Khemehekis wrote:"Well, where I'm from", says Jim, "Most people can't walk on water. We have some lizards that can do it, though, and some insects."
"Oh, yeah! All I meant was, well, like what the monks teach:
the one who sings a thing into existence is the one who surely has power over that thing. Of all the people ever to tread upon sod or stone, that would be the one to tread upon water too."
"A deist is someone who believes in God, unlike an atheist, and is sure about it, unlike an agnostic, but he isn't a Christian, and he isn't a Jew, and he isn't a Muslim, and he isn't a Buddhist, and he isn't a Hindu, and he isn't a Sikh, and he isn't a Rastafarian, and he isn't a Wiccan, and he isn't a Baha'i, and he isn't a Zoroastrian."
The names wash over Nico like waves on the shore! "I've not heard of most of those names before, but the religions and gods that Men make for themselves have always baffled me. The only land of Men we know well is Auntimoany. We have kin there, you see, and our cousins regale us with tales of life and goings on there. The better part of half of them are
Eserians --- they venerate many gods. The rest are Kristians or Bodhians or Yehudians --- they all venerate the Creator. I've never heard of 'Teeists' or 'Ganosticks' before. They sound philosophical, though. And, oh, yeah! Not a few are
Felsaphoi. They say these are Men who venerate the Creator, but they don't have other gods and
Felsaphos isn't a religion. As I understand it, it's all about thinking about things, like how things work and how they came to be and the nature of things."
"What are the Christians hoping Jesus will save them from? From going to Hell, I suppose. Hell is where people go when they die, if they've been bad. People used to believe you'd go to Hell for being gay among other things, but almost no one believes that anymore. Christians have all this talk about 'falling', but I wasn't raised Christian, so I don't know what in the galaxy they're talking about."
"Hmm. Why would some Men say folks are being sent to Hell for being joyful? That doesn't make sense!"
"Sawyers?", asks Jim. "We read a book about a boy named Tom Sawyer in lyceum. Is that whom you're talking about."
"Oh, sawyers are folk who collect all the Lore and Old Stories of a folk. Us Daine we have sawyers that study our own Lore and Stories, but it seems to be Men who are keen on the Lore of
all folks --- Daine and Turghun and Dhargh and Teyor and Yttuun and Giants alike. Years ago there were even two sawyers come through our little town. We still remember their names, Wellam and Yaquvaz. They were heading off into the West, into Siviria where they hoped to find some Hotai folk and study their Lore and Stories. We never saw them again, but hope ever that they fill their pocketbooks with stories and come back home again safely! Hotai are perilous folk to deal with."
"Anyway, the sawyers of Men they call
Immortals, I guess because they have stored up so much ancient Lore and wisdom. They are always welcome wanderers through the Westmarche, I think because they love stories so much and we Daine love to tell stories! They all look alike to us, so they're easy to spot wandering the back roads of the land: they all wear dingy white trousers and long black cowls. And, and they all carry great satchels full of books that they fill up with a curious kind of scribble whenever they hear a story being told or a smart kenning being dropped. They always travel in pairs: either two or four or eight. Never in threes or sevens. They also seem to have grey hair and wear those big round spectacles in front of their eyes. I asked them what the spectacles did for them, and heard a wonderful story about some king in the Great West who had spectacles made for him one time. The artificer worked and worked on them, and then presented them to the king, saying that they would grant him the power of truly clear vision. He would be able to see all things and all people only as they truly are. When he wore them, sure enough, he could see all their deceits and cunning plans and back stabbing and all sorts of odd things Men get up to when they are close to the king. Eventually, he despaired of ever meeting a single man who was honest and forthright, because everyone he looked at harbored some hidden dishonesty towards him. I guess he was saying, in a roundabout way, that his spectacles help him see what's really there whenever he's making notes about a story or some bit of lore."
Jim's right eye glazes over at the talk of long-months and long-years. "Your people have been around for millions of years, it sounds like. Humans on Earth haven't recorded their history that long. Only for about twelve millennia. A millennium is what we call ten centuries, or a thousand years. 28 years ago we started in on the third millennium A.D., that means the third millennium counting from the birth of Jesus. But your people . . . they use names like Mended Peacock . . . or like, like Purple Kohlrabi. Won't they eventually run out of adjective-noun combinations?"
