Audiences: Chapter 8

Chapter 8, Those Silly Beavers

Yar sat on his throne in the wagon. Well not a throne exactly, it was a large bench created by disassembling and rearranging the boards that made up two of his storage crates. But with a glimmering green and blue cloth draped over it and two big embroidered cushions, who could say that it wasn't a throne. The powerful oil lamps on either side kept the evening gloom at a distance with their soft white light. To add to the effect, he was wearing satin slippers with curled up tips. A red owl mask of lacquered wood covered the top half of his face. His loincloth was clean and starched, his body was shaved and oiled, he sat enclosed but not covered by his fur coat. A vordin in a deep blue tunic sat on a stool in front and to one side of him. All in all, he looked like a person of wealth holding court.

They were in Prrembelng now. Prrembelng was a city, a permanent settlement so big that it had four main markets and over a dozen smaller ones. But they weren’t in a market, they were on a stage. Not a large table or a raised platform on the edge of a public space, but a purpose built stage backed by a curved wall built up against a hill. In front a gravel floor had been freshly smoothed. Heavy timber benches accommodated most of the audience, but some had brought seats of their own, everything from simple stools to easy chairs.

Seltheen stood just outside the illuminated area to preserve her night vision. Everyone had gotten a good look at her earlier and knew she was there. Hopefully that would be enough.

This was not like the little chuudib villages they'd stopped in before. This was not like the market town where they’d faced the gang. This was not like the three other market towns they’d stopped at after that one. There had been no confrontation at any of those because she’d known what to look for and had deliberately provoked brawls. This exposed the worst threats in front of plenty of witnesses, including constables.

In each of those places, danger, however hidden, was ultimately physical and identifiable. And when it came, it was recognizable. But here, danger was an insubstantial force, never presenting itself for scrutiny, always just beyond the edge of vision. And the city pulsed with it.

Yar studied the audience. The brow of the mask shaded his eyes from the lamps so he could see everything clearly. He was deciding on the right opening. He knew that Seltheen was fretting, she had expressed her concerns forcefully earlier. He had responded by trying to give her a quick description of how things worked in cities. Gangs were not as big a problem here, political factions were where the danger she sensed was. And the danger was not necessarily directed at him. She would have to learn not to pursue every hostile glance or suspicious movement. He tried to explain that it was like back home in the Rinks. Some animal sounds meant possible danger to people, most just meant danger to other animals. She had honed her instincts for wilderness survival, but in an urban environment, she was as lost as a newcomer would be in the Rinks. He finished his evaluation and made a small sign. The vordin struck a bell clapper, hushing the crowd.

“Greetings, everyone” Yar said. “It is good to see so many people out here this evening. I see there are many young families here. No doubt some of you must leave early for your children’s bedtimes. I’m sure that the kids don’t think that’s quite fair. Bedtime? Boo! Boo! Am I right, kids?” He received the expected response. “Oops, that was dumb of me. It’s bad luck for a performer to ask for boos, we get so many without asking! Tell you kids what. I’ve got some stuff that’s maybe a bit too violent for you, and some really sophisticated stuff that’s supposed to make people think. And I’ve got some stuff that’s got plenty of thrills and just plain fun. So, how about I give you that stuff first, and save the less fun stuff for later, so it doesn’t matter if you’re in bed by then. Is that a good plan, kids? What do you say?” This time, of course, he got a theater full of cheers. “Thank you, thank you! Let’s have the first story.”

The vordin rang his clapper.

“Now, there were two sloths who lived in a cozy cabin on the other side of the river from a big town. One day, bright and early, they headed out to the fair. They soon came to the river, where— wait a second! Um, what did I say there were two of?” “Sloths!” came the answer from the audience. “You said, that I said sloths?” “Yes!” “Are you sure?” “YES!” “Oh dear, that won’t do at all. A story with sloths in it would take too long to tell! See, the fair is on the other side of the river, and sloths would still be crossing the bridge after the fair closed. I’d better start over.”

