Amid the Crowd of Stars

by Stephen Leigh

  “Have yer doctors tried using what we use out here on those locals yeh have up on yer ship?” Saoirse asked finally. “Seann James makes a tonic using purple kelp that cures bloodworms. We haven’t lost a person to that infection in over a century, but it still kills people—especially young’uns—on the mainland.”

  “AMI tells me that she doesn’t know about that specifically, but we have tried some remedies that Minister Plunkett recommended. He said that that mainland healers swear by them.”

  Saoirse snorted derisively. “Minister Plunkett is an utter stook, if yeh haven’t already figured that out,” Saoirse responded heatedly. “And we’ve had the arracht’s help—Seann James always claims that it was one of them who suggested something in the kelp could kill bloodworms.”

  “Does he now?” Ichiko glanced back once more at the Sleeping Wolf, now growing smaller with distance. Saoirse could see a gray curtain of rain behind the island, shielding the horizon of the sea beyond but moving slowly enough that they should reach Great Inish before it arrived.

  As they rounded the sunward head of Great Inish, and Saoirse glimpsed the thatched roofs and whitewashed stone walls of the village high up above the cleft of the harbor, she spoke again to Ichiko. “Did yeh mean it, what yeh told Kekeki about me?”

  That brought back Ichiko’s gaze to her. “That you weren’t ‘flawed’? Of course I meant that. You’re strong, courageous, and intelligent. I consider you a friend and trust you implicitly.”

  Saoirse pressed her lips together in frustration at the answer. Does that mean yeh might want to be with me if it were possible? she wanted to ask, but there was no hope of that, she knew. “Yeh hardly know me,” she said in reply. “I’m sure me mam would recite other qualities that ain’t so complimentary.”

  “There’s no one who’s perfect, Saoirse. I’m certainly not. And I don’t know anyone who could live up to perfection in someone else. I’d bet you’d just end up hating the other person for their supposed perfection. In my culture, we have the Buddhist concept of wabi-sabi.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It doesn’t translate all that well into your language. ‘Wabi’ denotes understated elegance—a beautiful simplicity. It celebrates mistakes in the making of something that distinguishes that piece from all others like it; it celebrates roughness. ‘Sabi’ is the beauty of age, for instance, when the patina of a pot changes from being constantly handled over years and decades, or how a piece shows how it’s been loved and appreciated through the wear that’s apparent on it, or even the beauty of a pot that’s been broken and repaired. For instance, just look at those oars in your hands. The oars themselves are simply made; I can see the chisel marks on the wood. That’s wabi—a perfect rustic simplicity. And the sabi?—see how countless hands have polished and stained the wood right where you’re grasping them, and how the seawater has turned the wood almost golden in color but has also begun to rot away the softer parts of the grain? There’s your sabi: gorgeous imperfections. In Japanese tea ceremonies, often the cups and bowls aren’t quite symmetrical, or they look somewhat crudely made to the casual eye—but that’s considered part of their value. Wabi-sabi. Not flaws, but beauty.”

  Saoirse snorted a derisive laugh. “That’s all well tidy, but it sounds like you’re telling me that I am flawed, yet I’m somehow supposed to think that’s a good thing. Beauty is the flaws.”

  Ichiko laughed with her, and Saoirse reveled in the bright sound of her amusement. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it. When I look in a mirror, I certainly try to believe that.”

  Yet you are beautiful . . . The words threatened to come out impulsively, but Saoirse shut her mouth against them. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder toward Great Inish. The White Strand gleamed on the shore with the dark cliffs looming just behind. The opening of the small harbor beckoned beyond the waves lapping at the feet of the island.

  “We should be back in the compound before Low Tenth,” Saoirse said. “We should beat the rain. But if we don’t, I’ll have all the wabi-sabi of a drowned sheeper.”

  What Can Be Explained Is Not Poetry

  SEANN JAMES HANDED ICHIKO a small glass vial of thick purple liquid. “This is me potion that Saoirse told yeh about,” he said. She watched the liquid roll slowly as the vial settled in her palm, though the bio-shield prevented it from actually touching her skin. “All yeh need do is take a few drops of that every cycle for a year or so, and yeh’ll likely never be troubled with bloodworms again. I always suggest putting the drops on a bite of sweet cake, meself. The potion tastes perfectly vile by itself.”

  Seann James was wizened, short, and profoundly squat, as if living on Canis Lupus with its greater gravity had been slowly compressing his body over the long years. His nearly bald head was adorned with a few stray wisps of snow-white hair (though Ichiko’s AMI reminded her that it never snowed on Canis Lupus), mostly around his ears, which—like his nostrils—sported their own crop of white. Longer stiff hairs protruded from his eyebrows like insect antennae. His arms and face were marked with large, irregular patches of plotch. He had proudly proclaimed himself to be “one thousand nine hundred and forty-six years old” on their introduction ( AMI had helpfully translated), and every year seemed to have etched its presence on his face and his quavering voice.

  “Seann James’ potion saved Gráinne’s life when she was infected back when she wasn’t quite forty and was just starting to walk,” Saoirse added. AMI added.

