"Chief temple dancer. I was a little worried about that, because I
didn't want to get in bad theologically. So I went to the priest and
apologized for any inconvenience I might have caused. He said not to
worry; Mundes had had it coming to him for a long time and his one
regret was that he hadn't been there to see it. Then we touched toes
and he said he liked to see a young fellow with brawn who also took
an interest in cultural pursuits like reading. He trusted I'd have a
beneficial effect on the youth of the village. And then he asked me to
fill in for Mundes as chief temple dancer until he--ah--recovered. It's
a great honor, you know!" he said sharply, as the colonel seemed more
moved to mirth than awe. "But I've never been much of a dancing man and
that's what I told him."
"Very well done," the colonel said approvingly. "But you still haven't
explained where you got lodgings and a landlady."
"She's Embelsira's mother. I was invited over for dinner from time
to time.... It's a local custom," he explained as Blynn's eyebrows
went up. "So, when Embelsira told me her mother happened to have a
compartment to let with meals included, I jumped at it. Blynn, you
really ought to taste those pastries of hers!"
The colonel managed to divert him onto some of the other aspects of
Katundut life. When he'd finished taping everything he had to say, the
colonel gave him a list of artifacts and small-sized flora and fauna
the specialists on Earth wanted him to collect for his next trip,
providing he could do so without arousing attention or violating tabus.
They shook hands. "Clarey," the colonel said, "you've done splendidly.
Earth will be proud of you. And you might bring along one or two of
those pastries, by the way."
* * * * *
When Clarey got back to Katund, Embelsira and her mother gave a little
welcome home party for him. "Nothing elaborate," the widow said. "Just
a few neighbors and friends, some simple refreshments."
The tiny residential dome was packed with people; the refreshments,
Clarey thought, as he munched industriously, were magnificent. But
then he'd been forced to live on Earth food for a weekend, so he was no
judge.
After they'd finished eating, the young people folded the furniture,
and, while one of the boys played upon a curious instrument that was
string and percussion and brass all at once, the others danced.
Clarey made no attempt to participate. In his early youth, he'd flopped
at the Earth hops--and the Damorlanti had a distinctly more Dionysian
culture than his home world. He stood and watched them leaping and
twirling. When they'd dropped, temporarily exhausted, he made his way
over to the musician, whom he recognized as one of Piq's numerous
grandsons; this one was Rini, he thought.
"Is that difficult to learn?" he asked, touching the instrument.
"The ulerin is extremely difficult," the boy said importantly. "It
takes years and years of practice. And you've got to have the touch to
begin with. Not many do. All our family have the touch, my brother Irik
most of all. He's in Barshwat, studying to be a famous musician."
Clarey looked at the ulerin with unmistakable wistfulness.
"Care to try it?" the boy asked. "But, mind, you have to pay for any
bladders you burst."
"I shall be very careful," Clarey said, taking the instrument
reverently in his hands. He had never touched a musical instrument
before--an Earth instrument would have been no less unfamiliar, no more
wonderful. Gently he began to pluck and bang and blow, in imitation of
the way the boy had done, and, though the sounds that came out didn't
have the same smoothness, still they didn't fall harshly on his ears.
The others stopped talking and listened; it would have been difficult
for them to do otherwise, as he was unable to find the muting device.
"Sounds like the death wail of a hix," Piq sibilated, but he added
grudgingly, "Foreigner or not, I have to say this for him--he's got the
touch."
"Yes, he's got the touch," others agreed. "You always can tell."
Rini smiled at Clarey. "I believe you do. I'll teach you to play, if
you like."
"I would, very much." Clarey was about to offer to pay for the lessons;
then he remembered that, though this would have been the right thing
on Earth, it would be wrong on Damorlan. "If it is not too much
trouble," he finished.
"It's the kind of trouble I like." The boy twisted his nose at Clarey.
"Sometime you can hide the reserved books for me."
* * * * *
After the guests had gone, Clarey insisted on helping the women with
the putting away. "Well, as long as Embelsira has a pair of brawny arms
to help her," the widow yawned, "I might as well be getting along to
my pallet. I seem to get more and more tired these days--old age, I
expect. One day I'll be so tired I'll never wake up and Embelsira'll
be alone and what'll she do, poor thing? Who can live on a librarian's
salary? Now, on two librarians' salaries--"
"Mother," Embelsira interrupted furiously, "you go to bed!"
She did, hurriedly.
"Don't worry, Embelsira," Clarey said. "She will be weaving away for
decades yet. Everybody says she's the best weaver in the district," he
added, to change the subject.
"Yes," Embelsira said as they gathered all the oddments the guests had
left, "she's been offered a lot of money to go work in Zrig. But she
won't leave Katund; she was born here, and so were her parents."
"I do not blame her for wanting to stay," he said. "It's a
very--homelike place."
She sighed. "To us it is, but I don't suppose someone who's city born
and bred would feel the same way. I know you won't let yourself stay
buried here forever, and what will I--what will Mother and I ever do
without you?"
