THE SHERIFF OF HNUT / CH. 6: TNUT SPIRE

Cultural notes from first contact team

growler — Six legged oviparous, lactating pack-carnivores approximately half a metre high, and weighing as much as a person, but faster on the ground. Packs are migratory at certain times of the year.

Fluffy — Small six-legged oviparous herbivores sometimes raised for their fur or for meat. The main prey of growlers. Larger fluffies are bred in some areas for milk.

Spiky — A large six-legged viviparous herbivore. Adults are unsuitable for riding and impervious to growler attack due to sharp bristles. Spikies are strong docile creatures kept as draft animals, with one Spikey able to pull several times its body weight over a rough road. A spikey with a heavy load is a hard working animal, dedicated to arriving at the end of the road. However, they are said to disdain easy tasks, an alternative theory is that they forget they are pulling something if it's too light; the observable fact is that if it has no appreciable weight in its cart, a spiky will tend to wander from place to place along a road, looking for grazing opportunities. This

causes traders considerable anguish at the thought of an unladen journey, and has led to most traders operating the two-tariff system: light cart rate, which ensures that the spiky has enough weight that it does not forget their load, and heavy cart where the trader earns profit. See separate article.

thlunk — A large six-legged herbivore possessing an armoured clubbed tail, The tail is an effective defensive weapon against growlers who will only rarely attack a thlunk. and gives the creature its name. Thlunks are often used as riding animals but are unsuitable as draught animals as they react violently against anything that would restrict their tail.

HNUT, RESTDAY, 42ND OF AUTUMN

“Hello, Thuna,” Lenepoli said, “Rest-day's blessings upon you! What news do you bring us from the council? Have they decided to meet yet?”

“We met yesterday. Council Chairman Lepnew died just after praying. He... remembered some things, like the old definition of intervention.

"According to which you did acted entirely correctly, Dirak. Finding what he'd remembered was a bit tricky, but we managed it by midnight, and he was right.”

“What does that mean?” Lenepoli asked. “Dirak's supposed to give up being sheriff and go back to the city?”

“No. We're not asking that. But it means that we've repented of our attitude, and we're hoping that you'll forgive us.”

“And there are no objections to us teaching kids here?”

“Well, we don't want to split wizardry, if that's OK with you. So, expect full support. As to exactly what that means... that discussion will be continuing for a while, I expect, especially since one of Lepnew's final thoughts was that building it out of crystal would be best.”

“Crystal!” Dirak exclaimed.

“What, out of glass?” Lenepoli asked.

“No. Alien stuff. Good for bean poles, or at least, better than angar wood; that's too precious to cut down.”

“Even for a wizard's staff?”

“Yes, the council has decided that no new staffs will be made using angar wood. Old ones will have their bits removed like normal, but not be burned, that's immoral. They'll be passed on in wills or if not then the council will decide. Apprentices who don't inherit one will practice with normal wood and then either add inserts of crystal or have a whole crystal staff. Lenepoli, you inherit one.”

“Pardon?”

“Lepnew of Uttford died before we reached the decision on angar, but his will — which he wrote during our discussion of why we wouldn't stop you teaching — leaves you two his possessions for the school and as a wedding present.”

“So I get his staff?”

“Yes. It probably needs a good scrub, but it's yours.”

“I'm speechless.”

“Oh, don't be too speechless, Lenepoli. I'm just winding up to the best bit.”

“What's that?”

“Lepnew ceding his seat to me, I'm ceding mine to you. We didn't really want the accusation of political power from you being on the council, Dirak, sorry.”

“I wondered why you asked me if Lenepoli had read queen Poli's treatise.”

“You never told me Thuna had suggested it.”

“She didn't. She asked last night. But it is the main step to officially becoming an apprentice.”

“But don't tell people that,” Thuna said. “It's always given in an informal context. And I was very happy to hear of your response.”

“The way I wanted to burn it?”

“My mentor wasn't persuasive enough or fast enough,” Thuna said, “Therefore my copy has singed pages. Anyway, council member Lenepoli, when would you like the next council session?”

“You're serious?”

“Very. Not today of course. I'm just here because I thought I'd drop in and tell you on my way to Tnut.”

“Ah, We mustn't keep Yanek waiting.”

“He's not waiting, this is a surprise visit.”

“Complete with thunderclap.”

“Did you hear it?”

“No, actually. What did you do?”

“Went higher. Is Earthday afternoon OK? We'll bring food. Not to mention some crystal bean poles and your staff.”

“Urm, I'm free... We were going to go and collect some nuts. Mother was a bit disappointed with how few we came back with last time.”

“Probably because we got there, talked for quarter of an hour and rushed back with the news of your visit.” Dirak supplied, “But if Lenepoli doesn't mind, we could try to collect loads tomorrow.”

“Our day off?” Lenepoli asked.

“Spending time with you is my favourite activity for some reason, I don't mind combining it with other things.”

“He must be in love.” Lenepoli said “Either that or he's caught the summer crazies at the wrong time of year.”

“What's the 'summer crazies'?” Thuna asked.

“People get odd ideas in the summer, you know,” Lenepoli said.

“No,” Dirak said.

“You don't know it? I thought it happened everywhere.”

“Never heard of it.” Thuna said.

“Are we talking everyone, or just the grown men?”

“You think there's a link?” Lenepoli asked, shocked.

“A link to what?” Thuna asked.

