by Amy Thomson
helped him grow from apprentice to master. She had never seen him perform Roxana and Paoli, or any of his other masterworks. She had never known or accepted the fact that he loved men.
But this Teller had also missed the failure of her rejuve. She had not been hurt by his desire to become a Jump pilot. She had missed the slow, painful decline of the last decade of her life. She had not had to endure her memory loss or the slow choking of the pneumonia that finally took her. Perhaps she had been more fortunate than the real Teller had been.
"No, Samad," Teller replied with a deep sadness. "I would have lived through so much more than those miseries if I could have seen you grow into the fine man you've become. But it isn't all bad. You can experience my memories directly. You could see Thalassa as it was before colonization. Would you like that?"
"Yes, I would," Samad said.
"Here you are!"
And suddenly he was in the midst of Teller's memories. Her childhood and her piloting career were a blurry montage of emotions. But Teller's memories became suddenly sharper when a huge creature lifted her out of the depths where she was drowning, back into the air. Samad felt Teller's terror and her anguish at not being able to die. He felt the deep wound that the loss of her Talent had left in her spirit. Then he shared her dawning wonder at the harsel. He experienced her early years of discovery, seeing a new world for the first time. He shared her joy and fear at the arrival of the human colonists, then watched as she joined them.
Centuries passed, months and years both bright and dark. He saw Thalassa grow and change through her eyes. There were the years of struggle, as the colony gained its first foothold, and Teller's delight in performing her anonymous good deeds. Then her years with her husband Stephano, watching their children grow and start families of their own.
Then came the shattering loss of her family and the solitary years of grieving that followed. Samad shared her reunion with Barbara and her grandchildren and watched as she and her daughter founded the Guild. The memories scrolled past, joys and sorrows, change and stability.
Then Teller unfolded her memories of him, first as a wary, painfully scrawny runaway, then as the determined child who clung to her like a burr, refusing to accept any other parents. How he had blossomed when Teller finally accepted him. He experienced her yearning to do well as a parent. He felt her shame when she leaned on him for support and the times she spent trying to drown her misery in alcohol. Remembering, Samad felt Teller's pain, and his own as well.
But he also felt how very much Teller loved him. And all the memories associated with that. There was the pleasure of seeing his face light up when he learned something new, and her pride in his skill. And her gratitude for the quiet way he had of helping her during her rough times. But many of Teller's most powerful memories were very simple. Watching him read, his head bent over a book. And the sight of him sleeping. He had looked so young and vulnerable then. It was not at all how he remembered himself.
"Of course not. This is how I remember you. But now it's Abeha's turn. I will be here whenever you need me, Samad."
And then Teller faded away, and he was reliving Abeha's memories. He shared Abeha's memories of being a harling, and then an adult. He experienced her training as a mindsinger. Then he felt the shock of the shuttle landing, and shared her wonder at encountering Teller's alien mind. He saw Teller's wondrous awareness begin to dim as she drowned. Abeha's immense curiosity would not let Teller extinguish herself. The harsel used every shred of her skills as a mindsinger to rebuild Teller's will to live, in order to preserve this alien creature's strange insights.
Abeha's curiosity about Teller quickly flowered into a partnership of profound depth and intensity. It was a partnership that grew and changed over the centuries, each learning from the other.
But as she grew older, Abeha's desire to become a mother became very strong. She had held back on her desire out of love for Teller, but soon she would have to act. It was then that Samad came into their lives. At first, Abeha only wanted Samad because she thought that it might help Teller accept Abeha's need to become female, but as time passed, Abeha came to love Samad deeply. It pained the harsel deeply to cause Samad pain, but she could not wait any longer to pass along her memories.
Samad shared Abeha's mating, and felt her pride at the huge clutch of harlings growing inside her. He felt Abeha's growing weakness as her body destroyed itself in order to feed her increasingly hungry brood. The harsel's memories of her last days were indistinct, seen through a haze of pain and mindsong. Samad felt her final agony from a merciful distance. Then her memories came to an end, and there was only silence.
But out of that silence, a bright thread of melody wound through Abeha's body, aware, but unsentient. It fought its way through Abeha's dying brain, eating as it went, driven by its appetite and its need to escape. It became trapped inside the dome of its mother's skull, but it continued to eat and tunnel through its mother's flesh, until finally it emerged into the clean darkness of the ocean, its belly distended painfully from all it had eaten. Then it rested, drifting silent and unnoticed in the darkness of the deep. At last it sensed a pull, a calling. It began to swim upward toward the light that filtered dimly from above. The journey was long, and it had to dodge the dark shadows of predators many times. At last the tired harling reached the surface and the safe shelter of an adult's hold.
Samad felt the harling grow from awareness into consciousness. With consciousness came memories. At first they were merely memories of surviving the hazards that every harling had to face. Then Awili remembered mind-speech, and remembering, began to speak to the harsels around him. After that, Abeha's memories began to unfold more and more rapidly.
When the multitude of memories of his mother, Teller, and Samad grew too overwhelming for the harling to bear, the mindsingers taught him to separate himself from the vivid, powerful memories that dwelt inside him. Driven by Abeha's memories, Awili yearned to meet Teller and Samad. He joined the fleet that sang farewell to Teller. He reached out to Teller, and was shocked at how different she was from the Teller who dwelt in his memory. And the real Teller heard him and thought he was Abeha. Awili still cringed from that memory.
