Potter's ears. "Did you know we
were on a spaceship? If you did, you could've told me.” Potter blinked and
head-butted his hand again. “Spaceship or not, there must be a way to get
home." His fingernails continued down Potter's back. "Until we do,
I've had enough of those boys."
His eyes closed, and he fell back on the bunk.
"Potter, maybe we can sort this out tomorrow." Five minutes later he
was asleep.
The next day, he did begin to sort things out. His
tormenters shoved him in the manure pile again, but this time he fought back
and took two of them in with him. When he charged from the pile, the remainder
scattered to their jobs.
His walk had a definite swagger as he pushed his wheelbarrow
into the stable. They called me feral , he thought. If so, being
wild makes me stronger than the other boys my age. Mark compared this stable
to a chicken yard. Maybe I've become a rooster.
He missed lunch to shower and change clothes for his first
class, but that seemed unimportant.
# # #
That class and the others that followed for many weeks were
rote and utterly boring. First, he studied the symbols of the lords’ alphabet
and how to sound them out with all of their variations. Two of the vowel sounds
were whistles, one made with the lips and the other by the tongue pressed
against the roof of the mouth. Before he got that right, they moved on to
short words he had to write in a notebook and repeat aloud, over and over
again: words for counting, words for objects in Forset's cabin, words for
parts of the body, words for movement. Memorization had never been one of
Tommy's strong abilities, and Forset relentlessly pushed him until he felt his
brain would burst. When Tommy asked for a break in the middle of their
four-hour sessions, Forset would say, "We have been given this task by the
lords," and the class would continue.
After several months, they progressed to short sentences,
then longer ones. Some aspects of the language did make it easier to
understand: the noun and verb combinations always followed a regular pattern,
and the language lacked contractions of any kind. The words and syllables were
always said distinctly.
In the seventh month of classes, Forset insisted they
communicate during their four hours only in the language of the lords. At
first, this was limited to simple questions and statements, but, as his
vocabulary and confidence increased, Forset asked him questions about his work
that morning or how he was getting along with the farmers. Forset always
listened intently to his answers, correcting his pronunciation, his choice of
words, and how he put his sentences together, and then Tommy tried his answers
again, until Forset was satisfied. At the beginning of his second year on the
ship, Tommy's written work progressed from copybook exercises to essays
describing his previous life and the work he was doing now. Forset examined
these closely
The day came when Tommy could carry on a conversation almost
as easily in the lords' language as in English. He and Forset walked the
passageways near Forset's cabin or along the Commons' trails during at least
two of their four hours together, conversing about whatever came to mind for
either of them. When they met another priest, Tommy and the priest exchanged
greetings in the lords' language and stopped to talk for a while if the priest
was willing.
Forset no longer required Tommy to do most of the talking as
long as he upheld his portion of the conversation. Tommy used this time to ask
questions that had bothered him since he arrived on the ship. Some questions
Forset answered. Other questions were answered with "That is not for me
to tell you." When Tommy asked "Why do you all speak English?"
Forset paused beside a small stream that ran under the trail. He had to
sprinkle his response with words in English, like church, clergy, and squire,
that didn't have equivalents
were on a spaceship? If you did, you could've told me.” Potter blinked and
head-butted his hand again. “Spaceship or not, there must be a way to get
home." His fingernails continued down Potter's back. "Until we do,
I've had enough of those boys."
His eyes closed, and he fell back on the bunk.
"Potter, maybe we can sort this out tomorrow." Five minutes later he
was asleep.
The next day, he did begin to sort things out. His
tormenters shoved him in the manure pile again, but this time he fought back
and took two of them in with him. When he charged from the pile, the remainder
scattered to their jobs.
His walk had a definite swagger as he pushed his wheelbarrow
into the stable. They called me feral , he thought. If so, being
wild makes me stronger than the other boys my age. Mark compared this stable
to a chicken yard. Maybe I've become a rooster.
He missed lunch to shower and change clothes for his first
class, but that seemed unimportant.
# # #
That class and the others that followed for many weeks were
rote and utterly boring. First, he studied the symbols of the lords’ alphabet
and how to sound them out with all of their variations. Two of the vowel sounds
were whistles, one made with the lips and the other by the tongue pressed
against the roof of the mouth. Before he got that right, they moved on to
short words he had to write in a notebook and repeat aloud, over and over
again: words for counting, words for objects in Forset's cabin, words for
parts of the body, words for movement. Memorization had never been one of
Tommy's strong abilities, and Forset relentlessly pushed him until he felt his
brain would burst. When Tommy asked for a break in the middle of their
four-hour sessions, Forset would say, "We have been given this task by the
lords," and the class would continue.
After several months, they progressed to short sentences,
then longer ones. Some aspects of the language did make it easier to
understand: the noun and verb combinations always followed a regular pattern,
and the language lacked contractions of any kind. The words and syllables were
always said distinctly.
In the seventh month of classes, Forset insisted they
communicate during their four hours only in the language of the lords. At
first, this was limited to simple questions and statements, but, as his
vocabulary and confidence increased, Forset asked him questions about his work
that morning or how he was getting along with the farmers. Forset always
listened intently to his answers, correcting his pronunciation, his choice of
words, and how he put his sentences together, and then Tommy tried his answers
again, until Forset was satisfied. At the beginning of his second year on the
ship, Tommy's written work progressed from copybook exercises to essays
describing his previous life and the work he was doing now. Forset examined
these closely
The day came when Tommy could carry on a conversation almost
as easily in the lords' language as in English. He and Forset walked the
passageways near Forset's cabin or along the Commons' trails during at least
two of their four hours together, conversing about whatever came to mind for
either of them. When they met another priest, Tommy and the priest exchanged
greetings in the lords' language and stopped to talk for a while if the priest
was willing.
Forset no longer required Tommy to do most of the talking as
long as he upheld his portion of the conversation. Tommy used this time to ask
questions that had bothered him since he arrived on the ship. Some questions
Forset answered. Other questions were answered with "That is not for me
to tell you." When Tommy asked "Why do you all speak English?"
Forset paused beside a small stream that ran under the trail. He had to
sprinkle his response with words in English, like church, clergy, and squire,
that didn't have equivalents
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