Storyteller

by Amy Thomson

He heard her murmur, "Oh Samad," and sigh sadly, and then she quietly tiptoed out of the room. He waited a few minutes and then got up to follow her. She wasn't in her room. He heard voices downstairs and crept toward the sound. Halfway down the darkened staircase, he saw her seated at the kitchen table with Ser and Sera Karelli. He crouched down in the shadows and watched them talk.

  "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Sera Karelli asked.

  Teller shook her head and nervously smoothed her hair back into its bun. "I have to, Athena," she said and sighed. "I love Samad too much to subject him to the kind of life I lead. He'd be traveling most of the year, sleeping in strange places, eating strange food, and learning only what I can teach him. He'd have no family, not much of a home, and al­most no friends his own age. I'd hesitate to ask another adult to share a life like mine, much less a child. And I'm too set in my ways to settle down."

  "When are you going to talk to Samad about this?" Ser Karelli asked.

  Teller shrugged and looked away, her face pained. She looked very old all of a sudden. "I don't know."

  "You're going to have to talk to him," Sera Karelli insisted.

  "I know, I know," Teller replied, "but I don't know what to say." She shook her head. "My whole life depends on talk­ing, on telling stories, but I don't know how to talk to him about this." She was silent, head hanging, thinking.

  "Maybe if he stayed with you for a couple of weeks while I went away, he'd decide on his own that he wanted to live with you," Teller suggested.

  The Karellis looked at each other and then down' at the table. They looked awkward and uncomfortable.

  Sera Karelli's eyes met Teller's. "You know Samad best. Is that what he'd want you to do?"

  Teller shrugged. "If I told him now that I wanted him to live with you, he'd get angry and dig in his heels. But if the notion came to him on his own, then maybe it would work."

  "But what if Samad decides he doesn't want us to adopt him?" Ser Karelli asked Teller.

  "I don't know," Teller said. "I guess I'd have to find an­other family." She sighed heavily again. "I hope he decides

  to stay with you. You're such wonderful people. I know you'd love Samad and take good care of him." She rubbed her eyes. "It's late. Let's talk more about this tomorrow."

  "Good night Teller," Samad heard Sera Karelli say as he slipped back up the stairs to his room, his head and heart heavy with what he had just heard.

  He climbed into bed and tried to make plans, but his mind was too muddled to think about the future. Finally, he slipped into a sleep troubled by uncertain dreams of people leaving him behind, while he grew smaller and smaller, un­til he was a tiny baby unable to do more than sit there and scream in enraged protest.

  He spent most of the next two days in a state of shock, fragments of the overheard conversation between Teller and the Karellis cycling over and over through his mind.

  A few nights later, Teller sat down beside him and gently explained that she had to leave town on business for a couple of weeks. Would he mind staying with the Karellis while she was gone?

  Faced with Teller's departure, Samad discovered a sudden resolve. Whenever Teller left, wherever it was that she was going, he was going, too. He would show her that he could keep up with her, that he didn't mind cold or rain or no money. Besides, she needed someone to look after her. Hadn't he been helpful on the trip here? Hadn't he helped her make more money when she was telling stories in Melilla?

  But if he protested now, she wouldn't let him go. So, hes­itantly, he agreed to let her go, making her promise to come back soon.

  In the end, it was easy. Teller left two days later, just after breakfast. After saying good-bye, Samad retired to his room, saying he wanted to read. Once alone, he swiftly crammed a few remaining items into his waiting knapsack. Then he climbed out his window and dropped to the ground. He

  slipped out the back gate into the alley. From there it was just a few steps to the street and freedom.

  Samad ran down the street in the direction Teller had gone. He soon spotted her. Teller's head was bowed, and she walked as though her pack weighed a couple of hundred ki­los. This time of day, the streets were quiet, and it was easy to follow her from a distance. Samad walked on the other side of the street, keeping trees and bushes and parked jit­neys between him and the storyteller as much as possible. But Teller only looked back once. Fortunately, he was hid­ing behind a small truck, and she didn't see him.