"It is--very kind of you to say so," he replied. "I am honored."
The girl--she was still young enough to be called a girl, though
no longer in her first youth--looked up at him. Blue eyes could be
pleasing in their way. "Why are you always so stiff, so cold?"
"I am not cold," he said honestly. "I am--afraid."
"There is nothing to be afraid of. You're safe, among friends, no
matter what you may have done back where you came from."
"But I have done nothing back there," he said. "Nothing at all. Perhaps
that is the trouble with me."
She looked up at him and then away. "Then isn't it about time you
started to do something?"
* * * * *
The next time he went to Barshwat he took a lot of luggage with him,
because, besides the artifacts and the flora and fauna, he brought
cold pastries for the colonel. The colonel ate one in silence, then
said, "Try to get the recipe."
"By the way," said Clarey, "the X-T boys made a few mistakes. The bugg
isn't an insect; it's a bird. And the lule isn't a bird; it's a flower.
And the paparun isn't a flower; it's an insect."
"Oh, well, I guess they'll be able to straighten that out," the colonel
said, licking crumbs from his thick fingers. "We do our jobs and they
do theirs." He reached for another pastry.
"Take good care of the bugg," Clarey said. "He likes his morning seed
mixed with milk; his evening seed with wine. His name is Mirti. He's
very tame and affectionate. I--said I was bringing him to my aunt...."
He paused. "You _are_ going to take him back alive, aren't you? You'd
get so much more information that way."
"Wouldn't dream of hurting a hair--a feather--no, it is a hair, isn't
it?--of the little fellow's head."
Clarey looked out of the window at the purple night sky. Then he
turned back to the colonel. "I've been taking music lessons," he said
defiantly.
"Fine! Every man should have a hobby!"
"But I've no music license."
"Come now, Clarey. You still don't seem to realize you're on Damorlan,
not Earth. Not a blooded intelligence man yet! There aren't any guilds
on Damorlan, so enjoy yourself."
"Speaking of that, did you find out about--er--Earthmen and--"
"Yes, I'd meant to drop you a note, but it seemed rather odd
information for your aunt to be giving you. It's absolutely all right,
old chap. Go ahead, have your bit of fun."
Clarey was unreasonably annoyed. "I wasn't thinking of what you're
thinking. I mean--well, Katund is a village and the native morality is
very strict in these matters."
"Afraid I don't quite follow you."
Clarey bit his finger. "Well," he finally admitted, "the truth of the
matter is I'd like to get married."
The colonel was extremely surprised. "A legal arrangement! Is it
absolutely necessary? How about the females that the innkeeper's so
anxious to have you--ah--meet?"
* * * * *
Clarey didn't know how to explain. "Their standards of cleanliness...."
he began, and stopped. Then he started again: "I suppose I'd like a
permanent companion."
"I don't suppose there's any real reason why you shouldn't enter into
a legal liaison while you're here," said the colonel. "After all, it
isn't as if the two races could interbreed. That could be decidedly
awkward. Who's the lucky little lady?"
"My landlady's daughter," Clarey said.
"Your boss, eh? Flying high, aren't you, old chap?" His massive hand
descended on Clarey's shoulder. Then he grew serious. "Can she cook
like her mother?"
"Even better."
"My boy," the colonel said solemnly, "you have my unqualified blessing.
And when I ask you to save me a piece of the wedding cake, I ask from
the heart."
So, when Clarey went back to Katund, he asked Embelsira to marry him
and she accepted. The whole village turned out for the wedding. Clarey
managed to take some vocpix of the ceremonies for the X-Ts with a
finger unit. I ought to get a handsome wedding present for this, he
thought.
And, to his surprise, on the wedding day, an elaborate jewel-studded
toilet service did arrive from Barshwat--with the affectionate regards
of his aunt, who was too ill to travel. They tie up everything, he
thought, but he knew it was a little more than simply remembering
to pick up a loose end. The toilet set was vulgar, ostentatious,
hideous--obviously selected with loving care and Terrestrial taste.
Everybody in Katund and a lot of people from the surrounding country
came to look at it. It seemed to establish his eligibility beyond a
doubt. "Never thought 'Belsira'd do it, and at her age, too," Piq was
heard to comment. "But it looks like she really got herself a catch.
What's a little weakness in the dome-top when there's money, too?"
* * * * *
The first three years of Clarey's marriage were happy ones. He and
Embelsira got on very nicely together and, since he was fond of her
mother, he didn't mind her constant presence too much. Once a week
he took a ulerin lesson from Rini. He practiced assiduously and made
progress that he himself could see was sensational. He did wish that
Rini would accept money; it would have been so much less of a nuisance
than replacing the music books the boy stole from the library, but he
couldn't expect local customs to coincide with his own. The money, of
course, didn't matter; he still wasn't living up to his allowance,
although he was beginning to spread himself on elaborate custom-made
cloaks and tunics. On Earth he had dressed soberly, according to his
status, but here he felt entitled to cut a dash.
