A Series of Betrayals.
an excerpt

Jasho sat at the end of the deck, dangling his feet into the water. His jurt sat beside him on the deck, wriggling eagerly as he absent-mindedly petted it.
“You’ve got it lucky, Pesho,” Jasho said, seriously. “Polco and Miraco’ve been pestering me again. Don’t know that their problem is. I’ve never done no thing to them. And I’ve not done anything either,” he added with a half-laugh. “Papa insists that I keep going to school, when all I want is to keep on running with the cali-fish. I’m the best fisherder of them all, you know, or I could be if I didn’t have to keep going to school. And with you helping me, we could take on all them, my brothers all, and my cousins back on Theraca. Maybe even win at Carnival.
Pesho continued to wriggle beside him, his brow fur silky in the sunlight. The day was calm, the houseboat scarcely rocking at all on the waves. Jasho would scarcely have noticed anyway. He’d grown up on boats such as this one, both here on Tormac, and back on Theraca, where he’d been born. He’d grown up in a family of fisherders, going back at least three generations, from his great-grandfather, who had first brought their family out of Theraca to Tormac, and his grandfather, who had increased the heard, and brought in new strains of cali-fish, to improve the breed. His father, Thaso, had gone back to Theraca after an unspecified fight with his (Thaso’s) brother, Tomaso. Then, after many years, brought his family back to Tormac, after an unspecified fight with his (Thaso’s) uncle, Lutco. Come to think of it, Thaso had a habit of having unspecified fights with many family members. And anyone else who became close to him.
Jasho was glad to be back on the surface again. Even if the planet was different, and the stars were different, the water was much the same, and the cali-fish and jurts were the same. Thaso often griped about all the fish the jurt took in, that could have gone into feeding many cali-fish, but he said it indulgently, looking with favor at his youngest son, and only son of his beloved second-wive. Plara, Thaso’s plain-faced first-wive, had done more than her duty raising up five sons, all in the image of there father. She was quite strict, but fair, with her sons, and one daughter, Misa, whom everyone seemed to forget. They’d tend to list off the sons of Thaso, all six of them, then pause, and add with some surprise, “and Misa” She was plain-faced, like her mother, but unlike her mother, was shy and retiring, scarcely ever saying a word, except in answer to a direct question, and sometimes not even then. Instead, she went about her duties on the houseboat with a quiet efficiency, running the computers and keeping the accounts, cleaning up after everyone, quietly, almost invisibly.
Shaka, Thaso’s second-wive, was Plara’s younger sister, though it’d be hard to tell, now. She had been beautiful in her youth, when Thaso had first met and married her, but had had many illnesses, and many miscarriages, before Jasho had been born, and several afterwards. She had grown thin, with scarcely a shadow of her former beauty showing. She was growing old before her time, with grey streaks showing up in her red hair, which she now kept short, instead of the long locks which had once been the talk of all Theraca, and her green eyes, though still large and brilliant, had the beginnings of lines around them, and were tired, and often full of sadness.
She was currently expecting again, but no one dared speak of it, fearful that it would once more end badly. The doctor came often to the houseboat, and kept on telling her to take it easy, and leave the running of the houseboat to the first wive and the maids, and having many long talks with Thaso behind closed doors, then leaving again, shaking his head.
Jasho got up and grabbed his breather. “I know, Pesho, it’s time for our swim.” He made a neat dive, with scarcely any splash, into the water.
Pesho followed him with a happy balk, splashing into the water gleefully, before gliding gracefully under the surface.
The two of them made their rounds of the perimeter weir, checking for any holes that might have been torn in it since his brother Zanbo had done his rounds a couple hours ago. Jasho didn’t think too much of Zanbo’s patrolling ability, knowing he was more likely to hole up somewhere, and just say he was patrolling. Thaso had never caught him at it, but had his suspicions. He didn’t assign him to patrol too often, but gave him other jobs closer to the boat, where he could keep a closer eye on him. And when he did assign him to patrol, he put him between two of his sons who patrolled extra diligently.
There were no large holes in the power-weir, just the little net gaps that let plankton and smaller fish in and out, but kept the cali-fish in, and the larger predators out.
After the patrol, Jasho checked the radio tags, and found them to be all inside the weir, none outside, and all gave the “good health” green light. He still swam through the herd and checked the ones he could see. As usual, as soon as the cali-fish saw him, they crammed in close around him, tickling him with their fins as they passed close by him. He tried not to giggle, since that tended to overwhelm the breather momentarily, and make him choke for a moment. And after the cali-fish realized that he wasn’t carrying any food, they let up a bit, and started to studiously ignore him, turning their attention to the weeds around them. Jasho, from a lifetime of long practice, could tell from the state the weeds were in, that it’d probably be about a week, maybe two, before Thaso decided that it was time to pack up and move to another part of the ocean.