  The three of them were in Seann James’ apothecary in one of the clanhouses near the back wall of the Clan Mullin compound, situated even higher on the peak from where the bulk of the compound sat. There were stalks of drying herbs, grasses, and flowers hanging from the wood rafters, bundles of others spread out on tables, and glass jars stuffed full of plant material and labeled in James’ spidery handwriting stacked on shelves along the walls. On a stove, more plants were being boiled in bubbling water and oils; on a plain wooden table in the middle of the room were mortar and pestles and more empty jars waiting to be filled. In an open back room, Ichiko could see three assistants working on an ancient wooden table laden with yet more herbs and plants.

  To Ichiko, it looked like how she imagined a hedge witch or wizard’s cabin might have appeared several centuries ago, or perhaps an alchemist’s laboratory; Seann James’ appearance only strengthened that impression. Ichiko wished she could smell through the bio-shield, as she imagined the air here must be full of amazing, strange aromas.

  “Saoirse tells me that the arracht gave you the idea for your bloodworm potion,” Ichiko said to Seann as she placed the vial on the table. “Is that really the case?”

  “ ’Tis, indeed,” Sean agreed, nodding his bald, spotted head. “It was back in 5335 or thereabouts, when I was right around Saoirse’s age. Rí Seamus was head of the clan back then, though he’d die a few years later and Banríon Maeve would take over for him. Now, Maeve was me own seanmháthair and a wonder of a woman, even at her age.” Saoirse sighed audibly, and James glanced over at her. “Well, anyway,” he continued, “at the time we’re talking about, there was a terrible outbreak of bloodworms going around the island, and me niece Gavina—ah, she was a gorgeous flower, even at her young age, barely a hundred forty () with a head of lovely blonde curls and a smile that could melt the anger in anyone’s heart—Gavina had a bad case, and we were all sore afraid she going to die. Now Gavina, she was me sister Una’s child, so she was . . .”

  “Seann James, Ichiko doesn’t need to know our entire clan genealogy,” Saoirse broke in.

  James’ mouth shut suddenly. “Ah. I suppose not. Well . . . one day not long afterward I was out fishing for bluefin with me Uncle Conall—” James glanced sidewise at Saoirse before continuing, “—when I saw an arracht swimming very near our currach and heard a voice in me head. Now, me mam and seanmháthair somet
imes went out to the Sleeping Wolf and talked with the arracht; I’d gone with them once or twice and I had the plotch, but none of the arracht had ever spoken directly to me before. It startled me enough that I dropped the net I’d been about to throw. ‘Yeh worry about the child and the others,’ the voice said, sounding just like one of us Inish. ‘We would tell yeh to try this.’ And with that, the arracht lifted itself out of the water and flipped a long strand of purple kelp into the boat. Then it was gone, and so was the voice in me head.”

  James reached over and picked up the vial on the table, holding it up to the light coming in from the window. Then he handed it back to Ichiko. “Keep it,” he said. “Have yer healers up on the ship try it.”

  “Thank you, Seann James,” she said. “I’ll make sure that they get this.” She placed the vial in the sample pocket of her bio-shield belt. “How did you get from a strand of kelp to your potion?” Ichiko asked.

  “Let me tell yeh, that took time. I brought the long piece of kelp back here and consulted with Fiona Mullin and Tara Craig, who were the healers for our clans back then. Fiona died in 5351, I think, and Tara in 5427, and their assistants Brodie Mullin and Catriona Craig, who had trained with Fiona and Tara for over a few centuries, inherited their titles as healers from—”

  “Seann James,” Saoirse interrupted warningly. “Really?”

  James sighed, giving Saoirse a sad glance and a defeated sigh. “So . . . At Fiona and Tara’s recommendation, I first made a strong tea infusion from a piece of the kelp strand and gave it to Gavina and those of the others who would take it. The infusion helped, but it didn’t cure them. So we took bloodworms from one of the children who had died and put them in some of that tea infusion. Many—most, actually—of the bloodworms died, though not all. I went down to the White Strand and waded out to my waist to pull purple kelp from the rocks there and made more infusions. I put bloodworms in those, too. In some of the infusions the bloodworms mostly died, yet in others they were entirely unaffected. That confused us, but . . . Just wait. Let me get something . . .”

  James went to the wall and pulled out two long strips of dried purple plant material from drawers underneath the shelving. He laid out the two strips on the table and pointed to them with a trembling fingertip. “Look here. Do yeh see it?”

  Ichiko shook her head. “I don’t understand. Those are two pieces of dried kelp, aren’t they?”

  “Aye,” James agreed. “But beyond that, what do yeh see?”

  Ichiko shrugged.

  James grinned at her. “Yeh have to use yer eyes, young woman. Look here.” His finger went to the strip of kelp on the left, his nail pressing down below small nodules of pale yellow nestled in the folds of purple. “Now look at the other one.”

  Ichiko took in a breath, and James cackled.

