Old Conversations at the Fire
12/13/2002
This time I brought a thermos of coffee . . . no strange milk drinks for me today. I'm still nursing my first cup when a figure appears in the distance. Even squinting I find it hard to make out who it is until Ekkuli is close enough for me to catch the sun in its fire-bright hair.
"Back again," it says in greeting, and drops next to me with a grin.
I smile at it and nod. "Back again," I say. "The cheldzan is empty today."
"And what am I?" Ekkuli asks with a laugh. "Broken shells?"
"No, no," I say and sigh. "You'll never be done teasing me, will you?"
"Of course not. We are clay-keepers, you and I. It is a sacred fraternity. Someone must tease the World-walker." Ekkuli doesn't let me get in a word edgewise; maybe it knows I'm about to complain that all the Jokka seem perfectly able and willing to tease their "World-walker." Ekkuli tucks an
errant curl behind its pointed ear and says, "Now, tell me what news brings you here."
"I'm not actually here for you," I say. "I'm here to intercept the others who follow me here to meet you. The magazine that buys your stories--" I pause, then say, "The people who offer me metaphysical sand to set out your clays--they need funding. I'm hoping if I meet any others of my ilk here, they'll
be inspired to donate their shell to keep those people buying stories like mine."
"Ah!" Ekkuli says. "A worthy cause. Still, I was sure you were here because of the rumors."
I lift a brow at it, nervous. When the Jokka start talking among themselves, I worry.
"We heard rumors you are going to . . . re-arrange . . . the cheldzan. Make it more friendly," Ekkuli says. "A tree in the middle of a plain with only a pit for a fire! It was a good effort, World-walker, but not very luxurious. You could do better."
"Oh could I," I murmured and put my head in my hands. Trying to explain a re-design to the Jokka was beyond my skills. They come here in dreams . . . the idea that it might require effort for me to change things
probably wouldn't stick. "I'll think about it."
"Good," Ekkuli said. "And now, since you're here, I can inflict some of my latest poetry on you . . . "
I poured myself more coffee.
11/11/2002
They're drinking tea; I get milk simmered with a bark that tastes something like a cross between vanilla and allspice until it becomes thick and sweet. I don't know what they call it yet. I'm still trying to figure out if I like it better than tea when one of them speaks.
"So I hear you set out Ekkuli's tale. How do you think it goes?"
I glance at the emodo; I don't recognize him. I wonder how long that will last. He's a handsome fellow, a sienna brown that approaches gold in the light with glossy black curls. He
must be prone to trouble to have traveled all the way here. "You mean Unspeakable? Yes, a magazine here bought it. People seem to like it. It's romantic, you know."
All the Jokka at the fire nod with knowing looks, those nods that are almost human but not quite. "Romance," one of them says. "Perverse romance, but still romance."
They snicker. I wave a hand. "It's not my fault you do it backwards from us."
"Does putting that story out make you as perverse a clay-keeper as I am?" Ekkuli wants to know, stepping out from
behind the tree. It's good at appearing out of nowhere. Since by my face it knows that answer, it laughs and says, "You still didn't get my spirals right."
"If you'd stop changing them I'd have an easier time illustrating you," I say with a scowl. "People are beginning to think I'm just bad at this. Or inconsistent. Or forgetful."
"All of which you are--" Ekkuli begins, and when I start to protest, it finishes, "Just not about this."
I'm mollified. It doesn't take much. They're too beautiful to watch. Ekkuli crouches beside me and rescues my cup from my hand to take a sip. Its eyes sparkle as it glances at me. You could have called the tilt of its head coquettish: just a little down so that the new mantle Tañel had given it filmed its cheek and the bright curl that fell there, like the soft filter on a camera. But its eyes were all Ekkuli's, all clay-keeper's . . . all truth-seeker's, candid, direct. "You did do a wonderful job on Tañel, though."
I grinned at it. "Well, you're not the only one who gets crushes."
It laughed. "And the next story you'll set out on the sands is when?"
I could sense the other Jokka looking at me with interest. Would it be their story? Or would one of the existing ones sell next? Their guess was as good as mine. "I'll be here the moment I have something to celebrate again."