Jasho loved migration time. Some of the others in the family preferred the stationary months while they stayed in one place, and things fell into a routine, and nothing more exciting happened than changing the cali-fish from one weir to another every few weeks. And the occasional bout with shore fishermen, who set out in the little crafts that they called “boats,” though nothing compared to the multi-generation houseboat that Thaso’s family lived in. The shore fishermen would insist on fishing in or near the cali-fish weir. Even when Thaso showed them his fisherding permits, which gave them herding rights, free from fishing. Not that it mattered to most of the fishermen. “It’s a free ocean,” they’d gripe. “We can fish wherever we want.” And since, for some reason, other fish and sea delicacies tended to congregate near the cali-fish herds, and in the areas where they had just left, the places they wanted to fish just happened to be near or in the cali-fish weirs.
But it would be time soon to transfer the cali-fish again. And this time of year, they’d be moving equator-wards soon, anyway. Time to pick one of the hatching grounds and move into them. And they’d be there most of the summer, through the mating and hatching season.
Moving the cali-fish wasn’t an easy task. They’d have to reconfigure the weir into a moving tube, which had smaller holes in it than the regular weir, and they’d have to be swimming along beside them, prodding the cali-fish with fish prods, to keep them moving in the direction they want to keep moving.
Jasho loved that part. Not the prodding so much, but the swimming, seeing the sparkling blue scales of the cali-fish as the herd went on by him.
Cali-fish tended to run about three feet long, depending on how long they lived, and had deep blue scales, turning silver blue towards the belly, and a prominent dorsal fin on their backs, dark blue with soft spines. They had the most delicate meat in the known galaxy. The smell of the meat cooking was enough to tempt even the most avid vegetarian into wanting it. At the present, there were only a few families of cali-fish herders, scattered among four systems. But they were steadily expanding. Jasho’s oldest two brothers were always talking about saving up to buy their own houseboat system, and moving in with their wives and families. They had about three-fourths of what they needed so far, even with their wives insisting on taking shore-jobs, and adding to the family income that way. Their children were still but toddlers, wandering around the boat under the watchful eyes of Plara and Misa, and wearing their little floaties in case of misadventure. When the time came, the brothers would split the herd, with Thaso taking the major share, and go off, meeting up primarily during the hatching season. Even when they kept in touch all year.
Jasho came back from swimming out, and went to the drier to wash the sea-salt off of him, and get clean. Then he changed into his soft wrapped boatboard clothes, gold and green, and green boat slippers, soft, but not slippery.
He gave Pesho a fish snack and a final pat. “You go off swimming now, boy. I’ll play with you later.”
Pesho, content now that the morning rituals had been played through, took his fish treat with a happy little jurt bark, and splashed overboard.
Jasho went down to his room, and turned on his compututor, and began working on his history lesson. It didn’t matter too much when he did his lessons, only that he did them. He was the only one his age on the boat, so he had no one to take classes with. His brothers were all at least five years older than him, and the children of the workers were either old enough to be workers themselves, or just in the toddling stage. And most of the families preferred shore-life at least part of the year, anyway. But he did compete with the shore kids in scholar classes, his scores compared against theirs. Thaso didn’t care all that much about what Jasho’s scores were, but the fact that he consistently was at the top, or near the top of his agemates, was a considerable source of pride to him. Jasho would have really preferred spending more of his time swimming with the cali-fish, but he really didn’t mind most of his lessons. Math, he knew, would be helpful in running his own cali-fish herd, should that ever come to be, keeping track of how many fish he had, and how much he had to spend to care for them, versus how much he could sell them for, and making sure he wasn’t being cheated. Though once he started getting into the higher levels of math, it became less obvious what use it had. But history was even worse. The history of the systems went back farther than the record could see, and all the recent stuff was trade agreements and minor wars, and who reigned in what system when, and what type of government they had, and all sorts of things, which were of no import to a simple cali-fish herder. But he studied it anyway. Especially since the reward for a good mark on the day’s lesson was the compututor unlocking a story about someone living in another time, or on another world. He simply devoured those stories.
Sure enough, less than a week later, Thaso came stomping into the dining hall, at breakfast time, wearing his stomping boots, and stood at the head of the tables. “Now’s the time, boys,” he said in his big, booming voice. “Time to start preparing the herd for the big move. This close to summer, might as well head straight to the hatching grounds. Be good to get away from the idiotic shore people for a season.
Silava, one of the older brother’s wives, winced visibly, being one of those “idiotic shore people,” but the other wives managed not to show anything, beyond rolling their eyes at each other across the tables.
Shaka cried out incoherently for a moment, then said, half sobbing, “Cannot we wait another week, husband of mine? For I believe that it will be no longer than that that I shall be delivered of this son which now I bear. And we are close to the doctor now, where on the hatching grounds, it shall be too far for him to come in a hurry.”
Plara stood and faced her husband. “Shaka is right, that is too far to expect the doctor to come in time to do something.”
Thaso looked from one wive to the other in some perplexity. Usually he was trying to act as peacemaker between them, not having them gang up and conspire against him.