"I don't know how long it has been since Daine first awoke from their first slumber. I do know that the Teyor, the Elder Kindred, well remember those ages and many more before that!"
"The Men of Auntimoany, I think, can barely account for twenty centuries of their own history; while other Men of the East can perhaps account for a hundred centuries. There are, among our monks, yet a few who can yet recall those distant years of their own youth when Men first crossed over into the Lands of Sunrise."
"It's been many long ages since Men first awoke and wandered out of the distant Southlands. They have long since forgotten those first ages of their awakening, yet we still tell many tales of joy and woe from those times in our history."
Nico sighs and trails off...clearly a topic of some distress or great sadness.
"Sunqueen?", asks Jim. "As in, your planet has an actual queen who controls the weather? Sounds like something out of a fairy tale. Am I dreaming?" Jim pinches himself, and is surprised to feel the pain.
"Oh, yes! But of course, you must know of the weather queens --- after all, you know of Iyesushuê so you must also be familiar with the Angels and Powers too."
"The queens of Summer and Winter, of Fall and Spring; even the queens of Moons and Sun and Stars --- they are all but high servants of the Powers. They watch over the weather and movements of heavenly bodies; their queen is Ardâm, the Queen of Midworld. She is the watcher over of all growing things, the maker of Sun and Moons. But they are also close friends of Vanayallen, the Lady of Stars and Heavens. She is Queen of Gea and also Queen of the Seven Powers; it was she who wrought the stars and set them in their courses, and also the Sun and the Moons. But only the two Moons of old. The third one is new, and at variance with the courses of the others."
"We younger folk have never seen any of these great folk, but among the Teyor are those who have long walked with even the mightiest!"
"What are Daine?," Jim asks. "Are they a species like humans or orcs or Greys or elves? Or are they a nationality or ethnic group, like American and Polish and English and Mexican and Japanese?"
"Whisht!!"
Nico leaps up, looking actually scared. A chill draft seeps under the door to the great Hall and he reaches for his knife, glancing from window to door, as if expecting an army of Fair Folk to come careening into the place, but forgetting that he's already tossed it along with his rucksack and its spilled contents over onto the other table by Argenzu and his gang. He looks around apprehensively, and then sits again, calming himself. "Never speak that name! I do not know what 'greys' are, but orcs, or Hotai and Men and Daine are well known. I have now heard of 'Meriquun' and 'Pulusi' and 'Yingilisi', but ---"
and now he looks with great annoyance at Jim "--- never speak that other name!"
Nico's voice lowers to a whisper: "They are evil folk! Masters of deception and not a whit of concern for the lives or safety of any folk but their own. They are tricky people: sometimes they pretend to do some good, but no good ever comes from dealings with an...er...with that folk. Even the wisest and most powerful of Daine can scarcely withstand their power; and Men are hopelessly enchanted by their glamour! They fear only Turghun. I don't know why that should be, but I'd rather not invite their ire or their attention to this place!"
Nico shakes his wings and shudders, then calms down again. "A Daine?
He scratches his head, trying to figure out how to say the obvious: "Well, we're Daine! People. In Gea there are Men, seeming a lot like you, there are Daine, that's us. There are also Dharghs: they look a little like Men and may be kin to them. They live even shorter lives than Men, and Men already live a very short while indeed! We live a much longer while than Men, and even Men account us fairer of face and more graceful than their kind. Men have lost their wings, and I think this why Iyesushuê came among them a while back."
"I don't know what specieses are, but we consider ourselves one of the kinds of Udan or people in Gea. There are three great kindreds: Enca and me are Tana, ordinary Daine; there are also Turghun and Mahrag. If I understand your Meriquun and Yinglisi nations, then there are many nations of Tana, Turghun and Mahrag. Enca and me are Sharrundaine: we have black hair and feathers, very light skin and clear blue eyes. In Darennaliê, folk there are Troaghladaine: they have brown hair and feathers and their eye colors vary. Mind you, they all look grey to me! Beyond them, in Siviria, there are many Troaghladaine thedes living in many small queendoms. There are also Alghadaine: they have red hair and feathers and usually green eyes. In Syansyan to the south, beyond even the Marches and the Little Kingdoms, there are Daine who are very short and have a beautiful reddish skin, though Enca says their skin is brown. They too have black hair and blue and black feathers."