“Lenepoli's noticed that once boys turn into adults they seem to lose some intelligence. Particularly the ones who work the high fields,”

“Girt, for instance, was never top of the class, but he used to be pretty good with poetry. On my hatchday, he used to write me a poem. It was sort of his suborn tradition, They used to be worth keeping, despite my deep dislike of him and his bullying ways. This spring's went 'Your feathers are blue, I really want you to like me.”

“That doesn't even rhyme,” Dirak said.

“I noticed that straight away. How's your poetry by the way?”

“I'm really not sure. I've not written any in years.”

“Don't feel you need to write any bad poems for me. I get enough at school.”

“So there's a mystery mental illness in summer, and it may or may not be linked to people suffering some kind of reduced brain function?” Thuna asked.

“I think Dirak's right, there could be a link, we'd have to ask the doctor.”

“Well, I'll ask Yanek if it's known there. If it is then we might not want the school here in summer.”

“Dad's never had it, I know that, and I don't think it's contagious.”

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SKYDAY MORNING, 43RD OF AUTUMN, THE WOODS NEAR HNUT

“Hello, doctor!” Lenepoli greeted the older female, “would you like company or solitude?”

“Oh, I don't mind company, young Lenepoli, Don't you two want some solitude?”

“I'm actually wondering if there's a deep mystery to solve, or just a well known medical problem in the area I've never heard of.” Dirak said.

“Oh yes, what's that?”

“Lenepoli's... urm observation, I guess, is that the boys are pretty smart until they grow up and help with harvest. Especially on the high fields.”

“Oh. yes. They get the crazies up there, and that's not good for your brain.”

“What are the crazies? I've never heard of it.”

“Very good question. My strong recommendation is just stay down in the valley in harvest time. Well spotted for saying harvest, Lenepoli. That's when most people get it. As for what it is... I can tell you what it's not. A predecessor thought it might be dehydration, but they took extra barrels of water up there and made the harvesters drink until they could hold no more, and still people came down with the crazies.

"Someone thought it was fumes from the sulphur springs blowing on people, but three came down with it on a day when there was a strong breeze the other direction. Someone else thought it was insect bites, but there are the same numbers of people getting bitten up there as down here, by the same bugs.

"One person thought it was working too long during the day and sunburning their crests, so set people working during the night and wearing hats. Result was lots of tripping injuries and the like, overheating because of the hats, and people still came down with it. I'm pretty stumped, and no one listens when I tell them not to plant up there.”

“And it only affects men?” Dirak asked, looking up from the nuts he was collecting.

“I don't think so, no.” the Doctor said. “But while the symptoms are different, I think it affects women too. Like your mother, Lenepoli, sorry to be so close to home. When Vana's husband was sick, she helped with the harvest up there. Next day she was sweating and shivering just like a male with the crazies. Vana too, but she was past carrying, so she got off more lightly.”

“That's when...” Lenepoli asked, “... that's the illness that stopped her carrying more eggs?”

“Yes. It's a bad thing; and If she'd have actually been carrying, that's even worse. I saw it once. The permanent damage to the mother just the same, and her eggs green and lifeless.”

“How terrible!” Lenepoli said.

“And it hits at any time during harvest?” Dirak asked.

“I don't know. Like I say, I just tell people to stay away from up there during harvest.”

“Has Girt ever had the crazies, doctor?” Lenepoli asked.

“Girt? Not that I remember. And he's off selling during harvest anyway. Why?”

“I used him as an example to Dirak about what happens to people. I hope he's not going to be sending me poems for my birthday any more, but it used to be as regular as the sunrise. They've got worse and worse in stages. I wonder if there's some longer-term thing going on.”

“If he was suffering slow poisoning, and the crazies are from a big exposure?” Dirak asked.

“Well it's not sulphur, though I've seen the effects of that often enough,” the doctor said, picking up her basket, “There's something bad up there during harvest, that's all I know. Stay in the valleys and you don't suffer the crazies. You can investigate it more, but please, Lenepoli, tell the kids that much at least. Especially the girls. I've told adults enough, but half of them have already had the crazies, and they sure get stubborn after that.”

“I will, doctor, certainly,” Lenepoli said.

“Thank you doctor,” Dirak said, “I'll run some tests on the soil and stuff up there.”

“You can if you like, lad. But my predecessors and I have been warning people about the crazies for a century. I don't see much how your tests'll help if people keep on ignoring good advice.”

“You're leaving Doctor?” Dirak asked.

“I think I've got enough for now,” she said, “and this conversation's getting a bit too much like work for my day off, sorry.”

“We're sorry, Doctor,” Lenepoli said. “And thank you for your help.”

“Thank you once again,” Dirak said, and waited until the doctor had left, before asking,

“Lenepoli, do the kids here get lessons in collecting survey data?”

“Yes. Traditionally announced on the first of winter, actually. Every year I get the same twenty surveys of shoe size, ten surveys of how tall people are, and so on. I've been teaching three years and already I'm convinced they pass them down from sibling to sibling.”

“What about if you got them to do a survey of how often people have had the crazies?”

“And map that with where they were harvesting?” Lenepoli said. “Don't do it as the same survey. Get part of the class surveying where people live compared to where they normally harvest and where they sometimes help out, and another comparing where they live and getting the crazies. Oh, and another comparing where people live, how many clutches couples have, and clutch size.”

“Why like that?”