Fear not, oh Love of my life, and desire of my heart. I shall guard your health with my soul, and shall summon the physician before there is the least sign of trouble.” Then he turned to Plara and said, “Aren’t there enough midwives and medics with you and Misa on the boat? Can’t you handle things until the doctor gets here? Isn’t that what I keep paying for training for you for?”
“Sure, we’re competent enough,” Plara said. “For ordinary deliveries, and even things like stitching cuts and resetting bones. As long as they’re simple deliveries, simple cuts, simple breaks. We keep up our studies, and can do a lot of things. But for anything complicated, we’ll need a real doctor. One who knows what to do when things get complicated.” She drew in her breath, then switched gears, “I’ve been telling you for years, we really need a good doctor on the boats. Between the family, all the workers, everyone, we’ve got enough people here to warrant at least one fully trained doctor. Misa’s been pining to go away and study for years now.”
Thaso, back on more familiar ground now, roared back at her, “Misa! She couldn’t say ‘boo’ to a gnute!”
Plara said dryly, “Fortunately, that’s not a requirement.”
Thaso glared at her, then muttered, “If it’s that all important to you, we can send her after harvest season, when the caravans come.”
You’ve been saying that for years, Thaso. If you’d sent her the first time I asked, she could have come back by now.”
Jasho wondered briefly if she actually would have come back once she left. He probably wouldn’t have but then he wouldn’t still be here if he had wanted to go off on his own as much as she did.
Thaso and Plara had continued their argument while Jasho was musing, and he came back to hear Plara say, “Well, if you can’t delay leaving even another week for the sake of your favorite wive and her child, perhaps we could arrange for her to stay somewhere on the shore here, so that she’ll still be close to medical help.”
Thaso, not seeing, or perhaps not noticing the imploring look Shaka gave him, continued his argument in full form. “So, now we come to the heart of it, do we?” he bellowed. “You wish to get rid of your competition, and rule here on your own.”
She sputtered for a moment, then pulled herself up to her full height, and glared at him. “Well, if that’s what you think, Master Herder Thaso, then you really don’t know me at all.” She put her arms down by her sides and turned and left the room.
Thaso looked after her with some bemusement, then went to plan things over with his older sons.
They headed out on Thursday, as Thaso had said. Neither of his wives were speaking to him, not that it made much difference to him. Shaka spent most of her time relaxing in her room, as she had been instructed by the doctor. But she still kept busy doing small things, keeping the accounts, various crafts, and writing out the annals she had kept for twenty years.
She waited by the window of the boat, occasionally catching glimpses of the family, as they surfaced, or saw the fins of the cali-fish breaking the surface. She could have kept better track of everyone by watching the monitor, where their stats and locations were being constantly upgraded, along with the locations of the cali-fish and graphics of the sea around them. But somehow, she felt closer to her family by catching occasional glimpses of them through the window. Her eyes flew to the curtain hiding the neat row of statuettes on the shelf above the headboard of her bed. She had stolen them from her brother when they came here from Theraca five years ago. They represented the gods that she had worshipped as a girl back home with her parents. She had long ago ceased worshipping them in favor of the God of her husband’s family, but she had never quite renounced them. She didn’t burn incense to them anymore, but she still kept them in a place of honor, and whenever she was able to get fresh flowers (not very often) to put on the vase on the headboard, she always directed a silent thought to the gods the statues represented, that it was partly in honor of them. She seldom showed the statues openly, but Thaso and Jasho at least knew what was hidden behind that curtain.
With a sudden impulse, she went over and threw open the curtain. The statues shown briefly in the sunlight, as she remembered them from her childhood, an innocent child, a laughing maiden, the warrior man. She looked at them, they looked unmovingly back at her. She wished she could go back to the time when she fully believed in them, back when she was a child, and was happy. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been really happy, when she had laughed for joy, her heart so full she couldn’t contain it. Those times had happened, she knew. But not for years.
Shaka went over to her cabinet, drew out a little voile of perfume, and sprinkled a few drops in front of each statuette. It wasn’t incense, but she no longer had any incense sticks, so the perfume would have to do. Then she delicately reached for the switch in the back of the base of each one, and turned on the holograms that surrounded the statues, making them about twice the size they were before. The child threw dice, the maiden picked roses, and the warrior held his weapons up in a salute.
Shaka’s eyes filled with tears as she watched them. It had been well over a year since she had last turned on the holograms, and she hadn’t been sure that the batteries would still work. But they still did. She lifted a silent prayer, whether to the gods of her youth, or the God of her husband, she scarcely knew, and touched her forehead in the old gesture of submission.
Then she gave a sudden cry, and grabbed her belly. She gasped for breath, and collapsed on the bed, hardly having time to press the call button beside the headboard.
