15

The Chronicler

            In Eden Hamlet, my O’bonne Alnese orientation progressed. There, the short Alnese summer lasted into Ostyx, the month of changes. Loxi and the onset of winter followed, a season that lasted through the next two long Alnese months, Holdin and Jotun. After presenting her overview, Dragon sighed long and hard, but concluded philosophically, “At least here in the tropics, Loxi almost qualifies as an autumn. No snow, usually.”

More Pallases appeared one fine morning a few days later, among them young cousins Odysseus and Illiad, much to Goal’s delight. Just two years younger, they proved ideal play mates. Goal was used to the company of her classmates and friends on Earth. The Hamlet was practically deserted in comparison, and in the middle of nowhere. Goal soon ruled a little playgroup that included our resident musician. I started to tag along on most afternoons, usually with Socorro in tow. Often, we’d skip out and go sailing on a catamaran anchored in the boathouse below Kyet’s dance studio.

The lake held an amazing similarity to its Swiss counterpart, Lac Leman, where Leila and I had found our converted farmhouse. A long and narrow stretch of water between rolling green hills, it pointed to some high foothills on one end, where the first ring of tropical Alnese mountains rose up, and converted into a soggy swamp on the other. Unlike the Swiss back on Earth, the Alnese had not interfered with the latter. A mostly coniferous forest blanketed both shores, punctuated by the occasional meadow and the even sparser Alnese settlement.

Eden Hamlet had been built about halfway from either end, where the lake thickened. The Hamlet sat on a parcel of land borrowed from Thor House, Eden’s clan of origin, in a complicated arrangement that sounded a little like an Alnese lease. The Nambo clan held title to most of the area, and had built a new clan house on the other shore not too long ago. Thor House had terraced a promontory of land on the mountainous end and built up a huge clan estate. The two clans were our nearest neighbors.

We sailed over to Nambo House across the lake one bright Ostyx afternoon, met up with the locals to sip some of their choctea and eat a scone-like confection. My Alnese still couldn’t quite keep up, but I caught the local welcomes and Kyet’s introduction of me as her ladyship’s new chronicler, the human with the Alnese vision.

Or hallucination, more likely.

The neighbors were suitably impressed. With help from a mobile Alnese translator, English presented absolutely no problem, and we spent the remainder of the afternoon switching back and forth as we alternated between local gossip and questions about Earth. Goal and the twins vanished soon after our landing.

Towards the end of our visit, I went for a walk on the grounds. Nambo House looked like a cross between the Pallas clan house in Zyss and the island compound where I’d been put up. A big octagonal hall anchored a labyrinthine collection of connected apartments, with two circles of cottages clustering down to the lake and up the hill into the forest. Rows of traditional Alnese greenhouses snaked between the residential buildings. I could hear excited children’s voices echo through the greenhouses. Slow counts to twenty would be followed by silence, then the occasional shriek and excited outbursts. I turned away and meandered down to the lakeshore. When Kyet joined me, I nodded towards the greenhouses and commented, “I hate to break up the party.”

He shrugged, “I’ve left a message for Aunt Quantal about leaving them here. I could return to get them in a couple of days. Without the baby, I could take a solar and have a lot of fun on the way back.”

Solars were the Alnese equivalent to personal transportation. The size and shape of a wind-surfboard, they hovered about one meter above any surface and were amazingly maneuverable. I was still learning how to ‘sail’ one, and could get by as long as we didn’t exceed twenty kilometers an hour, but Kyet was an expert solar-sailsman.  Since solars flowed over water as easily as over land, I could imagine the fun Goal and the twins would have horsing around on the boards and trying to push each other into the lake as they crossed back over to Eden Hamlet.

“Sounds like a great idea. Tell me, are you related?”

“Ray, everyone on Alnos is related. But in this case, my Pallas grandmother came from Nambo, and Thor House originated from Nambo and on Nambo land.”

“So, what’s the relationship? I know it’s not Pallas Nambo Kyet.”

He laughed, “True, it does get complicated.  Pallas Xhania Kyet, son of Pallas Nambo Vaideh and Pallas Xhania Alexander, originally Xhania Nandez Alexander.”