“Because it seems people don't believe the crazies are linked to harvest, or aren't afraid of the crazies. But if you can convince them that it's bad for their family size, that might get through. I expect there's a link.”

“Mum wanted five big clutches, but their courtship dance got interrupted by a thunderstorm, so she ended up with just me, and then she got the fever.”

“Our plans and God's aren't always the same,” Dirak said.

“No.”

“But if we're going to be teaching wizarding skills here, we need to make sure that our students and lecturers don't end up with the crazies.”

“Very true,” Lenepoli agreed.

“But I remember being told about some chemical that carrying females shouldn't go near because it harmed their eggs. I need to look it up.”

“First you need to fill this basket, or mum will think we've spent all our time seeing how orange I can make your crest.”

“I presume it's not orange at all at the moment?”

“I'd be worried if it was, given we've been talking about mental impairment, sterility and dead eggs.”

“Can we change the subject, then? It occurred to me I don't know when your hatchday is.”

“How incredibly remiss of you,” Lenepoli said, her eyes sparkling.

“And I'm guessing that you're about my age, or a bit younger, since you've been teaching three years, and teacher training is four years if you specialise. But actually you could have started teacher-training earlier than 17 or later couldn't you?”

“I could have, yes. Would it matter if I was older than you?”

“No. I'd just like to know how old you are, and when your hatchday is, and I'd rather you told me so I don't have to look it up in the village records.”

“Oh, so much for making you suffer. I'm twenty three, and I hatched on the first of spring,” she said, “would it pain you deeply to tell me how old you are?”

“Not at all, beloved. I'm twenty four, and I hatched on the thirtieth of spring. My sister hatched two days after you.”

“You've never said much about her.”

“No. It was my third spring at college when Reqiq vanished. She was great at puzzles and mysteries. I sort of hoped she might join me studying at the college, she was certainly bright enough to. But she wasn't sure. She was thinking of studying law.”

“What was she called?”

“Ethemagz, but I called her Eth, mostly because it irritated her.”

“And she was blue?”

“She started out as a fuzzy blue ball of hunger. I held her a few times to feed her, mostly when my parents were out and gran was looking after us. I was terrified that I'd done something wrong when her down started coming off.”

“It must have been traumatic. Have you ever been back to Reqiq?”

“Yes. It's changed so much. There's going to be a huge lake on one side, unless the landslide gives way.”

“What was it like?”

“The village was where two valleys sort of met, one was higher, with a waterfall, about a hundred and fifty steps high, there'd been a lot of rain, and there was steep cliff on the other side. Above the waterfall was the woods, and then there were two mountains either side of that valley.

"I remember doing a school project, trying to work out how much water ought to be going over the waterfall based on rainfall. I couldn't get it to add up with how much actually went over the falls. If I'd only known...” he shrugged. “Who'd have believed me anyway?”

“It was building up somewhere?”

“That's what they decided. It was to do with the geology. There was a layer of cracked sandstone in the mountains, which collected a lot of the rain from the sides of the valley. The woods were sitting on top of that, in clay.

Normally water just trickled out slowly, but it had been a warm winter, so the ground didn't freeze, and a lot more water went in during the winter. And then there was almost a month of rain.”

“I remember. The river flooded, almost to the church doors; people couldn't cross the ford.”

“Yes. So that whole mass of sandstone was full of water. It was sitting on clay, and like I say, there was clay on top too. The water was squashed into the clay, above and below, which just got really slippery.

"They say that first the clay with the woods on top just slipped down on top of the town, and then a lot of water gushed out and took a lot of the sandstone itself too. Basically the village got buried in liquid mud and then washed and buried in a layer of rock.

"That hundred and fifty-steps high waterfall is entirely gone; it's almost flat there now, nearly the whole way across the valley. People downstream think the river's still flowing, but when I looked it wasn't the same river, it's water from the sandstone. The main river is slowly building up a lake behind the landslide.”

“Which might eventually give way and the whole lot wash further down the valley?”

“Maybe. But there are three thousand people buried there. No one really wants to disturb their grave. And there is some water leaking around the edge of the landslide, so it probably won't fill all the way up.”

“Will you take me there sometime?”

“If you're sure.”

“I'm sure. And I want you to talk to Thuna about making sure there's a spill-way or something that stops the lake growing too big.”

“You can do that yourself, Lenepoli. You're on the council of wizardry now. You've got far more say than I have.”

“And you won't object?”

“Why do you think there are some leaks?” he asked.

Stolen novel; please report.

“I think my caring boyfriend wanted to make sure that no one else got buried.”

“And then got worried because if the mud erodes too quickly then the very thing he' was worried about might happen. Unintended consequences of intervention. If you start it, then you're more responsible for what happens than if you do nothing. You can't let out six years of water in even a year without major consequences.”

“That's a big lake.”

“Yes. It was big when I was there three years ago. And people were starting to catch fish there. If you drain it now, then you're probably destroying livelihoods.”

“So why did you make leaks?”

“The same reason you wanted to. Then I thought again and again. But I haven't been back since I got kicked out.”

“How's your basket?”

“Pretty full.”

“So's mine. So assuming there's no emergency at home, and you don't mind flying me there, I'd like to put some of these flowers on your family's grave.”

“I don't mind flying you there,” Dirak said, looking in wonder and love at this compassionate girl he was intent on marrying.