*****
Plara looked up from tending the garden pots when she heard the call alarm go off, then quickly got off the houseboat’s roof as she realized whose alarm she was hearing. She called out to Misa, “It may be a false alarm, but get the doctor on-line as fast as you can. I’ll see what needs to be done.” She cursed under her breath, as she raced down the steps three at a time, as she had always told the boys not to do. As usual, Shaka had the worst sense of timing. They were hardly halfway through the migration to the hatching grounds, and once they got started on a migration, it couldn’t be stopped, especially this close to mating season. The cali-fish would be recognizing the season by now, and liable to break out and head to the hatching grounds on their own if thwarted.
She found Shaka lying on her side on the bed, and quickly assessed the situation. Yes, the time was definitely at hand, and unless she missed her guess, it was going to be as bad as she feared. Curse that man for not listening to warnings. And curse Shaka, too, for not having the gumption to insist on it for herself. No, that wasn’t fair. She used to have the gumption, when they were both girls. But the long years, illnesses, and miscarriages had worn on her. And the fisherding lifestyle itself. Though Plara thrived on it, it wore Shaka down. Plara closed the drapes on the window, and with a suppressed frown, drew closed the curtains around the statuettes. That drew a cry of protest from Shaka, which was quickly swallowed by a cry of pain while another contraction hit. Plara worked on getting Shaka comfortable, while Misa entered the room, carrying the medical kit.
“The doctor will be on his way as soon as he can,” Misa said. “It may be several hours before he can bring his flyer in. I turned on the beacon so he should be able to find us.”
Plara nodded. “Good work. Give me the syringe.” She injected Shaka with a sedative, which calmed and relaxed her, then both Plara and Misa worked to make her comfortable.
****
Thaso had been in contact with Plara all day, as Shaka’s labor went on. It was the worst possible time, of course. Babies always came that way, it seemed. He couldn’t devote his full attention to her, he still had the cali-fish to herd, and they couldn’t stop until evening. In fact, it would be close to full dark before they’d be able to reform the weir, and let everyone rest for the night. Once the cali-fish got going, it was nearly impossible to stop them, just steer them, so they’d go where he wanted. Since Misa was helping with the childbirth, he had had to send Jasho up to control the weir. Most of the time, that boy was the best of his workers, considering, of course, that he was so much younger than the rest of them, but he was slightly distracted today. Thaso had had to remind him sharply several times to pay attention to what he was doing, or the cali-fish would start getting tangled up in the weir. And that would not be good, and would probably cause a stampede. Ah, well, she was his mother, after all.
But now it was getting towards dark, and the cali-fish were finally slowing their headlong dash, preparing to settle down for a night of resting and eating. He gave the signal to Jasho to begin the process of reshaping the travel-weir back into the resting weir, and slowly made his way back to the houseboat. He climbed wearily on board, pulled off his flippers and gears, and drippingly made his way to his second-wive’s room.
Plara met him at the door. He could see the doctor inside, sitting next to his wive, with his head in his hands, but Plara blocked his way, and wouldn’t let him enter.
“You were almost too late,” she said, handing him a towel. “But you can take a moment to dry off. We’ve done all we can, but I doubt she’ll make it till moonrise.”
“Is it as bad as all that?” he asked, growing pale. “I knew you said there was some danger.”
“Yes, it’s as bad as all that,” she said, sharply. “Now get in there, and speak softly. She wants to see you, though I can’t imagine why. Go in there, and admire your new son. He’s a large and healthy one, anyway.”
Thaso stumbled his way into the room, in a world that had suddenly become dark, and not just because of the setting sun.
“Hello, my beloved wive,” he said softly to Shaka, reaching out and smoothing the damp hair beside her face.
“Ah, my husband,” she said breathlessly. “You have returned at last. How do the cali run?”
“They run,” he answered, and his voice cracked as he said it. “We shall have another fine harvest this year.”
“That’s good,” she said. Her eyes closed for a long moment, then opened again. “Have you seen your new son?”
“Show him to me.”
Plara came up to Thaso, and laid the red-faced bundle into his arms. “Here is your son,” she said. “Be proud of him.”
Thaso gingerly took the boy. “Is he well?”
“He’s the finest looking young fellow I’ve ever seen,” Plara said softly.
“Yes, he’s beautiful, Shaka,” Thaso said.
Shaka smiled wanly at him, and closed her eyes again. After another minute, she opened them up again, and said, “He was born out of my sorrow.”
“But he shall grow up to be my right hand man,” Thaso said stoutly.
“As you say,” Shaka said. “Keep well, husband of mine.” She closed her eyes again, and this time she did not open them.
***
The rest of the migration, Thaso left to his sons and workers, spending most of his time sitting beside his wive’s body in the freezer. Plara checked on him frequently, keeping him supplied with warm blankets and hot soups, trying to get him to come out and warm up, rather than staying in and freezing himself. He usually refused, but could be made to come out in the evening, for a long bath, and a warm bed. But he would slip in there again well before morning, to sit by Shaka’s side again.
