enormous barrels laid on their sides against the wall on a shelf behind them.

There was a door opposite that led in from the front of the building, no doubt via another boot vestibule. On the walls were hung rugs and strange abstract paintings done direct onto boards rather than canvas. Even some of the stones of the walls were painted with faces, trees, animals, birds and abstract shapes, whorls, spirals, circles, stars. The predominant colour was the same as Shuna's tent – rich warm colours, reds, yellows, russets, browns and oranges, like a forest in the autumn. Earth colours. Some of the tables had little pottery lamps on and on the walls were iron brackets holding torches. The room was hot, both in a visual sense and the temperature.

But the sound, it was the sound that took hold of Pazu's senses and bent them painfully like someone grabbing his arm and twisting it up behind his back.

The far right hand corner was filled with a low quadrant shaped wooden stage and on here a group of people were playing instruments. Pazu recognized a violin, a thing very much like a guitar or lute, several odd looking wind instruments, small knee drums that a young man was beating very fast with his fingertips and the balls of his palms and a number of people playing tiny pipes like recorders only smaller. These gave off a plaintive cry like birdsong. Towards this side of the fire people were mostly sitting and lounging about on cushions, but towards the stage, beyond the central fire, people were dancing, or rather they seemed to be in the advanced stage of some kind of seizure, leaping, jerking, twitching, swooping around like birds, jumping about like cats on a hot boiler house roof. And the noise! The band was loud and the dancers screeched and wailed like they were dying. Those not dancing shouted to each other in order to be heard.

Between the dance area and the central fireplace was a long wooden railing so that a dancer in an advanced stage of mental seizure couldn't accidentally hurl himself into the flames.

Everyone was barefoot. The clothing was very strange, a combination of styles he recognized – shirts and breeches and dresses on the girls but many people, men and women alike, wore only long loose shirts to just above the knee and went bare legged. The shirts were of bright colours but again tending towards earthy tones. Some had embroidery. All had tall stiff standing collars and open throats in a deep slash, some of them held closed by carved wooden clasps made up of animal designs. On many of the women these deep open collars showed part of their shape. Pazu had never seen clothing like it. Coming from a society where women were always covered up, it seemed rude to him. There was jewellery of wood, pottery, polished stone and bird feathers.

It was, quite frankly, bedlam. And it was only the early evening, late autumn and the sun had been down only two hours.

There was an odd smell in the room, a flowery, perfumed smell. Either something was being burned on the fire or people were smoking something that was not tobacco.

"Well?" Sheeta spoke close in his ear.
"Wow!" Pazu had no other word to respond with.
"Told you so."

She unbuttoned her jacket, took his hand and stepped forward, daintily threading her way through the seated and prone audience the band and dancers were attracting. She led him past the fire and turned left towards the bar. She wiggled through those in front of it. One of the men there saw her and at once came to her.

"Sheeta! My sweet princess! Welcome back!"
"Hello Thoma! Paetsu, your money. A silver coin."

He took out the money and she gave it to the man, asking for something he didn't catch. He saw a space appear around Sheeta. Despite others waiting to buy drinks, as soon as they saw the blood spot above her eyes they politely and smilingly let her past. From the looks on their faces, men and women alike, they seemed delighted to have the chance to let her be served first, as though it were an honour. Sheeta came back carefully holding three big leather mugs together in her two hands, some coins gripped between her teeth. She waggled her head, indicating a direction to her right and Pazu went to the left hand end of the bar where there was a piece of empty floor. He put down his knapsack and her dress bag and took two of the drinks from her. The hard leather mugs were hot.

Sheeta found three cushions and kicked them into a pile in front of the bags Pazu had dropped by the wall. She sank down cross legged on one, Pazu did the same. She gave him the change, three copper coins he didn't recognize. If they were pennies then the three drinks had been only three pennies each. Half the price of a beer in the Ravine. Sheeta lifted a mug up and smiled.

"Your first Gondoan ale. Called hahlle. It's actually a kind of cider but has berries in it as well. In summer it's drunk cold but in winter it's served hot and fruit and spices are added to make hus'hahl or hot ale, winter ale. And when we drink we say pendraes! For heart, short for good heart, or healthy life, that sort of thing."

Pazu raised his mug. Sheeta clunked hers against his.

"Pendraes!"
"Pendraes!"

He drank. Before she did he saw her pause and silently mouth a few words into the mug. Praying again. She had not done that before, only the two times in Shuna and Keya's tumurh. And then only because they invited her to. Why now? Sheeta took a large swallow, Pazu a more cautious sip. It was strong and fruity and sweet and warm. A chunk of pear floated in with the mouthful. He decided he liked it.

