He posed Opaline in the center of the stage, then stood to the side facing her and sang.
Opaline hung her head, for the moment feeling the dejection the song described.
Hayseed approached her and gently embraced her as he sang. "True love don't weep, true love don't mourn..."
But she did weep, for it was a song of departure. The village girls wept too, loving it.
Hayseed finished, kissed her half chastely, half passionately—somehow he made it work—and walked away, leaving her abject. The song and the presentation were over.
Then the village girls thronged to worship the minstrel in the guise of bidding parting for the night. They were young but eager, and a number were lovely, making Opaline aware how relatively plain she was.
Yet several village boys approached her. "You were great!" one said. "No fault?"
Opaline stared at him, her blush burning her face. No one had ever propositioned her before. Not even Hayseed's demonstration of what he wouldn't do with her had quite prepared her for this.
A girl grabbed the boy's arm, yanking him away. "Apology for my brother," she said. "He has no manners."
"Acceptance," Opaline said faintly. Then, lest there be confusion. "Of the apology." But her blush continued unabated.
Several boys laughed. "Of course," another said. "But it is true you did well. We all wanted to comfort you, on stage."
"Appreciation." Gradually she was coming to believe it: she was a success.
Hayseed came to take her arm. "Don't mob my little sister," he said to the boys. "She is innocent."
"We noticed," another said, and they all laughed. But it was sympathy, not ridicule. They dispersed.
Now the Village Elder approached Hayseed. "I fear I have committed a breach of etiquette," he said. "I did not recognize you."
"Negation. I am just a traveling minstrel who likes trees," Hayseed said firmly as he looked the man in the eye.
"Conducting my sister to Triumph City."
"Just so," the Elder agreed, seeming to be taken aback. "We sincerely appreciate your art. Had I realized—"
"Needless." Hayseed guided Opaline to their house.
"Confusion," she said once they were alone. She was preparing supper for them from the fruits and breads provided in the larder. In this, at least, she felt competent. "Did the Elder recognize you from somewhere?"
"Minstrels travel widely. I don't believe I have entertained here before, but he might have seen me elsewhere."
She wasn't quite satisfied with that, but attributed it to the larger mystery of this remarkable man. "That first song—"
"Did I disappoint you?"
"Negation!" Then, embarrassed by her own vehemence, she shifted the subject. "Of course it is nonsense. No woman would be deceived about the direction of the rising of Vivid, let alone Void, and why did you refer to it as the sun? That proves the song is not local."
"The Sun is of Earth," he agreed. "So is the song. For a thousand years we have clung to our mother culture, though for most of that time we were out of touch. It is human nature to value our ancestors, whether they are people or customs or songs. Much of the value of the song is that it invokes the memory of Earth. So none of the songs refer to Vivid or Void. Earth does not have a binary system of a star and a black hole."
She served the meal, liking the idea of catering to him in the manner of a woman to a man. "I have no experience, but you made me feel like that lost girl."
"It is the art of the minstrel. I could have made a rock seem like a lost girl, and you are far more than that."
"And when you kissed me—" She broke off, flushing again. She was coming to a decision. "Is it possible to change from one mode of no fault to another?"
"It is possible, but not feasible in this instance."
"Confusion. After that song—" Again she could not finish. Her feelings were tangled, but she was strongly attracted to him.
"Explanation," he said firmly. "There are men who might agree to travel with a winsome girl as brother, then trick her into changing the mode so they could seduce her. The emotion of the moment can cause a person to do something she might later regret. So the original oath must govern. I am your oath brother, no fault, and I will not let any man seduce you, even myself, lest I abridge that oath. The sanctity of my oath is of greater importance than any casual tryst."
"But—but if the girl understood, and still were willing?" She hated the blush she was showing.
"It is inviolate. Incest is not allowed."
He was telling her no, yet she could not let it go. "A journey might end at a village, and a new one, with a new oath, commence on another day."
He gazed at her. "Observation: I think I should not have kissed you."
"Confession: It wasn't just the kiss."
"Awkwardness: you are a young impressionable girl. I am an experienced man. In matters of this venue, this is a mismatch. I very much wish not to hurt your feelings, but the oath must govern."
"I'm a child. And of course you are married to the planet's most beautiful woman." Now the tears were overflowing. She had humiliated herself for nothing.
He considered. "You are appealing enough, and no child. Deaclass="underline" after I deliver you to Triumph City, and you need to travel again, it could be phrased as a new journey."
For an instant her heart fluttered. Then reality returned. "Is this assignment—this young man with the talent—beyond Triumph City?"
"Negation. Triumph City is our official destination, because the location of this man must not be publicly known. It is a deception necessary for others, not for ourselves."
"Then the deal is false."
He smiled warily. "I think I am running afoul of that persistence again. You are correct: I tried to put you off. My intention was honorable. The appearance of my wife is irrelevant; I would be delighted to love you all night. But I must not. Sincere regret."
She saw it was hopeless. She had been foolish even to broach the subject. "Apology," she said, turning away to mop up her tears.
"Apology mine, not yours," he said. Suddenly he was by her side, holding her close.
He was comforting her as a brother would. She turned into him and defiantly kissed him hard on the mouth. Then she pulled away and went to lie face down on the bed, sobbing.
He sat beside her, his hand touching her shaking shoulder. "Deaclass="underline" on another day I will tell you more of the truth. If you still wish to change status thereafter, I will do it."
She had to respond to this. "Why should I not wish to? Are you a frog emulating a prince?"
"Something like that."
He thought that if she knew him better, she would not want to clasp him. That was intriguing. "Deal," she agreed.
"You are tired. I should have let you rest before this. Let me help you."
"Question?"
He rolled her over with that uncanny strength. He put his hands on her legs, massaging them. The tightness just seemed to flow away. "Thus," he murmured.
He did all of her legs, from feet to upper thighs. She knew he was getting to see everything under her skirt, but he gave no indication. He was indeed helping her.
"Gratitude," she said as he finished. Then, still somewhat physically and emotionally fatigued, she slept.
In the morning she found him up and about, making breakfast. "Dismay! I should be doing that!"
"Negation. You need your rest. We have far to go."
Her legs were slightly stiff from the amount of walking they had done the day before, though much better off than they would have been without his massage. She was not properly acclimatized to this. "Appreciation." Yet part of her wished he had lost control and joined her on the bed in another manner. He must have slept on the floor. "I would have been softer than the floor." Had she just said that?