“You won’t do her any good to freeze yourself,” Plara would tell him, when she found him there, shivering. He’d receive the warmed blankets thankfully, but absently, as if it didn’t matter anymore. Everyone on the houseboat tiptoed around, not wanting to disturb him, but not sure what to do. Plara kept them going, making sure that they’d keep on working, getting the cali-fish to the hatching grounds quick enough that the cali-fish wouldn’t get impatient and leave without them, so they’d have difficulty rounding them all up again.
As the week ended, they finally reached the hatching grounds. They spread the weir out to its full extent, and canvassed the area to make sure that all the predators had left from the sonic blast they had made as they came into the area. The cali-fish made themselves at home, settling in to munch and rest from all the rush they had gotten into to get there. Jasho and his brothers scattered fish and feed all around the area, to fatten them up a little quicker.
Once they were settled into the hatching ground, they sent word to everyone to come for the funeral. Shako’s father, Lutco, on Theraca, sent his two youngest sons. They had left as soon as they had gotten the word of her death, and so they were able to get there only a couple days later. Lutco himself was not able to come, and sent his regrets. This was Shortho and Stateno’s first time off-planet, and they kept cornering Jasho to tell him about all they had seen on the way over. Jasho just wanted to find somewhere to get away, and not have to deal with anyone, but there didn’t seem to be anywhere on the houseboat that wasn’t full of people. His uncle, Tomaso, had brought both his wives, and six of his children, and their families. Plara had stashed them to the best of her ability in various places around the houseboat, but even so, the place felt like it was going to burst at the seams. Tomaso himself, a large, burly, man, seemed to take up enough room for three people. He stood a full head above Thaso, his twin brother, and next to him, Thaso, who had always seemed so large to Jasho, looked shrunken and hardly worth noticing. He was a bluff, hardy man, and laughed a lot, so that there seemed to be hardly anyplace, other than the noisy engine room, where one couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t seem to remember that this was a boat of mourning, and to be quiet for a moment out of respect.
Jasho had not been able to cry since his mother died. He sat around deck, when he could, feeding fish-snacks to Pesho. And he kept on patrol as often as he could, to avoid having to put up with all the guests. If he could have spent all his time under the water, he would have. But he had to come up to eat, and to sleep, and Plara insisted that he spend at least some time with all the guests. He had always liked his robust uncle Tomaso, but now, he almost hated him. Jasho let his studies slip, not caring at the moment who made the top grades, not caring much about anything. Just having a certain heaviness about the eyes, and a hollow place in his heart he didn’t know what to do about.
Three days after everyone arrived, they held the funeral.
***

On the main aft deck, everyone gathered.
They stood in honor of the one who had passed.
In honor of Shaka, the daughter of Lutco,
The sister of Plara, the mother of Jasho,
The wive of Thaso.
Many remembered her in her youth,
Many remembered her in her beauty.
Her long auburn locks, her eyes of bright green.
Many remembered her golden voice,
And all the songs she sang,
Back in her youth, when she dwelt in Theraca.

Many remembered her coming to Tormac,
Coming as a young mother,
Still wearing her beauty as a cloak,
And laughing in the face of trouble.
Beautiful Shaka, untouched by trouble.

But, alas, trouble had come upon her.
Her red hair had gone grey before its time.
Her heart had grown sad and weary,
Unable to face the trouble that had lain upon it.
And so she had withered away,
So had her life vanished.
But before she had gone, she left behind another treasure.
Her new son, Benito.
A joy, and yet a sorrow for those who knew her.
For with his coming, he brought his mother’s death.
He would never know her,
Never be held in her arms again,
Never again hear her say she loved him.
Never remember her face.

As her body slipped in its torwood casket beneath the waves, Jasho was finally able to shed the tears which he had been holding since he knew of her death. Thaso stood by the railing, watching the waves where her casket had vanished. He sighed, and appeared to have aged by ten years it the days since Shaka had died. A great light had gone from his life, and it felt like he would be spending the rest of his days in twilight. He took a deep breath, and straightened his shoulders. Then he led the way to the room where his family had made the meal to serve all the guests after the ceremony. And to his great surprise, he was hungry. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t even remember eating anything in all the days since Shaka died, though he was sure he must have.
Jasho didn’t go to the meal. He just wanted to go somewhere where he could cry in peace, and not have to face anyone. Once the tears had started, they refused to stop.
He went up to the roof of the houseboat, and found a hidden spot in a corner, beside two dwarf potted fruit trees. Pesho followed him up there, and snuggled up to him as he sat down, snuffling Jasho’s face with his whiskered muzzle. This made Jasho giggle, in spite of himself. Plara found them sitting there, Jasho’s arm wrapped closely around Pesho, a couple of hours later. She didn’t say anything to let them know she found them, but put a piece of sweet takar cake, Jasho’s favorite, on a table near them. She had saved that from the dinner for him. Then she quietly went away again. After a few minutes, the smell from the cake reached Jasho, and he crept out of his hiding spot, and found it. He sat down on the roof, and shared little bits of it with Pesho (who didn’t really care for it, but ate it to be sociable), as he devoured the rest of it himself. Then he discovered he was tired, and made his way down to his bedroom, which he was currently sharing with at least two cousins, and went to sleep. Such a deep sleep, that he didn’t hear his cousins come in noisily laughing some hours later.
