Pygmy, of a Malay tribe call'd the Senoi. It is their belief that the world they inhabit in their Dreams is as real as their waking one. At breakfast each morning, families sit and report their Dreams to one another, offering advice and opinions passim, as if all the fantastical beings and events be but other villagers, and village Gossip.
"They live their Dreams," Mason reports to Dixon, "whilst we deny ev'rything we may witness during that third of our Precious Span allotted, as if Sleep be too much like Death to advert to for long...." It is at some point that night, after securing the second Altitude of Shaula, that the Astronomers agree to share the Data of their Dreams whenever possible. After those initiatory Hours together upon the Seahorse, having found no need to pretend a whole list of Pretenses, given thereby a windfall of precious time, neither is surpriz'd at how many attunements, including a few from dream-life, they may find between them.
"Heaven help me," Mason muttering sourly, "my Dreams reveal this Town to be one of the colonies of Hell, with the Dutch Company acting as but a sort of Caretaker for another.. .Embodying of Power, 's ye'd say, altogether,— Ev'ryday life as they live it here, being what Hell's colonials have for Routs and Ridottoes,—
"Why," Eye-Lids clench'd apart, "my own dreams are very like, tho'
without the Dutch Company,— more like a Gala that never stops
Think thee 'tis all this Malay food we're eating ev'ry day...?"
Mason has a brief excursion outside himself. "You're enjoying this miserable Viper-Plantation! Why, Damme if you're not going to miss it when we're shut of it at long last. Arh, arh! What shall you do for Ketjap?"
"They must sell it somewhere in London...?"
"At ten times the price."
"Then I shall have to learn a Receipt for it."
The next time the tall Figure with the wavy Blade approaches him, Mason, willing to try anything, stands his ground, and with the help of certain Gloucestershire shin-kicking Arts, actually defeats his Assailant. "Keep your Face down," Mason tells the Adversary. "I do not wish to see your Face."
"You must then demand something from him," Toko has advis'd. "Some solid Gift you may bring back with you."
"The Krees," says Mason. Silently, the bow'd Figure throws it on the Ground to one side. Mason stoops and picks it up. "Thank you." When
7' he wakes, there it is, the Point lying nearly within the Portal of one Nostril,— a wrong turn in his Sleep might have been the End. Despite its look of Forge-fresh Perfection, 'tis not a Virgin Blade,— tiny Scratches, uncleansable Stains, overlie one the other in a Palimpsest running deep into the Dimension of Time.
"Happen 'twill be those Girls, teasing with thee...?"
"Why thankee, Blight, what would a Day be without a Common-sense Remark from you?"
"One of us must provide a Datum-Line of Sanity, and as it seems unlikely to be thee,—
"Aahhrr! The most intimate of acts, the trustful sharing of a Dream, taken and us'd against the Master, by his own sly 'Prentice!"
"Begging thy Mercy, Sir, let us not venture into the terre mauvais of professional Resentment, or we shall certainly miss the culmination of Shaula, that Sting e'er pois'd above the Pates of this unhappy People, to strike which, and which not, who can say...?"
"The very voice of Responsibility Astronomick,— was ever Star-gazer more fortunate than I, to be seconded to this Angelickal Correctness. And yet despite you, Dixon, do you know what, the Imp calls,— it advises me, 'Whom better to bore with the unabridg'd tale of your woeful treatment by the World you so desperately wish to be lov'd by, aye, unto Ravishment, than this unreflective Geordie here? At least he understands some Astronomy,' is usually how it goes."
'' 'And being your Second,' " Dixon bats back, " 'he has no choice but to listen.'''
"Just so, and take Notes if you wish, for someday, Lad, you'll be running your own Expedition,
"They live their Dreams," Mason reports to Dixon, "whilst we deny ev'rything we may witness during that third of our Precious Span allotted, as if Sleep be too much like Death to advert to for long...." It is at some point that night, after securing the second Altitude of Shaula, that the Astronomers agree to share the Data of their Dreams whenever possible. After those initiatory Hours together upon the Seahorse, having found no need to pretend a whole list of Pretenses, given thereby a windfall of precious time, neither is surpriz'd at how many attunements, including a few from dream-life, they may find between them.
"Heaven help me," Mason muttering sourly, "my Dreams reveal this Town to be one of the colonies of Hell, with the Dutch Company acting as but a sort of Caretaker for another.. .Embodying of Power, 's ye'd say, altogether,— Ev'ryday life as they live it here, being what Hell's colonials have for Routs and Ridottoes,—
"Why," Eye-Lids clench'd apart, "my own dreams are very like, tho'
without the Dutch Company,— more like a Gala that never stops
Think thee 'tis all this Malay food we're eating ev'ry day...?"
Mason has a brief excursion outside himself. "You're enjoying this miserable Viper-Plantation! Why, Damme if you're not going to miss it when we're shut of it at long last. Arh, arh! What shall you do for Ketjap?"
"They must sell it somewhere in London...?"
"At ten times the price."
"Then I shall have to learn a Receipt for it."
The next time the tall Figure with the wavy Blade approaches him, Mason, willing to try anything, stands his ground, and with the help of certain Gloucestershire shin-kicking Arts, actually defeats his Assailant. "Keep your Face down," Mason tells the Adversary. "I do not wish to see your Face."
"You must then demand something from him," Toko has advis'd. "Some solid Gift you may bring back with you."
"The Krees," says Mason. Silently, the bow'd Figure throws it on the Ground to one side. Mason stoops and picks it up. "Thank you." When
7' he wakes, there it is, the Point lying nearly within the Portal of one Nostril,— a wrong turn in his Sleep might have been the End. Despite its look of Forge-fresh Perfection, 'tis not a Virgin Blade,— tiny Scratches, uncleansable Stains, overlie one the other in a Palimpsest running deep into the Dimension of Time.
"Happen 'twill be those Girls, teasing with thee...?"
"Why thankee, Blight, what would a Day be without a Common-sense Remark from you?"
"One of us must provide a Datum-Line of Sanity, and as it seems unlikely to be thee,—
"Aahhrr! The most intimate of acts, the trustful sharing of a Dream, taken and us'd against the Master, by his own sly 'Prentice!"
"Begging thy Mercy, Sir, let us not venture into the terre mauvais of professional Resentment, or we shall certainly miss the culmination of Shaula, that Sting e'er pois'd above the Pates of this unhappy People, to strike which, and which not, who can say...?"
"The very voice of Responsibility Astronomick,— was ever Star-gazer more fortunate than I, to be seconded to this Angelickal Correctness. And yet despite you, Dixon, do you know what, the Imp calls,— it advises me, 'Whom better to bore with the unabridg'd tale of your woeful treatment by the World you so desperately wish to be lov'd by, aye, unto Ravishment, than this unreflective Geordie here? At least he understands some Astronomy,' is usually how it goes."
'' 'And being your Second,' " Dixon bats back, " 'he has no choice but to listen.'''
"Just so, and take Notes if you wish, for someday, Lad, you'll be running your own Expedition,
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