"Why did you make things that die?"
"Why do you work in clay? Sooner or later, all your pots will break."
"I like the material."
"I like life," the Goddess said. "And change."
The next day, Haik helped the actors set up their stage in a warehouse near the docks. Rain still fell. They would not be able to perform outside. The acting company was large: ten women, all from northern towns. Five were full members of the company. Three were apprentices. One was a carpenter; one made the costumes; though both of these last could fill small parts when needed. They all worked together easily. It was Haik who was awkward and needed to be told what to do. "You will learn," said Dapple.
Midway through the morning, she disappeared. "Off to write," said the carpenter. "I could see her thinking. These southerners like rude plays, and that isn’t the kind of thing we usually do, except when we’re down here. You’d think they’d like hero plays; they have plenty of real heroes among them. But no, they want comedy with lots of penises."
Haik could think of nothing to say.
They ate their evening meal in the inn, a light one, since acting should never be done on a full stomach. Then they went back to the warehouse, through still-falling rain. There were lamps on the walls around the stage. The wide, dark space beyond the lamplight was full of people. The air stank of oil, damp fur, and excitement.
"We know our business," said Dapple. "You keep off to the side and watch."
Haik did as told, leaning against a side wall, below a lamp that cast a yellow, flickering glow. Because she rarely thought about her appearance, she did not realize how she looked, her red fur and green eyes shining. Half the women in the audience wanted to have sex with her; half the men wished she were male. How could a woman of her age be so naïve? By thinking too much and living too long in the glum family Tulwar became after the Drowning.
The play was about a sulwith an enormous penis. Dapple played him in an animal mask. The penis, of which he was so proud, was longer than she was and limp, so it dragged on the ground. The sultripped over it often, while he bragged about his masculine power and the lovers he’d had, all men of extraordinary beauty and talent. Once he was established as an irritating braggart, a tliappeared, played by the company’s second actor. The two animals got into a betting contest, and the tliwon the sul’s penis, which struck the audience as funny. Getting it off was a problem, which struck the audience as even funnier. Finally, the sulstormed off, bereft of his male member and vowing revenge.
Now the tlidelivered a soliloquy, while holding the huge limp object. Fine to win, the tlisaid, but he had no use for a penis this large. His own was adequate for his purposes; and the sulwould come back with friends and weapons to reclaim the penis. This was the problem with giving in to irritation. What was he to do? How could he escape the vengeance of the sul?
At this point, Dapple reappeared, wearing a sleek blue mask, the open mouth full of sharp white teeth. She was a pesha,she announced, an early version of this species. She lived in shallow water, paddling and catching fish. She wanted to move into the ocean, but her tail was too small; she needed a new one, able to drive her deep into the water or far out over the waves.
"I have just the thing," said the tli,and showed her the sul’s penis. "We’ll sew this on your backside, and you’ll swim like a fish. But in return for this gift, you must carry me to safety; and once you are able to dive deeply, I wouldn’t mind having some of the treasure that’s sunk in the ocean."
The peshaagreed, and the two animals attached the penis to the back of Dapple’s costume. Then she did a dance of happiness, singing praise of the ocean and her new life.
The other actors joined them with blue and white banners, which mimicked the motion of water, through which Dapple and the tliescaped, dancing and singing.
When everyone was gone, and the stage was bare, Dapple returned as the sul,along with two more sulin. "Foiled!" they cried. "We can’t follow. Your penis is assuredly gone, dear relative. You are not going to be socially popular in the future."
That was the end of the play, except for a final dance, done by the tli,surrounded by the rest of the cast, waving golden banners. These represented the treasure he had gained. As for the grateful pesha,she was happy in her new home, and with luck the penis would not retain any of its old qualities.
The audience stamped their feet and made hooting noises. Clearly, the play had gone over well.
Haik thought, yes, she was certain that things could turn into other things. But not, in all likelihood, a penis into a tail. And change was not a result of trickery, but time.
People came to talk with the main actors. Haik helped the carpenter and costume maker clean up.
"Ettin Taiin," said the carpenter. "I didn’t know he was in town."
"Who?" asked Haik, putting the tlimask in a box.
"The lame man."
She looked around and saw a short fellow limping toward the stage. His fur was grey, turning silver over the shoulders and on the face. One eye was missing; he didn’t bother to wear a patch over the empty socket.
"He is the foremost war captain among the Ettin," the carpenter said. "And they are the most dangerous lineage in this part of the world. Dapple calls his mother ‘great-aunt.’ If you find him scary, as I do, then you ought to meet the old lady!"
There was no way for him to reach Dapple, surrounded by admirers. He greeted the carpenter and the costume maker by name, without glancing at them directly. Good manners, thought Haik.
"Is Cholkwa with you?" asked the costume maker.
"South, among the savages of the Cold Ocean Coast. I sent men with him for protection, in case the savages didn’t like his comedies. May I ask about your companion, or is that rude?"
"We can hardly object to rudeness, after the play we’ve done," said the carpenter.
"I laughed so hard I thought I would lose control of my bladder," said the one-eyed man.
The costume maker said, "This is Tulwar Haik the potter. She’s Dapple’s new lover."
The man lifted his head, apparently in surprise. Haik got a glimpse of his sunken eye socket and the remaining eye, which blazed blue as a noon sky. His pupil had expanded in the dim light and lay across the eye like an iron bar. "The Potter of Strange Animals," he said.
"Yes," said Haik, surprised to be known in this distant place.
"The world is full of coincidences!" the soldier told her. "And this one is pleasant! I bought one of your pots for my mother last year. She can barely see these days, but she likes the texture of it. She especially likes to feel the animals you have used for handles. Birds with clawed hands! What an idea! How can they possibly fly?"
"I don’t think they did–or do," said Haik.
"These birds exist?" asked the soldier.
Haik paused, considering. "I have found their remains."
"You don’t say. The world is full of two things, then: coincidence and strangeness. Considering the Goddess, this can’t be called surprising." He glanced toward Dapple. Most of the admirers had gone. "Excuse me. I want to give her news of Cholkwa. They just missed each other. His ship left two days ago; and I was planning to ride home, having stayed with him till the last ikun. But then I heard that Dapple had arrived."