“I’m never going to keep all these … What do you call them? lineages? straight, you realize that.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“How do you keep them straight?”

He shrugged again, “Don’t know.” Then he smiled an absolutely dazzling smile, “I guess it’s just drummed into us from birth, Díaz Ruiz Raymond, the eight lineages to whom we are in debt, up four generations. In my case, it’s Pallas Xhania Nambo Nandez Pallas Nambo Medece Tzalque Xhania Nandez Tsenyx Eng.”

“Good grief!”

He chuckled.

“I’m gonna make a poor chronicler, that’s for sure!”

“Not to worry. Lineages aren’t your concern. Storytellers get to work on that part of our collective memory.”

“Storytellers?”

“Like Aunt Leila. But she’s still a journeywoman.”

I had always known my lover as a furniture maker, and secretly suspected some illegal enterprise on the side, given her seemingly limitless income in Switzerland. Pretty far off the mark. I consoled myself with the thought that I had at least figured out she was doing something on the side.

Kyet jerked his chin towards the main compound, “Time for the two of us to get ready.” As we climbed back towards the house, he explained, “Storytellers teach with stories. Most of them are born with a,” he paused, “sensitivity.” He paused again, evaluated the word for a moment, then threw me an apologetic look, “A sensitivity.”

“And she’s still a journeywoman?”

“Storytellers teach about debt. They cannot do that until they themselves understand debt, understand it in their bones, in their marrow. She’s too young.”

“Look who’s talking!”

He grinned, “I dance, Ray. I don’t need to wrestle with other people’s secrets, with, how do you put it? with their skeletons?”

I grinned back, “Something like that.”

We had almost reached the compound, and fell silent. I made a mental note to take a closer look at one of Dragon’s half-finished talks about her work on Alnos, the one entitled, “The Concept of Debt in Alnese Society.”

Once inside, the Nambos informed Kyet that Pallas Quantal, the twins’ mother, had responded to his earlier message and finalized arrangements about leaving the three cousins with their Nambo kin for a few days. We rounded them up only to be told that we were rudely interrupting the best fun they had had in weeks. We repeated the usual parental directives about being on their best behavior, then took our leave and sailed back to the villa with the baby.

Much to my regret, I didn’t get to accompany Kyet three days later, when he went to collect the children on one of the larger Eden Hamlet solars. I did hear that the foursome arrived back at the Hamlet dripping wet and with still enough mischief left over to flood the boathouse bathroom in a final water fight. I would have liked to chronicle that fight! Goal and Kyet each claimed victory, and the twins changed their story depending on which of the two older cousins they happened to be with. After surveying the mayhem, Eden ordered a thorough clean up of the boathouse bathroom. The twins tried to make themselves scarce, but he had one of his lieutenants round up all four cousins and they spend an afternoon detailing that bathroom until it sparkled.

I missed out on the whole adventure because none other than Lady Ciani came calling on her new chronicler.

*

We met in Dragon’s favorite ‘salon,’ a sun-lit living-dining room on the lower floor. French windows opened onto a terrace lined with a whole collection of fragrant Alnese plants and a stunning view of the lake all the way to the Midient Mountains. Her ladyship was standing in the open windows and admiring the view when I joined her. Her attendant stood ready in the adjoining kitchen. I had a fleeting sense that the one visible captain by the door had some less visible help nearby.

Lady Ciani turned towards me, “Ah, Díaz, Ashewe tells me you really enjoy this Earthly concoction, coffee.” She was using Alnese rather than English, a choice not lost on me. It announced her purpose before she spoke it. With a quick smile, she pointed to a pot on the table next to the French windows, “I’m not at all confident my cook knows how to prepare it, but there it is.”

“Thank you.”

In a moment of panic, I realized that Dragon and I had not yet covered proper Alnese protocol with the ruler of the planet. I had no idea how I was to conduct myself, and little confidence in my ability to understand, let alone respond appropriately. With a little wave, she simultaneously directed me to the table and her attendant to pour a cup of the coffee. I slid into one of the chairs and tasted the brew. Her ladyship employed excellent staff.

“Tolerable?”

“Better than that.”

