Accordingly, Xulai went down to the shore wearing a loose garment that resembled a small tent from which her arms and head emerged. At the edge of the sand, she changed and went into the sea from beneath the tent, leaving it in the surf. While curious townsmen examined the tent to be sure she hadn’t been hidden in its seams, she swam about among a small group of curious local swimmers and divers, allowing herself to be petted, stroked, looked at, and returning only when Precious Wind had spread the tent properly at the waters’ edge. She slipped under it and resumed her proper form.
Abasio, who said to himself he would be damned if he would refuse to do anything Xulai was expected to do, eschewed the tent and changed right out in public. Wellsport was not a puritanical community, and nakedness was a fact of life in a place where freshwater was scarce and public baths were the rule. If the women would be offended, they didn’t need to look. He changed in the surf and swam away.
Three young men of Wellsport had agreed among themselves to have some fun with him if he changed into that thing the woman changed into. In fact, they provided him with a good deal of fun they had not expected. Octopods had more arms than any three regular swimmers, and octopods could breathe underwater, which the human swimmers had forgotten, to their subsequent discomfort. Abasio was in a better mood when he slithered back onto the sand, changed, toweled himself off, and dressed in time to assist the rescue of his would-be tormentors. Once again, the explanation. They had to be willing to accept the change of shape, even into something some people considered repulsive, in order to convince the Sea People they were worth saving!
The discussions that ensued in Wellsport were not notably changed.
“I tell you no daughter of mine is gonna . , .”
“Josh, your daughter’s fifty years old. Nobody’s gonna even suggest it.”
“Women’ve had babies when they were fifty. My own ma! That’s de-scriminatin’.”
“Maybe, but you don’t have to worry about not lettin’ her. Nobody’ll ask her.”
“An’ I’d like to know why not! We’re as good as anybody.”
“Ah, fer . . .”
For several days most of the troop was busy with unloading and repacking while Precious Wind and Xulai talked to groups of young men and women.
“I want to know how it feels when you’re like that.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Do you have to learn to breathe underwater or is it just like breathing air when you’re born?”
“When you, you know, do you do it in your human shape or do you have to do it . . . you know?”
No, Xulai thought. No, no, no, I don’t know.
“What happened to the baby when you changed?” asked Precious Wind. “Did it . . . ?
“I DON’T KNOW!” said Xulai.
From among those who asked the most sensible questions, they chose the two couples who seemed most devoted to one another, for, as Xulai vehemently pointed out, if they were not devoted to one another, the difficulties caused by their families and friends would separate them soon and permanently. The four swallowed the eggs. They subsequently had endless discussions with the Tingawan women concerning the rules for disposition of future sea eggs: where, to whom, how many.
“I understand your sister’s feelings, but you may not give sea eggs to your sisters and brothers.”
“Your cousin breeds chickens, not people. Inbreeding in this case is not a good idea.”
“It doesn’t matter what your father said, you may not sell sea eggs. Anyone selling sea eggs or forcing someone else to do so will be sent to Tingawa and put in a cage at the shoreline, and stay there until death or drowning, whichever comes first. If it was suggested by someone else, that person will be alongside in another cage. Tell him we said so.”
“Remind your aunt that she will be dead long before the waters rising has affected her. No sea eggs except to young people.”
Xulai thought of having to repeat this over and over in every community they came to and despaired. Precious Wind seemed merely to get thinner and more tightly controlled with each passing day.
Eventually, the small cavalcade left for Woldsgard: Abasio and Xulai in the wagon, the warriors and Justinian mounted on Valesgard horses, another small wagon carrying their gear. Precious Wind rode separately, ahead of them, with the wolves. She had, she said, been training them to recognize the Old Dark Man, by smell and by sight.
“By smell?” Abasio wondered.
“The emissary picked up a bit of the creature’s clothing from the cellar. The wolves have good noses. They’ll alert us to anything strange. If necessary, if we get into a . . . confrontation . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t want to think what might happen to her pack if, indeed, they got into a confrontation.
Every few miles they encountered relay riders from the Eastwatch Tower of Wold, all saying the same thing. There had been no sightings on or near the road. If the information had been otherwise, the group would have retreated to Wellsport. They were not yet ready for confrontation.
When they approached Riversmeet, however, the message changed. There had been sightings, not confirmed, near the place where the Old Dark House had once been. People with distance glasses watching both from Eastwatch Tower and from villages farther up the cliff face had seen a tall dark something moving about in the forest and along the eastern slopes of Altamont. The wagon turned toward Woldsgard, extra horses were hitched, and the pace quickened. Precious Wind took the wolves uphill, into the forest of Wold. She was carrying the thing master, the ul xaolat. She thought it better to feed the wolves with wild game than to upset the Wold farmers by killing their livestock. Once at the gard, Precious Wind would house the wolves and feed them as she had done on the
