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“Since the tribes were separated, they have only grown further apart. In appearance, skills, everything. They take pride in it.” I walk down the wharf, along the rows and rows of dripping hulled ships. “They hate each other, to be quite frank. And I don't think that there are many things that would change that. The war that is on the wind is one of the few.” I stop and look at one of the ships. It is not very large, but it is Ssexanê, which means it is more valuable and more seaworthy than any of the landers' ships. The wood of it is all died a faded but brilliant red, and the sails, most of them tied up right now, are even redder. On the side is written 'Duunngr 1199'. The number is the year it was made. The word is the name. Fire. It is a fairly young ship...but a good one. Sometime I will go back and see how it was made. Perhaps that will give me a clue to Duuñgrii's mother.
But I am looking for Duuñgrii, not his mother, right now. Assignment. I hate trying to explain things, so I find someone who will do it better. And who could tell us about the man tribes better than Duuñgrii?
Iiriim is on the wharf. I approach him.
“Is the Captain on the Duunngr?”
“No, he is in Marble. But if you wish to wait for him you may come onto the Duunngr. His wife is here.”
“I will wait then.” I give a short smile. If I was better at time travel, I could skip waiting for the people I want to talk to. But I’m not. This is the best I can do. And maybe Riiu can tell me what she thinks about the man tribes while I wait.
I hire a wharf boat and the bearded rower silently thrusts us out over the gleaming green wavelets. I look at the waves and ignore the smell. That is the trick of enjoying things...learning what to look at and what to ignore. We come to the side of the Duunngr, and I look up at the huge swell of it, curving up over me. I said it was small?
It only takes a bit for me to climb the shrouds that line the ť-diiv-viis-ť quarter, and I clamber up onto the flat deck. I stand. There are a few men standing about, and they look at me quickly, sharp, even glances. I take a step forward, tossing my head up a little. “Iiriim sent me to wait for the Captain.”
“Hii,” said the man I am looking at.
“May I speak to his wife?” I say after a bit, getting slightly frustrated.
“The Captain will return soon,” said one of the other men irrelevantly.
“Is she able to speak to you about what you want to see the Captain about?” said another.
“Maybe.”
“Perhaps we can speak to you,” said the first man.
“I'm not going to kill her!” I take a chance, and glory in it. I love trying people's tempers. “I am a Rwemún, I am small, I am a girl, and I am not here to hurt anyone.”
None of them move for a moment or two. Then one of them, a younger man with mousey colored hair, lets out his breath in a “Hii.” He gives a forced smile. There is silence again for a little while. At least now they are thinking openly, instead of trying to stall.
The first man gives an abrupt smile at me. But it is sincere. His green eyes are dark, and he has a beard. “We try to be safe.”
“I know,” I relent. “Well, you can all come into the chambers with me and we'll all be a safe, happy crowd if you like.”
Then Raben comes up from the other end of the ship. He has a slight, thoughtful smile on his face. He recognizes me. “I will go with her,” he says, glancing at the man with green eyes. “She is no danger.”
We walk together down to the chambers at the ť-nmug-viis-ť quarter. He doesn't say anything.
“Riiu?” I say, walking into her room. She looks up, and then stands.
“Miss Rwebhu,” she says.
I smile.
She gives me a tentative smile back. She has always been slightly nervous about meeting me in real life.
“I want to know something.”
“I will try to answer you, then....”
“What are the man tribes, and what do you think of them?”
She does not say anything for a bit, looking at me. Then she says:
“I do not know what you mean exactly...but they are all nice. There are seven of them, and they live in different kinds of places – the Ssexanê live on the sea. The Qaallevre live in the forests. The Eechil live in the jungles. The Ttekaŗx live in the marshes. The Llehüsel live in the deserts. The Rwemún live in the mountains. The Master made them do so, because they wished him to. So now they all love their own place best. That is good. But they also hate what the others love, and that is not good.”
Swift footsteps come across the deck, and in a moment the Captain is standing there in the doorway. Duuñgrii. The Messenger. He recognizes me at once, and gives me a slow smile.
“I want to know something,” I say, looking at him. I do not like to mince words, even with Ssexanê.
“What?”
“About the man tribes.”
“What about the man tribes?”
“Everything.”
“I am sorry, but I do not think that anyone could help you that direction.” He has an amused smile.
“Anything, then. Riiu just told me their names and where they all live. You can continue.”
Duuñgrii thinks a bit. “They used all to be one, but they asked God to change them so they would be different. He did. They all wanted to live in different places, they all were different in appearance, they all had different skills, they all learned and lived differently. They still do. The Separation only made the differences greater.”
“What are their skills?”
“The Ssexanê are mathematicians. They speak the language of numbers.”
“And they are skilled in astronomy as well,” I prompt.
He pauses. “The study of the stars? Yes. They are very connected. I would not have thought to separate them.”
“So that is the skill of the Ssexanê.... And what are you?”
He pauses a bit. ”I am Ssexanê.”
“Nearly Ssexanê,” I say, tilting my head slightly. He does not answer for a moment.
“Enough,” he says.
I nod. “So what are the skills of the other tribes?”
“The Haharu grow plants. They can do almost anything with plants. And they tell stories. The Ttekaŗx know how to find their way in the mud.” He smiles a little teasingly, but he seriously means it. “They are also artists. They like to draw and make images of things however they can. And they...” he pauses. “I know too little about it to know what it is really. They know how to make things...turn into other things. And explode. And – things.”
“Chemistry,” I say the name in English. “I know about it.”
“That is good. The Llehüsel, I do not know much of. But I have heard, and seen a little, that they know much of animals, and how to tame them and use them for work. They also make cloth very well – that is where the Ssexanê buy their cloth. They are tough.
“The Qaallevre are good-natured. They are very good at climbing about in the trees where they live. They leap about and roll and tumble and dance and do many other things. They also can act very well. Quite well indeed.” He smiles again.
“They also study the body,” I add.
“Yes, I have heard that they do. The Rwemún, I do not know so much of. They live in the mountains, often far from the sea, and they do not have much that we would find useful to trade for. They can build with stone very very well, and they can find their way also, and do not get easily lost.”
“They also like to carve things.”
“Hii,” he says. Then he pauses a moment. “And the Eechil...”
“Be fair.”
“Would I not be?” He seems a little put out, though he hides it, and does not wait for an answer. “They are the jungle people. They know much about – mechanical inventions and things of the kind. And they make music with inventions.”
“You forgot to mention that the Ssexanê sing,” I volunteer after a pause that is far too awkward.
He looks bemused. “Yes...I thought everyone knew that.”
“I knew everything you already told me, you know. That is not the point. This is for people who know nothing of this place.”
“Yes, I guessed something of that.” He is sober, thinking about things that I cannot guess, though perhaps he is imagining, or trying to guess, who it must be that I am writing this for.
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They are more Gaelic, I believe, than Saxon. They are also a little British.