Wulfsyarn: A Mosaic (10 page)

When Medoc re-entered the room she had two men accompanying her. With one of them her relationship was obvious; it was her elder brother and their two feces were like pressings from the same mold but each had endured a different weathering. The other man’s style of dress and appearance told me that he was from the islands in the southern ocean. His hair was so blond that it was almost white and he wore it woven into a plait which reached to the small of his back. His beard was a shade or two darker than his hair and likewise plaited. I judged him to be about the same age as Medoc’s brother though he was leaner and altogether more seasoned. His skin was dark like rubbed wood. He stood with sturdy legs spread and turned his wide-brimmed hat in his hands. In a human, such a stance would have suggested embarrassment.

Medoc’s brother whose name I discovered was Tillo, was surprised and I think a bit angry to see me there. He wanted to dismiss me. He associated me with Jon Wilberfoss for whom he had no love since Wilberfoss had, at least in terms of Talline customs, jilted his sister. Medoc intervened. “Wulf is merely a mechanical writer,” she said, searching to find the Talline words to describe my function. “It is a helpful glide-about and messenger. Give it no thought. Introduce me to your companion.”

Tillo looked at me darkly and then nodded. He turned away and paid me no more attention. “This,” he said, taking his colleague by the arm, “is my friend Aptagar. He’s a fisherman. He had a scrub-down at the Commonhall before coming here so he doesn’t smell too bad. We’ve come up together from Shell Island. I came as soon as I heard you’d posted a declaration.”

“You heard quickly,” said Medoc.

“I have friends here who keep an eye out for such things in this town.”

“Aptagar is welcome. Will he be seated?” Aptagar put his hat on the table and then chose one of the seats by the fireside. He did not sit back in the chair but rather perched, again like one who is embarrassed and expects to leave hurriedly. “Does Aptagar have a tongue?” asked Medoc, not unkindly, but in a mischievous manner.

Aptagar cleared his throat, “I am pleased to meet you, Medoc. Your brother has often spoken of you. By your leave, I have come to taste the severance bread.”

“Straight to the point as ever,” said Tillo. “I’ll leave you two to it. If you want me I’ll be in the Commonhall trying your thin northern beer.” He turned to me. “And if I may offer advice, my sister, I would abandon junk like this. No good comes of such things.” And so saying he struck me forcefully with his knuckles. I swayed obediently. Evidently satisfied, Tillo left.

Aptagar and Medoc began to get acquainted. I observed that each of them had a clear idea of what they wanted and the discussion between them was more like a carpet sale than a betrothal. Aptagar’s wife, Rani, had been swept from the rocks by a rogue wave while gathering shellfish. This had happened a month ago. Aptagar had four children: two sons who already helped him in the boat and two daughters who were still at school. Aptagar had a house with a cellar and a loft and a sailboat that he had shaped himself from the egg-case of a Featherfin Drifter. “At night I still cry for Rani,” he said, “for we were a rare match, she and I. Hard as chemu (a fish’s tooth), sweet as poro (the roe of a sea urchin), soft as ptum (a kind of putty made from kelp). Have you a mind to be a fisherman’s wife? The life is hard but you won’t find me running away like some.” He pointed with his thumb at me. “You’ll see me every minute of the day, if you’ve a mind. You’ll be with me. Out in the boat, out in the islands, dragging in the nets. Me and the boys. Your lads too if they’ve a mind.”

“I’ll consider it,” said Medoc. “And now will you consider this bread?”

“I’ll consider a drink, if this is a brewing house.”

“It is,” said Medoc. “My former husband was a finer brewer than most Tallines of either hemisphere. You may taste his beer and his wine, but I have no skills in that regard.” She poured a glass of amber liquid from a carafe on the shelf above the fire. “Nor have I any desire to stand the buffet on the deck of a ship. I am a landswoman.” “Perhaps then I’ll retire from the sea,” said Aptagar. “I’ve faced enough storms. I’ve prospered from my work. I’d not ask you to go to sea if you’d guard the home. But I won’t live away from the sea.”

“The sea pleases me too,” said Medoc.

And so their conversation continued.

That night Aptagar slept on the floor.

The next day they got tipsy and continued talking.

