Another visitor appeared. He was a green man. “Greeting!” he called.
"Acknowledgment,” Havoc replied politely.
"Request."
"Considered."
"Minstrel—may I join you in peace?"
Havoc shrugged. “Welcome, Green."
The man came to sit by Havoc. “I am Gerund, a school instructor, en route to an assignment in another Green Chroma.” This was true; Havoc verified it in his mind.
"I am Hayseed, a Minstrel, traveling with a companion to a Blue Chroma."
Stevia returned, and introductions were repeated.
Gerund doffed his green pack. “I have food to share, in return for your fire and company.” He brought out green bread, green jam, and a flask of green wine.
Havoc made a small pyramid of brown sticks and twigs, and used his flintstone to light it. Soon they had a nice little brown fire.
Stevia brought chunks of hard cheese and pebble candies from her pack and passed them around. Havoc provided pemmican. All together, with the fresh brown fruits, it was a fine meal, with the strong wine providing them a pleasant buzz. They chatted inconsequentially, then located bushes to fertilize and settled down under a shelter for the night. They shared a large brown blanket, Stevia sleeping between the two men, their body warmth fending off the cool evening air.
At dawn Havoc rose first, walked to the nearby brown stream, stripped, and splashed himself clean. Then as he exercised his arms, warming and drying, Stevia got up, stripped, and bathed herself and her clothing. “Yours too?” she asked Havoc."
"If you wish."
She took his clothing and washed it also. By this time Gerund was also up, and she did his clothing too, while he splashed clean and ran about, warming. Then Stevia emerged, hung the clothing on brown bushes where the slanting sunlight caught them, and returned to the shelter. She added sticks to the fire, and it blazed up anew. Then she went to gather more fruit.
They rejoined her for a breakfast of fruit, squatting naked around the fire. No one commented or stared at bodies, though Havoc noted privately that Stevia's body was exactly as it had seemed when clothed: weighted around the center, and therefore not completely sexually appealing. She made no effort to mask it with her hair, and he realized that she did not want the third person in their party to be aware of her magic. He also realized that she had showed off portions of her body before with fair skill, causing his mind to imagine a more appealing continuation than actually existed. He appreciated the craft of it.
In due course they fetched their partly-dry clothing and dressed. Just in time, for a caravan was arriving. Six-legged horses were drawing wheeled coaches along the road, and the servants of the merchants were carrying bundles on their backs. They would have come from a nearby landing site at the edge of an adjacent Chroma.
The wagons parked in the camping area, forming a circle, and the people spread out to gather fruit, wash, and rest under the shelters. The horsemen departed with their horses.
Havoc, Stevia, and Gerund approached the foreman. “Greeting,” Havoc said.
"Acknowledgment."
"We are three travelers going to two locations,” Havoc said. “May we trade for a lift?"
"Yes, if each pays his way. You and your woman will entertain?"
"A mere skit,” Havoc agreed. “But with nice effects."
"Basic instruction for children, or refresher for adults,” Gerund said. “Manners, Geography, Calculation, whatever."
The foreman nodded. “Present yourselves in one hour within the circle. Show your wares, and the merchants will vote. Parting."
"Parting,” the three of them said together as the man moved away to see to other matters. They had won a fair hearing. If they did not meet expectations, they would not be allowed to join the caravan.
In an hour they entered the circle of wagons. The merchants and many of their assistants and servants and families were there, with several children, seated in a smaller circle. Folk were always eager to be entertained or educated, and to expose their children to interesting new things. But by similar token, they could be choosy about the quality of the presentations. Good minstrels could live well; poor ones might have to eat the fruits thrown at them.
Gerund went first. He stood in the center of the circle. “Greeting, all,” he said.
"Acknowledgment, Green,” the audience replied.
"I am Gerund, a school instructor. I will not bore you with any detailed lesson, but will offer a sample, and will amplify for any individuals who wish it as we travel. At this time I address the children, though others are welcome to listen.” He paused briefly, looking at the children, who were seated in the tightest ring. “Hello, children!"
"Hello, Green,” they chorused cheerfully.
"I will teach you some Manners, though I see you already know some. You know that when you meet a person you say ‘Greeting’ and reply “Acknowledge.’ But do you know who should be the first to speak?"
The children glanced around at each other, perplexed. He had neatly identified an area of their ignorance. Havoc could see that the man knew his business.
Gerund smiled. “I give you three guidelines for convenience. The man before the woman, the elder before the younger, and the one who most wishes to initiate a dialogue. That is, to start talking.” Young brows had furrowed at the larger words, but cleared with the clarification.
"For example,” the green man continued. “I greeted all of you first, because I am a man, older, and I want to tell you something.” He paused just a moment. “But what if you met me on a trail and wished to talk with me?” he asked a little girl.
She looked blankly back at him.
"Let us say that you are lost and need guidance home,” Gerund said. “I am about to pass you by, having no interest in you. What do you do?"
She remained blank though interested, as all the children were; this was relevant, because they did not want to be lost.
"Remember, I said it can be the one who wants to talk. If I were about to greet you, I would signal by lifting one hand above the level of my waist, so.” He raised his right hand to chest level. “But since I am passing you by, I do not do that. What do you do?"