----------------------------------------

SITE OF REQIQ, SKYDAY, 43RD OF AUTUMN, AFTERNOON

Lenepoli had just laid down the flowers and said a prayer for Dirak and other survivors of the disaster when Dirak's staff gave a buzz.

“Hello?” Dirak spoke.

“Hello Dirak, it's Brm here. Long time no chat, I know, but Thuna tells me your beloved can tell Saneth about clutch sizes and the like.”

“You're finally marrying Saneth?” Dirak asked, slightly bemused. Brm and Saneth had spent most of their student days arguing.

“Oops, you didn't know? We've been married a year. Our two little balls of hunger are currently with her parents and we have space to talk about our next adventure into parenthood. Are you free for us to come up?”

“Urm, sort of. Lenepoli wanted to lay some flowers at Reqiq, so that's where we are right now.”

“How are your leaks?”

“Still leaking. Not growing more than the water-depth would explain, as far as I can tell.”

“I've been checking up on them, knowing you probably wouldn't. You did well there, Dirak, very carefully calculated and implemented. Whatever Saneth would say.”

Dirak laughed, “Lenepoli wanted to drain the lake when she first heard of it. I think she's changed her mind now.”

“That'd be a lot of water downstream.”

“Exactly. And there's a fishing village on the side too — not on the dam itself — people who've moved out from Drana, very happy to have somewhere safe for their kids to live. They say the level's hardly different to this time last year.”

“That's really good news,” Brm agreed.

“Lenepoli, would you like to meet some old friends of mine here, or at home?” Dirak asked.

“Home. Hnut that is, not their home.”

“OK. Brm, We'll be starting in a few minutes, but I don't do bubble travel, so give us some time.”

“Oh, Saneth prefers to see where we're going too, can we meet up somewhere? I don't have any kind of mental map past the mountains.”

“And you don't want to ask directions? OK, You know that mountain ledge, where you almost spelt your name wrong?”

“I was teasing, Dirak, you know it.”

“Meet you on the path below there. There's a good view I want to show Lenepoli.”

“Better than flying?” Brm asked, confused.

“My first view of the Utt valley.”

“Oh, OK. We'll meet you there.”

“Wrap up warm, it might snow up there this close to Longnight,” Dirak advised his friend.

----------------------------------------

MOUNTAIN PASS, SKYDAY, 43RD OF AUTUMN, AFTERNOON

“You heard me warn him, didn't you, Lenepoli?” Dirak said.

“The sky was blue. I thought you were joking.” Brm said, shivering.

“Did you see your view?” Saneth asked.

“We caught a bit of it just before the snow arrived, So, since visibility isn't great, I suggest we get a move on.”

“Above or below the clouds?” Saneth asked.

“How good's your dead-reckoning?” Dirak asked in reply.

“Mine is pretty good, But it's Brm's staff, I wouldn't dream of commenting on his abilities in that area.”

“How did you two end up married?” Dirak asked, “You never agree on anything.”

“Of course we do.” Brm corrected, “We agreed that you'd land on your feet, and we agreed that we didn't want to lose the chance of having more arguments by either of us marrying anyone else. And of course we agreed that blue plumage is far more beautiful than any other colour. Not to mention that Saneth is cleverer than I am.”

“So, let's get airborne and go above this stuff. I think we go that way.” Dirak's wave was far too vague to be able to determine a direction, but all they could see was white flakes of snow on a grey background anyway.

Once in the air, and surrounded by a wind-proof forcefield, Lenepoli asked Dirak,

“How do we find our way home through this stuff?”

“Well, every couple of seconds a little box at home sends out a homing signal if the sky's not clear and blue. You don't need to tell them that though.”

“You cheat, in other words.”

“I put the idea behind Thuna's trackers to good use. It's not hard to see the city, even at night in a blizzard, so I expect they've never thought of it.”

“My beloved is practical. I like that in a wizard.”

“I try. And speaking of being practical...” he trailed off.

“Yes?”

“While we're whizzing through the air at great speed, entirely free from anyone overhearing us. I'd like to say thank-you for a lovely day, and that I'm wondering how long a courtship and how long a betrothal is considered decent for a pastor's daughter in Hnut.”

“Especially when you can whip me away to far-flung places, out of parental oversight?”

“That too. I don't want to harm your reputation.”

“Well, dad had no problems marrying Girt off after a week. I expect he wants a bit

more decorum from us. But don't you need to ask me a question before you go assuming that I'll marry you?”

“I am not the one who mentioned clutches, beloved. But let me float an idea.”

“While we're floating,”

“It seemed appropriate, and I love the way you twinkle your eyes like that. Let's face it, I think I love everything about you. But... I wonder what you'd think of me waiting two to four weeks before asking you an important question that I hope you know I'm going to ask. Would that be too long, or too fast? And how long is a betrothal around here, normally?”

“Normally... What's normal? Normally the betrothal starts house building.

The dead of winter's not a normal time for house building. If there's no house to build, there's no purpose to betrothal. Normally, people know each other, courtship is about changing the relationship from 'does he / she like me' to things like: 'does this person make my heart skip for joy just by existing?'; 'after an argument do I feel like I lost even if I won the argument?'; 'can I put up with this person's flaws the rest of my life?'

I don't know the answer to those last two, I don't know your flaws, I've never won an argument, because we've never had one.”

“OK. So you want to wait.”

