Commitment Hour

waterfront.

For a moment, I glanced at Beacon Point, checking if Rashid and Steck were up there watching. They weren't in sight, but I could imagine them on the grass in front of the old lighthouse, maybe staring at the gods through an OldTech telescope.

Rashid would be talking about airplanes and trying to identify what kind he was looking at. I wondered whether my mother had got muck-mired in that same mindset… or if, perhaps, she could still look up at the sky and think, 'gods,' not, 'aircraft.'

Steck had wanted to be priestess once. She must still have some tiny bit of faith. Or was I just trying to believe good things about my mother?

Master Crow — or perhaps I should say Master Crow's airplane disguise — sped over Mother Lake in a long low glide that suddenly ploughed up a furrow of water as he skimmed down onto the surface. Unlike mortal crows, the god always landed on the lake: he had special feet shaped like skis which could buoy him up, no matter how many children he held. He came to a stop perhaps two hundred paces from shore.

I don't want you thinking he was an OldTech seaplane like you see in books. For one thing, he was much, much bigger than any antique seaplane; my father had once toured a partly preserved seaplane in a Feliss museum, and Zephram assured me it was tiny compared to Master Crow. Furthermore, Master Crow looked more birdlike than a common OldTech plane — he had a sharp black beak, and sly shiny eyes in place of the windows that OldTech pilots peered out.

Master Crow didn't need a pilot. He was a god, guided by his own wisdom, flying by divine power. Even on solstice days crackling with thunder, he speared his way safely through the storm.

Mistress Gull, smaller and quieter but no less strong, splish-splashed her way to a landing two minutes after Master Crow. She rode low on the waves, like a real gull — pristine white in the sunshine, as calmly beautiful as a new mother sleeping. Looking at Mistress Gull, I suddenly wanted to hold Cappie's hand; but after our talk in the Patriarch's Hall, I was sure Cappie wouldn't want to hold mine.

By the time Mistress Gull settled comfortably, Master Crow had already sent out his 'chick': a boat with a hull of black rubber, as if an OldTech cart-tire had been stretched big enough to hold twenty children. The boat moved quickly over the waves, giving off a smoke that smelled like hot asphalt. Kids always curled up their noses at the stench; ten-year-old boys made fart jokes, and when they couldn't think of actual jokes, made fart sounds with their armpits. (To ten-year-old boys, any notable odor reminds them of farts.)

Children began to line up on the main dock, with the older teenagers maintaining order and safety. This was a point of pride for our generation: the adults remained back of the line of sand where the beach began, while we 'youngsters' took care ourselves. We needed no final sermon from Hakoore… no muddled good wishes from Leeta. Of course, the parents looked on with a keen watchfulness — just as I refused to take my eyes off Urgho and Waggett — but this was the children's responsibility. Our moment.

I say 'our'… but Cappie and I remained on the sand while the others organized themselves on the dock. We were not adults yet, but we were not Master Crow's passengers either. We would never ride between his black wings again.

'How are you doing?' Cappie suddenly asked.

I looked at her; she'd been watching me. After so many years, growing up together, she knew me so well she could almost read my mind.

'It's strange not being out there with them.'

'Yeah.' Her eyes met mine for an instant, then turned quickly back to the dock. 'Waggett looks happy enough with Urgho.'

'Waggett's a happy boy.'

'Do you wonder what he'll be like as a girl?'

'Of course.'

'He'll be happy,' she said. A moment's silence… then: 'Whatever happens between us, Fullin, will you let me visit him once in a while? I've watched him grow up this far…'

'It's a small village,' I told her. 'He'll always be just around the corner.' I gave a tentative smile. 'You can visit Waggett and I'll visit Pona.'

She nodded. We continued watching our child.

It took the black boat four round-trips to carry all the children to Master Crow. Waggett and Urgho went with the second group. I sighed with relief as they climbed the steps from water level and vanished into Master Crow's interior. It was always hushed inside there, where the feathery padding on seats and walls soaked up the edges of sound. I could picture the older teenagers patiently buckling seat belts around the smaller children, just as it had been done for generation after generation back through the centuries.

As the last boatload left the dock, I felt Cappie tense beside me. Mistress Gull had lowered her own chick — smaller than Master Crow's but similar. A boat of white rubber.

My stomach was full of butterflies. The lake was calm, but I suddenly worried that the rocking of the boat might make me sick.