***
Misa found herself in charge of the baby. She wasn’t quite sure how it happened, it just seemed that everyone expected her to take charge of it, so she did. She made all the bottles for Benito, changed his diapers, and generally looked after him. Plara, and her sisters-in-law helped, when she asked them to, but it seemed like they forgot about him if she didn’t ask. She had always been an efficient babysitter, but had never really cared about babies. But Benito tugged at her heart, and she loved to see him smile his little toothless smile when he saw her. She found herself putting him in a sling, and carrying him with her everywhere she went, as she quietly went about her duties on the houseboat.
It hadn’t taken too long after everyone had left for life on the houseboat to resume its previous rhythm. Thaso and Jasho had been quieter than usual for the first few weeks, but they quickly returned to normal, even if they were occasionally a bit more pensive than usual.
Thaso, without saying a word about it to anyone, had taken the statuettes from Shaka’s room, and had put them on a shelf in his office. He never said a word about it to anyone, and no one ever brought up the subject, though he could see them looking over at them quizzically. Let them look. They were the only things, besides his two sons, left to remind him of Shaka, and he wasn’t going to get rid of them. He didn’t worship them, didn’t bow to them, burn incense to them, and hardly even looked at them. But he kept them. He had left them hidden behind the curtain, while Lutco’s two sons had been there. He didn’t think that they would recognize them, for they were rather common-place figures, among those who worshipped them, and surely Lutco had replaced those idols by now.
He had never known what kind of impulse had lead Shaka to take them in the first place. Perhaps it was just the fear of moving into the unknown. Or perhaps she hadn't converted to his God as whole-heartedly as he thought. Plara certainly had. There was no doubt that her worship was sincere.
He hadn't found out about Shaka taking the statuettes for well over a year. She had hidden them somewhere, so cunningly, that a full search of the cabins on the ship they were taking from Theraca to Tormac didn't uncover them, when Lutco had come aboard the ship, still in parking orbit, demanding that they be returned to him. Thaso hadn't know what he was talking about. He had seen the statuettes in the front hall of Lutco's house, but hadn't paid that much attention to them in all the years he had lived there, and worked for Lutco. Indeed, he had had questions about the whole thing, almost certain that Lutco had invented the theft for yet another delaying tactic to keep them there. The only time that Thaso had ever been angry with Shaka, was when he discovered that she had taken the statuettes all along, and hadn't owned up to it. But by that time, there was no point in returning them, so he never mentioned that they turned up in his rare communications with Lutco. Perhaps some day he would, in the unlikely event that they got together, and reminisced, but it wouldn't be for years. He didn't hid them behind a curtain, like Shaka had, but he wasn't going to explain them to anyone.
In consequence, he was twice as diligent in keeping his prayers, and readings, and sacrifices, as he had been before. He was by no means a holy man, but he had had more than his share of visions and manifestations over time, before he had fully agreed to worship his God, following in the footsteps of his father, and grandfather. Indeed, whenever the weather changed, he was still lame, from the physical effect of one of those manifestations. He tried to bring his sons up in the knowledge of his God, but he was never sure how well he succeeded. He had to admit, that sometimes there was an attraction to worshiping gods that had visual representations, to a God who refused such. And his brother, and uncles didn't seem to realize that this was an either/or affair, that they couldn't really worship God, and keep giving honor to the gods. Well, no matter. They'd find out soon enough. Or not, as the case might be. But in day to day living, he still preferred to keep some distance between himself and his God. And he thought that God might feel the same way.
He realized that there was still something he had to do, which he had been putting off thinking of in the months since his wive's death. Plara had been right, they did need a physician among the boats. He had just bought the contracts for a dozen new workers and their families, in anticipation of expanding the flock after the next hatchery. They'd still need to be trained, but he'd have their work for the next ten years. And if this next fish harvest were as large, and as profitable, as it appeared that it would be, he'd still have enough profit to send Misa off to medical school for the start of the next school year.
Plara and Misa, in their usual efficiencies, had long been collecting the information on various medical schools, and had left the file in easy sight on the computer. He perused through it, noting with approval, that Misa had taken mock entrance exams for all of them, and had passed easily. Not that he would have expected otherwise from a daughter of his. But it made things easier. Especially since her test scores, and her scores in school, made her eligible for certain scholarships. That would make things certainly easier. Not that they needed it, of course. He looked through the course work that she'd be doing. Tough work, but he was certain she'd be able to do it.
Why had it taken him so long to even think about this? It shouldn't have taken the death of his wive to get him to do something that he should have done years ago. All those years wasted. In so many things. He could have put one of his sons in charge of the migration, and stayed with Shaka on the shore, until her time came. There were many things that he could have done, if he had realized what he was going to lose.