“Of course I don't want to wait. I want to throw myself around your lovely orange crest and caress it long enough that I feel eggs growing inside me. You make me feel incredibly loved and cherished and I want to respond in an entirely shocking manner, and I don't know if this is what love is or if somehow I've come over like it's breeding season. And I know I'm going to be so embarrassed about saying this, when I go to bed tonight.”

“Oh,” Dirak said, sounding a little annoyed.

“Oh? That's all you can say? Oh!”

“Oh, Annoyingly, I think we've just overshot home.” He waved the others to descend. “Beloved, Lenepoli, I don't want to rush you, and I don't want to rush into decisions we're going to regret, driven by the first flush of true love or some such poetic sentiment. But if you don't want to admit how you feel to your mother, talk to Saneth about things. There weren't that many of us on the Zerker end of the colour spectrum, and she knows quite a lot of my flaws, I expect.”

“Are you saying you chased her?”

“Me? No, she was far too busy running rings around Brm, I'm not really surprised they married, despite what I said. I just sort of expected it to take a few more years before they worked out what was obvious to me.

"She's a year older than me, by the way, Brm is two years older.”

“Why was it obvious to you?”

“My parents used to go out of their way to give the other one something to snipe at. They both knew it they were doing it, they both enjoyed the light-hearted sniping, so they enabled it. I saw the same in those two. Like Brm spelling his name with an 'n'”

“But you didn't write your name?”

“Not then. I just convinced Brm to write his name just above where I'd hidden Saneth's with some snow, and then I drew a heart around them. Then I showed her where he'd written his name.”

“You... you utter stirrer!”

“That's my young reckless self, yes. Oh look, we're above Tnut.”

“Shall we show them the spire, since we're here?”

“Urm, If you really want to,” Dirak said. Lenepoli thought he sounded embarrassed.

“This is Hnut?” Saneth asked, as they landed.

“No, this is Tnut, we overshot,” Lenepoli said “The church spire is worth seeing. There's a sort of tradition, that men in the area sneak out at night and climb as high as they can, to write love poems to their beloveds on the spire, the night before asking them to marry them.”

“Does that prove their worthiness, or that God's blessing is on them, or something else?” Saneth asked.

“I think it just proves how crazy they are. Or whether they can spell under extreme pressure? But maybe it's supposed to be a measure of their love, I don't know. What does writing your name on a cliff-face mean?”

“It means Dirak's been telling tales. Did he tell you what he did?” Saneth said.

“Hid your name with snow and persuaded Brm to write his above yours, then drew a love-heart around the two of them?”

“Not just one heart. A heart made of hearts.”

“Well, I was right wasn't I?”

“But for at least five minutes you let me lash into Brm before telling me you'd done the hearts.”

“It was a trust exercise.”

“What, letting me know I couldn't trust you?”

“No. Letting you know that when Brm denied doing something, you could trust him.”

“You're trying to convince me that it was for my good?”

“Saneth, you didn't really trust anyone back then. Remember? I hope I made you realise that Brm wasn't out to embarrass you. Do you know how long it took me to find your name, and get the snow looking natural?”

“Watch out for this one, Lenepoli. He'll wrap you round his little finger and then try to convince you it's for your own good.”

“I'd noticed. Please feel free to share any of his other flaws, he says you know him pretty well. I don't just want to fall for his pretty orange crest and Zerker enzymes.”

“OK, I'll share. But first I want to know why he was looking all 'oops I've been caught out' when you were telling us about the spire.”

“I noticed that too,” Brm said. “Where did you write it, Dirak?”

“I neither confirm nor deny anything,” Dirak said.

“Is there any way to get him to tell you something before he wants to?” Lenepoli asked.

“Not that I've noticed.”

“You realise, Saneth” Lenepoli said, watching Dirak closely, “that if he has written me a poem up there and he doesn't tell me the next day, it's because he's having second thoughts,”

“No one told me that!” Dirak said.

“Ha! Look, the guilt, the horror of making a mistake!” Saneth said, “Now that look is suspicion.”

“You're teasing, aren't you, Lenepoli?” Dirak asked.

“Just a bit. You've got a week. Where is it?”

“This is Dirak Lenepoli,” Brm said, “If someone said he had to climb as high as he could, he probably climbed up the steps, and shimmied up to the top of the cross.”

“Yanek told me the cross is off limits, as is climbing up the inside.” Dirak said.

“But he probably wrote it in Mer or something to show off,” Saneth said. “But he'll tell you that he's written it in Mer so that the words aren't for common eyes to see and demean.”

“I expect that he not only wrote it in Mer, but probably encrypted it too, using the first words you spoke to him or his first words to you as the encryption key,” Brm said.

“Where does Lenepoli look, Dirak?” Saneth asked,

“I think your friends know you pretty well, Dirak,” Lenepoli said.

“Fairly well, but they've forgotten some important things. Shall we go to Hnut now?”

“What have we forgotten?” Brm asked.

“I'm an officer of the law, not a reckless teenager, and I don't live here, for instance.”

“And last night you were fixing a locator beacon to your roof,” Lenepoli accused.

“No, that was the day after we flew to find Shashana.”

“Oh, so much for that hypothesis.” Lenepoli said, “What does the law say about climbing church spires?”

“You'd need permission. And a law officer is supposed to demonstrate safety and caution, not reckless behaviour, so if I wanted to climb up the spire I'd be honour bound to get permission, have ropes and so on.”

“Or use wizardry?”

“That'd be cheating.” Brm contradicted. “Expect creative interpretation of the rules from officer Dirak here, but no actual cheating.”