"The hair of Tana may be straight or wavy and is usually thick. Turghun hair is a right mess! It is extremely coarse and wavy and they never comb it and it gets tangled easily. They also have broad faces and powerful bodies. Their boys have short, coarse hair on their arms and legs and chests and their teeth are big and uneven. Their voices are rougher than ours. Mahrag hair is more like ours, but they rarely apply comb to either hair or feathers. They are tall like us and their faces look like those of dogs: they have long snouts long fangs, even longer than ours! Turghun never wear any clothing at home (and we sometims don't too), but they dress like us when they're out travelling or working in their gardens or hunting. They like the jewelry we make, and like most kindreds of Tana, they will wear a lot of it! Mahrag never wear clothing of any kind, except in winter they'll throw a hide of something around their bodies. They don't wear much jewelry either. All three of our kindreds are avid warriors and fine hunters. Turghun, I've learned, are naturals at making crafty things, and I think if Enca could describe one her airships to one, he'd be able to build one very easily!"
Jim laughs at the name Yellowmath. "Is that 'math' like in the word 'aftermath'? I suppose it doesn't have to do with adding and multiplying numbers."
Nico shrugs: "I do not know what it means. 'Math' is a Mannish word. They seem to use it where we use
emunas --- that is what we call the time between the first waxing and last waning of the greater Moon.
Intyas is what we call the time between the first waxing and the last waning of the lesser Moon. But it is the Greater Moon, Gea's twin, that we reckon time by.
Sicasapayein is what we call doing sums and counting numbers!"
"We can Yellowmath autumn, or fall, when it's no longer really hot and the leaves are turning orange and brown, but winter when all the leaves have fallen off the deciduous trees and the days are really short but getting longer. We have something called Christmas early in the winter. It's supposed to celebrate the birth of Jesus, even though Jesus wasn't actually born in the winter. Mostly though, it's a time for shopping and buying a lot, and probably half of the people who celebrate Christmas aren't even Christians. Not too fond of Christmas myself."
"That they call
Yeolas, in the darkest nights of the year. Even the Daine of Auntimoany celebrate the turning of the Lady Sun back towards the Northlands!"
Jim blushes. "Thanks. Yes, I get lots of girl fans, and the occasional boy -- I'm bisexual. But your reruthio-playing can't be that bad. What's a reruthio, anyway? Is that like a guitar?"
"What does 'bisexual' mean? And yes, my reruthio playing is all that bad! I can play the flute okay---"
He reaches over to the debris from his rucksack on the other table and fishes out a short length of wood "---
this is a siryethseyethwario; a flute like we make. It is made after the kind of flute played by the Teyor. I like it because of the extra holes, and you can play more notes. Our native flute has only six holes, arranged so that you can only play in certain modes."
Nico touches his own britches and racca: "Hm. I don't think we can put music on our britches at all!"
Jim laughs. "Oh, no", says Jim. "We don't actually put music on pants. We put them on electronic circles called CD's, or occasionally LP's, that are made out of the same substance as the pants I'm wearing here. Vinyl. But most music is in digital format now -- what we call music like my iPod's music."
"Hihi! I think you will get along fine with Argenzu! He has magic boxes of all kinds!"
Jim's left eyebrow quirks. Then he figures out Nico's misunderstanding. "Last name? Oh, no, we don't change people's names after death. Not in America at least. They do that in a country called Australia though. Ever heard of the musician George Rrurrambu? He changed his name after death." Then it hits Jim: of course Nico hadn't heard of George Rrurrambu. "When we say 'last name' in my language, we mean surname. So Dzwonkowski is Stan's surname. And yeah, he's alive and young."
"Oh I see! I misunderstood! Among us, it is usual for a close loved one to give a last name to someone who has died, and she will usually be referred to in that way by friends and family alike. So, a surname is like a clan name?"