“How gracious of you to say so.” She stepped closer, and the same attendant that had poured my coffee pulled a chair out for her, then set a steaming cup of choctea on the table. She sat down, started to sip the choctea, and looked straight at me, “My physician tells me you have recovered. Do you agree with her?”

“I feel much better.”

“Well enough to join us back in Zyss soon?”

I took the safest course of action and nodded silently.

She continued with another smile, “I was hoping you and I could agree on a schedule. Perhaps you could return with me, spend a few days in Zyss. Kobran ambassador Periasamy has taken up residence at Alnos House. You could begin to witness some of our conversations.”

I decided to try one of my emerging Alnese phrases, “If that is how I can serve your ladyship.”

“Another gracious comment! I’m going to finish this day deeply in debt to you.”

I couldn’t think of a thing to say in return, certainly not in Alnese. Dragon rescued me. Lady Ciani looked up and her smile brightened a few notches, “Ashewe! How nice of you to join us! Coffee or choctea?”

“If I may so impose on your ladyship’s generosity, I will have the coffee.”

A slightly raised finger brought about a third steaming cup.

“My dear Dragon, I truly regret the imposition, but I would like to invite you and Díaz Raymond to Alnos House. You’ve told him about the Council of Eight?”

Dragon nodded.

She had. Eight Alnese leaders were chosen from among all the Alnese Orders to four-year terms as “Councilors” to the Alnese Regent. Each of the eight could also function as Vice-Regent and help out in any way the Regent saw fit. Dragon had detailed the orders involved, but I could only remember the familiar ones, Lann, Arthmis, Pallas-Métis. I remembered the structure of the Council a little better. The Regent and the Council met on the fortieth day every month to discuss important issues until consensus could be reached. According to Dragon, the Alnese were great believers in consensus. So while the meetings concluded on the same day most of the time, some discussions could go on for days.

“Our next meeting is on the fortieth. It would be a good time to introduce him. And as I was just informing my new chronicler, Ambassador Periasamy and I are about to have some … conversations. The Council would truly appreciate an O’bonne perspective as we begin.”

“I am happy to repay my debts to Alnos any way I can, your ladyship.”

“O’bonne guests are so civilized.” Lady Ciani turned to me, “It’s short notice, I know, but how does, say, a week before the next council meeting suit you?”

Another moment of panic struck. I couldn’t really answer her. I wanted—I needed—to find out what Leila planned first, but didn’t know whether that constituted an arrogant presumption on my part. I had no idea how Lady Ciani viewed my relationship with my daughter, whether she even thought I had a daughter.

Without ever discussing it, Leila and I had slipped back into our old rhythm, the one we had established in Switzerland before Socorro. She spent mornings with the children, I took over in the afternoon. But we had not sat down and talked, and she had let me understand I was to keep out of her way. My anxiety about Socorro, allayed by the recent weeks of familiar routine, throttled back to life.

Once again, it was Dragon to the rescue. She cleared her throat, and once we both adjusted in her direction, she observed, “Your ladyship, I am sure Chronicler Díaz will be able to work out a suitable schedule, but he needs to consult some other parties first.”

“Of course. Pallas Eden told me as much. I’m sorry Díaz Raymond. Perhaps you can take the date I have proposed under advisement and let me know by the end of my visit?”

I nodded.

Another smile rewarded me.

“How long will your ladyship remain with us?” Dragon sought to clarify.

“Overnight. Pallas Eden has agreed to take me sailing, after a little persuasion. The Justiciar has been overly affected by recent events in the Islands. He’s getting worse than my b- than Pallas Alexander.”

Dragon’s expression dimmed, “Perhaps. Many histories teach us that his concern is warranted.”

Her ladyship turned back to me, “A sail around the lake is not much time, only a few hours. Nevertheless, I would like to ask you to join me again for a walk around the gardens upon my return. A more private hour before dinner?”

I bowed a little, “As you wish.”

“Thank you Díaz. I am in your debt. To try and ease it a little, I’ve had my cook prepare you both some of our morning pancakes with springberry preserves. I hope you will accept this small gesture.” She rose, “The Justiciar has granted me a visit to his tower. I hear the view is well worth the climb.”

This time Dragon and I replied almost simultaneously, “It is.”

