hand and lifting it to his mouth. TheWarden signals for a mug, and a waitress brings one. She leans and whispers into the Wardenâs large red ear, looking at the boatmaker as she speaks. Actually, she may not be whispering. She may simply be speaking in an ordinary Big Island voice. But the wash of sound makes it impossible for the boatmaker to hear.
âShe says you look better,â booms the Warden. They drink. There is no moon in the boatmakerâs cup. Nothing but coffee, dark and oily. âSheâs right. You do look better. Youâve been working. I hear youâre good with wood. Better this way, isnât it? â
The boatmaker drinks his coffee, waiting for the Warden to come to the point or leave.
âStill not saying much, eh? Well, believe me, it is better this way. Weâre happy to have you here while youâre like thisâworking and not fighting.â
The waitress comes back and fills both mugs. She goes away, looking at the boatmaker out of the corner of her eye.
They sit there for a while in silence while the room empties and quiets down. Now the Warden doesnât need to bellow. âHavenât been up to see Elise either, have you?â
The boatmaker begins to think about getting up and leaving. He doesnât know anywhere else on Big Island to stay. But the price of staying at the Hostel may be gettingto be more than he can afford. He reaches into his clothes and pulls out a banknote. Itâs yellow: five crowns.
He holds the bill in front of him, his hands resting on the table as he stares at the king of the Mainland and all its farflung islands. He looks into the engraved image, feeling that it is about to speak. He has no idea how long he remains sitting there holding the edges of the bill. When he returns to himself, the room is empty and the Warden is gone.
After his conversation with the Warden, the boatmaker knows he will keep working a while, then move on. There is nothing more for him here. When he woke up from dreaming about the blue wolf, all he knew was that he was going to build a boat and sail it to Big Island, something no one he knew had ever done. At that time Big Island seemed like a different world, enormous and complicated. Now he knows it isnât all that much bigger than the place he comes from. He has found everything there is for him here; he must move on. He will work, retrieve his compass from the pawnbroker, make his boat seaworthy again and put to sea.
As he makes his preparations to leave Big Island, the boatmaker finds he is beginning to be interested in money in a way he never was before. He has already learned some important things. From the woman of Small Islandhe learned that money can be used to repay certain debts but not others. From the woman of the town he has learned that money can be used to deceive and hurt. But these experiences feel as if they are only the first steps toward a deeper understanding of what money is. There must be more to learn, in places where history stretches back farther. On the northern islands, the history of settlement is shallow. The people of the Mainland have lived permanently on these islands for only a few hundred years. Before that, they were the province of the natives in their skin boats.
His plan is no clearer than the notion he had while he was building his boat of what he would do after landing on Big Island. All he knows is that he must move on, go deeper. And in the world the boatmaker comes from, the realm of green islands scattered on a cold northern sea, going deeper means only one thing: the Mainland.
CHAPTER 9
Two months after leaving Big Island the boatmaker has sailed to the Mainland and made his way inland all the way to the capital. Mostly he has walked, sometimes hitching a ride in a farm wagon. As he travels, he learns about the country, mostly by listening. He doesnât ask many questions, but he finds that people are happy to talk about what they know and
âShe says you look better,â booms the Warden. They drink. There is no moon in the boatmakerâs cup. Nothing but coffee, dark and oily. âSheâs right. You do look better. Youâve been working. I hear youâre good with wood. Better this way, isnât it? â
The boatmaker drinks his coffee, waiting for the Warden to come to the point or leave.
âStill not saying much, eh? Well, believe me, it is better this way. Weâre happy to have you here while youâre like thisâworking and not fighting.â
The waitress comes back and fills both mugs. She goes away, looking at the boatmaker out of the corner of her eye.
They sit there for a while in silence while the room empties and quiets down. Now the Warden doesnât need to bellow. âHavenât been up to see Elise either, have you?â
The boatmaker begins to think about getting up and leaving. He doesnât know anywhere else on Big Island to stay. But the price of staying at the Hostel may be gettingto be more than he can afford. He reaches into his clothes and pulls out a banknote. Itâs yellow: five crowns.
He holds the bill in front of him, his hands resting on the table as he stares at the king of the Mainland and all its farflung islands. He looks into the engraved image, feeling that it is about to speak. He has no idea how long he remains sitting there holding the edges of the bill. When he returns to himself, the room is empty and the Warden is gone.
After his conversation with the Warden, the boatmaker knows he will keep working a while, then move on. There is nothing more for him here. When he woke up from dreaming about the blue wolf, all he knew was that he was going to build a boat and sail it to Big Island, something no one he knew had ever done. At that time Big Island seemed like a different world, enormous and complicated. Now he knows it isnât all that much bigger than the place he comes from. He has found everything there is for him here; he must move on. He will work, retrieve his compass from the pawnbroker, make his boat seaworthy again and put to sea.
As he makes his preparations to leave Big Island, the boatmaker finds he is beginning to be interested in money in a way he never was before. He has already learned some important things. From the woman of Small Islandhe learned that money can be used to repay certain debts but not others. From the woman of the town he has learned that money can be used to deceive and hurt. But these experiences feel as if they are only the first steps toward a deeper understanding of what money is. There must be more to learn, in places where history stretches back farther. On the northern islands, the history of settlement is shallow. The people of the Mainland have lived permanently on these islands for only a few hundred years. Before that, they were the province of the natives in their skin boats.
His plan is no clearer than the notion he had while he was building his boat of what he would do after landing on Big Island. All he knows is that he must move on, go deeper. And in the world the boatmaker comes from, the realm of green islands scattered on a cold northern sea, going deeper means only one thing: the Mainland.
CHAPTER 9
Two months after leaving Big Island the boatmaker has sailed to the Mainland and made his way inland all the way to the capital. Mostly he has walked, sometimes hitching a ride in a farm wagon. As he travels, he learns about the country, mostly by listening. He doesnât ask many questions, but he finds that people are happy to talk about what they know and
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