What did it mean? Would it leave him changed? In what way? Who would he be when it was over?
And then it was over; gone as quickly as it had come. Around him the copperdove still sang, and the cricket harmonized. He took deep breaths and closed his eyes, trying to burn the experience into his memory so he’d be able to taste it again. What would Mae and Pae say? And Coral? Polyi wouldn’t believe him, but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if anyone believed him. In fact, he wouldn’t tell them; he wouldn’t even tell Master Wag. This was his own, and he’d keep it that way, because he understood one thing—he could leave if he wanted to.
Although he’d never thought about it before, he understood it with every sense of his body; he had the choice of the life of a physicker in Smallcliff, or something unknown in the world outside. Which would he choose? And when?
He sat and wondered. Presently, the chill of early autumn made him shiver, and he went back inside.
Her name was Rocza, and sometimes she even answered to it.
As she flew upward, broke through the overcast, and began to breathe again, the sky turned blue—a full, livid, dancing blue, spotted with white and grey, as on the ground below were spots of other colors, and to her there was little to choose among them. The dots above were pushed about by the wind; those below by, no doubt, something much like the wind but perhaps more difficult to recognize.
She was not pushed by the wind, and neither did it carry her; rather, she slipped around it, and through it. It is said that sailors never mock the sea, yet she mocked the winds.
Her lover was calling to her from below, and it was that strange call, the call that in all the years she had never understood. It was not food, nor danger, nor mating, although it bore a similarity to all of these; it was another call entirely, a call that meant her lover wanted them to do something for the Provider. She didn’t understand what bound her lover to the Provider, but bound he was, and he seemed to want it that way. It made no sense to her.
But she responded, because he had called, and because he always responded when she called. The concept of fair play did not enter her brain, yet something very much akin whispered through her thoughts as she spun, held her breath, and sliced back through the overcast, sneering at an updraft and a swirl that she did not need. Her lover waited, and his eyes gleamed in that secret way.
She saw the Provider before she scented him, but she wasn’t aware of seeing, hearing, or smelling her lover; she simply knew where he was, and so they matched, and descended, and cupped the air together to land near the short, stubby, soft neck of the Provider, and await his wishes, to which they would give full attention and at least some consideration.
I will not many a serving man,
I will not marry a serving man.
All that work I could not stand.
Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!
Step on out ...
The next day was Endweek, which Savn spent at home, making soap and using it up, as he wryly put it to himself, but he took a certain satisfaction in seeing that the win-dowsill and the kitchen jars sparkled in the blaze of the open stove, and the cast-iron pump over the sink gave off its dull gleam. As he cleaned, his thoughts kept returning to the experience of the night before; yet the more he thought of it, the more it slipped away from him. Something had certainly happened. Why didn’t he feel different?
He gradually realized that he did—that, as he cleaned, he kept thinking, This may be one of the last times I do this. These thoughts both excited and frightened him, until he realized that he was becoming too distracted to do a good job, whereupon he did his best to put it entirely out of his mind and just concentrate on his work.
By the time he was finished, the entire cold-cellar had new ratkill and bugkill spells on it, the newer meal in the larder had been shuffled to the back, the new preserves in their pots had been stacked beneath the old, and everything was ready for the storebought they’d be returning with in the evening. His sister worked on the hearthroom, while Mae did the outside of the house and Pae cleaned the sleeping room and the loft.
His work was done by the fourteenth hour of the morning, and everyone else’s within half an hour thereafter, so that shortly before noon they had a quick lunch of maize-bread and yellow pepper soup, after which they hitched Gleena and Ticky up to the wagon and set off for town. They always made the necessary stops in the same order, generally spiraling in toward Tern’s house where they would have the one bought meal of the week, along with ale for Mae, Pae, and, lately, Savn, and beetwater for Polyi while they listened to the farmers argue about whether the slight dry spell would mean lower yields and poorer crops, or would, in fact, tend to make the flax hardier in the long run. Those of Savn’s age would join in, listen, and occasionally make jokes calculated to make them appear clever to their elders or to those their own age of the desired sex, except for those who were apprenticed to trade, who would sit by themselves in a corner exchanging stories of what their Masters had put them through that week. Savn had his friends among this group.
The first two stops (the livery stable for the feed supplements, and the yarner for fresh bolts of linen) went as usual—they bought the feed supplements and didn’t buy any linen, although Savn fingered a yarn-dyed pattern of sharply angled red and white lines against a dark green fabric, while Mae and Pae chatted with Threader about how His Lordship was staying in his manor house near Smallcliff, and Polyi looked bored. Savn knew without asking that the fabric would be too expensive to buy, and after a while they left, Mae complimenting Threader on the linen and saying they’d maybe buy something if His Lordship left them enough of the harvest.
They skipped the ceramics shop, which they often did, though as usual they drove by; Savn wasn’t sure if it was from habit or just to wave at Pots, and he never thought to ask. By the time they pulled away from Hider’s place, where they got a piece of leather for Gleena’s girth-strap, which was wearing out, it was past the third hour after noon and they were in sight of both the dry goods store and Tern’s house.
There was a large crowd outside Tern’s.
Mae, who was driving, stopped the cart and frowned. “Should we see what it is?”
“They seem to be gathered around a cart,” said Pae.
Mae stared for a moment longer, then clicked the team closer.
“There’s Master Wag,” said Polyi, glancing at Savn as if he would be able to provide an explanation.
They got a little closer, finally stopping some twenty feet down the narrow street from the crowd and the cart. Savn and Polyi stood up and craned their necks.
“It’s a dead man,” said Savn in an awed whisper.
“He’s right,” said Pae.
“Come along,” said Mae. “We don’t need to be here.”
“But, Mae—” said Polyi.
“Hush now,” said Pae. “Your mother is right. There’s nothing we can do for the poor fellow, anyway.”
Polyi said, “Don’t you want to know—”
“We’ll hear everything later, no doubt,” said Mae. “More than we want to or need to, I’m sure. Now we need to pick up some nails.”
As they began to move, Master Wag’s eyes fell on them like a lance. “Wait a moment, Mae,” said Savn. “Master Wag—”