Jim continues. "Polish means he comes from a country called Poland. He's an American too, but he's of Polish descent. One thing you've got to understand about Americans, is there's no 'race' called American. We Americans have ancestors from all over the planet. There are English-Americans, and Scottish-Americans, and Polish-Americans, and German-Americans, and Mexican-Americans, and Jewish-Americans, and Irish-Americans, and Italian-Americans, and African-Americans, and Arab-Americans, and Jamaican-Americans, and Chinese-Americans, and Japanese-Americans, and Korean-Americans, and Hawaiians, and Laotian-Americans, and Filipino-Americans, and even Hmong and Mien and Lahu Americans. There are also some tribes that were here before the rest of the world discovered America, like the Navajo and the Cherokee, but most Americans don't belong to one of these tribes."
Nico seems thoughtful: "These Meriquun seem to all be mestizos!"
My name at birth was James Samuel Wordsworth; Wordsworth is an English surname. But I legally changed my name to Jim Musiclover after I became a star. So anyway, Stan Dzwonkowski is the lead singer of a band called Sulfur Pie. They do really edgy, angry music."
"Wordsworth is also a fine name for a bard and wordsmith!"
Jim grins. "Oh, no, I don't describe myself a bard. I'm a musician, and specifically a lead singer and guitarist. I was just saying that I expected bards to be passing through this tavern here. We had bards many centuries ago; they were in a world a lot like this. Except everyone was human. No one had wings. We called it the 'Middle Ages', or 'medieval' times. Then there was the Renaissance, when we had writers like William Shakespeare, who wrote a bunch of plays about kings losing their crowns and getting slain and committing suicide. There were bards then, too, I think. Now we just basically have musicians like me who do tours. A tour is when a musicians visits many different venues and plays their songs."
"Mm. Kings seem to be particularly good at losing their crowns! Many tales I've heard about kings losing crowns and other kings finding them again. And you must trúly be a bard --- our bards also wander the land singing their songs for different folk! We are not so different on that score!"
"Gem?", Jim asks. "You mean 'Jim'? Jim is short for James. James is the old French pronunciation of the Latin form of the Hebrew name Jacob. Jacob, or Yaakov, means 'taken by the heel'. My parents named me James, but I always went by Jim. When I became a star, I made Jim my legal first name the same time I changed my last name -- my surname -- from Wordsworth to Musiclover."
Nico tries the other forms of the name: "Zhaymes. Zhayaquuv. I think I like Gem best! We always have long names, but usually go by a much shorter facename, like 'Nico'!"
"I can see black music! But ... pink? Dunno what that is, nor Afareiyqa. Is punk the same as pink?"
"Africa is a continent", said Jim. "The people who live in Africa or have ancestors from Africa have dark skin and fuzzy hair and brown eyes and full lips and broad noses. We call them 'Black' people. I'm a 'White' person, by contrast, with light skin and freckles and blue eyes and think lips and a straight nose." Pink? Punk. "Oh no," Jim says. "Pink is a color. Like red, only lighter. It's considered a girly color. Punk's not the same as pink. If punk music had a color, it would be black, or maybe black or red. Maybe green -- back in the nineties there was a punk band called Green Day. I've had green days before -- they're awesome. A green day is when you spend the whole day high on marijuana!"
"Yes, you are one of the
blaqmên. In Auntimoany, many of them are
blaowmên, very dark black-blue of skin with white hair and blue eyes. Others are
blaqmên and still others are
suuartmên and their skin is the black of deepest night and it's said they come from across the wide and deep Sea. Our kin in that land they call
blanckmên, because their skin is the white of snow."
"It is funny: in that land, the
suuartmên don't like being called
blaqe, because that word means "white"; yet the word people use to name the color of their skins is
blaqe, because it also means "darkest black"!
"Oh", says Jim. "I never knew anyone who played the flute. I've seen it when people are performing classical music, though. So your music seems traditional. We sing about the beauty of girls a lot. But I've never heard a song about the growth of apples. Sometimes I'll sing myself to sleep, or when I'm shopping. I sing mostly at my concerts and when I'm recording music, though. Recording music means putting it onto vinyl, or onto digital downloads."