“Until this evening, then.”

And that said, she glided by us to the door and vanished into the house, followed by her attendant and her captain.

I sought out the mother of my child.

I found her in a workspace she had started to adapt into her new workshop, a big room on the other end of the first floor dominated by a magnificent loom. Picking up the sleeping baby from her workroom crib, I informed Leila of Lady Ciani’s wishes. She had no trouble connecting the dots, “If both you and Eden return to Zyss, Goal won’t let up until I follow. I might as well resign myself now. Is he with her ladyship?”

“I think so.”

She let out a disdainful grunt, stepped to the nearest com unit and called out, “Minguard?”

When the Arthmis lieutenant answered the call, Leila told her, “I need to see my husband as soon as he is available. Make sure he is appraised of it.” To me, she commented, “I’m just getting this space ready, you know. I should have known better. You can tell her ladyship you will be available for the end of Ostyx, definitely by the fortieth. You’ll have to give me one week. We’ll follow you before the month ends.”

“All right.”

I lingered.

She knew why.

Her next look made it clear she still did not want to discuss any of her decisions, but she conceded, “Everyone knows you chose her first name. I haven’t changed it.”  And then she clarified, “It’s an acknowledgment. But she needs to spend more time with Eden. They both do.”

And for the second time that day, I got to practice the well-worn Alnese phrase, “As you wish.”

She looked at me sharply, stepped to where I stood and gathered the baby back. Socorro yawned at her mother. Leila whispered endearments at her and rested her against one shoulder, walked around the room until the rocking lulled her back to sleep.

I screwed up my courage, “Leila.”

She cut me off, “One week, Ray. Get started at Alnos House, and we’ll follow you in one week.”

“All right.”

“I’ll bring her up in the afternoon.”

“All right.”

I decided I might as well meet up with Dragon and Vai again, as usual. But when I climbed up to the fourth floor, I found only Vai in her office. The Alnese scientist was in her usual garrulous mood, complaining about the “unending stream of interruptions.”

“That’s what I get for moving into a house built by a Justiciar!” she snorted, “How could I ever have been stupid enough to buy that line about building a retreat? Retreat!  This is worse than Zyss on market day! Have you seen all the Jotun-witted fools that have been trooping about this morning?”

“Actually, no.”

“Well good for you! Half of Eden’s companies must be here! If this keeps up, I am moving to Kyet’s little island. If the man can negotiate a house out of Thor, he can bloody well add an island!”

Her grumblings were the perfect antidote to my anxiety, as was keeping busy.  Gathering up my O’bonne reading tablet, I flipped through the index until I found the half-finished talk I was looking for, and started to read it.

            The Concept of Debt in Alnese Society, by Azetmir Dragon Ashewe.

            Following in Ndinzi Nyemba’s footsteps on Alnos, I have turned my attention to informal means of social regulation. As Nyemba himself reported in a series of recent talks, the Alnese have stuck with some traditions more common in pre-warp, even pre-literate societies. Makalanyone’s recent historical research into the almost two millenia-long Alnese odyssey has provided some intriguing clues to this unique Alnese development.  

            Makalanyone first focused her attention on the years immediately following an eighty-year gap in the Alnese historical record early on in the odyssey, and found many adaptations to the stresses of early space travel, among them a shift towards a more mixed, more distributed system of record-keeping. I will mention that the innovations from this period included the first Alnese chroniclers and storytellers, two new roles that have endured into the Alnese present, as we all know. Makalanyone hypothesizes that the first few generations of space gypsies experienced perhaps a few more adventures than they cared for; the historical record, fragmented though it may be, makes it clear that they suffered heavy losses, including the loss of entire ships and technologies. It makes sense that the space gypsies would grow weary of relying too much on technology, and a re-emergence of more oral or more mixed-media means of cultural maintenance and transmission appears a plausible adaptation. 

            Like traditions in other societies, the re-emergent oral traditions that have persisted into the Alnese present are rooted in social networks. In recent months, I have started to take note of a particular concept that recurs again and again in Alnese clan affairs, a concept that, indeed, could be termed a key to Alnese clan affairs. That concept is the concept of debt. 