At the colonel's request, on his next trip to Barshwat he brought his
ulerin and taped some native melodies. "I like 'em," the colonel said,
nodding his head emphatically. "Catchy, very catchy. Hope the X-Ts
appreciate them; they don't usually like music if it sounds at all
human." And, catching the look on Clarey's face, "Well, you know what I
mean. To them, if a tune can be hummed, it isn't authentic."
News of Clarey's skill on the ulerin spread through the countryside.
When he played in the temple concerts, people sometimes came from as
far away as Zrig to hear him. Clarey was a little disturbed about this,
because he didn't subscribe to the local faith. But the high priest
said, "My son, music knows no religious boundaries. Besides, when you
play, we always get three times as much in the collection nets."
At the time Clarey got word from Barshwat that General Spano and the
staff ship were expected shortly, he had risen to the post of chief
librarian. Embelsira had retired to keep dome and wait for the young
ones who would, of course, never come. Clarey had hired a hixhead of
an assistant from Zrig to assist him; he saw now why the village had
originally been grateful to get even a foreigner of doubtful background
for the job.
"I'm going to have to stay at least a week with Aunt Askush this time,"
he told his wife. "Legal matters. I think she's drawing up a will or
some such," he added, hoping that this would keep Embelsira happy and
convinced.
Maybe it worked too well. "But why can't I come with you? I've always
wanted so much to meet her."
"I keep telling you her illness is a disfiguring one; she won't meet
strangers. And don't say you're not a stranger--you'd understand, but
she's the one who wouldn't. Please don't nag me, Belsir."
"Sometimes I think you're a stranger, Balt," Embelsira declared
emotionally.
"Yes, dear, I'm a stranger, anything you say, but let me get packed."
He started folding a robe crookedly, hoping it would distract her into
taking over the job.
But she leaned against the lintel, staring at him. "Balt, sometimes I
wonder if you really have an aunt."
The only thing he allowed himself to do was put down the robe he was
holding. "Do you think I send expensive toilet sets to myself? You must
think Piq's right--I'm just plain crazy."
"Piq doesn't think you're crazy any more. He and the other old ones say
you have a woman in Barshwat. But I don't believe that!"
"Maybe I do, Embelsira. A man's a man, even if he is a librarian."
"I know it isn't true. I think it's ... something else entirely. You're
so strange sometimes, Balt. How could somebody who comes only from the
other side of the same world be so strange?"
* * * * *
He forced a grin. "Suddenly you've become very cosmic. What do you know
of our--of the world? It's a big place. And nobody else in Katund seems
to be so impressed by my strangeness; they think a foreigner's entitled
to his queer ways."
"Nobody in Katund knows you as well as I do. And I've seen foreigners
before. They're not different in the way you are." She looked intently
at him. "It's not a shameful kind of strangeness, just a ... strange
kind of strangeness. Fascinating in its way--I don't want you to think
I just married the first stranger who came along...."
"I'm sure you had many offers, dear. Come, help me fold this cloak or
I'll never make the bus."
"You know what I'm reminded of?" she said, coming forward and taking
the cloak. "Of the old tale about the lovely village maiden who marries
the handsome stranger and promises she'll never look into his eyes. And
then one day she forgets and looks into his eyes and sees--"
"What does she see?"
"The worst thing of all, the greatest horror. She sees nothing. She
sees emptiness."
He laughed. "The moral's clear. She shouldn't have looked into his
eyes."
"But how can you help looking into the eyes of the man you love? Maybe
that's the moral--that it was an impossible task he set her."
"In those tales it's always the man's fault, isn't it? Not much doubt
who made them up. Now, Belsir, please, I've got to finish packing.
It'll be just my luck to have today be the day the bus to Zrig's on
time."
"A couple of weeks ago I was in Zrig shopping and I saw an Earthman,"
she said, folding his cloak into the kit. "The way he walked, the way
he moved, reminded me a little of you."
It was a long moment before he could speak. "Do I look to you like a
dark-faced, dark-haired, brown-eyed--"
"I didn't _say_ you were an Earthman! But if Earthmen can travel
through the sky, they might be able to do other things, too; maybe
even change the way a man looks."
He snapped the kit-fastener. "If you really believe that, you should be
careful. Creatures as clever as that might be able to pluck your words
from my brain."
"What if they did? I'm not ashamed. Or afraid, either."
He reached out and patted her arm. Maybe she wasn't afraid, but he was.
For her. And for the people of Damorlan. If there was a deep-probe on
the staff ship.... If only something could happen to him, so he could
never reach Barshwat ... Spano wouldn't know. He might guess, but he
wouldn't know. He'd have to start all over again--and maybe things
would turn out better next time.
* * * * *
General Spano and his secretary were waiting in Blynn's office. Clarey
stretched out his foot in greeting, then recollected himself and
reached out his hand. "You see, sir," he said with a too-hearty laugh,
"I'm really living my part."
Spano beamed. "Damorlan certainly seems to agree with you, my boy. You
look positively blooming. Doesn't he, Han?"
She nodded grave agreement.