The music was sensational. The tunes were long, often ten or fifteen minutes each. After each one a couple of people would leave the stage and someone else would step up to play, bringing their own instruments so that the composition of the band changed constantly. No-one seemed to decide what to play, it seemed to be all improvisation. A fiddler or lute or recorder player would start up a melody and the others would gradually join in as the mood took them. But one thing the tunes had, they were all vibrant, happy and fast. Often beginning slowly and gaining momentum and volume as they went until the room was bouncing and the dancers were howling and leaping. Then a crescendo and silence while the dance floor cleared or people just collapsed. This was followed by a quiet passage with one or two or three instruments until others joined and the cycle was repeated.

Pazu could not keep still. He tapped his feet, tapped his hands on his knees and nodded his head. Aching limbs or not, the rhythm was completely infectious.

Sheeta shrugged off the heavy jacket. He looked at her and smiled, she grinned back, eyes sparkling.

"What do you think?"
"It's… it's just. Amazing. I'm stunned. Where do they get the energy from?"
"Happiness."
"What?"
"They are happy. They like music, they like to dance."
"Well. You know what this reminds me of? In Slag Ravine there is a big ore crushing plant. A large machine has big heavy rollers that crush the rocks. It takes a very big steam engine to drive those rollers and downstairs in the boiler house for the engine are four big boilers, each with two fireboxes, one each end. Usually three men shovel coal into each firebox. As they work they sing and often a lad will play the fiddle to help them work. The heat, the music, the noise and the hot sweaty bodies. It reminds me of that. Only here people aren't working, but enjoying themselves. Sheeta I can feel the atmosphere here, feel the fun."
"Good isn't it?"
"Wonderful."

Shuna came over. He was without his thick animal pelt coat and boots and he had stripped off to a long brown shirt, belted loosely at the hips. He'd taken off his leg wrappings and the hide skirt. He wasn't carrying his weapons and looking around the room Pazu realized no-one else was, at least not openly. He wondered if the revolver in his knapsack was the only weapon in the room. Pazu picked up the third beer and handed it to Shuna. The big bearded man sat on the spare cushion and they all toasted and drank.

"Keya is not here," supplied Shuna, "I asked Thoma the owner. He was here at noon, ate quickly and went on north. He may choose to ride through the night and be home by morning."
"Whatever he is going to do, he will have a whole day in which to do it before we arrive."
"True, but Paetsu, I don't think he intends any mischief or surprises for you, he probably only wants to tell people and talk."
"Don't worry, Paetsu, with me with us, he won't do anything, nor will anyone else," Sheeta suggested.
"No, it's more a case of if I'm with you, no one will harm you, Sheeta. I'm not important, you're their princess."
"Yes you are Paetsu, more than you know."
"Do you know anyone here?" he asked
"Only Thoma and his staff, they know me quite well. I recognize some of the musicians – some of them are itinerant players traveling from inn to inn. In return for playing they are given food and a bed. One or two others from nearby villages. No-one here is from our village."
"Why is everyone here, in the middle of nowhere?"
"Traveling home," Shuna answered, "for the Suethelhin, the winter solstice festival. Our biggest party. Shortest day of the year. We celebrate the death of the old year and the birth of the new. It lasts two days, a day of mourning and repentance, asking for forgiveness for past mistakes, remembering those who have died, followed by a day of celebration, of rebirth. We give gifts on solstice morning, usually symbols of long life or loyalty. Suethelhin is when Maerth-dhu argues with Lucita and is defeated. She sends him away with the bad scraps of the old year, our mistakes, our sins, the bad parts of those dead. She brings the new year, new life. And soon the winter ends and she brings the spring. Weddings are common on solstice dawn, as the sun comes up, a very symbolic time for us."
"When is this?"
"A month, just under a month away. Late in the eighth month. But will you excuse me lady, Paetsu? There is a man here I wish to speak with."

Shuna stood, bowed to them both, palms together and taking his ale, went across the room. The people beside them noticed the bow and looked at the two teenagers. Pazu thought of he and her, of marriage, of solstice dawn.

"Sheeta, there is something bothering me, about us."
"Yes?"

She expected to hear more about soil and sky.

"What we did. In the cave. And last night. Was it the right thing to do? I mean shouldn't we be married first?"
"Gondoan law does request that a man and a woman be pure until marriage, yes."
"Oh, we did wrong."

He dropped his gaze from her face.

"No, Paetsu. People understand how young people feel. Young people in love make their own rules. The law requests it, prefers it, but it does not insist. What we did wasn't wrong. Don't you sit there getting a big lump of guilt on your back because of it."
"But, I mean, surely with you being a princess, it should be done properly?"

She beamed at him, one of her prettiest smiles.

"You did do it properly."

He looked at her, saw the smile, and his face went red.

