Chapter 89: 89- I want to merry her

The eel was dawnlight crackin' under the Icon'ry door. I mem'ried the three dreams an' walked thru the drizzly surf to Abbess without meetin' not a body. Abbess was feedin' her chicklin's b'hind the school'ry. She list'ned close to my dreamin's, then telled me they was slywise augurin's an' say- soed me to wait inside the school'ry while she prayed to Sonmi for their true meanin's.

The school'ry room was touched with the holy myst'ry o' the Civ'lize Days. Ev'ry book in the Valleys sat on them shelfs, saggy'n'wormy they was gettin' but, yay, they was books an' words o' knowin'! A ball o' the world there was too. If Hole World is a giant big ball, I din't und'stand why people don't fall off it an' I still don't. See, I'd not much smart in school'ry learnin', not like Catkin, who could o' been the next Abbess if all things happened diff'rent. School'ry windows was glass still unbusted since the Fall. The greatest of 'mazements tho' was the clock, yay, the only workin' clock in the Valleys an' in hole Big I, hole Ha-Why, far as I know. When I was a schooler I was 'fraid of that tick-tockin' spider watchin'n'judgin' us.

Abbess'd  teached  us  Clock  Tongue  but  I'd  forgot  it,  'cept for O'Clock an' Half Past. I mem'ry Abbess sayin', Civ'lize needs time, an' if we let this clock die, time'll die too, an' then how can we bring back the Civ'lize Days as it was b'fore the Fall?

I watched the clock's tickers that mornin' too till Abbess came back from her augurin' an' sat 'cross from me. She telled me Old Georgie was hun- gerin' for my soul, so he'd put a cuss on my dreamin's to fog their meanin'. But Sonmi'd spoke her what the true augurin's was. An' you too you got to mem'ry these augurin's well 'cos they'll change the path o' this yarnin' more'n once.

One: Hands are burnin', let that rope be not cut.

Two: Enemy's sleeping, let his throat be not slit.

Three: Bronze is burnin', let that bridge be not crossed.

I 'fessed I din't und'stand. Abbess said she din't und'stand neither, but I'd und'stand when the true beat come, an' she made me nail her augurin's to my mem'ry. Then she gave me a hen's egg for brekker, still spitty'n'warm from the bird, an' showed me how to suck its yolk thru a straw.

So you want to hear about the Great Ship o' the Prescients?

Nay, the Ship ain't no mythy yarnin', it was real as I am an' you are. These here very eyes they seen it ooh, twenty times or more. The Ship'd call at Flotilla Bay twice a year, near the spring an' autumn half'n'halfs when night'n'day got the same long. Notice it never called at no savage town, not Honokaa, not Hilo, not Leeward. An' why? 'Cos only us Val- leysmen got 'nuff Civ'lize for the Prescients, yay. They din't want no barter with no barb'rians what thinked the Ship was a mighty white bird god! The Ship was the sky's color so you cudn't see it till it was jus' offshore. It'd got no oars, nay, no sails, it din't need wind nor currents neither, 'cos it was driven by the Smart o' Old Uns. Long as a big islet was the Ship,high as a low hill, it carried two– three– four hundred people, a mil'yun maybe.

How did it move? Where'd its journeyin's take it? How'd it s'vived all the flashbangin' an' the Fall? Well, I never knowed many o' the answers, an' unlike those o' most storymen, Zachry's yarns ain't made up. The tribe what lived on the Ship was called Prescients, an' they came from an isle

named Prescience I. Prescience was bigger'n Maui, smaller'n Big I, an' far- far in the northly blue, more'n that I ain't knowin' or ain't sayin'.

So the Ship'd anchor 'bout ten throws off School'ry Head an' a pair o' lit- tler hornety boats'd come out the Ship's prow an' fly over the surf to the beach. Each'd got six– eight men'n'women. Oh, ev'rythin' 'bout 'em was wondersome. Shipwomen too was man-some, see, their hair was sheared, not braided like Valleyswomen, an' they was wirier'n'strong. Their skins was healthy'n'smooth without a speck o' the scabbin', but brewy- brown'n'black they was all of 'em, an' they looked more alike'n other peo- ple what you see on Big I. An' Prescients din't speak much, nay. Two guards stayed by the shored boats an' if we asked 'em, What's your name, sir? or Where you headed, miss? they'd just shake their heads, like sayin', I won't answer nothin,' nay, so don't ask no more. A myst'rous Smart stopped us goin' close up. The air got thicker till you cudn't go no nearer. A dizzyin' pain it gave you too so you din't donkey 'bout with it, nay.

The barterin' took place in the Commons. Prescients spoke in a strange way, not lazy'n'spotty like the Hilo but salted'n'coldsome. By the time they'd landed, the yibber'd been busy an' most dwellin's was 'ready rushin' baskets o' fruits'n'veggies'n'meats'n'all to the Commons. Also the Prescients filled spesh casks with fresh water from the stream. In return, Prescients bartered ironware what was better'n any made on Big I. They bartered fair an' never spoke knuckly like savages at Honokaa, but politesome speakin' it draws a line b'tween you what says, I respect you well 'nuff but you an' I ain't kin, so don't you step over this line, yay?

Yay, the Prescients'd whoah strict rules 'bout barterin' with us. They'd not barter gear Smarter'n anythin' 'ready on Big I. For 'zample, after Pa was killed, a gath'rin' agreed to build a garrison by Abel's Dwellin' to protect the Muliwai Trail what was our main track from Sloosha's Crossin' into our Nine Valleys. Abbess asked the Prescients for spesh weapons to defend us from Kona. The Prescients said nay. Abbess begged 'em, more-less. They still said nay an' that was that.

'Nother rule was not to tell us nothin' 'bout what lay b'yonder the ocean, not even Prescience Isle, 'cept for its name. Napes of Inouye Dwellin' asked to earn passage on the Ship, an' that was nearest I seen the Prescients all laugh. Their chief said nay an' no un was s'prised. We never pushed these rules to bendin' point, 'cos we reck'ned they did our Civ'lize an honor by barterin' with us. Abbess'd always invite 'em to stay for a feastin', but

the chief'd always naysay politesome. Back to their boats they'd lug their bartered gear. An hour later the Ship'd be gone, eastly in spring, northly in fall.

So the visits was, ev'ry year, since anyun could mem'ry. Until my sixteenth year, when a Prescient woman called Meronym visited my dwellin' for a spell, an' nothin'd be the same, not in my life, not in the Valleys, nay, not never.