“Dirak, when were you last in Tnut?” Lenepoli asked.

“A few days ago, Lenepoli, urm... Brotherday, we brought Thuna here to meet Yanek.”

“And you've not been here since?”

“No, I've not been in Tnut since.”

Brm looked suspicious. “And would the rules and your understanding of them prevent, say, writing on the spire with a laser or forcefield from outside the village boundaries, or shooting an arrow or other projectile?”

“Or getting a villager or other creature to deliver the message?” Saneth added.

“I don't think any of those include the necessary components, no.”

“Lenepoli, he's not going to give it away,” Brm said.

“Is the bride-to-be supposed to read it?” Saneth asked Lenepoli.

“It's not necessary, but it is sort of normal,” Lenepoli answered.

“Therefore it's not somewhere dangerous. It might be somewhere difficult for Dirak to get to, but not dangerous for you. He's like that.”

“Dirak,” Lenepoli asked. “Is there any point, from any perspective to us staying here?”

“Well, if you want to say 'Hi' to Thuna, I expect she'll be around soon.”

“But not in terms of me getting to see the poem you've written for me?”

“Who says I've written you a poem, beloved lover of mysteries?”

“We might as well go home.” Lenepoli sighed. “And I did so want to see what you wrote for me last night.”

“How do you know I wrote something last night?”

“You said you'd not tried to write any poems for years, yesterday.”

“And you said not to write you any bad poems.”

“Uh oh, The poem's not a poem, he's not so proud that he'd decide his first poem in years would class as good,” Brm said.

“So it can't be written high on the church spire.” Saneth said.

“Because it doesn't follow the rules at all!” Brm exclaimed, excitedly.

“So we're looking for something low down, not on the spire, not a poem, not put there by Dirak,” Saneth said.

“But it's going to be carved or engraved. Because that's something Dirak does.” Brm said.

“And does well. Microscopically small, probably.”

Dirak smiled in spite of himself, his friends did know him pretty well. “Keep on guessing friends, can we show you where the new school will be? And Saneth,.don't forget you and Lenepoli need a chat.”

“Don't worry I won't. OK, let's go.”

----------------------------------------

HNUT

As Lenepoli and Saneth went off for a private discussion, Dirak said, “Ruath, can I have a little talk?”

“Privately?”

“Oh Brm, finds out most of my secrets eventually. I'd like some advice.”

“Go on.”

“On our way back here, Lenepoli was saying something about how she was feeling, and I forgot to slow down and we overshot, and ended up in Tnut. Lenepoli spoke about the tower, and the thing with lads carving love-poems on it, and I acted like I might have written something on there. Then the trick back-fired on me because Lenepoli said that if I had, then I needed to propose within a day, or it meant I wasn't interested any more. I looked mortified, I expect, asked her if she was serious, and she said 'I exaggerated, you've got a week.'

"My two friends analysed me to pieces, and came up with all sorts of fascinating bits and bobs about my character, totally forgetting to mention that I love to I tease people, and can't stand ruining a good wind up. but I really don't want to disappoint Lenepoli. And I'm pretty sure she's now expecting a poem on the church spire or a non-poem somewhere else and a proposal within in a week.”

“And you're wondering how to let her down gently?”

“Well, that's one option. The other option is I get engraving, and propose. But I don't want to rush her into a quick decision, we were mostly talking about how silly that would be.”

“What about rushing yourself?”

“It seems crazily quick, but I can't imagine anything changing my mind or my heart about her. I hate the thought of hurting her. But she said some good things, about sensible people not getting betrothed until they'd had their firstbreal storming argument.”

“So...” Ruath said. “Option one is that you cause a real storming argument, and as you say, risk hurting someone we both love, and option two is you throw caution to the wind and try to build a home in mid-winter? You'll not convince people you're sane if you do that.”

“I could cheat, and use wizardry for it. At the very least for keeping the weather off, but... that sort of thing seems a bit ostentatious.”

“Whereas flying around isn't? Sorry, I understand. No one expects you to fly them places, though I guess in an emergency we'd ask. But putting up a snow shelter so you can work inside... there'd be lots of people wondering how to ask if you could set one up for them.”

“And of course the other question is where to build. The doctor told us all about the high fields and summer crazies, so certainly not up there.”

“Yes. I thought it was superstition, when I was younger.”

“My guess is some kind of poisoning, maybe something in the soil, It doesn't just affect harvesters. Girt's away every harvest time, but Lenepoli tells me he's been getting progressively worse at thinking.”

“Well, if she says anything good about him then it's probably true, if grudging.”

“Progressive mental impairment?” Brm asked.

“Yes. And the doctor also spoke about a female who'd been carrying, producing dead green eggs, and becoming sterile. There's sulphur springs not far away but the doc says is not that.”

“Green eggs is ingested copper compounds.”

“There are copper nodules around.”

“More in the upper fields,” pastor Ruath confirmed.

“Copper ores?”

“No, metallic.”

“Wow. That's a seriously reducing environment. Carbon monoxide, or Hydrogen sulphide, maybe? Probably the latter. But the water's not blue?”

“No.” Dirak said.

“So it shouldn't be copper sulphate,” Brm pondered.

“Is that bluestone? There's some part way to the sulphur springs,”

“Well keep everyone away from that, it's nasty stuff.” Brm said, “Sorry, I'll let you get back to dealing with your wind-up, Dirak. I told you your love of a good wind-up would come back and bite you one day.”