"You know that's not what I meant. As their ruler, you should enter marriage properly, yes?"
"You have some funny ideas, Paetsu. Very old fashioned. I'm not their ruler. Well, technically I rule but these days the people govern themselves, the Grand Gathering looks after their welfare, makes the laws. The royal house is merely a title now. A few privileges, nothing more. I don't have hundreds of people fawning over me, asking me to make decisions on a dozen things a day. I walk up to the bar and buy my own ale. A lot of people here don't even recognize me. Some do, I can see them watching us, but most don't. I'm a farmer. Just a farmer."
"We don't have to do anything special to get married?"
"No. Just be in love I think, that's the main thing. And want to be in love for ever. Can you do that?"

He didn't answer, he merely smiled.

--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I

The evening flew by, they sat, watched the crazy dancers, listened to the music. He got up and bought them food, again bomao and a mescah sauce with green beans. Pazu saw some interesting looking red sausages on the grill and had one of those as well. They ate with fingers of poto bread. The food was served in leather bowls and he found that this was so that if anything was dropped on the floor, it merely bounced and never broke, so bare feet didn't get cut. As a way of thanking Shuna, Pazu went to find him and buy him a meal. Shuna was at a table talking earnestly with four other men, all older, all large people and all with red beards. It seemed to be the custom for men to wear beards. When Pazu approached, the conversation at Shuna's table stopped, even though they were talking in Oistrakh-Auera. Pazu guessed they were talking about him. That didn't worry him, all of Sheeta's village would probably be talking about him this time tomorrow, and in a week no doubt most of Gondoa. What would happen would happen; he'd deal with it when it was time to deal with it. He and she had dealt with Muska, they weren't children any more.

They finished eating and talked. It was one of those conversations that you don't recall the details of because the content isn't important. They just talked about anything that came into their heads; ploughing, how to build wing-warping into a flying machine, the best way to milk a yaoko, their favourite colours, her favourite stories, how to drive a steam engine, what he could play on the trumpet, what she grew in her fields, how many fields she had, how to ride a horse, did he prefer boots or shoes or barefoot? how good a swimmer was he? Had she ever got drunk on ale? Which was her favourite season? The conversation simply bounced around the way conversations do between people who are at ease.

"Have you ever danced?"
"Only a little, and not very well. A few times in the Red Cow."
"Dance with me."

She stood up. Two ales each and the third on the way down, she was feeling happy, mellow, a little daring.

"Uh."
"Oh, come on, no one will be watching. Look at them, all in their own crazy worlds."
"I don't know how to. Very well."
"I'll show you."
"Hm… well…"

She leaned forward and pulled him up. She led him to the side of the dancing area near the front door where there was a little space. She held both his hands, stood facing him.

"This is an easy one. You do nothing at all with your hips and upper body, this is all with the legs and arms. Do this."

She made a forward and back quick stepping movement, lifting her knees in an exaggerated way, once, twice.

"Now you."

He did, it took a couple of attempts but he got it eventually.

"Now, this…"

She repeated the first two skipping moves then did a little skip to the side, and back. Again, then the other side, and back. He followed. And she showed him, again, and more. It was all in the legs, the upper body remained rigid. Relaxed but not in motion. Part way through the routine she spun round and said at this point he did too and they should dance with their backs pressed together. This took a few clumsy, fumbling, laughing attempts but he got it in the end. Then turn back and repeat. Finally lift the arms above the head and clap and repeat the whole thing with arms raised, clapping. Facing and then back to back. Easy.

"Alright? Ready? Let's try it right through."

They did and part way he kicked her and they fell apart laughing.

"No, no, again, you're nearly there. Good thing you have no boots on."

After a few practices to two different tunes he was more or less there. She pulled him among the dancers and somehow in the sweating heaving pile found them some space.

"Alright, I'll talk you through it! Skip, and skip, forward and back, and again… now to the left… and the right… and back… and repeat… skip… and skip! Now, turn! And press up against me. Good!"

He laughed, this was fun.

"And repeat with hands up!"

They went right through and he only messed up once and kicked her once.

"Lovely work! Now again and this time we do some interpretation."
"Some what?"
"You just dance, I improvise."

They repeated, the music was building now, louder, more jolly. When it came to the back to back part, she did something with her bottom, wiggling against him. He pressed back a little against her. It was nice. And in the lift arms part back to back she let hers drop and slid them around him, squeezing his sides as they moved.

"And now your turn. I'll do it normally, you make up some changes."

Back to back he pressed against her with his head, he leaned his head back and the side of his face brushed hers and then with arms raised he reached for her hands and held them briefly. They finished.

"Good, very good. That was good. Again?"
"Yes!"
"Enjoying it?"
"Yes!"

They danced, through two or three tunes they repeated the dance, and each time she did something a little different, touching or moving away. On one of the back to back sections he tried the hands around her touch but put his arms too high and embarrassed himself by putting his hands where her front was sweetly shaped.