The child smiled, catching on. She lifted her hand to her chest.
"Very good!” Gerund said, as if she had performed a marvelous feat. “And when I look at you, so you know I see you, then you may greet me. Because there is no point if I don't see you."
The children laughed.
"Now let's try it.” Gerund turned away from the girl, walked a few paces across the circle, then turned back and approached the girl, but did not look directly at her.
She lifted her hand. After a moment he spotted her, and looked directly at her. “Greeting,” she said.
"Acknowledged,” Gerund said.
The children broke into applause, and the girl blushed, pleased. It had worked!
Thereafter Gerund described some of the other conventions of Manners, such as Parting, Apology, Appreciation, and Expletive. That last made all the children react again. “We shall pretend your parents and friends are not listening,” the green man said seriously. At this the adults sitting behind the children formally averted their faces. “You must never use that term carelessly. But there are times when it is necessary.” He took a step, tripped, and sprawled on the brown ground. “Expletive!” he exclaimed ferociously as he dusted himself off. The children laughed, but also understood. The averted faces returned, heads nodding; they had of course seen it coming.
The head merchant stepped into the circle, hand raised to waist level. Gerund glanced at him. “Admiration,” the merchant said.
"Gratitude."
The merchant glanced around the circle, receiving nods. “Ride with us, teacher, and welcome."
"Appreciation."
"Parting."
Gerund nodded and departed the circle. He had given a good lesson, and they all knew it.
The merchant faced Havoc, lifting h
is hand. “Greeting."
"Acknowledgment,” Havoc said, stepping into the circle. Stevia followed.
Havoc addressed the audience, rotating as he did so, so as not to miss any portion of the circle. “Greeting to all of you."
"Acknowledgment,” they murmured. Normally the conventions of manners were abbreviated or omitted in established circumstances like this, but they were following them precisely after the green lesson, for the benefit of the children.
"I am Hayseed the Minstrel. That's my working name, of course; my real name would not be entertaining. This is Stevia, my assistant.” Stevia made a little circular curtsy. “We shall demonstrate the tale of the Boy and Ghost."
There were some nods among the adults; they were familiar with this story, but that was no liability. Some folk liked to compare the performances of different minstrels on similar tales, judging fine points. Havoc knew they would discover this variant to be original in at least one detail.
Havoc took a light blanket and covered Stevia as she sat on the ground, so that she became an anonymous hump. He brought out his blue dragon scale and played an eerie chord. Music was a mainstay of minstrels, as was a repertoire of familiar tales. He was quite well prepared in both. He favored the audience with another circular glance, and began.
"There was once, on the Planet of Mystery, a Boy,” he intoned, glancing up at the huge colorful sister world, the size of a man's fist at arm's length, where many stories were set as a convention of supposed anonymity. A number of the children glanced up; Mystery, or Counter-Charm as it was also called, was an object of perpetual fascination.
"This Boy lived with his parents, but they were very busy and never told him all of what he most wanted to know,” Havoc continued. Several children nodded; they had experienced that. Conventions differed from Chroma to Chroma and from village to city, with some being quite open about natural functions including sexual expression, and others being restrictive, but no child ever had everything he wanted. “For one thing, he did not yet know all of what he might want to know, so could not ask the right questions. His house was somewhat set apart, so he had no close neighbor children to play Tickle & Peek with.” That was a popular game wherein little boys and girls took turns tickling each other in prescribed fashion, and peeking at normally hidden parts of anatomy when the other reacted violently to the tickling. It was a standard way to learn essential gender distinctions without openly snooping. The most popular children were extremely ticklish, and very quick to catch on to the pretense of seeing and not-seeing secret things.
Havoc played an innocuous background melody, signifying that this was preparatory material. “Boy was extremely curious what a grown girl looked like under her clothing, but there seemed to be no way to find out, so he was unhappy.” There were more knowing nods. “Then one evening as he was walking home from the village he was caught by a sudden storm. The cloud was huge and black, and he feared the magic it might have, so had to get under cover rapidly.” Now he played a somber and slightly dissonant theme, signifying the justified fear of black magic. “But the only house close by was a deserted one. Its owners had died in an unfortunate accident half a year before, and new folk had not yet moved in. It was a rather frightening place, for there were said to be ghosts therein."
Several children looked nervous; they had heard about ghosts.
Havoc played an eerie melody, and put concern on his face. “But Boy had no choice, so he ran to the house and got inside just before the first black raindrops fell. The roof was not tight, and black drips oozed through the ceiling and fell to the floor, where they slowly dissolved it into dark pits. He had to move to the bedroom to avoid the sinister dripping, for he could not afford to be touched by that Black Chroma magic. There he huddled beside the bare bed, waiting for the storm to abate. He was absolutely still, fearing both the rain and the interior of the house.” Havoc looked apprehensively around, playing a quiet and nervous tune. The smaller children were evincing fright, while the larger ones were appreciatively amused.
"The rain beat relentlessly on the roof and against the windows, and he dared not go out.” Havoc turned, once again scanning the audience surrounding him, as if seeking some escape. He was pleased to see that not only were the children rapt; many of the adults were getting into it. There was nothing like a good spook story to hold attention.
