Shelly sat down across the table from them and sipped her tea before shaking her head. “No. Well, yes, but that’s not how it works.”
Jimmy nodded. “I’m listening. I’ve known a shaman or two, but I don’t really know much about them.”
“Head of Pirano Fisheries and you don’t know about shamans?” Shelly asked.
“No. I know you carve whelkies. I know you—what’s the phrase? Listen to the planet?” He sipped his tea.
“Listen to the world,” Shelly said, her unfocused gaze resting on the middle of the table between them. “We help people. Listen when they have something to talk about. Try to get them the help they need.”
Drover nodded. “Shelly’s a godsend, particularly with the women over the winter.”
“Winter’s rough here?” Jimmy asked, looking at Drover.
“Winter’s rough everywhere,” Drover said. “But yeah. It’s not called Bleak Point because of its comforting views and restful weather.”
“It’s the wind,” Shelly said. “It’s almost constant from mid-December through the end of February. Even into March some years. People used to being out and about stay in. Couples that live separate lives during the season are forced together by the wind, snow, and cold.” She shrugged. “Not everybody manages that well.”
Jimmy let that fact settle for a moment. He’d heard it before but never put so succinctly. “Anything the company can do?” He looked at Drover. “Something that would make winters easier?”
Drover shook her head. “It’s just part of living here. Most of us were born here. We’re used to it.”
“I see,” Jimmy said. “So when a new boat or crew gets transferred here, they’re not expecting it.”
Drover nodded. “Once in a while it boils over, but Shelly here seems to have a nose for it. We’re able to get an intervention in place before it gets out of hand.”
“Out of hand?” He looked at Shelly.
Shelly sighed. “The wind makes some people a little edgy. We’ve lost people over the winter. Suicides peak around February.” She sucked her lips between her teeth and stared at the mug of tea in front of her.
“Domestic violence goes up,” Drover said. “Squabbles get out of hand. Alcohol and frustration aren’t a good mix.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Jimmy asked.
“You remember a couple of stanyers back?” Drover asked. “Man went crazy. Thought his wife was getting it on with the neighbor when his back was turned and went on a rampage with a fish knife?”
Jimmy nodded. “Yeah. That was here?”
Drover nodded. “Arthur Martin. Killed his wife and kid. Went next door and killed the neighbor, neighbor’s wife and kids. Then ran down the dock and jumped in the bay. Coroner said he probably froze to death before he could drown.”
“I remember,” Jimmy said.
Drover shrugged. “So do we.” She looked across the table at Shelly. “You wanna tell him?”
Shelly seemed to grow even smaller, her shoulders pulling in, head falling forward. “Artie’s wife was my sister.”
Jimmy took a pull from his tea. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
Shelly looked up then, some of her earlier fire pushing color into her cheeks. “I knew,” she said. “I knew there was a problem. Artie had been slipping for weeks. Stanyers even. Every winter it got a little worse. Every spring he swore he’d changed.” She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He didn’t change. He just kept going further and further down the road.” She took a sip of tea and ran her tongue around her lips before speaking again. “My father, the shaman, told us all it was fine. That he was just on edge from the wind. He carved him a whelkie.” A tear slid down her cheek. She shook her head and she sniffed. “Sorry.”
“But you knew,” Jimmy said.
Shelly nodded. “I knew. He wasn’t an evil man. He was just sick. Something in him wasn’t right.” She shrugged. “Head? Heart? I don’t know what. Soul, maybe.”
The two women shared a glance before Shelly looked down at her mug, staring into it as if the answers might be read from the surface of her tea.
Jimmy glanced at Drover, who looked away.
“You said you knew,” Jimmy said, keeping his voice low.
Shelly wiped her cheek with a rough sweep of her fingers. “My father said he was handling it. He wasn’t. My father said to leave them alone and they’d all be fine.” Her head came up and she stared at Jimmy, anger and grief burning in her gaze. “My father, the man with the title because he’s the son of the shaman. My father didn’t do shit to stop it. You know why?”