"Oh, sorry, sorry!"
"No, that's fine. It's one of the moves you know, one of the more well known of the man's interpretations."
"It is?"
"This is ulve dhansu, the lovers dance by the way."
"Oh?"
"It's a story. Two people meet, they come forwards and back and side to side a little, getting to know one another slowly, then they argue and turn their backs on each other and after a time face again and become friends and finally make love."
"Ah…"
"The fun part is in making up different moves within the main theme. There are lots and lots but people make up new ones all the time. You touching my chest from behind is a well known one, so you are on safe ground. Come on, again!"

Pazu found himself getting into it more and more. He saw that other couples around them were seeing the dance they were doing and soon most of the dance area was doing the lovers dance. People left a space for them and some watched. Pazu found he didn't mind. He found there was one back to back move where if she bent her head right back at the same time he did, then with a little twist they could briefly kiss. Some of the times when her hands were on him, lightly holding or fluttering against him, he wanted the music and the dancers to go away, the place to be empty, and for the two of them to be alone, and naked, and falling to the carpets in front of the fire. He found himself filled with that warm eager feeling she had awoken in him before.

"That's good, lovely."
"I've never done this before."
"Dancing? Or loving?"
"Both."
"You're very good."
"At which?"
"Both, Paetsu, both."

And finally, he forgot his inhibitions, his gawky not-sure-ness, his embarrassment and self consciousness and simply let the music get hold of him and send him. They danced for a while and Pazu became one with the music, one with her, his hands on her, hers on him, feeling her near him filled him with raw life, with happiness, he was one with the spirit of life that filled this place. Then a slower tune began. She turned around and just stopped in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Ah, now this is easy. Hands on my waist, and just slowly flow around."

They did. It was lovely. She came closer and soon his arms were behind her holding her against him, she pressed up to him and her face was against his neck. They slowly moved around just drifting and holding. The tune became a mournful lament, just an achingly beautiful fiddle and pipes. A girl began to sing. Her voice was like rain, haunting and pure. Something inside Pazu just sighed. She was just so nice to hold, to be near. Her smell filled his senses. He wanted to hold her forever. If she was ever unhappy he would hold her, if she hurt he would hold her, if she was worried, scared, lonely, ill, cold, holding her was what he could do for her. It was such a simple thing, a hug, but with it a person could say so much. Two people could feed so much from each other, give to each other. Hugging filled a basic need. The warmth and closeness of another person. Then he found that they had drifted out of the crowd of dancers and were at the side of the room by the wall, and they had stopped moving. He didn't mind, this was even better. He held on and she ran her hands across his back, hugging and stroking at the same time. He just wrapped his arms across her slender back and hugged tightly, squeezing the two of them together.

"Don't go."
"What?"
"Sheeta, don't ever go. Don't ever leave me."
"No."
"I want you for ever. Be with me for ever."
"Yes."
"Until I die."
"Yes. Paetsu, be my prince."
"I will, I want to."
"Hold me tighter. Don't let go."
"No."
"I love you so very much."
"I love you. Soil and sky… they aren't important."
"Oh?"
"You're important."
"Thank you."
"I love you. Love you, love you. I love you so…"

He felt tears starting in his eyes. She hugged him so tight they almost became one. He moved his head back. She had the wet tracks of tears down her face. He bent his head down and kissed them, kissed each of them, tasted her salt, kissed her mouth.

They stayed together, hugging and kissing, neither wanted it to stop, this time of gentle peace, this time of just warm holding, of demonstrating their love, of feeling the other's love, neither wanted it to end.

There was a noise around them, a changed atmosphere in the room. Sheeta looked up, the moment was over, the mood changed, was lost. She looked at him and smiled, spoke one word:

"Telle."

--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I

He looked. The two women who had been serving food had cleared away the cooking things and now brought a large brass pot the size of a small barrel into the centre of the room. It looked to Pazu a lot like a big brass railway locomotive headlamp except there was no glass lens and on the top a long flexible tube came out. Blue smoke gently curled out of several vent holes in the top.

The owner of the inn, Thoma, stepped up. He began speaking in Gondoan, Pazu picked up a few words but then quickly lost the thread of the speech. Sheeta filled in.