  Teller walked past the bustle of Nueva Ebiza's main port to a long, low, empty dock in a quiet part of the harbor. Samad watched as Teller walked to the end of the long pier and sat down. Taking off her shoes, she put her feet in the water and sat looking out at the harbor. Samad managed to sneak out to a big equipment locker halfway out the dock. He peered out from behind the locker, wondering what would happen next.

  Teller pulled her feet out of the water after about five minutes. She dried her feet on an old towel and warmed them under her skirt for a while before putting her socks and shoes back on. She sat there, patiently waiting for about ten minutes. Suddenly, Teller sat up and looked intently at a spot in the water about twenty meters from the end of the pier. Samad felt a prickly sensation as though someone was watching him. He looked behind him, but no one was there.

  Then the patch of water began to boil and surge. Some­thing broad and darkly purple emerged. The water ex­ploded into a brilliant halo of spray as a tall, triangular sail unfurled with a wet, billowing sound. Samad gaped in amazement. It was a harsel, the biggest one he had ever seen.

  Like every child on Thalassa, Samad had dreamed of be­coming a har captain. He had watched in rapt delight whenever one of the mysterious great fish sailed into Melilla's harbor. Like the other children, he had followed the harsels' captains as they walked through the town. He had clustered shyly with the other kids at the entrance to the pier as the harsels were loaded and unloaded.

  But the huge creature gliding toward Teller dwarfed every harsel he had ever seen. Its translucent pink and laven­der sail looked like a slice of the dawn sky. Samad watched openmouthed as the harsel glided to a stop at Teller's feet. The towering sail furled as neatly as a seabird's wing into a long hollow on its back. Water rushed from its cavernous hold as it opened its back to admit the storyteller.

  Samad glanced back, expecting a crowd of watchers, but the quiet pier remained deserted. The gawkers and idlers were over at the main port.

  "Hello, Abeha," Teller said out loud as she stepped onto the creature's broad back. "That wasn't a very subtle appear­ance, was it?"

  Samad felt a faint pressure in his mind. He had felt simi­lar flickers of presence when the harsels docked at Melilla but had dismissed it as imagination. Now he realized that it was the harsel mind-speaking to Teller. Samad strained his inward ear, but he couldn't make out any words, only a deep feeling of love and concern emanating from the harsel to Teller.

  What was going on? Why hadn't Teller mentioned the harsel? Where were they going, and why? How could he follow Teller now? The great beast would surely notice him if he tried to sneak aboard, and then it would alert Teller. Panic swept through Samad at the thought of being left be­hind. What was he going to do?

  Just then, Teller emerged from the gaping hold of the

  harsel. Samad ducked behind the equipment locker as she strode up the dock, her brow furrowed in thought. She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she didn't notice Samad, though he could have touched her as she strode past. He watched Teller head for the distant offices of the port.

  Then Samad felt the harsel's presence focus on him. He shrank against the locker. The harsel radiated reassurance.

  "Wh-what do you want?" Samad asked, frightened de­spite the harsel's attempt to calm him.

  "it's all right, come closer," the harsel said in his head, "I just want to look at you."

  Fighting his fear, Samad crept to the end of the dock. The harsel rolled on his side. One great eye, the size of a saucer, e
merged from the water and focused on him. This close, Samad could smell the huge creature. It was a pleas­antly marine smell tinged with lemon and a hint of some elusive spice. Samad's heart pounded with excitement. He had never dared to come so close to one of the huge creatures before.

  "my name is abeha. sit down, put your feet in the water, don't worry, I won't bite." The harsel's deep, bell-toned voice felt faint and distant, but Samad could sense an undertone of gentle amusement in the creature's mental voice.

  Trembling, Samad took off his shoes and socks, pulled up his new wool pants, and put his feet in the chilly water. "Like this?" he asked out loud.

  "yes. that's much better," the harsel said, his mental voice suddenly sharper and easier to understand, "I can hear you clearly now." The giant eye regarded him closely, "who are you, and what do you want with

  TELLER?"

  Slowly at first, Samad told the harsel how he had met Teller. By the time he got to Teller's plan to leave him with

  the Karellis, he was talking to the harsel as though the giant fish were an old and trusted friend. Then he finished the tale and felt suddenly afraid. What would the harsel do now?