Jimmy shook his head.
“Because he doesn’t have a gift. He has a title. He thinks that gives him permission to tell people what to do, how to think. He’s got the title, but he can’t back it up.” Shelly seemed to run out of steam all at once, as if her outburst had drained her and she went back to staring into her tea. “He lost a daughter to his hubris. I lost my sister and my nephew. And some good friends.”
“But you knew,” Jimmy said.
She nodded without looking up. “I knew but I’m not a shaman, am I? I’m just a woman so I can’t possibly have the gift. I can’t have the empathy and the sense of when something’s not right in the village. When I listen to the world, all I’m allowed to hear is the whistling of the wind in the eaves and not the quiet cries for help.”
Jimmy looked at Drover. “You were here at the time?”
Drover nodded. “Lived here all my life. Took over from Ned Norton in ’14, when his wife passed and he retired. It shook us all pretty hard.”
Jimmy took in a long breath and let it out slowly. “I can’t even imagine.”
“You believe me?” Shelly asked, looking up from her tea. A look of incredulity flickered across her face, twitching her eyebrows and tilting her head.
“I do,” Jimmy said.
“That mean you’ll help?”
Jimmy sighed and took a slug of tea. “I’m the Pirano Fisheries guy. My job is to keep the place running. I can’t help you. Literally, cannot. There’s no place for me to apply leverage in the arbitration process.”
“You could speak up for us,” Shelly said, frowning across the table at him.
“I’m not allowed to have any input beyond providing the legal documentation for the company. Even that’s going to come from the home office in Dunsany Roads. Corporate counsel will do the talking to defend against the grievance.”
Drover looked at me. “Seriously?”
Jimmy nodded. “Not my first time in the box,” he said. “Since the grievance is against the company and its policies, I’m superfluous to the high-level discussions. Even if I wanted to change the rule, I can’t. I have no standing because I’m no better than the harbormaster in this discussion. I can’t change a company policy any more than you can.”
“You can choose to enforce it or not,” Drover said.
Jimmy considered that. “Can I change a century of bias?”
Drover settled back in her chair, frowning at him. She gave her head a slight shake.
Jimmy stood and offered his hand across the table. “Thank you for the tea and conversation, Ms. Chambers. I really appreciate you taking the time.”
Shelly stood and shook his hand. “What happens now?”
“Now, I’d like to go have a few words with your father.”
“He’s probably on the beach this time of day.”
Jimmy looked at Drover. “Harry?”
Drover finished her tea and nodded. “Certainly.”
At the door, Shelly placed a hand on Jimmy’s arm. “You think I’m going to lose, don’t you.”
Jimmy sighed. “Yeah. I do. I’m sorry.”
“How do we change the rule?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “As long as the management in St. Cloud holds the wheel, we go where they steer.”
Shelly nodded and withdrew her hand. “Thank you for listening, Mr. Pirano.”
“You can call me Jimmy,” he said. “Good luck, Ms. Chambers.”
* * *
Drover led the way down a short path to a stone cottage on the headland that protected the harbor. “Best view in the village,” Drover said, climbing up toward the front door.
From the top of the headland Jimmy could see the whole harbor on one side and the open sea on the other. A narrow beach ran about a kilometer east in a shallow crescent. A stony finger of rock thrust into the sea on the far end. “Nice digs.”
Drover nodded. “Some folks think it’s a little too nice.”
“Why?”
Drover shrugged and looked back at the village curved around the base of the pier.
Jimmy looked over his shoulder at the processing facilities lined up along the shore, a jumble of houses seemingly tossed at random into the only level space between the sea and the escarpment behind. His gaze measured the tiny yards and cheek-by-jowl buildings. He sighed. “Anything I can do about this?”