'Well,' Cappie said, 'shall we?'

She stood. In one hand, she carried her spear ('just taking it to be blessed'). Under the other arm, she lugged her Chicken Box… bigger than mine and intentionally so. Nunce didn't want his daughter to be shown up by an outsider's child. I lifted my own load — Chicken Box, violin — and we waddled together to the end of the dock.

People shouted, 'Happy Commitment!' after us. I imagined I could hear Zephram among them, but I knew it wasn't true.

Cappie emptied her arms before boarding the boat, then I passed her all our baggage: spear, violin, and the two Chicken Boxes. The butterflies in my stomach took an extra flurry as I handed her the box holding the gun, but she stowed it under a seat without comment and turned back to me for the final piece of our load — the metal case containing blood and bone.

'Careful,' she said.

I gave her a wounded look… but then, Cappie was just being a mother, concerned for her child's welfare. In a sense, Cappie's baby was inside the case: the Gift that would let Pona live a normal girl/boy childhood. I care about Pona too, I wanted to say; I've changed Pona's diapers on occasion.

Rare occasions. Too rare.

Was that thought just sentimentality, or was I becoming female again? I couldn't tell, and maybe it didn't matter. Carefully, I passed Cappie the case and waited for her to stow it securely.

When I was ready to board the boat, she held out her hand to help me. I took it.

Mistress Gull's boat made the same smelly fumes as Master Crow's, but to me the odor was more nostalgic than unpleasant. (Fullin the near-adult: finally past the, 'Ooo, fart!' stage.) Water rocked gently beneath us as we slipped away from the dock. The sun sparkled. A light breeze played with Cappie's hair; even cut short like a man's, her hair was lush and silky. I thought of her as priestess, dancing the solstice dance with daisies curled around her ears…

'Why are you looking at me like that?' Cappie asked.

'Picturing you taking over from Leeta.'

'Really?'

'Really.' It surprised me too. I'd told her the truth as if it was an easy thing — as if my habit for lying had fallen asleep with the gentle motion of the boat. 'So how long have you and she been discussing that you'd…'

'Just a few days. Leeta only got the bad news from Doctor Gorallin last week.'

'And you'll still have time to learn everything?'

Cappie shrugged. 'Leeta thinks so. There aren't that many rituals. Last rites, birth-naming, solstices and equinox…' She paused. 'If you have the urge to be priestess instead of me, you could pick it up easily… provided you decide it isn't a ridiculous Anti-Patriarch heresy after all.'

'It is a ridiculous Anti-Patriarch heresy,' I told her. 'That's its charm.'

She smiled — a smile that neither believed nor disbelieved me. A 'summer day on the lake' smile.

The boat docked at a small landing stage that extended from one of Mistress Gull's feet: 'pontoons' as Nunce called them. Cappie scrambled up and we began to unload, beginning with the case that contained the blood-gifts. When I handed it to Cappie, she went straight up the steps into Mistress Gull — no leaving it on the landing stage where a sudden wave might tip it into the lake.

While she was gone, I simply waited: smelling the wet rubber of the boat, watching the sun dance on the water…

Something moved. Something under the surface.

Working on the perch boats, I'd seen fish brush the surface many times. The biggest were muskies — as long as your arm or even your leg.

The thing I'd just glimpsed was bigger… a huge dark shadow.

I held my breath. The sunlight on the water made it hard to see anything below. Like any fishing village, Tober Cove had its share of campfire tales about monsters lurking in the deeps — giant snakes or squid or octopi. 'Myths,' my father had said. 'Maybe in the ocean but not Mother Lake.' And yet…

Cappie's spear was in the boat. I reached for it slowly and eased it into attack position, ready to stab down into the water if I saw another hint of motion.

'What the hell are you doing?' Cappie asked. She'd come back out to Mistress Gull's doorway. 'If you spear a hole in that rubber, you're going to regret it.'

'There's something in the water,' I answered in a strained voice. 'Something big.'

'Probably just a school of fish,' she said. 'When they're all swimming together, they can look like one big creature.' But as she came down the steps she kept her gaze trained on the lake. 'Let's just get the stuff on board and… shit!'

I snapped my head up. She was staring wide-eyed at the shadowed patch of water between Mistress Gull's pontoons.

'See something?' I whispered.

She held her hand out. 'Give me the spear.'

'Are you sure…'

'I'm not a helpless woman, Fullin! Give me the damned spear.'