  "take a deep breath, close your eyes, relax, let me look inside you," the harsel coaxed.

  Samad hesitated, afraid of letting the harsel probe deeper. But he had to convince the harsel that he needed Teller and Teller needed him. He pushed aside his fear, closed his eyes, and opened his mind to the giant creature. Despite its great size, the harsel's presence was gentle and deft. Suddenly the harsel's examination was over. Samad swayed forward as though a support had given way. He clutched at a bollard to steady himself.

  "all right, you can come with us. but you must do exactly this." And in Samad's mind the harsel's plan ap­peared wordless and entire.' Immediately, he grabbed his shoes and ran up the pier toward the warehouses.

  As the boy ran off, Abeha rolled ponderously upright again. If Samad proved to be all he seemed, he might be the solution to their problems. The harsel reached mentally shoreward, reassuring himself that he had seen what he had thought he'd seen, but already the running boy was too far for the harsel to feel more than a faint sense of urgency and hope, fading as fast as an underwater sunset. If his plan worked, there would be time to learn more about the boy. The harsel submerged, waiting for Teller's return.

  Samad pelted down the dock and into the maze of ware­houses, following Abeha's mental image of the harbor, learned, no doubt, from Teller herself. He found the right warehouse and crept cautiously inside. There, high up in the scaffolding among the small boats in dry dock, was the harsel's crew pod. He clambered up the wooden scaffolding to the crew pod, punched in the entry code, and climbed in, shutting the door behind him. Guided by the harsel's mental map, Samad felt his way through the pitch-black pod until he reached the forward storage bay and climbed inside. Then the harsel's instructions and guidance left him, and he was alone in the dark.

  Samad settled himself inside a large coil of rope and pulled a tarp over himself. A few minutes later, he heard the distant rumble of the lifting crane. Muffled voices shouted directions in the familiar Nueva Ebizan polyglot of Spanish, Arabic, and Greek. There was a series of loud clunks and clanks as the pod was lifted out of its cradle. Samad clung to the shifting coil of rope as the pod was eased out of the stor­age bay.

  The pod was lowered onto something. With a shudder­ing jar and the deep, throaty rumble of a powerful engine, the crew pod began moving again, now on some sort of car­rier. Samad settled more deeply into the cushioning coil of rope and hung on as the carrier bumped and lurched along.

  The rumble of the carrier stopped. A few minutes later, the pod was lifted into the air. He heard Teller's anxious voice shouting orders, and wondered if he could trust Abeha. What would Teller do when she discovered he was aboard?

  The pod descended. Samad felt and heard the crew push­ing the pod into place. Underneath the muffled voices shouting orders and the creaks and thumps as the crew pod was eased into place, Samad heard another sound, a sort of steady three-beat rumble, like a huge, waltzing engine. Samad wondered what it was.

  "that's the sound of my hearts beating," the harsel informed him. Samad jumped at the sudden presence of the harsel in his mind. He felt the harsel's amusement, like a cas­cade of ringing bells, and then a quiet chord of reassurance.

  There was a loud clanking of tackle, and the pod seemed to settle. Then the walls of the crew pod creaked, and the

  waltzing rumble of the harsel's hearts grew louder. A fan started to throb somewhere in the pod, and Samad smelled the marine scent of the harsel.

  "I'VE JUST CLAMPED THE WALLS OF MY HOLD ONTO THE

  crew pod," Abeha informed him. "teller will be com­ing ABOARD IN A FEW MINUTES. SHE'LL RESTOCK HER

  stores, and then we'll set sail." There was a note of impatient yearning in the harsel's mind speech. Abeha was eager to be at sea with Teller.

  Covered by the tarp, Samad listened as Teller moved around the cabin, opening and shutting doors. His heart pounded each time he heard her go past the door.

  Samad felt a faint pressure in his mind as the harsel spoke to Teller. Again he strained, but he couldn't make out their words. There was no way he could tell whether Abeha had told Teller of his presence. He could only sit there in the darkness, trusting that the harsel would keep his secret.

  Then he felt the harsel move. There was a distant billow­ing and a muffled thump. Briefly, the beat of the harsel's hearts grew faster and louder. Water burbled smoothly along the great creature's sides, and the deck tilted gently to one side as the wind filled the harsel's sail. Samad could feel a slow, swaying rise and fall as Abeha sailed out into the harbor.