"The telle or community pipe is smoked after meals but only shared with guests, a family alone never smokes it. There are dried timsu leaves inside. Women being senior smoke it first, the eldest woman with child, down to the youngest, then the eldest bleeding woman down to the youngest, then follows the eldest menstruating woman down to the youngest. Finally, after all the females the men smoke, from eldest down to the youngest man who has returned from his pead-lth-u'or. Children don't smoke it. Lastly the host will finish it. Usually it is served when people are seated at table and the order of precedence is known, here with a mixed informal gathering it is a little different. People step forward when they think it is their place in the precedence and if two do so the host decides."
"Ah. Timsu leaves? They were in Shuna's tea weren't they?"
"Yes, and the effects here are more potent, so you should not draw much smoke into your lungs, just a little. First time it might not agree with you, I wouldn't want you to be sick."
"Are you sure about this? Some men in the Ravine smoke pipes and they stink. They cough badly too."
"Oh, don't worry. This is nothing at all like common tobacco. It won't be bad for you at all. The timsu plant, as I said before, is used in medicine and to heal wounds and all sorts of things. It also has a use in a potion of hot milk and powdered yaoko horn that brings fertility. Even, hm… our word is ur-skur' ulve. Heaven love, or fertile love. For you I suppose you might say an aphrodisiac."
"A what?"
"Have you not heard of an aphrodisiac?"
"No. What is it?"
"Hm, let me think. It's a medicine either a man or a woman can drink before they lay down together and it makes them stronger, makes them enjoy the lovemaking more."
"Oh."

She watched his face while this sank in.

"I don't need that."

She giggled and squeezed him a quick hug. How could he be so cute, so sweet? He would sometimes say things without knowing it that made her feel so nice, made her toes curl. How grateful she was to the stone, that it had chosen so well.

"So. Watch."

Thoma finished speaking, the pipe was prepared and one of the cooking ladies held up the flexible tube. On the end of it was a brass mouthpiece. Thoma clapped his hands and two women stood up and came forward, both had big swelling bellies and the room applauded as though simply bearing a child deserved appreciation. The older of the two took the mouthpiece and drew in the smoke. She went back to her place, smiling. The second woman then inhaled.

"I am bleeding so I will be soon. You are probably one of the youngest men here, you will have to wait quite a while."

Again Thoma clapped and this time about six or seven women stood up. Pazu saw blood dots on their foreheads, he'd not noticed this, he wasn't used to looking for it. There was loud applause for these women too. Thoma made a careful judgment and let them each smoke in turn. Sheeta was the last, and when she stepped up to the pipe a hush went around the room, it was evident that now people knew who she was. Pazu was surprised, she drew in a large lungful, held it inside for twenty seconds before gently exhaling, blowing a smoke ring up to the ceiling. She came back through the seated crowd beaming.

Thoma looked around and was about to clap hands again when there was a commotion to Pazu and Sheeta's left by the stage. A very young girl stood up and shyly came forwards. She only looked to be eleven or twelve and wore a bright orange shirt and beads. When she came to the pipe a great cheer went up and several girls stood and hugged the child.

"Her first time. She has only just begun to bleed, it might even be her first period, oh, Pazu, isn't this lovely?"

He had to agree it was a celebration of womanhood he had never seen and never thought he would. The young girl tentatively took the pipe in her mouth and drew in just a little. She held the smoke in. Pazu thought she might cough or go green or vomit but she did none of these. She exhaled and a huge grin spread over her face. There was more clapping and everyone she walked past on her way back to the stage stood and patted her on the back or gave her a quick hug. Pazu realized she was the singer, the girl with the voice like rain who had sung when he and Sheeta had been holding each other.

"How do you feel?" he asked
"Wonderful!" she was all smiles
"What's it like?"
"Not telling, you wait," and she grinned at him.

He saw that her pupils were dilated, making her eyes big and dark.

Working through the rest of the adults, women and men took a long time, there had to be a hundred people in the place. The telle was recharged with leaves at one point. The women finished and then the men stepping forwards got younger and younger, in their twenties, in their late teens, in their mid teens. Pazu felt nervous. And then it stopped, no other young men were in the inn. It seemed he was the youngest man there who had returned from a year away. A sudden doubt went through him. He hadn't done the pead-lth-u'or the search for manhood, perhaps he wasn't allowed? Perhaps he was still a boy?

Thoma looked around the room,

"Anyone else? Any more men?"

Silence and then,

"Yes!"

Next to him Sheeta called out, and then a bombshell,

"Paetsu Fuhmonhir!"
"Sheeta!"

Too late, she was pushing him forwards. The whole room turned to look.

"They're going to know who you are soon Paetsu, in a day or two, in a week, you might as well roll in like the thunder!" (2)

Pazu looked around the sea of faces. Across the room was Shuna. Pazu saw him stand up. The big man smiled and made a 'come forward' gesture with his hands. The four men with Shuna also stood, watching, but Pazu couldn't read their faces. Friend or foe? Sky or soil? The room was a blur, he swallowed and somehow took a step, then another, and a third. Behind him he heard her,

"Go on. I love you."

He moved slowly through the seated crowd. Around him whispering, low talking began, he heard her name mentioned and his own and other unknown mutterings. He reached the hearth. Thoma looked at him, a slight smile on his face.

"And you are?"
"Pazu, of the Ravine, from Numenaor."

Numenaor? The muttering voices explored this new information.