“Thank you for that 'I told you so'.” Dirak said.

“What are friends for?” Brm asked with a grin.

“Offering advice?” Dirak begged.

“My advice, stop playing Mr Mystery and talk to her, Dirak. Silence is only going to hurt more in the end. Admit your biggest fault, you don't know whennto end a joke.”

“I think I agree with your friend, Dirak.” Ruath said. “Honest apology is a good policy.”

“I will honestly apologise,” Dirak said. “And with your permission, I'll also ask her if she wishes to hold me to the promise my failure to admit the joke implied.”

“I gave you my blessing, Dirak. And I give it to you again now.”

“You'd better get engraving, Dirak, just in case,” Brm said.

“Hmm. On a nut I think,” Dirak said, seeing one of the baskets they'd picked that morning.

“That's appropriate, then you can squirrel it away somewhere,” Brm said.

“Very funny.”

----------------------------------------

A LETTER ON A NUT

Beloved, dearest Lenepoli. I wrote nothing on the spire, but you thought I did. I grovel at your feet and say sorry, and say I will gladly ask you the question you expect when you choose: within a day, within a week, or before your hatchday.

My friends forgot my love of wind-ups, of how I delight to see people run away with an idea, carried away with their own cleverness, of how I can encourage their belief in a falsehood by facial expression or tone of voice. I did not plan to visit Tnut, my idea of making you think I had something to hide on the tower was a mistake, and I realised that the joke had gone too far when you told me I had a day to propose, or a week. I did not envisage such a turn. Why didn't I stop it? It was too such fun, dancing around your questions once more. So, the joke is on me, and your anticipated disappointment burns my heart,

I will not refuse to build a house in mid-winter, if that is your desire. But I have no plot to build it on, nor plan to build it to. So I beg you to at least give me the week to solve such issues. But if you are impatient, and angry with me, for my grand jest, I know I do not deserve such luxuries, only the criticisms I so richly deserve and you promised to me.

Sorry once more, Dirak

----------------------------------------

“You've finished, then? Writing on that nut?” Lenepoli asked.

“I didn't hear you come down! You might want to read this. Or just jump up and down on me.”

“What for?”

“They forgot something else about me.”

“You like verbal games.”

“That too. My confession.” He handed her the nut, and curled up at her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Grovelling at your feet. I said I would in the first sentence or two.”

“Wind up,” she said, the words jumping out at her.

“Guilty. Repentant, your humble guilty repentant servant. Don't squash me too hard please, miserable worm though I am.”

Lenepoli read the nut, and coughed and spluttered . “You had us all... You... you're a complete maniac. I don't know if I should laugh or cry. Saneth! You forgot to tell me he's a wind-up merchant.”

“Who can't stop his own jokes.” Brm added, “Hence for fear of hurting you he almost proposed.”

“He's almost proposed in this barely readable bit of carving here,” Lenepoli said, “Get up and stop kissing my ankles, Dirak.”

“Just seeking your good opinion.” he said.

“It's not down there, it's up here, and that means not kissing me but listening.”

“Yes, most beautiful Lenepoli?”

“Stop it. Let me tell you something. First I'm sure I've got a crush on you, and it feels like love and maybe it is love but its too fast to act on.

Secondly you've just proved I don't know you well enough, and thirdly today's little performance scared me something silly and I've been plotting with Saneth upstairs how to let you know that I don't trust my emotions and I didn't care if you'd engraved a love poem for me on the Tnut spire, I still don't want a proposal from you yet.

"Fourthly, don't you dare propose until we've agreed on a plot of land and agreed on a design for our house and things like that, or you'll make us both laughing stocks, and I guess my ego's not strong enough to face a class who are laughing at me.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

“No, you've put me through an emotional roller-coaster and I'm feeling as burned out as a stalk at harvest time, and while I'm glad I'm not about to get a proposal, I'm cross with you for putting me through that because you can't admit you were teasing.”

“I'm very sorry, Lenepoli.”

“How sorry?”

“Sorry enough to offer to cook for you, sorry enough that I've not leapt on a clue, sorry enough to ask you what you want me to do.”

“Write me a poem.”

“Pardon?'

“Write me a poem. You have half an hour. I need to talk to Saneth some more.”

“What sort of poem?”

“Your choice. Give me your best effort in the time available. Recite it to me or read it to me when I come down.”

“Urm, I don't have any paper.”

“I just make the rules, I don't provide solutions. You may not scratch any more nuts, nor may you beg, borrow or buy any paper from my parents.”

“You're deliberately trying to make this hard on me, aren't you?”

“Guess.”

“But you still want me to produce something good.”

“If it's too good then I'll let you write me love poems but will have to make the next challenge harder. I want to find out what you're not good at. If you don't put your full effort into it I'll be very cross with you. Your staff please.”

“What?”

“I'm pre-emptively intervening. I'll look after intervention, don't worry, just no solving the problem through unexpected application of wizardry.”

“So if I decide I need some paper, I need to run home.”

“You're certainly not embarrassing me in front of my neighbours.”

“Beloved, stern and beautiful Lenepoli, please can I beg, borrow or buy several sheets of paper from you? And a pen, burnt stick or something?”

“Of course you can, Dirak,” Lenepoli said, “was asking so difficult?”

“No, just realising that you're giving me some of my own medicine regarding indirect questions took a while.”

