the happenings on the oceans of Earth. Did Manuel find his Belinda? On some happentracks he did, and the Girl mourned the loss of him.
T HE G IRL C ALLED K ELINA
S
he was theprettiest girl in Polysitia, and she was brave and intelligent, too, but all this was of no use to her when the crisis came. In the end it was Starquin himself who saved her, the minstrels tell. They sing of Kelina to this day, of her escape from a fate that used to be described as worse than death, her adventures following the escape, and her final death — by the hand of Starquin, so they say …
Tall, slim and brown-skinned, she was a king’s daughter, and people often thought she was proud, although in point of fact she was shy. Every day she would walk to the water with a skin of triggershrimp shells on her head — she may have been a king’s daughter but he was a very small king, and nearly all Polysitians must work — and she would throw the soft shells to the guidewhales and the orcas, who would gather round the island’s edge to feed on the debris. She rarely spoke, rarely looked at the poor jerkfishermen sitting on the edge of the island, rarely acknowledged the women tending the grass and working at the fishponds. She was torn between her desire to be friendly and her fear that it might be misinterpreted as condescension. So she walked alone, and there were many young men who longed to light the fires behind those beautiful, slanting Polysitian eyes.
None more so than RiderOr Kikiwa.
Kelina’s father was King Awamia, ruler of all Uami, which was one hundred fifty square kilometers in extent, and Or Kikiwa was one of his Riders, and probably the least trusted one.
“I can’t think why you ever Mounted that man,” Queen Lehina said.
“He performed a Feat of Valor,” King Awamia told her once again. “I had no option.”
“I consider his Feat suspect. And on the basis of one suspect Feat, he now rides an orca and is granted lands. It’s not right, Awamia. There are more deserving men.”
“His lands are in poor state.”
“Healthy enough for him to build a tower and treat his workers like dirt.”
Polysitians have no written or computerized history. Everything of importance is remembered by minstrels and sung at the evening meals beside the sunset walls of the towers, when work is over. The most important songs — or possibly those containing the most vivid images — are those remembered. The story of Kelina was both vivid and important. Historians of a later era discovered it on a remote floating island, and made the essential connection between it and the Song of Earth.
Kikiwa’s Feat is part of the story and, according to the latest versions, that Feat was certainly suspect. It seems that Kikiwa was once a trainer of orcas, little better than a worker but, through an accident of birth, a protégé of Or Halohea, a Rider of some renown. The island at that time had fifteen Riders, brave men clad in sealskin who rode the killer whales, driving away any predators who might seek to tear at the fabric of the island or worry the domestic fish that lived beneath the shoreline. In token of their station, Riders were granted land and assigned workers.
One day Kikiwa was exercising Or Halohea’s whale while the Rider was at his tower, dealing with Riderly matters. Kikiwa sat upright behind the dorsal sail, grasping a rein of kelpite, holding his breath as the whale plunged and gazing arrogantly around whenever he surfaced. He wore the tough elephant seal skins of the Rider, a pretension that did not endear him to the jerkfishermen sitting on the shore. He uttered shouts of instruction to the whale, although he was, like many Polysitians, in empathy with the beast and probably could have directed him telepathically.
“I’d like tosee him shouting underwater,” one of the jerkfishermen remarked to his neighbor, sourly.
“He couldn’t stay down long enough to try.”
In point of fact, Kikiwa could hold his breath for
T HE G IRL C ALLED K ELINA
S
he was theprettiest girl in Polysitia, and she was brave and intelligent, too, but all this was of no use to her when the crisis came. In the end it was Starquin himself who saved her, the minstrels tell. They sing of Kelina to this day, of her escape from a fate that used to be described as worse than death, her adventures following the escape, and her final death — by the hand of Starquin, so they say …
Tall, slim and brown-skinned, she was a king’s daughter, and people often thought she was proud, although in point of fact she was shy. Every day she would walk to the water with a skin of triggershrimp shells on her head — she may have been a king’s daughter but he was a very small king, and nearly all Polysitians must work — and she would throw the soft shells to the guidewhales and the orcas, who would gather round the island’s edge to feed on the debris. She rarely spoke, rarely looked at the poor jerkfishermen sitting on the edge of the island, rarely acknowledged the women tending the grass and working at the fishponds. She was torn between her desire to be friendly and her fear that it might be misinterpreted as condescension. So she walked alone, and there were many young men who longed to light the fires behind those beautiful, slanting Polysitian eyes.
None more so than RiderOr Kikiwa.
Kelina’s father was King Awamia, ruler of all Uami, which was one hundred fifty square kilometers in extent, and Or Kikiwa was one of his Riders, and probably the least trusted one.
“I can’t think why you ever Mounted that man,” Queen Lehina said.
“He performed a Feat of Valor,” King Awamia told her once again. “I had no option.”
“I consider his Feat suspect. And on the basis of one suspect Feat, he now rides an orca and is granted lands. It’s not right, Awamia. There are more deserving men.”
“His lands are in poor state.”
“Healthy enough for him to build a tower and treat his workers like dirt.”
Polysitians have no written or computerized history. Everything of importance is remembered by minstrels and sung at the evening meals beside the sunset walls of the towers, when work is over. The most important songs — or possibly those containing the most vivid images — are those remembered. The story of Kelina was both vivid and important. Historians of a later era discovered it on a remote floating island, and made the essential connection between it and the Song of Earth.
Kikiwa’s Feat is part of the story and, according to the latest versions, that Feat was certainly suspect. It seems that Kikiwa was once a trainer of orcas, little better than a worker but, through an accident of birth, a protégé of Or Halohea, a Rider of some renown. The island at that time had fifteen Riders, brave men clad in sealskin who rode the killer whales, driving away any predators who might seek to tear at the fabric of the island or worry the domestic fish that lived beneath the shoreline. In token of their station, Riders were granted land and assigned workers.
One day Kikiwa was exercising Or Halohea’s whale while the Rider was at his tower, dealing with Riderly matters. Kikiwa sat upright behind the dorsal sail, grasping a rein of kelpite, holding his breath as the whale plunged and gazing arrogantly around whenever he surfaced. He wore the tough elephant seal skins of the Rider, a pretension that did not endear him to the jerkfishermen sitting on the shore. He uttered shouts of instruction to the whale, although he was, like many Polysitians, in empathy with the beast and probably could have directed him telepathically.
“I’d like tosee him shouting underwater,” one of the jerkfishermen remarked to his neighbor, sourly.
“He couldn’t stay down long enough to try.”
In point of fact, Kikiwa could hold his breath for
Similar Books