"I still don't understand how your music is placed on the cloth of your pants..."
"Yeah, I sometimes see music too", Jim says. "You synaesthetic by any chance? Or are all your people synaesthetic? But yeah, the music genres definitely have colors to me. When I hear hip-hop, for instance, it sounds red, while pop is just pink. Everyone seems to agree that kuro is black though, since it was named after the Japanese word for 'black'."
"When we hear music or stories, it is like being enfolded within: it becomes part of us. Like, one time some of the Elder Kindred came to visit our little town in the Westmarche. There is nearby one of their shrines and they lodged with our family for a while. A great storytelling was to be done that night and our visitors agreed that they would like to experience it. So, Enca and I first took our guests & entertained them for a while in the bath house. They enjoyed the heated and cooled waters and rejoiced to watch the little ones playing and splashing about. After that, rather than mess about with towels and so forth, we just headed on out to the gardens outside the bath house and let ourselves dry off in the warmth of the Sun. We Daine as a rule wear very little clothing — a raka, a kind of tinted or decorated cloth wrapped around the waist generally does for everyone — and so getting dressed after the bath and after preening each others’ feathers is no complicated affair.
After getting dressed, we all went over to the house of
maranderi — here folks can choose a nice mendika design and have it expertly applied to the body. I had her place a nice vine of
leaurallayeiu on my right arm. Enca chose a sunburst on her left breast. We liked to see one of our Teyor guests choose some wave-patterns running up his left forearm! This particular day we kept it simple — it is entirely possible for a Daine to while away many hours in the house of maranderi! Anyway, sure our guests were hungry after spending the morning cleaning up and so forth, and now that we were all beautifully arrayed and decorated, we turned our minds to something to eat!
We then headed over to our family’s manse to take our luncheon there — today we sampled a lovely oliphant barbecue, meat smoked for three days and rubbed with just the right combination of sweet and spicy —
nnmang! Yummy, as we Daine say! The barbecue meat was wrapped up in a flat bread and served with a kind of salted chips made from various tubers. This was followed by a salad of greens straight from the garden, garnished with a kind of peppery-flavoured flower petal. And that followed by a honey and cream cheese confection for afters.
Luncheon is a rather light meal, but we’ll eat rather more later when the
shinanntannima, the story crafter, begins her work. I understand the experience will be spectacular! But first, perhaps we should rest a bit in the shade of the garden? Here as the Sun rides high and begins her downward course is a good time for talk, our guests can tell us stories and news from far countries and the lands they have passed through; we can tell them about the doings and goings here in Westmarche. After a while we might take a nap and wake refreshed — for we shall be awake well into the early morning hours under the wheeling stars when once the shinanntannima begins to weave her enchantments over everyone!
At last, as the Lady Sun began her last downward journey, we gathered up a couple rugs and our basket of snacks and cutlery kits and went down to a hollow dell just outside town and find a spot to sit on the gentle grassy slope. As other folks began to gather, we saw them setting out their blankets and hides and rugs and baskets; and the little kids were running all over the place; and young, er, “friends” started making eyes at each other. Soon enough, though, the storytelling begins...
First up was a bit of a rare treat for our guests: a board singer. Although we Daine have long known how to write with inks on vellum and rice & bark papers, it is a particular invention of folk in this region to write by carving syllabics into planks of wood. The signs look a lot like the vine and leaf patterns tinted onto our arms by the maranderi girls. The board singer brings her basket of singing boards down to the place where the story tellers sit and arranged them before her in the correct order. She closes her eyes and the crowd hushes — she picks up the first plank and caresses it with her fingers, tells the story written upon it. Ah, a history of ancient days — a story of Enca and Nico! Our namesakes; the first Daine to cross the Canash river and settle near the lands of the Elder Kindred! Always a crowd pleaser, those two! Hihi!
Her story done, another fellow takes her place. He tells a story of the Great War to the accompaniment of a harp. Some of the older folks around us recall those dark days and they eagerly listen to the retellings of ancient valour; and we can see not a few elbows prodding the sides of neighbours with a quiet “oo, in that battle yester-I fights; how well it now-I recalls!”