On the next day another Talline came calling. He was a merchant from the towns which have grown up close to the Kithaeron monastery on the other side of the planet. He had dark curly hair and a flashing smile and he took Medoc out to dine while Aptagar sucked on his pipe and looked at his thick gnarled hands and sampled Jon Wilberfoss’s beer.

Medoc and the merchant returned late and the merchant too slept on the floor. Both men snored and I have no doubt but that Medoc heard this.

For myself, interesting though it was, 1 decided that I could no longer stay to watch the peculiarities of Talline courtship. I reported to Magister Tancredi and then returned to Lily’s Garden.

Seven days afterward I heard that Medoc had locked up the house and departed. She had made her choice.

I did not of course mention these events to Jon Wilberfoss. That man was deep into his meditation and he would have time enough to think about love and departure if he decided not to accept the
Nightingale.

Outside the gate leading to Lily’s Garden stands the famous statue of St. Francis Dionysos. The bull head thrusting out from the hood caught the first rays of the sun on its burnished horns. Jon Wilberfoss paused briefly before the statue and nodded to it and then passed through the gate. I followed.

Lily was waiting for us. She closed the gate behind us and then trundled around to the front, withdrawing her dexetels into her canopy with a snap. She spoke aloud for Jon Wilberfoss’s benefit. “Call me Lily. Mmmm. Sleep room for Jon Wilberfoss is ready. Occupy now. Mmmm. You will follow Lily. Now.” She turned on the gravel path with a harsh sound and began to move away.

She did not offer a word of welcome. Lily is a gifted nurse where the sick are concerned but she has few circuits devoted to the social graces. Jon Wilberfoss did not seem to mind. He seemed completely preoccupied, oblivious.

Lily led us around a large wooden screen upon which is written in early Talline hieroglyphs the story of this particular garden.

Gardens such as the one we were now entering are as close as the Tallines ever came to having a church. It is a sacred place filled with earth magic. At its center is a traditional Pectanile.

Ah, the Pectanile. This must be now explained.

I have said already that the Tallines have a nature religion and an earth culture. These two qualities are united in the Pectanile. It is a statue made from a dense white stone quarried at one of the large islands in the North Sea. The whole of the planet is dotted with Pectanile statues and every sacred garden has one. To the Tallines, the Pectanile is a tangible expression of their feeling for life. It is, if you like, a focus of symbolism, and is capable of many interpretations. Most Tallines carry a small Pectanile about their person.

Here, as well as I can describe it to you, is what a Pectanile looks like. Its top is open like the neck of a flask. The sides are gently curved, swelling to resemble buttocks on one side and breasts on the other though they are not depictions of either of these. The main thing to understand is that the shape is organic, like a root or a tuber. Part of its beauty resides in its not being specific. The Pectanile rests on a solid spreading base which usually continues for several feet under the ground.

Standing on the ground in front of the Pectanile and looking up, you will see a cave entrance. This is located between and below the twin nodules which might be testes or breasts. Steps are carved outside the Pectanile and lead inside. It is very easy to climb right up inside a Pectanile. Inside, the opening in the top meets the opening in the bottom in a complex relationship of chambers.

The top opening narrows to a funnel. When there is rain, the water runs down this funnel and drips into a cistern or settling pool. The overflow dribbles out through the cave mouth down a channel cut in the steps. Opposite the pool are twin chambers with a stone bench in each. This is a place of contemplation. Any person who so desires can climb up inside a Pectanile and sit and stare at the water and see the blue sky or the stars reflected.

When the first members of the Gentle Order arrived on Juniper they tried to analyze the Pectanile in an attempt to understand the Talline people. Two main theories came to dominate.

In the first, the Pectanile was seen as a representation of the female Talline body. The cave entrance at the base represented the cunt, the chambers and settling pool
ins
ide it represented the womb and the bulges outside were the breasts. All very coherent. In opposition to this theory, it was pointed out that the Talline female had four breasts and hence the Pectanile could not be a representation of her since it only had two “breasts.”

The second theory maintained that the Pectanile was actually an idealization of the Talline penis, which is, to all intents and purposes, like a human penis. According to this theory, the “breasts” of the female are actually the “bollocks” of the male. The water chamber is the sperm sack. The cave at the base is nothing more than an entrance way.