"Not from Gondoa, Pazu?"
"No."
"An outsider, eh?"
"Perhaps not."
"Oh, a man not of Gondoa and yet not an outsider, now that is interesting."

Thoma smiled around the room. Damn, thought Pazu, I would have to stop at an inn run by a showman.

"And you are with Sheeta, is that right? Lucita Toelle Ur Laputa. Our princess? Her traveling companion?"

He emphasized the last word, giving it a meaning quite different to the word he used. It struck Pazu that many people had seen them in the lovers dance and perhaps kissing by the door, it was nothing to be ashamed of. He stood straighter, lifted his head and looked at Thoma.

"Yes. I am taking her home."

And he emphasized his last word also, so that it took on another meaning too.

"Ah, I see," the inn keeper said, a smile on his face, "Sheeta calls you by another name though. Perhaps not everyone here heard her clearly. What was it?"
"Paetsu Fuhmonhir. I was lost, forgotten. I have come back."

He spoke clearly and loud, making sure no-one in the room was left in doubt. The murmuring around the room rose in volume. Thoma raised his arms for silence.

"Friends, now. I can hear some mutterings around me in my inn. I don't mind mutterings at all. I love to hear my inn full of mutterings. It means my cash drawer is full of pennies!"

There was a gentle ripple of laughter around the room. Yes, a showman indeed.

"But there are mutterings and mutterings if you get my meaning. Certain mutterings are like sweet music to my ears, like the falling of coins in my cash drawer. I like to hear those mutterings."

He now glared around the room, eye contact all the way round.

"But some kinds of mutterings are not welcome in my inn. The kind of mutterings that speak of foreigners as though they are not wanted. The kind of mutterings that suggest people who are not of Gondoa should not smoke the telle. And especially those kinds of mutterings that tell me that the story of Paztsu Fuhmonhir, the forgotten prince, is not welcome here. Now if you want to mutter pleasantly and put pennies in my cash drawer, you are most welcome. If however you want to mutter about these kinds of things then there are two doors to this inn and you are free to leave by either of them. I can tell you that walking out of them now is certainly preferable to leaving head first through one of my windows. And that will happen later if such mutterings continue."

He paused and again looked around the room.

"Am I making myself as clear as timsu smoke?"

A number of heads nodded around the room, many stayed silent. However, nobody got up and left. For him or against him, they all wanted to watch, to see what this stranger said and did.

"Sheeta. Come here my sweet."

She wove daintily through the seated guests.

"I see you have a friend now then."
"Yes."
"A special person it seems."
"He is, very special."
"Don't fret my sweet, I am not going to ask you how special. Special is all I need to know."

He turned back to the room,

"This man, this Paztsu Fuhmonhir is a special friend of Sheeta, our princess. For me that is enough, if it isn't enough for any of you mutterers then I'm telling you now it is a long walk tonight to the next inn. So you had better get going. And if you stay, no more muttering. Now then, Pazu or Paetsu or Paztsu or whoever you are, the question is, are you a man? Have you been away for a year?"
"No," replied Pazu, "I have not," then, quite liking the idea of showmanship, and reaching for Sheeta's hand and giving it a squeeze, he said, "I have however been away for seven hundred years. And now I have returned."

The muttering in the room resumed, and louder, and this time there was a certain edge to it, expectant was the word that popped into Pazu's head. Thoma wasn't going to be upstaged however,

"Well, if you think you are going to get seven hundred smokes of my telle then you can go back to Numenaor and think again."

Laughter filled the room, although there was a forced edge to it from certain directions. He smiled kindly at Pazu, who replied,

"No. Just the one will be enough, yau taemo. However it will be my first smoke of the telle and I am honoured to do this the very first time in your inn, Thoma. You are a wise man and I thank you for your kind words tonight."
"Well, in that case, the honour, Pazu, is all mine - please."

And he gestured to the big brass lamp of a pipe. Looking around the room once more, making sure he met their eyes, Pazu stepped forward. The woman gave him the mouthpiece and he slipped it between his lips.

take a small amount in case it doesn't agree with you

it can't kill me, a twelve year old just inhaled

prince or mouse, which are you pazu?

prince. I'm a prince. and a man

Pazu exhaled then inhaled through his mouth. He felt the smoke entering his lungs, it was smooth and cool and tasted like the smell of flowers, sweet, fragrant, a hint of mint leaves, nothing whatever like he'd imagined. He inhaled more, as deeply as he could, for several seconds. He took the mouthpiece from his lips, held his breath and handed it to the woman. He looked at her. She was beautiful. He'd not noticed before how lovely her hair was, how it shone, how the light ran down each strand and sparkled. Her eyes were big and clear and reddish brown. Beautiful eyes. He closed his eyes and let the smoke out through his nose. Its cool fragrant taste was delicious, it had a woody edge to it, earthy but it was sweet as well. It tasted like pancakes that had been slightly burned, their creamy flavour smoky, then basted with honey.

