The Bird of the River by Kage Baker Page B

Alder sat down next to her.
    "Where's your Mr. Moss?" she asked, raising her voice over the music. Alder pointed to the rail, where Mr. Moss stood watching the musicians with evident enjoyment.
    "He says I'm leaving you all by yourself too much," said Alder glumly. "He says you're my family too."
    "Well, thank you, Mr. Moss," said Eliss, but the music and the night were so beautiful she didn't want to waste time being angry.
    "You got here!" Wolkin sat down on the other side of Eliss and leaned around her to peer at Alder. "Has he been teaching you stuff?"
    "All kinds of stuff," said Alder, grinning. "There are defense moves."
    "Thank you, gods!" Wolkin threw up his arms. "You have to show me tomorrow!"
    "And that's not all. Some of them fight, only Mr. Moss doesn't because he's a disciple of the Mother, but there are these men who ..."
    Eliss ignored them and watched the dancers. It was a slow dance, romantic. Mr. and Mrs. Riveter circled by, his hands on her hips, her hands on his shoulders. There too went Mr. and Mrs. Crucible, and Mr. and Mrs. Nailsmith, and some of the polemen and their wives-- Eliss still hadn't learned all their names--and then, as Eliss watched, a Yendri man walked up to Pentra Smith where she idled at the table, and touched her shoulder. She turned, smiling, and they embraced. She led him out on the dance floor.
    Eliss was too surprised to make a sound. Alder, however, grunted in astonishment. He pointed. "They're dancing! " Wolkin, who was busily eating from a dish of jelly, looked up briefly.
    "Oh! Them. They're sweethearts or something. See, she does what she likes because she's the cartographer? And that's really important? So nobody says anything? And anyway they see each other twice every run. So everybody's used to it. And he's a nice gr-- Yendri. And anyway they have to dance together because, well, do you see any Yendri ladies here? You don't. And the reason that is, is because their ladies go around with their--" Wolkin looked around to see where his parents were. He lowered his voice. "With their boobies bare . So they can't come around any of our men. Because our men would go crazy if they saw them."
    "That's what Mr. Moss said too," said Alder, eyes wide. "Only he said it different."
    "They couldn't help themselves." Wolkin nodded solemnly. "No man could. That's what I heard. And they have to protect their women."
    Eliss, staring at the graceful couple, thought only: All those years we were hounded from one place to another, all those people who spat on Mama for what she'd done... and up here no one even cares. How unfair .
    In time the slow music wound to its close. More beer was handed up to the musicians, and some of them lit pipes filled with pinkweed and passed them around. People milled about, ate and drank, and then a men's dance tune was struck up, quick-paced. The men formed lines, shuffled and stamped, flexed their muscles and strutted. Women catcalled from the sidelines. The drums thundered, the bass fiddle boomed, the whistles shrilled a raucous melody. Someone passed the men barge-poles and they struck the deck with them in unison, paired off in mock battles, wove in and out in figures, marched like a phalanx of spearmen.
    Next a women's dance was played, sinuous fiddles with a throbbing bass line. The divers lined up and went through the movements of the Diver's Round, scarcely moving their feet. Their shoulders, their hips, their arms and graceful hands wove and described circles in the warm air. It was bawdy and at the same time delicate as water ferns, lewd and tender all together. On either side of Eliss, Alder and Wolkin fell silent, staring.
    There were some songs after that, tunes everyone knew and could follow in the chorus. Salpin stood and demonstrated that he had a rich voice, as well as one that carried.

    "Little girl among the nets, mending your fathers nets,
By the wall where the sea pinks bloom You have caught me in your nets, my heart among the nets By the