But the Lady Sun bids her last farewell to the shining stars and now comes the principal story teller of the night, and long will be her work ere we all go home! A tiny girl sits down upon the rug placed on the grass for the storytellers to sit — she can’t be more than four and a half feet tall, not including the thickly braided black hair piled on top of her head! The weight of many centuries rest upon her shoulders, and though this weight can be seen in her eyes, she appears no older and no less beautiful than a young girl in her thirtieth year. Ah, I see she’s wearing a plain yellow robe draped over her left shoulder and this means she is a monk, and monks it is said may live for many lifetimes of Daine...there is no knowing how many ages of the world she may have walked these lands! Her gift is that of enchantment — and if there were any Men among us, we should be worried on their account because the gift of enchantment is perilous for them to experience. Their minds are so easily led astray! But the Elder Kindred are well prepared for this kind of story and perhaps have travelled hither in part to experience this one night of endless story. She begins the fantasy ...
And before we know what has happened, she has cast her net over us all and has enthralled us within the very essence of narrativity. No one can withstand this kind of magic, unless he be truly deaf, for her voice is music and her words are power!
And then we awake as if from an agelong dream! And yet we know that we have not slept since our nap yesternoon. The Sun’s first light blushes the eastern sky behind us; a curious kind of cold mist is breaking up and drifting away above the hollow dell of the tale weavers; the enchantress is nowhere to be found.
She may have disappeared without a trace, but everyone is happy to have experienced her spell! How many lives did we live and adventures did we undergo this night!? And how many lands both wonderful and awesome did we travel through; and did we not leave this world and travel to other worlds beyond the confines of Sky and Overheaven? Everyone who heard the story weaving knows deep in their bones that they were truly there, living those lives, and loving and even fighting; travelling to those other worlds and even dying there; and yet we also know that where we were in all those ages was the land of story and the us that went into those lands was another us, an inner us. For her words are power and the visions that she conjured and placed before our eyes have entered them and become part of that inner us.
I suppose this is why such stories are not meant for Men; perhaps they can not comprehend that distinction and become confused. But anyway! Our guests seem satisfied with the experience; and now as the Lady Sun rises and presides over another day of All That Is, we’ll get us all home again to our family’s manse and find out what we have to break our fast; for all that adventuring in other worlds was surely hungry work!"
Jim's eyes widen with fascination. "So you people cannibalize yourselves with other creatures? Coooooool! Sounds like something I'd watch in scary movies. Do you know what a movie is? That's something where we sit in front of a screen, and watch recordings of people and sometimes animals or aliens moving around and talking. Movies used to be only in black, white and grey, with no sound. Then they added talking and music and sound effects to movies. Then they added full color. And then they made movies 3D! I'll have to tell you about virtual reality sometime, it's even better than movies!"
Nico thinks for a minute, then smacks the back of his right hand into his left palm, smiling excitedly: "Yes! Yes, um...our cousins told us about this. It's a new thaumology there in Auntimoany, but Men are all crazy over it. They call it a
skenekuklodrome, and it's this theatre where a fellow plays upon a harmonestricon and Men watch this kind of shadow play of moving pictures thrown up on the wall. Frankly I don't understand the attraction of it. Men swear the shadow play looks just like people and beasts moving realistically on the wall. But our boy cousins only complained the whole show was nothing but quickly shuffled but ever so slightly different pictures -- there was really nothing moving at all! Our girl cousins all complained that the pictures ought to have been painted in colours. Our boy cousins all said: see, now you understand us better! Some of our boy cousins also complained that they didn't know how to read the Mannish runes the dialogue was written in. But then, the girls said well, you should have learned the runes when we tried to teach you! And anyway, the dialogue was shallow and cliched. Whatever that means! I think if I ever travelled to Auntimoany, I would probably want to see a picture being moved, even if the picture doesn't really move at all. I suppose it's one of those things you have to do when you visit a big city like that!"
Jim continues. "Boys becoming girls? So are they transgender, or just intersex? We have some people on Earth who aren't gender-binary. They use pronouns like "xe", though most of them just go by 'they'. Or like you combine 'derí' and 'dene' into 'dení' and 'dere', we can combine the male 'his' and the female 'her' into 'hir'. 'His' and 'her' are possessives in English, like 'my' and 'your'."