But he still had her sons, and he'd be cursed if he didn't do right by them.
***
A full year, and more, passed, and the time came for Jasho's 16th birthday. This was an important one, not quite as important as fully coming of age at 21, but one where he could take on some of the responsibilities of growing up. He could enter contracts now, without his parents' permission, though they could still cancel the contracts, it was much harder. As for a birthday gift, Thaso had thought long about what to get his son, and at last though to get him a little skimmer, top of the line. He'd have to be careful about speeding around the cali-fish weir, of course, but Thaso was sure that Jasho would love it. He would have loved something like that when he was Jasho's age, anyway, instead of having to maneuver around in a puttputt motorboat. He got one top-of-the-line, of course. Nothing was too good for Shaka's son. A red skimmer, just perfect for racing over the waves, feeling the wind and the sea-spray in his face. And he could use it to check up on his two older brothers, who with a loan from Thaso's brother, Tomaso, had finally purchased a houseboat of their own, and their own cali-fish herds. Well and good. The herd had been getting almost to large for one boat to handle for years now. But that didn't mean that he didn't want to keep track of them.
Benito, the baby, was walking now, beginning to talk, looked after by his doting aunt and Plara. Misa had taken quite a fancy to him, in those months before she had headed off to medical school, and still took care of him when she came back to the boat on her breaks. She was on a break now, as a matter of fact. And he was calling the other boys in from their boat for the birthday party. It would be good for the whole family to be together again. That didn't happen too often, even when they were all on the harvest ground.
Jasho had no idea what was coming up for his birthday, though he knew that his father had lent some of the helpers over to his brother's boat, so that they could come to a party for him. It was odd, two of his brothers had birthdays in the months just before his, but all Thaso had done for them was a special meal and a card. And hadn't appeared to even think of doing anything more. Though Thaso had given the two sons the contracts of several of his best workers when they moved out on their own, so perhaps it was all right.
Plara was walking around the boat with thinned lips, and Jasho couldn't do anything right in her sight. Which, since he couldn't do anything wrong in Thaso's, kind of evened things out, but still was uncomfortable. She had treated him with great compassion after Shaka's death, and he was still grateful to her for that, but he wished that she would treat him as she did her own sons, tough but fair. Ah, well, at least she doted on little Benito.
The morning came for Jasho's birthday. He rose, and brushed out all the tangles in his dark red hair, and plaited it neatly down his back. Then he washed his face, and put on just the slightest hint of eyeliner, as this was to be a special day, and Thaso had told him that he wouldn't be swimming. The current fashion among the shore people, said to be copied from the height of fashion at Belar itself, was to wear dark eyeliner, and makeup to make the face look squarer and more masculine. Other makeup rules applied to the females, of course. But being on the boat, they didn't follow them too closely, though they paid attention for those times when they would need to be going ashore.
Then he dressed in the best wrapt boatclothes he had, scarlet and blue, with dark green sandals. He didn't think that they were as comfortable as boatslippers, but they were dressier, and this was a special day. He looked again at his face in the mirror, and was satisfied with the green-eyed face that looked back at him.
Then he stepped out of his room, and was tackled by a fishy-smelling creature, who nuzzled him with his whiskery muzzle. "Pesho!" Jasho exclaimed. "Watch what you're doing, boy. The last thing I need is to have fish smeared all over me."
Pesho whimpered, and hid his face with his paw, contritely.
"Oh, Pesho," Jasho said, kneeling down and petting his head, "It's all right, boy, really it is. No harm done this time."
Pesho wriggled happily again, and tried to give him a jurt kiss. Jasho laughed, and batted his face away playfully. "That's enough now, Pesho. I've got to go down to the dining hall. Father says he's going to keep me busy today."
Going into the dining hall, he thought he saw what looked like balloons peeking out from the kitchen, but Plara whisked them back too soon for him to be certain. She greeted him more warmly than she had for weeks, giving him a family kiss on the cheek, then giving him a bowl of porridge, and letting him know he should be quick about it, if he knew what was good for him. She gave him a little smile, and brought Benito in his high-chair to sit by him, while she fed him porridge.
After breakfast, Thaso came and got him, and took him on a surface inspection of the weirs, with the little motorboat. Jasho didn't get to see this view of them very often, usually when he saw the weirs from the surface, he was looking at them from the long distance of the houseboat, or speeding by them on the way to the shore, or to visit his brothers. But it was a good view, The weirs spread out a good ten feet at the surface, clinging to the top of the waves. It was too far across for a cali-fish to jump over, and if it ever occurred for any of them to try, the weir would just shunt them back into their pen. It was also too far for any of the many predators who liked cali-fish to jump over, and if they tried, they'd be shunted out, since they weren't wearing a cali-fish radio tag. Of course, the one thing it couldn't keep out were other boats or ships. They were far enough out at the hatching ground that that was seldom a worry here, though they still kept their eyes open, just in case. From a distance, all you could see of the weir was the way it dimpled the surface of the water, but as you grew close to it, you could see the rainbow colored strands, each thinner than a hair, that were really little more than power given form. The strands were thin enough that a single one could cut you without you even being aware of it, but there were so many strands, and they were woven so thick, that they were more sponge-like than anything. You could still force your way through the weir if you tried hard enough, and if you did, a hole would be left behind you, that would gradually heal itself as the strands reknitted. The weir was thickest here at the surface, and when there was a storm, the surface of it would be drawn closer together, almost to the houseboat itself, so that it would be denser, and less likely to take damage in the storm, and spread out, in almost a half-sphere under the surface, where the water would be much calmer.
