On Blue's waters

“True it is.” Wijzer paused to inspect a load of melons, then looked around and pointed. “You, Marrow. Your house that way is it? A house bigger than all the rest it is? The whole town you steer?”

Marrow leaned upon his stick. “The town doesn’t always think so.”

“Him sending you are.” Wijzer pointed to me. “To go he wants?”

“Yes,” I told him. “I want to because it is my duty.”

“Careful be. Careful you must be.” He made off through the hay market, pushing others out of his way and leading us as if he knew the route to Marrow’s better than either one of us; he was a big man, not so much tall as broad, with a big, square, sun-reddened face and muscular, short-fingered hands whose backs were thick with reddish hair.

“He’s rough,” Marrow whispered, “but don’t let that make you think he’s honest. He may send you wrong.”

The set of Wijzer’s shoulders told me he had overheard, so I said, “I’m a good judge of men, Councilor, and I think that this one can be trusted.” At the word councilor, Marrow’s eyes went wide.

His cook had prepared a good, plain dinner for us. There were seven or eight vegetable dishes variously prepared (most of Marrow’s wealth came from trading fruits and vegetables still), a big pork roast with baked apples, hot breads with a bowl of butter, and so forth. Wijzer pitched into the meat and wine. “No cheese, Marrow? Councilor Marrow? So said it is? Like a judge you are? No one this to me tells, or before more polite I am.”

“A few people call me that.” Marrow leaned back in his carved chair, toying with his wine glass. “But it has no legal force, and I don’t even make my servants do it.”

“This man Horn, he does. Him I hear. Why him you send it is?”

Marrow shook his head. “We’re sending him because he’s best qualified to go, and because he will. If you’re asking if I trust him, I do. Absolutely.”

“I’m going because I want Silk here more than anybody,” told Wijzer.

“Ahh?” His fork, laden with a great gobbet of pork, paused halfway to his mouth.

Marrow’s look suggested that I hold my tongue.

“So. Silk. Why you want so far to go I wondered. A long sail ror you Pajarocu is. Long even for me from Dorp it is, where nearer I am.” The Pork attained its ultimate destination.

“Do you know about Silk?”

He shrugged. “Stories there are. Some I hear. Someone a big book he has. Things he said, but maybe not all true they are. A good man, just the same he is. In Pajarocu Silk is, you think? Why? Him I did not see.”

“We don’t believe he’s in Pajarocu,” I said, “either one of us. I believe that he’s probably still in Viron, the city we left to come here. But Councilor Marrow got a letter from Pajarocu not long ago, a very important letter. I asked him to have a copy made for me, and he did. I think you ought to read it.”

I got out the letter and handed it to Wijzer, but he only tapped it, still folded, against the edge of the table. “This city, this Viron. From there you come. A councilor it steers. Not so it is?”

Marrow shook his head. “Under our Charter, the caldé decided things in Viron. We didn’t always follow our Charter, but that’s what it said. The Ayuntamiento was under him, and it was composed of councilors. When Horn and I left, Silk was caldé, and he told us to go. People from other landers who came later than we did say he was still caldé when they left, and urged them to risk the trip.”

Wijzer gestured with the folded letter. “One of these councilors you were, Marrow?”

Marrow shook his head again.

“Nothing you were. When this Silk comes, nothing again you will be. Why him do you want, if nothing you were?”

I began to protest, but Marrow said, “That’s right. I was nothing.”

Wijzer swallowed half his wine. “So here Silk you bring, where people who have never him seen him love. Caldé here he will be, and a council like before he will want. A councilor then you are that real is.”

“It could happen.” Marrow shrugged. “But it probably won’t. Do you seriously think that’s why we’re sending Horn here to fetch Silk?”

“Enough for me it is.”

“Who governs your own town? You?”

“Dorp? No. My boat I govern. For me, enough she is.”

Marrow buttered a roll while we waited for him to speak again. “You may know winds and landmarks, but you don’t know men. Not as well as you think you do.”

“Anybody that can say.” Wijzer helped himself to another salsify fritter.

“You’re right. Anybody can say it. Even Caldé Silk could, because it’s true.” Marrow picked up his wine glass and put it down with a bang. “I’m one of five who try to steer New Viron. Horn can tell you about that, if you want to hear it. I’m not always obeyed, none of us are. But I try, and our people know I want what’s best for the town. You say Caldé Silk will want a new Ayuntamiento if he comes here. He may not, he had a lot of trouble with our councilors back home.”

Wijzer continued to eat, watching Marrow’s face.