Nowadays, it is generally accepted that neither theory is correct and that both have elements of truth. To the Tallines of both sexes, the virtue of the Pectanile resides in its not being specifically this or specifically that. It is both specific and other. Ambiguity can be reassuring.

The locating of a Pectanile on the face of the planet is very specific and there is ample evidence to show that the Pectanile were placed first and then a garden developed. I

am told that the surface of this planet flows with lines of energy. Those that can see them liken their appearance to the reflection of ripples in water. A Pectanile is always placed at a focus of these energies and from them it derives its potency. Conversely, a Pectanile stabilizes the energy flow of the planet and keeps it “rubta,” by which they mean healthy.

Well, I Wulf must confess that I do not understand this. If there are such energies about I cannot detect them. I have hovered over many a Pectanile and peered down into its sump. I have even managed to enter some of the larger ones by the lower entrance and have floated up to the level of the pool with my every sensitive instrument at full pitch . . .

Nothing. I have felt nothing. Am I the poorer for that? Or are the humans and Tallines living in a sentimental delusion? That is a question I must leave open. However, such is the Pectanile.

In procession, we followed a path under high trees beside a roughstone wall. Set in the wall were openings like caves. These (now partly ruined) were a section of the garden’s Hall of Sanctuary. Medoc, you may remember, mentioned such. Two Talline women popped their heads out and watched us as we passed. Lily told me later that both women were recovering from illnesses and had chosen to convalesce in a traditional garden close to a Pectanile.

Beyond the Hall of Sanctuary we passed through another gate, which Lily carefully locked behind us, and entered the garden proper. Apart from native species such as the Ptana or Modesty Tree which has thousands of pink cup-like flowers which close into tight clusters of berries whenever anyone approaches, there were masses of roses and poppies and giant beech trees and old Earth myrtle.

Bordering the path that we walked was a low rambling shrub called Katarapa or The Travelers’ Friend. This plant has velvety black flowers which open during the day and turn white and pink when the sun goes down. The flowers and leaves glow in the dark and give off heat! According to stories, travelers have survived frosty nights out in the open by snuggling down among these plants. According to Talline legend, the Katarapa only grows where one of the earth spirits has slept. As we passed, the flowers were gradually turning pale and I could detect their warmth like a glow under ashes.

Lily led us steadily on. We heard the roar of a water-fell, though we could not see it, and a few moments later crossed a wooden bridge over a fast-flowing stream. Morning was advancing and the sun was already warming the earth and casting long shadows. Wraiths of mist moved between the trunks of the trees and twisted by the shrubs.

There were many trees here which are not native either to old Earth or Juniper and which were brought here by one of the early missionaries of St. Francis Dionysos named Daniel Culpepper. There was the giant Builder’s Tree whose wood, once cut, becomes harder and harder as it dries until nails cannot be driven into it. There were groves of the Savior Tree which produces berries which are very fortifying and whose roots contain blisters of water. The berries, eaten in the wrong season, can be addictive, however.

Finally we came to a high stone wall. This was part of the inner wall of the garden. Anchored to it was a small Talline house crafted from a single Drifter egg-case. It was bedded into the soil and its age obviously predated by many centuries the arrival of the Gentle Order. Here Lily paused. “Your retreat place, Jon Wilberfoss,” she said.

Wilberfoss nodded and carried his few belongings into the s
mall
, spotlessly clean cell and began to unpack. I shall describe this room to you in some detail since it was to this very same room that Jon Wilberfoss returned after the destruction of the
Nightingale.

The room epitomized a quality which has been called “Talline poverty.” The walls were of gray/green plaster which had been applied directly onto the shell casing. There were no paintings or wall hangings. One circular window looked out into the garden. With regard to the furnishings, there was nothing more than was strictly required. There was a polished wood table. In addition to the table there was a low bed with a dark green cover of Talline flax. Matching this was an exercise bench of the type found in most Talline houses and which had been adapted to accommodate the size of Jon Wilberfoss. Beside it stood a tall cupboard for storing clothes and spare linen. In a separate alcove were the only examples of human technology: a simple overhead shower and a simple water closet. Relief from this functional austerity was provided by several branches of Musca Lavender which stood in a Talline jar on the polished table. The fragrance softened the air and the color brought life to the drab room. These qualities are in no way diminished if we realize that pragmatic Lily chose these blooms because the perfume drives away flies and the color can tranquilize.