Being a Green Mother by Piers Anthony Page A

with Tinka now; the girl was radiant, a stunning beauty.
    Soon a young man came for Tinka. Orb didn’t knowwhether the girl could dance, but let her be her own judge of that. It turned out that she could, and quite well, when guided by a competent partner.
    Orb, gazing about the throng, caught the eye of Nicolai. He was playing his fiddle along with other Gypsies, and their music was lively and wonderful, but he was evidently not totally taken up by it. When he had Orb’s attention, he nodded, slowly. Then she knew how pleased he was to see his daughter dancing. Tinka had the skill, but she had probably not been much in demand, before. Tonight she glowed, and in the dance it was hard to tell that she was blind.
    A young man came to ask Orb herself to dance, but she demurred. “I really don’t know this kind of dance,” she explained. “I would rather just watch.”
    He left, not pushing it. But soon another came, and she turned him down, too, as politely as she could. She just didn’t want to get in over her head.
    Then old Nicolai came, handsome even in his age in his worn but elegant dress-up clothing. “If you would be a Gypsy, you must learn the Gypsy ways,” he said, and held out his hand to her.
    Orb could not refuse. She could tell by the reactions of the others that this was a signal honor. So she danced with him, and Nicolai was a veteran dancer and made it easy for her, though she did not know the nuances of this one.
    “Tonight there is only one more lovely than my child,” the old man murmured. Orb smiled; it seemed to her that none of the other women present looked better than Tinka, but she was not going to debate the matter.
    Before long they stopped, and Nicolai returned to his playing. Tinka returned, breathless with constant dancing; her feet really were not up to it, and she had to rest. “They say my father danced with you,” she said in Calo. “He has not danced in years, not in public. Only when he taught me.”
    “I know he is pleased with you,” Orb said.
    “He is pleased with
you
!” Tinka said. “Because you have helped me. He has given you the mark of favor.”
    “You have helped me, too,” Orb said warmly. “You are teaching me your language.”
    The girl found her hand and squeezed it joyously.
    “He mentioned that there was one here more lovely than you, but I did not see her,” Orb said, curious.
    Tinka turned her face to Orb, astonished. She laughed.
    “I don’t understand,” Orb said, nettled.
    “Since my mother died, no one has ever been lovelier than me, in my father’s eyes,” Tinka said. “Until now. He meant you.”
    Orb found herself blushing. She had missed the import entirely!
    Then the pattern of the dancing changed. The music was similar, but the motions and style were completely different. Man and woman glanced sidelong at each other, and their bodies assumed provocative postures. The erotic suggestion was infinite; it was as if they were indulging in a prolonged sexual act in public. Orb felt her face flushing for a new reason.
    “That dance,” she whispered. “What is it?”
    Tinka of course could not see it, but she knew. “It is the
tanana
,” she said. “Few outsiders are allowed to see it.”
    Orb watched, fascinated despite her revulsion. She had never been exposed to such raw invitation, yet it had beauty, too. The man desired the woman, as men did; but the woman desired the man, too, and was aggressively leading him on, assuming postures calculated to inflame his passion. The whole was stylized, and each couple was coordinated; it was indeed an established dance. Watching it, Orb could understand why the typical Gypsy girl was sexually active before menarche, and a mother in her early teens. For children were dancing, too, exchanging the same suggestive stares. She saw girls no older than six flaunting their hips and showing their thighs. It could have been a joke, but was not; every motion was choreographed, just so, even the most