Nico stares at Jim absolutely uncomprehendingly. "Um. Huh? What are those things? Gender-binary??"
"Antimony?", Jim asks. "You mean like the poisonous chemical element?"
"Auntimoany is one of the great kingdoms of Men in the East. We call that land by its ancient name, Onutumun. I'm sure there are many poisons there, though!"
They had a kind of spectacles with frames you could rotate that would allow you darken the lenses at midday and even look into the face of the Sun, or you could turn them the other way and see passably in the dark. I can see well enough at night, they didn't do me much good!
"Sound like sunglasses", said Jim. "A lot of us rock stars and pop stars wear them. So thaumology is like what we call technology?"
"Heh. I've heard that some Daine musicians working in Auntimoany also wear these kinds of sun-spectacles, even at night! Or when they are inside playing their music. And, no technology and thaumology are different: the one is like using all mechanical elements to make an engine of some kind; the other is using mechanical elements and dwimmery --- that is, um,
matsiq --- together to make an engine."
"Imps? As in demons? Or goblins? You have those? We just use machines to do that. Now, I'd like to listen to one of these poetry boxes! Is Teyor another species?"
"No, imps are not demons or Hotai. They are a kind of naturally dwimmiferous folk. Men use them in all kinds of devices. They have a farspeaking box where you talk into a brass can and the imps inside strike copper wires with little hammers. And at the other end of the wire, other imps listen to what the wire is singing and then repeat the message in a clear voice. They say it's just like hearing someone talk up close, only they're really very far away! They have another kind of box with imps in that can act like a library: the imps have memorised certain books of lore and wisdom and natural history and they can recite any portion of the book. There are other kinds of boxes that have imps in that can recite the current weather or the time or remember important things."
"Only problem is, imps don't like being imprisoned for too long, so they have to be replaced from time to time. And that can be a bit expensive!"
"We don't have any of those kinds of engines. The only magic box I have like that is one that has a crystal on it that lets you see a tiny map of where you're travelling. I don't think there are any imps inside it --- I never hear any cussing or incessant complaining like you do with imps in the other kinds of boxes. I'd show it you, but I think it stopped working when we crashed. Before the crash, it showed where we were flying over the lands to the west of our town, just over the river. But now the crystal is just grey, like a thick fog. I can't see anything through it."
Jim is lost. "Is 'djuus' juice, like what you get from fruits? The sugar-and-water part, I mean? And what's quarmaya? Brontoreedes? Is that like a brontosaurus or a brontothere?"
Nico giggles: "Djuus is, um, a kind of force? It pushes things. If you have a luciferescent orb, you can attach it to a bat tree with salamanders in it and they orb will glow with a soft light. And you can read or see anything in the room just like you would with a brace of candles or oil lamps."
"A
quarmaya is a kind of motivator. They are made from clay and baked and when given the right dwimmery they are able to move. We will mount them into the framework of an airship and attach them to the crankshaft of the fans. When the
quarmaya is activated, his arms will turn the shaft and the fan. The faster he goes, the faster our bird flies!"
"It is the same principle for the
brontoreede --- only that is a large waggon that goes along the rails of the caravanway. Very large
quarmaya are used there to turn the wheels and move the waggon train along. Some trains will have maybe a score of waggons in tow --- even a mighty oliphant can not draw so many waggons behind him!"
"You know of brontotheres? Great beasts of war. Our Great Queen keeps several herds of the great beasts in the cavalry. Most of them are at work down south away in the wars against the Warlords. They are quite majestic beasts, but terrible to face if you are a warrior or hunter!"
"Sounds like alchemy to me", said Jim. "Or maybe magic. You don't happen to have a chemia book with you, do you? Never heard of palesilver."
"All Enca's books are still at home. She has a book of chemia. You don't have palesilver? It is like silver, but very light. I saw a trader had a belt made of plates of the stuff. The whole belt couldn't have weighed more than a third a stoneweight. Very light, and all the little rings on it merrily jingling! I should have liked a belt of that stuff, but his price was surely too dear! I guess it must be very rare."