The vordin rang his clapper again.

“Now, there were two, er, uh, giraffes, no, no, that won’t do either. This is a tall tale, but not that tall! Penguins? No, penguins have no sense of timing. They'd start out too early and have to wait for the fair to open when they got there. How about warthogs? No, you’re right we need something cute. Oh, I’ve got it— beavers! You like that? Good, beavers it is. Here we go.”

The vordin mimed smacking Yar with the clapper, then gave it a sort of half hearted shake. “Everyone’s a critic” mused Yar. He straightened up and projected his voice, filling the area easily.

“Now, there were two beavers, who lived in a cozy cabin on the other side of the river from a big town. One day, bright and early, they headed off to the fair in the town on the other side of the river because they needed to go shopping. They soon came to the river. But the bridge wasn’t there! They had forgotten that this was the day that the bridge was taken out to be cleaned. Oops! It looked as if they would have to wade. Barefooted. Because as it happened, their boots were also out to be cleaned. And we all know how much beavers hate to get wet. And that goes double for their feet! Luckily for them, a temporary bridge had been set up. It was a single narrow plank, just a meter across. They climbed up the bank and onto the rickety plank, moving carefully for fear of falling into the nasty cold water.

The two beavers crossed safely and made it to the town. But before they could go to the fair, they had to do a little business at the Civic Affairs Office. The constables had cited them a week before for excessive yodeling after sundown. They had to pay a fine for that. But they also had won a prize for maintaining a sweet smelling garden and the prize money made up for the fine. They arrived at the fair just as it was opening. Their two friends, the penguins, were already there and somewhat cross with having had to wait. As they entered the fair, they passed two giraffes. One giraffe remarked, “my, this is a tall tale”. The other one said, “it's not that tall”.

The beavers and the penguins entered a dance contest. The dance was called the Totem Pole. Now, you know that they must have been good friends, because only a good friend will let someone stand on their head with feet that smell like fish! They won a big stuffed warthog, which they refused because they preferred something cute for their home decoration.

They had pickled apricots for lunch. Afterwards, the penguins left for home because they were tired on account of having gotten up too early.

Then it was time for shopping. They were supposed be going to the market, remember? Of course you do. But beavers can be so scatter brained sometimes. They bought eggs, and cheese and strawberries, and paper bags and lotion for their big flat tails. That’s because their tails would get scraped and cut when they used to slide on them. Beavers are not supposed to slide on their tails, but sometimes they do anyway. Beavers are kind of like people that way, you know?

Since it often got hot where they lived, they bought a nice big fan machine. It was very special fan machine. You didn’t have to attach it to a waterwheel or a treadmill. Instead it was powered by a windmill. When it fanned you, it also fanned the windmill, which kept the fan going. Isn’t that clever! Then they went roller skating and, I’m sorry to say, ended up using all of that lotion from falling on their tails. Because as everyone knows, beavers can’t skate. But they had fun anyway.

Then they saw a line of people all excited and all headed in the same direction. Must be something special, they thought, so they followed the people to a cozy green meadow, where they listened to a wonderful entertainer, Yar the Magnificent. Hey, that’s me! Hahaha, I do get around. And, of course, I held them absolutely spellbound. When I was finished, they insisted on giving me their strawberries. And they tried to teach me how to do the Totem Pole, but I was having trouble keeping my balance. We said our goodbyes and they headed for home.

By the time they got to the river it was getting dark. So they made their way to the plank and started across. They were really careful, but they weren’t careful enough, because halfway across, they fell off the plank and into the nasty cold water.

I know, it’s a downer ending. But that’s the way it happened. And do you know why it happened? Do you know why they fell off the plank?

They tripped over the two sloths!”

They audience roared. The vordin played a double scraping tone on his clapper, first rising in pitch and then dropping.

Yar waited until the applause died down. Then he waited some more as if expecting a longer reaction. He waited until the audience stared to break out in nervous laughter. Then he resumed.