Drover shrugged again. “Not sure. Too many people. Too many houses. Too little land to put them on. Fishing’s good so new boats and crews come in. Kids grow up, don’t want to leave, but got nowhere to live.”
Jimmy nodded. “We’re seeing a lot of that up and down the coast.”
“Seeing what?” A man’s voice came from behind.
They turned to find an older man wearing a windbreaker and billed cap climbing up the beach side of the headland.
“Hallo, Harry.”
“Afternoon, Charlie. Jimmy, this is Charles Gibbs. Charlie, this is Jimmy Pirano.” Formalities observed, George stepped back with a small grin teasing her lips.
Gibbs lunged for Jimmy and grabbed his hand, pumping like he needed water and thought Jimmy’s heels might be tapped to a spring. “Mr. Pirano. You have no idea. I’m delighted to meet you.”
Jimmy claimed his hand and arm back with a nod. “Call me Jimmy. Nice to meet you, too.”
“You’re here because of that fool daughter of mine, aren’t you?”
Jimmy glanced at Harry, who gave him no clues in her expression beyond a certain gleam in her eye. “Yes,” Jimmy said. “My belated condolences on your loss. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get out here to offer them.”
Charlie’s effusion sputtered to a stop and he frowned. “Oh, you’re not here to talk about the grievance?”
“You mean Shelly?” Jimmy asked.
Charlie flapped his arms against his side. “Of course I mean Shelly. How many women have filed a grievance against the company?”
“This week?” Jimmy asked, keeping his expression schooled to a dead-pan. “Three, I believe.”
“All about being shamans?” Charlie asked, his jaw hinging open a bit.
“Oh, no. None of them this week. I believe Shelly’s was in last week’s total.” He paused, pretending to think about it as he watched Charlie’s face turn a darker shade of red under the seasoned brown of his tan. “No, week before.” Jimmy shrugged. “They all blend together after a while.”
Charlie stood there, flat-footed and staring. He might have been a scarecrow in a field for all the life he showed.
“I did want to talk to you about Shelly, though, if you have a few ticks?”
Charlie nodded and seemed to reanimate, a fleshy robot booting up as he nodded. His nods picked up vehemence and speed as the transmission in his jaw caught first gear. “Well, I should think so. Of course. How can I help?”
“Why didn’t you want her to file a grievance?” Jimmy asked.
“Waste of time. What’s she gonna get out of it but a black mark on her record and time spent filling out forms and talking to stupid administrators.” His teeth clicked as his jaw clamped shut. His eyes grew wide. “Uh. That is—”
Jimmy cut him off. “I know what you mean. But what record is she going to get a black mark on?”
“Her personal record. You mean to tell me you folks don’t keep track of who’s a troublemaker and who’s a good employee?” His jaw thrust out a tad.
“She’s not an employee, is she?” Jimmy asked, looking at Drover.
Drover shook her head. “She worked for a time in the distribution center. Don’t think she’s drawn a check since before her eldest was born.”
“Still ...” Charlie said.
Jimmy shrugged. “No matter, Charlie. We’ll keep a file of the grievance for the company records. Stupid administrators like to know where they spent the credits, if you know what I mean.”
“Just what I was saying.” Charlie gave a short nod.
“It won’t have any bearing on your daughter’s future. We’ve had a couple of dozen women contest the rule over the decades. Nobody’s been able to make a case that stands up. We have the records, but nobody’s going to go after those women either.” He paused. “What would be the point?”
Charlie glanced at Drover for a heartbeat before looking at Jimmy. “Deterrence? Warning others not to try?”
“Not in my playbook,” Jimmy said. “Thanks for your time.” He turned to leave.
“Wait,” Charlie said. “I thought you wanted to talk about Shelly.”
Jimmy paused to look back at the man. “I think I learned all I need to know.”
“But you didn’t ask about being a shaman at all.”
“I just wanted to know why you didn’t want her to file the grievance,” Jimmy said.
“I told you that.”