"Then he saw a faint light in the chamber. Something was there in the room with him!” He played alarm music and stared at the mound that was Stevia: it was beginning to glow faintly under the blanket. “He gazed, frozen where he hunched, staring at the glow. There seemed to be illumination from an invisible lamp, and the light showed a dresser with a mirror, and reflected in the mirror was a shape the size of a woman, though there was no such shape in the chamber itself.” Havoc walked slowly to the still figure. “And lo, it was a ghost!” He whipped off the blanket to reveal the woman, whose hair had grown so long that it covered all her body. It was radiating gray luminescence, a truly eerie effect. There was a satisfying gasp of surprise; this was the original touch.
He gave the audience a moment to assimilate the living tent that was the gray woman, continuing his evocative music. “In fact it was a Lady Ghost, who did not realize that the Boy was there. She had formed just this moment, and was before the mirror to perform her toilette.” Stevia got slowly to her feet, her hair cascading like a silken garment, keeping her modest. “She brushed her hair—Stevia's hand came up, and she used a gray brush on her hair, stroking down past her shoulders and on toward her knees. “She had very pretty hair.” Indeed, the gray tresses were reflectively glossy.
"Boy stared, his fright for the moment abated. The ghost was beautiful!” Stevia turned a little, her hair thinning translucently, giving the impression of a svelte figure beneath. Havoc augmented the impression with lovely music.
"Her hair in order, the ghost prepared to change her clothing. She drew off her blouse—Stevia made the motions, but her canopy of hair concealed her torso. In a moment she produced a gray blouse from beneath the hair, having shown nothing of substance. Havoc, however, playing the role of Boy, was staring, his face evincing awe. “She wore a full halter beneath.” The rough outline of it showed through the filter of hair. “Then she undid its fastenings as she turned.” She slowly rotated. “And saw the Boy.” He played a crashing chord, and silenced the instrument. The audience was completely quiet.
"For a moment the two stared at each other, mutually astonished and dismayed."
Then the Ghost spoke, as Stevia assumed her role. “You're a male child. You shouldn't be watching me change."
"Oh, please, Lady Ghost,” Havoc said for Boy. “I have no sisters and have never seen a woman bare, and I'm unbearably curious, and you are so beautiful. Please, please let me watch."
The Ghost considered, her hair rippling brightly. She was evidently flattered by Boy's description of her. “But I am long dead. I am not a real woman. You are supposed to be frightened of me."
"I am! At least I was. I thought ghosts were ugly and awful, but you are lovely and nice. Please, please—"
She was wavering. “You really have no one else to sneak a peek at?"
"No one!” Boy swore.
"I suppose there would be no harm done, since I have no substance. But perhaps it would be better if you did not tell anyone else. That would protect my modesty."
"Peek and No Tell!” Boy agreed eagerly, taking a step toward her.
"Remain where you are,” she said sharply. “If you occupy my space, I will vanish. That's my nature."
"Apology,” Boy said, retreating abashed.
"I will pretend you are not there.” Then she resumed her toilette, removing her halter and skirt and washing herself with a translucent gray sponge. She turned slowly around as she did so, so that in the course of the event every aspect of her was revealed.
Boy stared with open mouthed appreciation, finally seeing all that had been secret. But somehow the glowing hair managed to ma
sk the details from the audience, so that mere hints of bared breasts and buttocks and thighs manifested. It seemed that a phenomenally beautiful woman was being displayed, if only anyone beside Boy were able to see the ghostly body clearly.
Finally the Ghost was fully garbed in her new outfit. By that time the storm had passed. “I must go, for I am late getting home,” Boy said.
"Of course,” the Ghost agreed sensibly.
"Observation."
"Accepted."
"I think I love you."
The Ghost laughed. “I think that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me since I died!"
"May I visit you again?"
She looked surprised. “Whatever for? You have already seen everything."
"You have been nice to me. I like your company. I promise not to try to touch you."
The Ghost shook her head ruefully. “You have already done that, I think. Yes, you may visit again, if you come alone. I will talk with you."
"Oh thank you, lovely Ghost!” Then he thought of something else. “May I know your name?"
"You really want to destroy my anonymity! But I will tell you. I am Peril. In life I was called Purl, for I was skilled as a knitter, but that no longer fits."
"You are a pearl to me,” Boy said. “Perfect in color and nature."
"That, too, if you wish. Now go, before you get in trouble.” She blew him a kiss. The music was blissful.
Havoc addressed the audience. “And so began a lifetime and deathtime friendship of some duration,” he concluded. “Can any of you tell me what it means?"
The adults smiled, not volunteering the moral. The children looked confused. Finally one little boy lifted his hand. “Greeting,” he said when Havoc looked at him.
"Acknowledgment.” In a situation like this the ritual was not necessary, but there was no harm in honoring it.
"Maybe it's not to judge ahead? To—to give someone a chance, even a ghost?"
"Affirmation. Congratulation. Be cautious, but open-minded, for a ghost is not necessarily evil.” The children nodded, understanding.
Key to Chroma Page 3