Thaso showed him many things as they made their way around the circuit, places where the weir was thinning, and needed to be reinforced, where it was getting too thick, and needed to be thinned out. Jasho had Thaso stop a few times and watched the gulls fly by, long winged birds that just appeared to float across the sky, and a family of jurts playing with the weir, climbing on top of it, and squealing with delight as it collapsed under them, and slid them back into the water outside the weir.
After about an hour making the rounds, Thaso stirred the motorboat over to where one of his workers was spreading feed out for the cali-fish. The two of them exchanged arm gestures, and the man nodded. He dived deeply, and came back up with the end of a chain, that Thaso proceeded to draw up into the boat. At the end of it, was a cage containing one of the prize cali-fish. Thaso gave it a good look-over, while the cali-fish regarded him balefully. Then Thaso attached the chain to the back of the boat, and steered back to the houseboat.
By now, the whole family had gathered in the dining hall. Thaso brought the boat into the hangar of the houseboat, steered it carefully into its holder, then pushed the button to drain the hangar. He and Jasho lifted the cage with the cali-fish, and dumped it onto the belt which would carry it to the kitchen. Jasho went back to his room, and changed again, into his good clothes for the party.
The dining hall was all decked out for the party. There were balloons all over the ceiling, streamers, all green and gold, the boat's colors. As Jasho walked into the room, everyone cheered, and a big bag of confetti over the door burst, and showered him with green and gold confetti.
"Happy Birthday, Son," Thaso told him. "You make me proud."
Benito escaped the lap of Misa, who was home for a visit, and ran up to him, as fast as his toddling legs to run. "Jatho's birftay," he shouted with evident delight. "Jatho's birftay. Come see presents."
Everyone laughed. "He's obviously one of the family," Mircavo remarked, "Getting to the heart of the matter so quickly like that."
Jasho laughed, to, with joy of seeing everyone together like this.
Plara came out of the kitchen, and said, "If everyone would sit down, it's time for the feast. And what a feast it is. Our cooks have really outdone themselves this time."
Everyone sat down with alacrity, and the kitchen crew, led by Plara, served up the dinner dishes, great heaping piles of buttery potatoes, fried fresh cali-fish steaks, with honey-mustard sauce, melon fruit salads (served half-frozen, with a strawberry glaze). All of Jasho's favorite foods, in fact. Conversation stilled, as everyone turned their attention to the dishes in front of them. In about half an hour, even the hungriest of the growing boys had begun to set aside their plates, and just finishing up nibbling on what little was left. Plara looked around the tables with some satisfaction, having once again estimated correctly. Enough left over that no one was left hungry, but not enough that there would be much waste. Especially since she had an idea that several of her sons would be raiding the refrigerator in an hour or two. There had been a similar feast served to the workers, on their boat.
Now, it was time for dessert, for the traditional therac pudding, served at birthdays. It came out, divided into 16 pieces, one for each year, with a second, smaller pudding, as a symbol of the next year. Jasho pulled the 16 pieces out one at a time into serving dishes, and broke them into smaller pieces to serve out to everyone, and took the much smaller pudding for himself. Plara and the kitchen workers brought out the ice cream to go with the warm pudding. The younger family members took to tossing the silverware around, when they thought their elders weren't looking.
After the dessert, it was time for the presents. Jasho was a bit overwhelmed at the boxes of presents he had to open. Mostly just token gifts from his older brothers, a new game for his computer, fish hooks, a box of filters for his breather, little things that'd be helpful, or fun, but didn't cost to much. Well, that made sense. His elder brothers were all either just starting up setting up their households, with little left over for excesses at the moment, or on allowances from Thaso, as he was. Though the oldest two still at home had started to pull in wages, when Thaso remembered to transfer their credits to them.
Then at the end, Thaso handed Jasho a small box. Jasho said, "Thank you," then tore into the wrapping. There was a small set of keys, on a key ring, with the logo of one of the most prominent skimmer/boat manufacturers. Jasho looked at them dumbfoundedly for a moment.
Thaso laughed at him merrily. "That's only part of the present, of course. The rest is down in the hangar."
Jasho led the family down to the hangar. Behind him, he heard his brothers whispering to each other. "What did father get you for your sixteenth birthday?"
"A new pair of boatshoes. How about you?"
"A new wetsuit."
Jasho gasped with surprise as they entered the hangar. It was again filled with water.