  "we're on our way!" the harsel announced, its mental voice like a peal of bells.

  Samad relaxed. After days of panic, worry, and fear, he was with Teller. But now that he had achieved his goal, new questions surfaced. Why had Teller never mentioned Abeha? Why was Teller traveling as an itinerant storyteller when she was a prosperous har captain? Why was she trudg­ing through the rain and snow, looking for places to tell sto­ries, when she surely had a fancy house somewhere and

  metal in the bank? He puzzled over the mystery without finding any solution that made sense. At last, lulled by the gentle rocking sway of the harsel, he fell asleep, his ques­tions unanswered.

  CHAPTER 4

  TELLER CLOSED THE FOOD LOCKER, A PUZZLED frown on her face. Food was disappearing. She pored over her stores log, shaking her head in dismay. It wasn't re­ally a big problem, she had more than enough for the four-day trip, but it bothered her. Perhaps one of the stevedores could have pocketed the braefish and the canned peaches, but the four jars of Amariah's cinnamon crab apples had been in a locked cabinet.

  The obvious explanation was some kind of stowaway, but Abeha would never have allowed a stranger on board. For a terrifying moment, Teller wondered if her memory was giv­ing way. But noting what she used in her stores log was an old habit, and she would have to be deeply senile before she would forget to do it.

  No, there must be another explanation. The jars must have been taken when they were in port. But why take food

  from a locked crew pod when there were so many easier places to get it?

  Teller slapped the logbook back on its shelf irritably. This was a peculiar voyage all around. She kept hearing strange bumps and thuds. At first she had suspected that something was loose, but the sea wasn't running high, and the sound was irregular, vanishing almost as soon as she no­ticed it. Abeha also seemed strangely preoccupied, which made her miss Samad even more. She continually caught herself wondering how the boy was doing.

  Well, he was with the Karellis now. She would just have to get used to missing him. She slammed the locker shut and climbed out of the crew pod to sit on the harsel's broad back. There was no point in fretting over it. Sooner or later the answer to the mystery of the missing stores would pres­ent itself. Or not. She had plenty of food for the four-
day trip to Ischia. She gave herself up to the sun and the wind and the broad blue sea.

  Teller was just settling into sleep when she heard a door click quietly open.

  "Lights on!" she shouted, and the lights blinked on to re­veal Samad standing frozen in front of the door to the head. He stood there a moment and then dove into the forward storage bay. The door swung shut behind him as the harsel breasted a swell.

  Teller opened the door to the storage bay. Samad was hid­ing under a pile of canvas that had been unfolded and used for bedding. A bucket neatly filled with empty jars and cans was wedged into one corner. She recognized Amariah's handwriting on one of the empty jars of crab apples.

  "Samad! What are you doing here!" she demanded. "And how in hell did you get on board?"

  "I wanted to come with you!" he told her. "I won't be a burden, I promise!"

  Teller sighed. "Come on out, Samad," she said wearily.

  "You promise not to make me go back to the Karellis or Melilla?" he demanded.

  "Samad, you can come out like a grown-up, or I can drag you out like a small child. Those are your choices right now."

  Samad cautiously emerged from behind the pile of canvas and stepped out into the cabin. To give herself time to think, Teller made them both hot chocolate.

  She set the two mugs on the galley table and sat down across from him.

  "How did you get on board, Samad?" she asked.

  Samad shook his head and looked down at the table. The shine in his eyes threatened to overflow and become tears. "I can't tell you that," he replied.

  "Oh for pity's sake, Samad, it was Abeha, wasn't it?"

  Samad shook his head again. "I can't tell you," he repeated.

  Teller looked up at the ceiling. "Hey, Abeha, did you let this kid on board?" she shouted.

  There was a long, pregnant silence.

  "yes," the harsel replied in a tiny voice.

  The huge harsel sounded so shamefaced and abashed that Teller laughed out loud. Samad smiled, too, which surprised her more than it should have. He must be able to mind-speak with the harsel. How else could he have talked his way aboard?