“Thank you for that. You make up in warmth what you lack in volume. Or is that the other way around? Ah, but a performer must never complain. Never complain, just move on. So, how about another animal story? Or should it be something different? I was talking to my mules this morning, and they said— they’ve got very strong opinions on the subject. But then all mules have very strong opinions on lots of things. They said that I need to mix it up more, change themes, change subjects, change my pacing, even change the patter between bits. I say, maybe I need to change mules!”

“Where are your mules, actually?” asked Seltheen as they were walking back to their quarters later that night. Seltheen was curious because earlier that day, after Yar had brought the wagon to the stage, he had unhitched Heave and Ho and turned them over to a small group of people, apparently a family. “Oh, I gave them to those kind people in exchange for their help putting up posters. Heave and Ho were getting kind of travel sick. Too much plodding for too many hours over too many kilometers. And I’m sure you already noticed that they had been doing a lot less talking. The fact is that they have been gradually losing the power of speech. But that’s alright, they were actually getting bored with it, and wanted to just be regular mules again. Their new owners will give them the opportunity to do just that. From now on they will only be used for short trips around town. They will carry much smaller loads than my cumbersome self and all my baggage. And they'll get fresh fodder every day.”

They had come this way earlier to arrange the rental of a suite, but Seltheen had been too busy watching the throngs of passersby for possible threats. Now there was much less traffic to scrutinize. Plus, the vordin, whose name was Eksiter Tetlee, was walking ahead of them, sounding his instrument. This seemed to be a signal for people to get out of the way.

Seltheen looked at their surroundings more carefully. Tall pillars along the cobblestone streets held clusters of lamps. As Yar explained it, the lamps were all lit at twilight. They held different amounts of oil so that they would burn out at different times. Hence the streets would remain well lit for some time after sundown, but the light would gradually yield until by midnight the dark would reign unchallenged. Right now, each pillar had two lamps still it.

Then there were the toys. That’s how Seltheen thought of them, since they seemed designed purely for childish amusement. These were objects of metal, wood and leather, of many different sizes, all in fanciful shapes and painted in bright colors. They moved by themselves. Some made noise. They were all over Prrembelng, on the streets, in front of buildings, or in their windows. Right now she was passing a large metal cage full of little gray furred creatures with big red lips and yellow glowing eyes. Glass eyes, of course, but as they gibbered and pointed, they seemed to see her well enough. She shuddered and looked away.

Yar said that all those things were called mechanicals, and that they were full of clever little bits of metal with strange names like `gears’ and `springs’ and that all their movement started with a simple turning motion like that of a grindstone. Furthermore, they weren’t all just for amusement, some moved water for drinking and crops and other, larger ones, lifted people to the tops of tall buildings.

The streets curved gently around oval shaped buildings made from blocks of white stone with shallow conical roofs made from carved timber. Many of them had lamps of their own hanging outside their doors. Nearly all had light showing through their windows. There were signs hanging from the light pillars and also from some smaller poles in front of some of the buildings. But the signs were beyond Seltheen’s ability to decipher them and so many of the buildings looked alike. “Are you sure this is the way back to the inn?” She asked. “Yes” replied Yar. “But it’s not an inn, it’s a hotel.” “What’s the difference?” “It’s simple, an inn provides food and drink, but also shelter, while a hotel may provide food and drink, but shelter is its primary purpose. Likewise, a tavern provides food and drink and sometimes a little shelter, but food and drink is primary. And a pub provides some food, but drink is primary.

While they spoke, Eksiter led them unerringly back to their lodgings. Inside the hotel entrance was a mechanical. A metal man about a meter high stood surrounded by discs with numbers on them, his hands pointing to two of them. “That is a clock”, explained Yar. “It tells us how much time has passed so far today. It says twenty one and a half.” He tried to explain why that was so useful to know, but it seemed like nonsense to Seltheen.

“Tomorrow” said Yar, “we will rent a house.”