He opened his eyes. He was taller, at least six inches, taller than anyone in the room. And stronger. If any of those mutterers wanted to argue with Thoma, he'd help the inn keeper by throwing them through the windows, two at a time, one in each hand. He was strong, tall, light and could rule the world.

He turned. Thoma looked at him, one eyebrow raised and a look of slight surprise and concern on his face. He was saying something but, quite frankly, Pazu didn't care. Pazu didn't hear him. He wouldn't care if Thoma put his hands either side of Pazu's face and kissed him full on the lips. Pazu thought Thoma was one of the most handsome men he'd ever seen. A strange thought went through Pazu's mind.

am I a girl? if I am I'll kiss him

Without having to lift his feet or use any muscles, as though by magic, Pazu floated away from Thoma, past the sitting and kneeling guests back towards the space to the left of the bar where their bags were.

bags? did we once have bags? why? how stupid bags are. what an idiotic invention. and anyway, who is 'we', is there two of me?

His hand was outstretched and someone was holding it. Their hand was soft, like a cloud and warm, like the feel of the summer sun on his skin. And as they moved and he watched the back of this person some lines of poetry came into his head, which seemed a little strange since he'd never written a line of poetry in his entire life.

He looked at the people he was floating past, many were standing up and doing something odd with their hands, making them swell up bigger and go smaller again. They were moving them as though clapping but they couldn't be clapping because there was no sound, all they did was put them together make them big, bigger than their heads (and they were quite big too, their wide eyes and huge smiling mouths especially) then move them apart and they went smaller again, big, small, big, small, like lungs breathing.

He moved his head to concentrate on the person who held his hand. Was it a girl or a boy? Poetry person.

dancing, you are dancing, you are each note
I chase you and you fly, you are each sky
we are two clouds, I flow with you
you are the wind, and we are love
we are forever, higher than the snow

He hoped she was a girl, because his poem was about love, but to be honest, if poetry person with the beautiful long hair of flying reddish soil was a boy, that wouldn't be bad either.

Poetry person stopped moving and Pazu stopped too, they

she, it's a she, I know it's a she because she's naked and I can see all of her, her beautiful shape, like smooth snow covered hills and fields, smooth and white and beautiful. I want to play in the snow, reach out and lift handfuls of it to my lips and taste it. where is sheeta? I want to roll in the snow with her

sat down on a cushion that was like a big soft reustaub. Sheeta had arrived now, and poetry girl had gone somewhere. He sat with Sheeta. He was a little sad because he had already decided he wanted to marry poetry girl. But no matter, Sheeta was here instead. So he would marry her and happily ever after would they be. He looked at her. She was looking at him, her hands on his shoulders. She seemed to be talking but like Thoma she was rather stupidly not using sounds at all, just moving her mouth. That was no use. He tried to decide if she was happy or cross with the person she was talking to. Pazu turned his head to see who she was speaking so silently and beautifully with. No one was behind him, but himself. His face reflected in the polished wood of the bar smiled at him, eyes wide and dark and floaty. He thought he was beautiful. It was a pity he was himself, because had he not been, he would marry himself too.

Pazu turned back to Sheeta, she was still silently talking. He thought of one way to stop her and that was to put his mouth over hers. So he did. He moved his head forward (or perhaps it moved itself while Pazu stayed behind watching it from a few inches back), and he felt something wonderful. Just as his mouth met hers there was a breath of delicious wind, it pressed against his lips and drifted there like a spirit, her spirit, coming from her mouth. He wanted to taste that beautiful spirit, so he opened his mouth and put out his tongue to taste it.

Sheeta stopped speaking. Pazu came at her slowly but still fast enough to surprise her. He put his mouth to hers and in an instant had opened his, she shut up. She had to, he was in her mouth. He wasn't aggressive or pushing himself in he was just there, moving slightly against her teeth, requesting entry. She let him in. Her hands lay on his shoulders, his were limp in his lap. She knew people were still looking. As soon as Pazu had exhaled and turned round with that look of total happiness and wonder on his face and everyone cheered and whistled and clapped, she knew. Way too much, for a first inhale of the telle they all knew that was way too much. More than some of them had ever done after several years. Sheeta enjoyed the telle, and she had been familiar with it for three years. She had taken a big breath of it because she was used to it and she guessed he had drawn in a similar amount to her. Or more. She was worried, the fool, she'd told him to just take a little. She thought he might pass out, but no, he calmly walked with her back to their cushions and bags and folded down cross legged facing her, a slight frown on his face as though a little puzzled.