"It's all right," Samad told him. "She was upset at first, but once she was home, and had a good night's sleep, she seemed happy to have heard Abeha's voice once more."
"thank you," Awili told him. "when she died i—"
And Samad was plunged back into Awili's memories. He saw how Awili grieved with Abeha, after Teller died. Then word came that Samad was planning on leaving Thalassa, and Awili had grown frantic with worry. It was then that Awili realized that he wanted to be Samad's partner.
A surge of guilt distanced Samad from the flow of Awili's memories.
"If I had known you were waiting for me—" Samad began.
"NO. I DID NOT WANT TO TIE YOU HERE AGAINST YOUR
will," Awili told him. "and then, after you decided
TO STAY, I WAS STILL TOO YOUNG. AND I WAS AFRAID THAT IT WAS ABEHA YOU WANTED, NOT ME." Awili hesitated.
"so, DO YOU want to be my partner?" the young har asked in a small, frightened voice.
Samad felt a rush of love and tenderness at the young har's question. Awili felt so young and alone. He was reminded of his own youth, before Teller and Abeha. And Samad could feel how well the two of them fit together. Awili was the piece his life was missing.
"If you still want me," Samad replied.
The harsel's joyful exultation rang through Samad's mind like a thousand pealing bells. Samad's heart soared. Together they plunged into a giddy gyre of excitement.
Awili and he were partners now, harsel and captain. The legacy of Teller and Abeha had been passed to the two of them to carry.
"Come on, let's get back. Spiros must be getting worried," Samad said. "We'll need to go to Nueva Ebiza and get a crew pod."
Samad tried to restrain his anxiety as the fitting crew lowered Awili's new crew pod
into his hold for the first time.
"Easy now. Gently," he called. "Keep your hold open wide, Awili."
"i'm all right, samad," Awili reassured him. "abeha
SAYS THEY'RE DOING FINE."
"I know, I know," Samad told him, "But I can't help worrying. I'd never forgive myself if you were hurt."
"This is the best fitting crew in Nueva Ebiza," Jahan reminded him. "They know what they're doing."
Eric smiled. "I was just as worried when they fitted Hau'oli's pod."
"Well, I'm praying as fast as I can," Father Russell remarked. "So I think we've got the situation covered from every possible angle."
"The pod's in place now," the foreman announced to the visible relief of everyone assembled on the dock. "We just
have to make a few more adjustments. Ser Bernardia, could you ask Awili how the pod feels?"
"heavy, but comfortable," Awili told him. "abeha
SAYS THE FIT IS GOOD, BUT IT'S A LITTLE TO THE LEFT AND ASTERN OF THE BEST BALANCE POINT."
Samad relayed these instructions to the fitting crew. He peered into Awili's hold anxiously as the crew made the last few adjustments.
"there!" Awili announced. He waited until the crew was out, and then closed his walls around the pod. Then he sculled away from the dock, sailing back and forth for a few minutes, testing the fit.
"it feels much better now," Awili said when he returned to the dock, "abeha says that it's an excellent
FIT."
Samad relayed this information to the fitting crew.
"Well then, we're done," the foreman said, as his crew began gathering up their tools. "Congratulations, Captain Bernardia. All you need is some gear and provisions, and then you'll be ready to sail."
"Everything I need is right here," Samad said, nodding at several large hampers full of food, clothing, and gear. "It'll only take a few minutes to load it all."
"Then let's get started," Eric said. "I know how eager you and Awili must be to get under way."
Father Russell and Eric handed down the hampers while Jahan and Samad found places to stow everything.
"There you go, Samad," Jahan said, when they had finished stowing the hampers of gear. "You're all ready to go! Congratulations," she added, giving him a quick hug. "I'm so happy for you and Awili!"
"Good luck, Samad!" Eric said, shaking his hand.
"Here," Father Russell said, handing him a hand-carved
plastic container. "Some ginger cookies. Brother Valencia finally took pity on me and sent the recipe."
Then the priest drew herself up, just as Teller used to do before beginning a story. "With your permission, Samad, I'd like to bless you and Awili."
Samad nodded. "That would be very kind, Father Russell."
"May God protect this harsel and all those who sail with him," she intoned, making the sign of the cross and sprinkling a bit of holy water over Awili's back. "Amen!"
Samad smiled and thanked Father Russell for the blessing, and the others for their help. After another round of fond good-byes, Samad's friends climbed onto the dock.
"All right, Awili, we're ready to go," Samad said inwardly.
The harsel glided away from the dock, caught the wind, and headed out of the harbor. Samad waved at his friends until the dock was lost to view. Away from the land, the breeze was stronger now, blowing little whitecaps onto the waves. It was a perfect day for sailing.
"Where are we going?" Awili asked.
"Melilla's a good place for beginnings, and we can be there by tomorrow morning. I think I'll find a spot in the market, and tell the Pilot's Cycle. I've got a couple of new stories to add to it."
"They'd better be good ones," Teller cautioned tartly.
Abeha gonged amusement at her remark, "of course they'll be good, teller! this is samad!" she chided gently, and then the two of them faded back into the depths of Awili's memory.
Awili tightened his sail until he was racing through the whitecaps, throwing up a fine sheet of spray.
"MELILLA it is!" he sang, and the two of them raced through the choppy water, bound for Melilla with a cargo of memories.