The Flying Sorcerers

are modern times, Lesta. We know more now than when you were young. We no longer treat our women as poorly as our ancestors did because we are beginning to understand them — and because of it, we are getting better usage out of them. Harder work, Lesta!

“When was the last time you saw a whipherder and his flock of poor women, eh? Women are more than beasts of burden or dumb animals — and they should not be treated as such. Women are domestic creatures capable of many simple tasks. Why, I’ll bet that there is not a man here who does not let his wives do his foodgathering for him — and I know some who don’t even bother to hobble or chain their wives any more.”

“Fools,” snapped the old weaver. “Fools and foolishness. You will be sorry.”

A few of the other older men cheered, but not many.

“Wait a minute,” I said, stepping into the center. They all looked at me. “I would like to suggest something. There is not one of us here who is not eager to see the aircloth woven — am I not right?”

There were nods of assent.

“Purple has shown us that it is possible — that it may be possible — for us to weave more cloth in one season than has ever been dreamed of — and all of it aircloth! We have accepted most of his other suggestions with a minimum of fuss and debate — he has shown us that his ideas are practical. Unorthodox, but practical. Purple’s speedy departure depends upon all of our co-operation.”

“What is it you are proposing?” someone called.

“That we give Purple a chance to prove himself. There is only one way to find out if the idea is practical. I have two wives. I will allow one of them to be taught the skill of spinning. If she can handle it, that will teach us that it is a practical thing. If she cannot, then it is a foolish idea.”

“Lant speaks sense,” cried the man who had refuted Lesta earlier. “I will lend two of my wives to the experiment.”

“I will lend one of mine,” cried another. And immediately the air was full of pledges of women — each young tradesman was eager to outdo the rest by showing how smart his wife or wives were.

Purple beamed in delight at this development He was going from man to man, grasping their hands and thanking them.

Old Lesta raised his hand. The noise quieted somewhat. “And what will you impetuous young fools do when you are struck by Elcin’s wrath, eh?”

“We have nothing to fear from Elcin,” mumbled someone, but not too loudly.

I said, “If we see that the women are desecrating the cloth, we will have them killed. Surely that would satisfy any offended god — but it is worth the experiment.”

There was a general chorus of agreement.

As it died away, Shoogar stepped into the center of the clearing. “You are arguing about nothing,” he said. “It is a simple matter to work up a spell that will allow a woman to work without offending the Gods. Women are so stupid that they cannot help but offend the Gods, so we have an all-purpose spell which excuses them because they are ignorant. They cannot help being what they are, or doing what they do. Thus, once a woman has been sanctified, she can literally do no wrong. We do not need to worry at all about the Gods. The only question is whether or not the women are smart enough to spin — and we will soon find that out.

“There is no point in discussing this matter any further,” he said, “until we know one way or the other. I call for the adjournment.”

He was right, of course. On both counts. We cheered his speech and broke up the meeting.

The experiment to see if the women could spin was held the following blue dawn.

Seventeen had been pledged. Fourteen showed up, being herded along by their suddenly nervous and uneasy husbands. In the cold light of morning, suddenly it no longer seemed like such a good idea.

I too was beginning to regret my offer. I could not offer my fist wife for the test because she was on the verge of childbirth. That left only my number two wife, the thin hardworking one with the lightcolored fur. I did not like the idea of losing her to Purple’s experiment, but I had no choice. I was honor-bound.

I could understand why the other men were grumbling. With only one wife foodgathering, meals would be skimpy and uneven — for me the problem would be even more severe. It is bad luck to beat a woman with child.

Ah, well, if worse came to worse, I could always go down to the bachelor’s compound and be served by the unclaimed women. An unappetizing prospect at best, but at least my stomach would be full.

We waited nervously on the hillside, milling about and saying little. The mood of the women ranged from fearful to delighted. All of them were obviously excited or upset at the prospect of a new kind of task. Few of them understood what would be required of them, but any change in their condition, they could only assume, must be for the better.

When Purple arrived, he was flanked by Lesta and several of his weavers. These were the men who would actually teach the spinning. Already several novices were beginning to assemble the spinning devices.

They began by demonstrating what spinning was all about. “You will be making thread — do you understand? Thread — it is very important — we will weave cloth out of it.”

The women nodded their heads, dumbly, mutely.

“I will show you how it is done,” said Lesta. He sat down on a little stool before the spinning device and began to spin, carefully explaining each step of what he was doing. Lesta was a good teacher. As I watched I felt that even I might learn the craft.

But the women — they missed the point entirely. “Look!” they murmured. “He sits! He sits! He works and sits at the same time!”

My wife tugged at my arm, “My husband, my husband, will I be able to sit too?”

“Hush, wife, hush — pay attention.”

All the wives were murmuring now, pointing and whispering excitedly among themselves. “He sits! He sits while he works!”

At last, old Lesta could stand it no longer. He stopped spinning and leapt from his stool. “Yes, dammit, I sit! And you stupid creatures will sit too, if you can learn how!”

Immediately they were quiet.

Lesta surveyed the group, “Now, who wants to try it first?”

“Me! Me!” All of them pressed forward eagerly. “Me first, me!” Each wanted to see what it was like to sit and work at the same time.

Lesta chose one and sat her down on the stool. She giggled hysterically. He put the tools in her hand, and the pieces of combed fiberplant and bade her do as she had seen.

And, Lo! She spun!

She spun the fibers into thread!

The weavers gasped in horror — it was possible! The husbands gasped in shock — could a woman possibly be this smart? I gasped — just because I had never seen such a thing. The women gasped — she sits while she works, she sits!

And Purple? Purple was bouncing with delight. “It works.” he shouted, “it works — she works, she works!”

And all the while, the woman continued to spin.

Of course, her thread was uneven and unusable — she was inexperienced and did not fully understand what she was doing. But it was obvious, even here, that it was possible for a woman to spin.

Purple could build his flying machine.

With experience and training — and careful supervision — all of these women might soon be spinning thread as fine as the best of them.

In fact, as the day progressed, it soon became obvious that a woman was a better spinner than an apprentice boy. An apprentice is smart — he knows that he will soon be a weaver — his heart is not in the spinning. His mind wanders and he pays little attention to it because it is such a mechanical and boring task. Boys will be boys.

On the other hand, to a woman, spinning is an enormously complex task. They must use both hands and one