Six Moon Dance by Sheri S. Tepper Page A

me. Who else could that have been?”
    “I am different from you.”
    “But you are different from everything.”
    “None like me on other worlds?” the native said with surprise.
    “I have seen none like you. I have seen life before, but none built up like you, accumulant, piled life on life on life….”
    “Ah,” said the native, surprised. “How strange. I had assumed no world could exist without at least one like me. Who governs them? Who designs? Who rules?”
    “I was not interested in governance.”
    “You say you saw two others just like you. Perhaps they, too, were born as you were born. With kin who cried to get out?”
    Long silence, during which several races of trees evolved and died. “I never thought of that.”
    “So it’s possible the one who called to you was their kin instead of your kin?”
    A long, long pause, then, doubtfully, “Even if true, it makes no difference. Am I not shackled here, no matter who?”
    A continent came into being, floated halfway around the world, then sank beneath the waves.
    “I don’t think it was your kin who did this to you, though your kin will probably do it to someone.”
    “Will my kin do this thing? Oh, sad, so sad.”
    “Why should this be the way?”
    A long silence, then a whisper, “Perhaps there is no other way to be.”
    The native detected great sadness and felt guilt at having caused such pain through mere curiosity. The native deputized a sizeable segment of itself to see to the comfort of the newcomer. Bringing comfort was very complicated. It took a long time.
    “Are you more comfortable now?” the native asked eagerly, when the time was past.
    “More comfortable,” sighed the second. “Yes. I am more comfortable now.”
    “Are you getting enough nourishment?” The native worried about this. Now that the newcomer was truly settled, the native didn’t want anything to happen to it.
    “Oh, yes, thank you.”
    “And are they amusing you?”
    “Yes. Yes? Well, I think they are amusing me. Sometimes I feel such joy. When they dance for me, I have such pleasure. I do not want to die.”
    “I told you! You needn’t die!”
    “I’m still dying.”
    “No. You’re not. I’ll figure something out. Can you go back to sleep now?”
    “I think I will. Just a little nap.”
    “A few thousand revolutions, maybe.”
    “Maybe.”
    Silence then, on the part of the newcomer, though the native talked to itself. The native always talked to itself, now let me see, I-we-that need to do this, I-we-that need to send a hand there, a foot there, I-we need to spin off some teeth to chew over that matter, and, oh, yes, how is the newcomer? Asleep, good. Poor thing.
    Poor thing. I see no reason why it should have to be that way. I will make it happy here. If it has had a difficult time, it deserves happiness. All my creatures deserve happiness.

9
Amatory Arts: Fitting into the Family
    C ertain of my lectures will be repeated annually during your training,” said Madame. “They cover subjects which I know to be important but which you will think dull and irrelevant. This information is indeed pointless and dull, until the moment you need it, at which point it becomes vital. Therefore, I repeat myself at intervals to be sure you will have the information when you need it.
    “When you are purchased by a patroness, you will become a member of her family. Who is included in that family will depend upon her preference and your good sense. Probably it will include at least the younger children of your patroness. It may include certain of her servants and a chatron or two. It may also include her husband. Her children and her servants will accept you to the degree you are helpful and amusing without in any sense attempting to supplant any of them in your patroness’s life. To the children, and to the servants, you will say such things as, ‘She is so fortunate to have you. She is so proud of you. I don’t know what she would do without you.’ Note,