Smiling, Lenepoli said, “Paper and pens are in the desk draw, there.”

----------------------------------------

POETRY

Radiant Lenepoli

Daughter of Ethepoli

Fan of famous Queen Poli

Lender of this pen to me.

This verse I must write

with all of my might,

Punishment right

for giving you fright.

You ask for my best,

in this strange test

before we can rest

and design our new nest.

This poem's no good;

a complete waste of wood

I'm wasting short time

on a poem that doesn't scan or rhyme properly.

----------------------------------------

I've hurt my love Lenepoli,

Caused her panic, caused her shame,

Made her wonder, made her think,

Worried by my silly game.

My flaw you've found Lenepoli,

I don't back down, I don't give in

can't stop a jest started in fun,

became of brainless stupid sin I panicked my Lenepoli

Addicted to my silly pride

Not trusting her, just trusting self

till Brm stepped in, my faithful guide

I do love you, Lenepoli

and want to change, your trust regain

'til you feel safe, and so agree

to be my wife and thus remain

----------------------------------------

Dirak drew in his breath, looked at the clock in regret and put down his pen. He was out of time. “Hmm,” Lenepoli said, from over his shoulder.

“I didn't hear you come down. Again.”

“Told you,” Saneth said. “He gets totally wound up in what he's doing, and ignores other things that might be happening. Not the best trait in a sheriff, it means that if a prisoner can get him to really involved in a crossword puzzle he might forget to lock them in.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Saneth. Are all the mysteries of life revealed?”

“No.” Lenepoli said, “We both agree that males are totally strange creatures.”

“But useful to have around sometimes, like when a moon is full.”

“Tonight, for instance,” Lenepoli said. “I didn't realise... Breeding season is a myth.”

“Not quite a myth.” Saneth said, “Spring is a fun time, but any full moon will do it when you've got an interesting male around.”

“So Lenepoli's sanity will be restored in a few days?” Dirak asked.

“Tomorrow, Lenepoli might be feeling grumpy about missed opportunities. The next day expect sanity. Then Ethe is full the night after that.

I know that blues are supposed to prefer Lene, but I prefer the light of Ethe. Take note of that, Brm.”

“Are you sure it's not just that Ethe comes more often?” Brm asked.

“What a thing to say!”

“It is Lene tonight, isn't it? And it's fifty days until your birthday, Lenepoli.”

“Yes, Dirak, Lene will be full on the night of my birthday.”

“And if Ethe is full in three days time...” his jaw dropped.

“You mean nights, Dirak,” Saneth said, “You can't have a full moon during the day, that's basic geometry.”

Dirak's mouth was still half open.

“Shut your mouth, Dirak, you'll catch something. I've known it a long time, My twenty-fourth hatchday coincides with a double full moon. Shame.”

“Lenepoli,” Saneth said, “Shame is not the right word. A double moon in early spring, and on your twenty-fourth hatchday? And you plan to resist your God-given instincts? You are joking! I've actually studied this stuff, purely for scientific interest you understand.”

“I believe you Saneth. It sounds just like you,” Dirak said.

Saneth ticked points off on her fingers, “Point one: you're turning twenty-four, that's a bit late to find yourself a husband and your body knows it, that's why you're feeling like you do today, your body wants to make up for lost time and hasn't lost interest.

Point two, your hatchday is an emotionally important day, well known fact, any emotion or urge is stronger on hatchday. Hence tears and fights in the playground and such like, you must have noticed it. It's not even mental, one year olds and elderly people who can't remember their hatchday still get affected. Point three, Spring. Early spring is a lovely time for laying eggs, the days are warmer, the grass is greener, everything feels fresh and lovely and if you've got a male around your body wants filling with eggs, and your Dirak's crest is going to be so orange in your eyes it'll practically glow in the dark. But it won't need to because it's going to be a double full moon. Either Dirak needs to be on the other side of the planet or you're going to be hunting him down and tearing his clothes off him, married or not.

"My purely practical advice, break up and be an emotional wreck for the day or make sure you're married. Preferably get married at least a moon before, so you're not so excited and clumsy that you don't make the most of the opportunity.”

“Well, that was brutal.” Brm said, “Have a lovely time anchoring your forcefields to keep the wind off in the dead of winter, Dirak. How cold does it get up here?”

“The ground will be frozen in a fortnight,” Ruath said from the doorway.

“But your friend is right, Lenepoli.” Ethepoli said, “If Dirak's not your husband by your hatchday, you're going to need locking up or something. I know I did on mine, to stop me clawing your father's eyes out when he sensibly wouldn't marry me on the spot. We'd only been courting a week then, and it was just one moon.”

“What do I do, Dirak?” Lenepoli asked, practically throwing herself into his arms.

“Well firstly, we eat, and then we start planning our house-cum-school.”

“Oops,” Brm said, “Advice from the council: keep hatchlings and experimenting journeymen in very different buildings.”

“Good idea,” Saneth agreed.

“OK,” Dirak said, “And then, based on Saneth's advice, we don't make decisions today.”

“Yes.” Lenepoli agreed, hugging him closely, “I mean, you are not exactly an impartial source of advice about what we ought to do about our impending marriage, are you? So apart from you being a source of good hugs, why am I here?”

“Because he's promised to protect you, of course.” Ruath said, getting a hug from Ethepoli. “What you're doing there is quiet evidence that you're getting ready to leave the family nest, little one.”