"It does sound unlikely," Dapple admitted.
"And impious."
"Maybe not that. The Goddess has an odd sense of humor, as almost everyone knows."
"I put strange animals on my pots and make them into toys for Gold and other children. But I will not begin an ugly family argument over religion."
You may think that Haik lacked courage. Remember that she lived in an era before modern science. Yes, there were places where scholars gathered, but none in her part of the world. She’d have to travel long distances and learn a new language, then talk to strangers about concepts of time and change unfamiliar to everyone. Her proof was in the cliffs of Tulwar, which she could not take with her. Do you really think those scholars–people devoted to the study of history, mathematics, literature, chemistry, and medicine–would have believed her? Hardly likely! She had children, a dear lover, a craft, and friends. Why should she cast away all of this? For what? A truth no one was likely to see? Better to stay home or travel along the coast. Better to make pots on her own and love with Dapple.
They reached Hu Town in early summer. The inn’s potted trees bloomed scarlet and sky-blue.
"The Potter of Strange Animals!" cried the innkeeper. "I have bought five of your pots for my trees."
Indeed, the woman had. Haik wandered around the courtyard, admiring her own work. Four were the kind she’d made when she first returned from the south, decorated with scratches and glazed white or black. The fifth had an underwater scene, done in low relief. Beaked fish swam around the top. Below them, rising from the bottom of the pot, were long sinuous plants. Haik had named them "ocean whips." It was possible that they were animals; once or twice she had found shadows that might be mouths with teeth. Between the plants (or animals) were segmented bugs. The glaze was dark blue with touches of white.
"This is more recent," Haik said.
"I bought it because you are the Potter of Strange Animals. But I prefer the other pots. They set off my trees."
Who can argue opinions about art, especially with someone who has bought five large pots?
Dapple’s company was at the inn, having arrived several days before. Haik knew all of them, except the apprentices. For a while, they traveled through the little coastal towns of Hu, Tesh, and Ta-tesh, performing comedies and now and then a tragedy. These last were a surprise to Haik, especially the tragedies about women. They were so subdued! Instead of tumbling and rude jokes, there were small gestures, turned heads, a few words spoken quietly. The actors wore plain robes in sober colors; their faces were unmasked; most of the time, the music came from a single flute. Its sound reminded Haik of a thread floating on moving water, coiling and uncoiling in the current.
"It’s my observation that women suffer as much as men," said Dapple in explanation. "But we are expected to be solid and enduring. As a result, our suffering is quiet. I’m trying to show it in the way it happens. Hah! I am tired of loud, rude comedies! And loud, sad plays about the suffering of men!"
At last, in far southern Tesh, they turned inland, traveling without merchants. The borders between Ettin and its eastern neighbors were all quiet. The various families had been allies and breeding partners for generations; and none tolerated criminal behavior. By now, it was late summer. The plain baked under a sun like polished brass. The Ettin hills were hot and dusty. When they reached Hattali’s house, it was with relief. Household women greeted them. Men took their tsinaand the packs of props and costumes. Their rooms opened on a courtyard with two bathing pools. The water in one was colorless and cold. The other bubbled, bright green. The entire acting company stripped and climbed in. What a pleasure! Though both pools were crowded. Well, thought Haik, she’d take a slow bath later, soaking the travel aches from her muscles and bones.
When they were done and in fresh clothes, a woman came for Dapple and Haik. "Ettin Taiin wants you to join his mother."
"Of course," said Dapple.
They went through shadowy halls, silent except for birds calling in the house’s eaves. They sounded like water running over stones. The woman said, "Thirty days ago, Hattali fell. She seemed unharmed, except for damage to one foot. It drags a little now. But since the fall she’s been preoccupied and unwilling to do much, except sit and talk with Taiin. We fear her great strength is coming to an end."
"It can’t be!" said Dapple.
"You know about old age and death. We’ve seen them in your plays." Saying this, the woman opened a door.
Outside was a terrace, lit by the afternoon sun. Hattali sat in a high-backed chair, leaning against the back, her eyes closed. How old she looked! How thin and frail! Her warrior son sat next to her on a stool, holding one of his mother’s hands. He looked at them, laid Hattali’s hand gently in her lap and rose. "Cholkwa is in the north. I’m glad to see you, Dapple."
They sat down. Hattali opened her eyes, obviously seeing nothing. "Who has come, Tai?"
"Dapple and her lover, the potter."
The old lady smiled. "One last play."
"A play, yes," said Dapple. "But not the last, I hope."
A look of irritation crossed Hattali’s face. "Did the potter bring pots?"
Haik excused herself and went to find her pack. Now she understood the house’s quiet. Most likely, the children had been sent out to play; and the adults–she passed a few in the halls–moved softly and gravely. A matriarch like Hattali, a woman with so much dignity, should not be bothered with noise, while deciding whether to live or die.
When Haik returned to the terrace, Hattali seemed asleep. But the old woman took the pot Haik put in her hands, feeling it with bony fingers. "What is it?"
"There’s a skull on top, a replica of one I found in stone."
"It’s shaped like a tliskull," Hattali said.
"A bit, but the teeth are different. I imagine from the teeth that the animal had scales, not hair."
Hattali exhaled and felt more. "On the sides of the pot?"
"The animal as I imagine it must have been, when alive. I found the skull first and made a pot that Dapple bought. But now I have found the entire animal, and it wasn’t the way I showed it on the first pot. So I made this."
"The animals are in relief?"
"Yes."
"What do they look like, if not tli?"
Haik thought. "An animal about as long as my arm, four legged with a tail. Spines protrude along the back, as if the animal had a fin there like a fish. That was the thing I did not imagine: the spines. And the tail is different also, flat from side to side, like the tail of a fish."
"What color is the glaze?"
"Black, except the skull, which is white."
"Tai," said the old woman.
"Mother?"
"Is it beautiful?"
"She is the Potter of Strange Animals. The pot is strange, but well made."
"I want it for my ashes."
"You will have it," he said.
She gave her son the pot. He turned it in his blunt, strong-looking hands. Hattali turned her blind face toward Haik. "You must still believe your crazy idea, that we are descended from bugs."
"That the world is old and full of change, yes," said Haik.
"Sit down and tell me about it again."
Haik obeyed. The old woman listened as she explained about beauty, death, and change.
"Well, we have certainly improved our lineage through careful breeding," said Hattali finally. "The child your kinsman fathered on Sai is a fine little girl. We hope she’ll be as clever as you are, though I’m still not certain about your idea of time and change. Why didn’t the Goddess simply make people? Why start with bugs?"