habit of making that chucklelike gurgle as he loosed himself into his diaper.
Waggett’s crib stood close to the far doorway, where Zephram slept in the bedroom beyond. That made me smile too. Since Cappie and I were required to spend the night in the marsh, Zephram had volunteered to babysit his “grandson”…and even though my foster father adopted me when I was younger than Waggett, Zephram behaved as if he’d never had charge of an infant before. Where to put the crib? If it went right in the bedroom, maybe Zephram’s snoring would keep the poor lamb awake; but if the crib sat too far away, maybe Waggett would cry and cry without his grandfather hearing. I could imagine Zephram moving the crib a hair, running into the bedroom to see how sound carried, then hurrying back to move the crib a freckle in the other direction. He fussed over things like that.
When I’d left Zephram, I wondered if he’d sleep at all during the night. His worry and exhaustion must have worn him out, because I could now hear him snoring peaceably in the next room. There was no point in disturbing him. Since I happened to be here, I’d deal with my son on my own.
Carefully, I lifted Waggett, picked a clean diaper from the stack beside the crib, and moved quietly to the kitchen. After so many months of baby-tending, I didn’t need a lamp to work; the movements came automatically as I laid my son on the kitchen table and changed him in the dark. All the while I whispered soft, “Shh, shhs,” and, “Be quiet for Mummy.” It was only when I hugged him to my chest afterward that I realized I didn’t have breasts…that like Cappie, I was now a woman dressed up in a man’s clothes.
Physically, I was still male: the same body I’d been wearing since the previous summer. But internally…my male soul was gone, and my female one was snugly in control.
If you’re not a Tober, it’s complicated to understand.
The Patriarch taught that all souls have a gender: males have male souls and females female. The exception is a newborn child, possessed of two souls: baby girl and baby boy in one body, often swapping dominance back and forth every few minutes…not that it makes much difference at that age.
The first time a child travels to Birds Home, Master Crow and Mistress Gull gently remove one of the child’s souls, leaving only the male soul in a boy’s body or the female soul in a girl’s body. From that time forward, the gods take one soul out and put the other one in, each summer when they change the body’s sex. Boy bodies get boy souls; girl’s bodies get girl souls. This is how the gods ensure that mortals think and act according to the ordained inclinations of their gender…
…or so the Patriarch preached in his fatuously uninformed way a hundred and fifty years ago. Since then, a series of Patriarch’s Men had quietly admitted it wasn’t as simple as that.
In times of great need (so the current wisdom went), the gods might permit your opposite-sex soul to fly from Birds Home to take temporary possession of your body. I’ve already described how this happened when that woman knifed me: my male soul arrived to help my female soul win the fight. A pity my male soul then stuck around and got in a tizzy about my harmless tumble-fumble with the doctor woman: it was no big deal, certainly not the “perversion” he was forever moaning about. But then, whenever I became a woman, I always felt mystified by the things my brother self thought were important.
Don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t common for my female soul to take over my male body, or vice versa. This was only the third cross-gender twist in my life. And everyone agreed these flip-overs never happened after Commitment…only to younger people who hadn’t yet chosen a permanent sex. Still, almost every Tober had experienced a gender swap at least once, no matter what the Patriarch said; and now that I was my woman self, I had no trouble accepting that once again,
Waggett’s crib stood close to the far doorway, where Zephram slept in the bedroom beyond. That made me smile too. Since Cappie and I were required to spend the night in the marsh, Zephram had volunteered to babysit his “grandson”…and even though my foster father adopted me when I was younger than Waggett, Zephram behaved as if he’d never had charge of an infant before. Where to put the crib? If it went right in the bedroom, maybe Zephram’s snoring would keep the poor lamb awake; but if the crib sat too far away, maybe Waggett would cry and cry without his grandfather hearing. I could imagine Zephram moving the crib a hair, running into the bedroom to see how sound carried, then hurrying back to move the crib a freckle in the other direction. He fussed over things like that.
When I’d left Zephram, I wondered if he’d sleep at all during the night. His worry and exhaustion must have worn him out, because I could now hear him snoring peaceably in the next room. There was no point in disturbing him. Since I happened to be here, I’d deal with my son on my own.
Carefully, I lifted Waggett, picked a clean diaper from the stack beside the crib, and moved quietly to the kitchen. After so many months of baby-tending, I didn’t need a lamp to work; the movements came automatically as I laid my son on the kitchen table and changed him in the dark. All the while I whispered soft, “Shh, shhs,” and, “Be quiet for Mummy.” It was only when I hugged him to my chest afterward that I realized I didn’t have breasts…that like Cappie, I was now a woman dressed up in a man’s clothes.
Physically, I was still male: the same body I’d been wearing since the previous summer. But internally…my male soul was gone, and my female one was snugly in control.
If you’re not a Tober, it’s complicated to understand.
The Patriarch taught that all souls have a gender: males have male souls and females female. The exception is a newborn child, possessed of two souls: baby girl and baby boy in one body, often swapping dominance back and forth every few minutes…not that it makes much difference at that age.
The first time a child travels to Birds Home, Master Crow and Mistress Gull gently remove one of the child’s souls, leaving only the male soul in a boy’s body or the female soul in a girl’s body. From that time forward, the gods take one soul out and put the other one in, each summer when they change the body’s sex. Boy bodies get boy souls; girl’s bodies get girl souls. This is how the gods ensure that mortals think and act according to the ordained inclinations of their gender…
…or so the Patriarch preached in his fatuously uninformed way a hundred and fifty years ago. Since then, a series of Patriarch’s Men had quietly admitted it wasn’t as simple as that.
In times of great need (so the current wisdom went), the gods might permit your opposite-sex soul to fly from Birds Home to take temporary possession of your body. I’ve already described how this happened when that woman knifed me: my male soul arrived to help my female soul win the fight. A pity my male soul then stuck around and got in a tizzy about my harmless tumble-fumble with the doctor woman: it was no big deal, certainly not the “perversion” he was forever moaning about. But then, whenever I became a woman, I always felt mystified by the things my brother self thought were important.
Don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t common for my female soul to take over my male body, or vice versa. This was only the third cross-gender twist in my life. And everyone agreed these flip-overs never happened after Commitment…only to younger people who hadn’t yet chosen a permanent sex. Still, almost every Tober had experienced a gender swap at least once, no matter what the Patriarch said; and now that I was my woman self, I had no trouble accepting that once again,
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