"Helium is an element we put into balloons. There's a whole lot of it in Earth's sun, as well as in other stars. It makes things float upward because it's so light. Oxygen? That's something we breathe. It's in the air! Hydrogen is in water. Every molecule of water has two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom. Hydrogen is the lightest and most stable element there is. I remember learning in lyceum that hydrogen had one proton, which meant its 'atomic number' was one. Now they have elements like newtonium and landauvium, though, with over 120 protons packed into a single atom! And neon is this really cool element! It's a gas that people can put into tubes to make really bright, flashy signs. They put these signs on stores."
(Nico might actually like the reddy glow of a neon sign...) "I know that there is some kind of air that lifts up the great balloon airships. I have never heard of tomick numbers or protons, though. What's a tom?"
"A skin changer?", asks Jim. "That phrase makes my skin crawl. Is that like a shapeshifter? Where you can transform into other species?"
"Yep! I've heard that there are some kinds of Men who can do this very well. Some Daine can do this, too. It's no easy dwimmery to master!"
"Sounds like hang-gliding", says Jim. "We do it, except with machines instead of birds. And they don't have imps inside. Enca, Nico, would you mind if I went, um . . . bird-gliding with you two sometime?"
Nico laughed at the thought of Enca allowing the two of them to jump off the side of her airship and glide like a bird! "Sure! If we don't fall to our deaths, Enca will surely kill us for trying!"
"Oh, until the eleventies our leaders were mostly men", says Jim. "Now they have more women in office. But yeah, that sounds like boys and girls on Earth, though. The boys are better at understanding machines. Not I, though, I understand how guitars and microphones and amps work at that's about it. I don't play the video games that other boys enjoy. They just bore me. And here we have a sport called football that boys are more likely than girls to understand how to play. Football bores me too, and I don't even understand the rules." Jim laughs at Nico's description of stories. "Yeah, the girls like romance novels. In fact, my girlfriend Kate liked to go to romantic movies."
"I don't think a boy would ever be queen among Daine. We just aren't made for it! In Westmarche, the Great Queen is our leader, and she and her counsellors rule over the whole land. And the lesser Queens rule over their own queenholdings. But their authority doesn't extend to the lands between: the woodlands and waste places between holdings. Those are outlands. Along the borders of Westmarche especially, but also among the outlands, there are sheriffs that roam those places, watching for signs of invaders or pestilence or rampaging beasts. Most sheriffs are boys, and the captains of the sheriffs are always boys. When the Greatqueen sends an army out to fight off an invasion, the herzog that leads them is also always a boy."
"So that's what you're seeing!", said Jim. "Among humans, color vision has nothing to do with gender, except boys are more likely than girls to be color-blind. Color-blindness is when people can't tell red from green, or see everything in black, white and grey. It's only small minority of humans who are like that, though. I can see all the colors out of my right eye -- except ultraviolet and infrared. I need to put on special glasses to see ultraviolet light. Gea? Sometimes we call Earth 'Gaia'. Are you talking about my planet, by any chance?"
"What is a planet? It could be you are from a far country in Gea, but I think we would have had some tidings of such strange and wonderful places as Meriquunland and Yinglisland!"
Jim explains his own vision. "People with two eyes have a left and a right eye that combine to see things with depth, everything in front of you. Seeing in stereo, they say. Since I have only one eye, I can't see in stereo. I often miss the depth of a flight of stairs, for instance. One day I was at a concert in this big public building, right? And I have to climb down some stairs. I had been smoking marijuana, and I didn't see the depth with my one eye. So I just . . . fell down the stairs."
"Huy! That sounds dangerous! What if you were climbing on a high place! Would you not be able to see that you are far from the ground below?"
"And what is this marrywanna you keep talking about? You say you smoke it? Is it like pipeweed? We have smoking houses where folks go sometimes to take in the vapors of some kind of pipeweed or other. Some kinds are just pleasant aromas, other make us giddy."
![[O.O]](./images/smilies/icon_eek2.png "O.O"){kind=icon}
"I'm sorry to hear your friend has died! I wasn't aware Men had the same custom of giving a last name to a friend who has died. What's Polis? Is he a different race or kindred from you Meriquun?"