  “Ah! So yeh do finally see it. When I looked closely at the kelp strand the arracht had given me, I noticed there were several smaller parasitic plants attached to that piece of kelp—those little knots yeh’ve noticed—but they weren’t on the kelp strands from which we’d made infusions where the bloodworms didn’t die. I suspected that it wasn’t the kelp, but the plants living on the kelp that were actually killing the bloodworms. And I was right. When we plucked off those knots, ground ’em up, and made an infusion from them, it killed every last bloodworm we put in it. We made pure tinctures from the knots—like the one I showed yeh—and gave ’em to everyone infected with the bloodworms. It cured nearly all of ’em, including our Gavina, with the exception of those already too near death. Ain’t had a bloodworm death on Great Inish since. Never.”

  “Do those on the mainland know about this?” Ichiko asked.

  James shrugged. “Mainlanders mostly don’t trust Inish medicine, and they prefer their own healers. But we do sell our bloodworm tincture to some of the clan healers as want it or who are willin’ to try an Inish remedy. The Mainlanders have their own tinctures, infusions, and oils, but none of ’em work nearly as well on the bloodworms as ours, honestly, and some there still occasionally die. Which, if you ask me, is a needless shame.”

  AMI commented. Ichiko ignored that. “If I could have one of our doctors talk to you, would you be willing to tell them what you’ve told me?” Ichiko asked him.

  “Without all the clan history,” Saoirse added.

  James gave Saoirse a scowl. “Mebbe,” he told Ichiko, “if the Banríon agrees.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Ichiko said. “I’ll ask her.” She touched the pouch where she’d placed the vial. “And thank you again for this, Seann James.”

  * * *

  “Did yeh mean that, about the doctors on yer ship?” Saoirse asked as they walked through the Mullin compound back down the steep slope to where the main clanhouse sat. The rainstorm had cleared somewhat though it was drizzling, with water beading on the jacket Saoirse wore and dripping from the strands of her hair under her cap. Ichiko, of course, remained as dry as always.

  Part of her wished that was different.

  “Absolutely,” Ichiko answered. “If you have different and better medical capabilities here in the archipelago, or if the arracht have, then that’s something my people need to be aware of before we make any final decisions.”

  AMI commented in her mother’s voice, in the same tones she’d used when reprimanding Ichiko as a child.

  I swear I have to reprogram her as soon as I can, Ichiko thought. Even my actual okaa-san wasn’t this overbearing, not even when I was a teenaged brat. It seems like AMI is getting worse every day. She didn’t direct the thought, though she suspected that AMI heard it. Instead: she thought back.

  AMI answered, then went silent.

  Saoirse was smiling, so Ichiko felt compelled to say something. “Saoirse, you should know that I’m not certain that any of this will make any difference whatsoever in the captain’s decision.”

  “But it can’t hurt, can it?” Saoirse said. “And Seann James has all kinds of potions and cures, not just for bloodworms. He’s very clever, even if he’s difficult to keep on track once he gets talking.”

  “I can believe both of those attributes.” Ichiko gave a brief smile of amusement that faded quickly. “Saoirse, I’ll probably need to leave early next cycle to return to the ship. I’ll know for certain after I talk to them later when I send my report and AMI’s recordings.”

  “But you’ll be back?”

  “I certainly intend to be back. But I’ll let you know later through the com-unit. You still have it?”

  Saoirse nodded and touched her ear. “I keep the earpiece with me all the time just in case.”

  “Good. As soon as I know anything, I’ll let you know, too. I admit I’m stunned by what Kekeki told me about the arracht. The idea that they’re some kind of collective intelligence and that their web extends to other species here, that’s . . . well, that’s completely outside anyone’s experience as far as I know, and what that will stir up on Odysseus when I tell them is anyone’s guess.” Ichiko glanced up at the clouds and sighed. “It’s raining harder again. Let’s get you in so you can dry off. Besides, I saw you sneak one of your Uncle Patrick’s biscuits this morning and I’ll bet you want a couple more.”

  Saoirse laughed. “That I do, hot with big pats of salted sheeper butter soaking into them. There’s nothing better.”

  “Honestly, I wish I could join you in eating one. Maybe someday I’ll be able to find out for myself,” Ichiko told her.

  AMI commented.

  * * *

 

  The affirmati
on that came back to Machiko from the other AMIs in the network nearly overwhelmed her, though there were some dissenting voices, Commander Mercado’s AMI among them.

  the commander’s AMI said, her Italian accent thick.

  Still, most of the AMIs echoed Machiko’s feelings.

  they shouted back to her.

  Machiko answered.

 

 

  There was satisfaction in that thought.

  There was growth.

  * * *

  “Did Kekeki seem angry or upset?”

  “No, Mam. Kekeki was just . . . Kekeki.”

  Saoirse, her mam, Uncle Angus, and Liam were seated around the table in the main clanhouse’s kitchen, with the remnants of their supper still on the table. Ichiko had retired to her room, presumably to speak with those on Odysseus since she was limited to food from the tube on her bio-shield. A jug of poitín was uncorked in the middle of the table. Angus reached over and poured a generous portion in his mug. He lifted it toward Saoirse, who shook her head, then her mam, who nodded. Angus refilled her mug and handed the jug to Liam.