            One could say that on Alnos, everything revolves around debt. To simplify things for the sake of this discussion, on Alnos, every child is born in debt to her “eight lineages,” that is, to the eight clan houses whose alliances have led to her conception and birth. That debt is reciprocal, however; the parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents are in debt to their children for carrying on their blood and their memories. Other relationships are viewed in the same terms, as unending cycles of obligations that are simply a fact of existence. I am familiar with a similar concept on Earth, where at least some groups have developed the notion that every action generates karma, or consequences. On Alnos, you could substitute the word debt for karma, and the same basic rule applies: every action generates debt, and it is the unending task of every Alnese to work down the debt, to strive for balance, and to make sure he does not generate debts that cannot be repaid and that would create a permanent imbalance. 

            The Alnese apply this concept with surprising even-handedness. On Alnos, I am in debt to the air I breathe, the food I eat, the wood and stones in my house, the cashmere that keeps me warm, as well as to the cook who prepares my food, the singer who bestows the gift of a song, and the friend who offers me an hour of conversation. In fact, good conversations are prized on Alnos; they are deemed excellent examples of the kind of reciprocal relationship that leads to balance. I can achieve that cherished balance by reciprocating favors, acknowledging gifts, and balancing out the inevitable acts of destruction with acts of creation.  

            It is conceivable that the concept of debt and the ideal of balance lie at the root of the well-known Alnese love of pleasure in all things and of art in all actions. Giving art or pleasure creates a good debt, a debt that may in time yield art or pleasure in return. Over the years, many of us have appreciated this aspect of Alnese life, not just because of the quality of their workmanship both on Alnos and on O’bonne, but also because of its influence on Alnese daily life and on their dealings with their guests. To us, the Alnese are not just hospitable, they suffuse their hospitality with many gracious little touches and little pleasures. And their routines appear thought through to an extraordinary degree. Our kinesiologists have long expressed admiration for the Alnese ‘basic eight,’ for example, praising not just the health benefits of the exercise routine, but its surprising aesthetic quality as well. Of course, the Alnese swear that creating aesthetic movement further increases the health benefits of the routine.

            I don’t doubt that their planetary spaceship’s climate has further encouraged their devotion to infusing daily life with pleasurable moments, especially in winter, but there is more to Alnese love of art than simply making the Alnese igloo tolerable.  Most of my Pallas hosts devote time to creative work, but a lot of that work is quite experimental and never leaves the artist’s workroom. The Alnese have an interesting saying, “Some art is just for one day, and some is meant for God.” On Alnos, art can be ephemeral, short-lived, frivolous, or even entirely private. Among the Pallas artists in my most immediate orbit are Pallas Leila, whose hand-crafted furniture has a reputation as among the finest on the planet, Pallas Alexander, whose tapestries are also quite sought after, and his son Pallas Kyet, a rather talented musician and dancer. His mother Pallas Vai, on the other hand, has never considered any of her compositions fit for anyone but herself, and Pallas Eden only occasionally smithies a piece of jewelry or a dagger. As a matter of fact, Pallas Alexander once told me with a wink, “The great prophet herself thought it was good for the soul, but Pallas never pretended to do much more than dabble with the loom.” I have, of late, started to follow the Alnese example and started to dabble myself, mostly with Pallas Vai’s multi-dimensional graphics. And like my good friend, I find my dabblings most appropriate for God rather than my fellow O’bonne or even my tolerant fellow Alnese. I am finding that the great Alnese prophet had a point, even if her meaning was distinctly Alnese. 

            To return to my analysis, Pallas Alexander’s comment points to the suspected connection between art and debt. Even questionable and private results have been decreed ‘good for the soul,’ good because they lighten the unending burden of debt. The Alnese say, ‘Just try to run out on your debts!’ and, ‘Debts circle back.’ All acts have consequences, and sooner or later, all must acknowledge and deal with those consequences. Creative and artistic activity is so widespread and ranges so far and wide because it provides a means of absolution, even or perhaps especially if the art is only meant for God.

After that last paragraph, Dragon’s piece broke off into a series of not entirely intelligible phrases and notes.

I put the reading tablet aside, pondered what I had just learned. For a bottomed-out musician, I sure had landed on the perfect planet.