Jimmy nodded. “Yes, you did. That’s all I needed.”
“You came all the way out here to ask me that?”
Jimmy stifled a laugh at Charlie’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed look of incredulity. “No, Charlie. I came to see what kind of woman Shelly is.”
Charlie frowned and settled back on his heels.
Jimmy continued back along the path down to the village.
Drover fell in beside him. They walked in silence, Charlie making spluttering noises behind but not following.
When they got back to level ground, he glanced at her. “Can I ask?”
“Why do I keep him?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Not like I can tell him to move.” Drover looked around at the houses. “He’s not really a problem.”
“He’s not much help, either, is he?” Jimmy asked.
She gave him a sour look and a short shake of her head. “No.”
When they reached the admin building, Jimmy extended a hand. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate the time.”
She nodded and shook his hand. “Not sure what good it did, but you’re welcome.”
“Lemme know if there’s anything we can do for you,” Jimmy said.
“Besides recognizing Shelly?” she asked.
Jimmy nodded. “Besides that.”
“Why did you come all the way out here?”
“I’ve visited every woman who’s challenged this rule over the last twenty stanyers.”
“But why? Intimidation?”
Jimmy grinned. “Am I intimidating?”
“You’re the Pirano. Of course you are.” Harry folded her arms and frowned. “How can you not see that?”
“I can’t help who I am, Harry. Any more than Shelly or Charlie can.”
“So why do it?”
“That woman’s going to lose her grievance. The lawyers are too good. The language, too strong. It’s been tested too many times.”
She squinted at him but sighed. “Probably so.”
“I just wanted Shelly to know that I see her. There’s nothing I can do about it, but at least I see her.”
Drover looked down and scuffed a toe on the crushed shell path. “Do you believe her? That she’s a shaman?”
Jimmy squinted out over the tidy harbor, weighing the words before he spoke. “I don’t know what a shaman is.”
“Son of a shaman,” she said.
Jimmy look back at her and shrugged. “That’s the rule. Reality has a way of laughing at rules.”
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.
“I don’t know what a shaman is,” Jimmy said again. “But Charlie does and he knows two things that scare the snot out of him.”
“He knows she’s a shaman,” Drover said.
Jimmy nodded. “And he knows he’s not.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Aram's Inlet: December 15, 2332
JIMMY WATCHED THE ARBITRATION judge frown at his tablet for several long moments before he looked around the room. “Mr. Long? Your argument in favor of upholding Ms. Chambers’s grievance?”
The lawyer beside Ms. Chambers nodded. “The company rule is sexist and discriminatory. It denies my client due process by preventing her from exercising equal rights as a resident of St. Cloud simply because of an accident of birth.”
The judge nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Long. Mr. Howard? Your argument in defense?”
“The company rule, long standing and supported numerous times in precedent as referenced in our brief—”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Howard. I’ve got the brief. Spare me the extra foliage and just give me the tree.”
“Shamans are an exemption to the CPJCT requirement that only company employees and dependents shall be allowed residence on planet. They are not employees and have none of the rights or privileges that CPJCT affords to employees and dependents. The company is under no obligation to extend the rule beyond the original grant.”
“Even though the rule excludes women, Mr. Howard?” the judge asked.
“The rule is as stated and granted by CPJCT on inception, your honor. I am privy to neither the circumstances nor the rationale that caused the rule to be established.”
The judge frowned at Howard. “While I appreciate your position, Mr. Howard, even I am privy to the rationale as stated in the grant. The original signatory of the Combine’s lease established the role of shaman as satisfying a request for religious freedom.”
“Yes, your honor. I’m aware of that but I have no knowledge about where that request came from or how Mr. Pirano determined that the position should be filled.”
“You’re aware that the Combine occupied the system for ten standard years prior to signing the lease, Mr. Howard?”
“I am, your honor. As spelled out in the CPJCT regulations for establishing new leases. I can cite them for the record.”
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