"You… you idiot! Taeg Paetsu, I told you not to! Look at you. Oh, why are you so silly? Come on, wake up. Can you hear me? Paetsu, hello? He…"

And he shut off her sound with his mouth. And he kissed her. And he kissed like he never had before. Something wonderful was happening, he was firm and pushed into her, knowing where to go. He ran the tip of his tongue along the tip of hers, just easing so slightly, so gently. He was calm and sweet tasting and… lovely. Sheeta felt herself going, something was happening at once, down in her mid section, something was turning and whirling and warm. She let her hands slide off his shoulders and they plopped into his lap. They sat, touching only at the mouths. He inside her, boy inside girl, man inside woman, as it was meant to be, as it had been since man and woman had existed.

She had to pull away, this was too much, in too public a place, far too much. But she couldn't pull back, it was just too beautiful, too exciting, he was doing things to her he'd never done before. His tongue came in deeper and she began to gag with delight, making a funny noise. She felt her body begin to prepare itself, making heat, making wetness and opening up. No, this was not the place for this.

Somehow, with a super human effort she pulled back and put her hands back on his shoulders.

"Paetsu, Paetsu, please. Enough. No more. Lovely but no more."

She pulled him against her shoulder and he lifted his hands and lay them on her small waist and gently held her.

"Sheeta."
"Paetsu, yes."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Floating down to me, coming to me, choosing me."
"That was the stone."
"You are the stone. The stone is you. It's the same thing. Life inside life."
"Paetsu, you inhaled far too much. I told you not to."
"You are the stone, the stone is you. That's why it's alive, that's why it sang to me in Shuna's tumurh. You sang to me in the cave. The stone sang to me. It is you. In the forest it blew a strong breath over me. When you kiss I feel that same breath…"
"Paetsu, shhh, now, shush. Calm down. Just be quiet."

It was late. After the telle people drifted away into groups and corners. The musicians still played but slow, beautiful, sad mellow tunes. A few people sang, mostly girls and the songs were love songs. Gradually the room became calm, the singing ended and just a young man was left playing the violin. He was very good, the sound he made was like a language and it drifted over the people caressing them.

Thoma went around the room handing out sleeping mats and blankets. In places like this people would sleep on the floor where they lay, there was no privacy and no one expected any. In a community tumurh there would be privacy for families and couples each at a point of the star, but in these wayside inns there were never private rooms, it was a cold country and heating all those fireplaces would be a waste, so Gondoan inns had just one huge fire that was kept banked up all night and people kept warm from their shared heat.

Sheeta saw that the evening was ending, that people were preparing to lay down. Thoma came over to her with two sets of bedding.

"How is he?"
"Out I think, gone. He was talking some nonsense and went quiet. I think he's asleep."
"Have you water?"
"Yes."
"He'll need it, his throat will be dry later. Here, take this bedding. I'll make sure you have enough space."
"Yau taemo Thoma."

A moment later Shuna came over.

"Is he alright?"
"Yes, I think so, sleeping now."
"That was some smoke. He might regret it later."
"Probably."
"Good night Lady, we start early, at first light. I'll come wake you. My friends will be riding with us. Is that acceptable to you?"
"Good night Shuna, yes, and thank you."

The big man stepped away into the gloom of the room, the torches had been doused and just a few of the small tallow lamps and the red dull belly of the fire lit the space.

Sheeta uncoiled Pazu from her shoulder and lay him down. She put the two narrow straw pallets side by side and rolled him onto them. She doubled the two blankets up. It would be warm in here, so she lay him on his back and pulled off his breeches and shirt. She looked down at his undressed body, let herself see him. As she suspected, as happened a lot with men, the timsu had had its usual effect. What a waste. He was big, bigger than she'd seen before. It was a well known effect of timsu smoke, a man's body would push more blood than usual there, making him bigger. She smiled. Never mind, there would be other times. She pulled her dress over her head and pressing her skin to his, snuggled down against him. She checked herself. Good, the bleeding was almost over, almost nothing there now. Except of course the other delicious moisture, that he had caused. Being unable to resist she reached down and held him where he was hard and hot. Holding him with both hands, and cuddling close she let sleep come.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

2 – 4 April 2007

(1) Yau taemo-dhu : thank you very much. The giving of thanks can range from the formal to the completely informal. Yau taemo-dhu thank you very much. Yau-taemo thank you. Taemo thanks. Taem, tae and ta each more familiar and informal than 'thanks'. Children will even just raise a hand above their head and flick the nail of the forefinger against the pad of the thumb, making a 'T' sound, the most casual form of 'thank you'. The gesture this makes, a circle between thumb and finger opening to a 'U' shape is even drawn by children as a sign of friendship.
(2) We might say "make a grand entrance" or "make a big impression". For Gondoans whose culture still leans heavily on the skies, Sheeta says this instead, suggesting that being obvious about it is like the rolling of thunder.

For author notes about Chapter Forty, please see my forum (click on my pen name)