Will The Gods Favor More Our Revels Or Our Caracoles?

The servants scattered into the Yunderfinsh crowds only to coalesce again when they realized they wanted to see how visitors would react to their venerable customs packed with religious and historical significance. “Eep!” That was the response the visitors gave. “Who's poking me?” Though Millim Takki Atsa yelped that in Usse, they all understood exactly what she was saying, and they liked it quite a bit.

She, Dirant, and Audnauj whirled around like dogs chasing their tails to find the source of the prodding sensation and the rustles that sounded like whispers from the next room over, possibly gossip about the listener. The longer they listened, the stronger that conviction grew, until Dirant dispelled the idea. “This is a strange ritual that only bothers people. What is the meaning of it?”

“I don't go to your town and ask why you do things,” Hugal said.

“You are welcome to do so.”

“Oh.” He thought about that. “I don't know the meaning of it. Something about the border between the living and the dead maybe.”

“Or the mundane and the divine,” Eyanya suggested. “Look, there's the Feast of the Gods.” She pointed at a simple wooden table, round to prevent favoritism, in the center of the fairgrounds. Dirant would have expected the gods to merit a grander, taller table than that one, which resembled the Zero Table where Adaban children had to sit and learn table manners until they complained about their little knees banging against the underside enough that the adults noticed how big they had gotten, just like their fathers. The Yumin ancestors however who had instituted the custom knew something forgotten by modern society about the preferences of those above, the proof of that being the merry way Holzd's legs swung as he sat there enjoying his creamy chestnuts. He waved to his priest, who returned the gesture.

“Oh, you know someone here after all?” Takki asked.

“Everyone is a friend at the fair.”

“I wasn't sure an Adaban would take that attitude. I'm really pleased to hear that.” The tone of Takki's voice irked Dirant a bit, resembling that of a fond teacher or a Subjugator as it did, but everyone was a friend at the fair despite the liberties some took.

Speaking of Subjugators, a bunch of people got whipped. That startled the two foreigners and even the two Dvanjchtlivs, as their high-level knowledge of Yumin practices failed to include many of the particulars. The servants explained it in a very simple way.

“You find a token in a cake and you get whipped.”

“Thank you, Eyanya. Why do you get whipped?” Regardless of her poor Yumin proficiency, Takki's complete mystification came through.

“It's lucky. You want to get whipped.”

“Early on anyway,” Hugal elaborated. “The lower the sun gets, the less you'll like it. The whippers get a little undisciplined.”

“I had an idea the hubbub was growing louder. Chalked it up to getting better at ignoring the pokes though. Yipe!” The ingrained dignity of Audnauj Olzenchipt Stavripdeu Blawraj was such that he managed not to jump when a passing Yumin defended the honor of the ritual by poking him and fading away into the crowd. Yelps followed that pious insister upon customs wherever he went, a tribute to the effectiveness of his methods.

Audnauj, more alert than ever, sought more intelligence on the unexpectedly hostile situation. “Is that all? I mean, are there any other alarming, ahem, charming traditions that need defending against? Indulging in, rather? I'd prefer to join in wholeheartedly and wholemindedly you know, none of this hesitation the outsider quite naturally feels.”

The servants appreciated his enthusiasm, and it was with regret that Hugal said, “That's an admirable stance, Master Audnauj. But it's just a normal sort of harvest fair. Hey, it's almost time! Aw, aw, aw, AWOOOOOOO!”

A clock chimed, the outsiders were told later. They had not picked it up over the combined howling of every Yumin in Yunderfinsh from the children old enough to walk to those so old that they no longer could without frequent breaks. Hugal started in at the same time as the townsfolk, whereas Audnauj's other servants joined in once they recognized the custom. Takki went for it as well, Dirant and Audnauj both said, “Awoo,” rather than howling, and Onzalkarnd simply stood with his mouth open.

“When I spoke before,” Audnauj said when the cacophony died down, “did I somehow bungle my wording? I thought the question was clear enough.” He looked and was genuinely uncertain. If Silone had made the exact same statement, the meaning would have been different.

Dirant intervened before his brain had time to remind him of that. The dread that flourished within every Stadeskosken employee when Silapobenk Rikelta started asking rhetorical questions moved him. “I also place whatever just happened in the category of charming traditions which ought to be included in a brief summary of health risks. And yet, suppose we were in Fennizen right now and someone dropped an idol in the river for it to be picked up by an otter. That happens too often for me to notice, and I would neglect to warn you of it.”

“That happens often?”

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“Oh, there are so many otters around there.” Takki's smile when she backed Dirant up on that point resembled one a thief might have when the authorities demand to search his room after he has already moved the goods to a less conspicuous location.

“There is religious significance behind the practice,” Dirant hurried to explain. “Perhaps it's the same in this case, or?”

“I think there is.” Hugal, for the first time since Dirant had met him, looked abashed. “I'm sorry I didn't think to mention the hourly howling, Master Audnauj. I will strive for more comprehensive reports in the future.”

“As long as we all learned something. So, ah, is that it? Anything else?”

“No, Master Audnauj. I assure you there is not.” Hugal reflected. “While the sun is up, anyway.”

Eyanya squealed. “You guys do that here?”

“We aren't in the mountains just because we can see them. Real civilization rules here. Ow!” A man had smacked the groom in the back of the head, which might have caused a stir had not the assaulter's visage made clear without a word spoken that he was the Gihnal in Hugal laGihnal.

“Just because the livestock know about it doesn't mean the people do. They can't pluck the information out through your nostrils. Idiot. Come by later.” Saying that, Hugal's father bowed deeply to Lord Audnauj and backed away.

Hugal's embarrassment levels shot up far past the 10 he had in Small Fry. “Master Audnauj. Distinguished guests. Later in the day there will be a Punishing Unction Ceremony. It's great fun. I hope you can manage to attend.”

Audnauj, Dirant, Takki, and Onzalkarnd stared at Hugal and then one another in something close to panic. Only then had they begun to realize how weird Yumins could be, and that while inside a town of them, completely surrounded. A Punishing Unction Ceremony sounded far more like a threat than great fun, and each of them called upon every last point of Discernment, Gumption, and Panache nature had furnished in a desperate scramble to contrive a way to decline.

Dirant went first. “I am sure that it is. However, I feel a professional obligation to seek out the Ritualist responsible for this unsettling ritual, not as an employee of Stadeskosken, but as a graduate of Todelk University. We have nothing like it at home. As much as I may hope otherwise, learning it, the history behind it, and any exotic methods devised by Redrin practitioners may take up the rest of the day.”

“Oh!” Takki's eyes, till then closed in concentration, sprung open when she invented a way to piggyback on Dirant's idea. “The history of the ritual will . . . will . . . Father will want to hear it. I will go along also.”

Though to view that as a betrayal would have been unjustified, Audnauj felt abandoned as his position worsened. He was neither a Ritualist nor a historian or even the child of one. Worse, the Yumins clearly expected someone to put in an appearance, and each outsider who bowed out increased the pressure on those remaining. In the end, he could devise no sure plan aside from gesturing toward the unpredictable affairs of the nobility. “Granted, it sounds a thrill to participate, naturally. It's just that so often something comes up that can't be put off. I hope. That everything works out.”

Onzalkarnd imposed upon the expectation that a chief attendant need do nothing but back up his master by not saying anything. He further depended on the fact, well supported by experience, that nobody would miss him if he slunk away after sundown. The true servant maintained and even radiated an awareness of his own dispensability.

With Dirant and Takki sidling away from the main group and the master giving Hugal permission to see his family, the entourage disintegrated into the greater fair where each enjoyed himself as he would. Even the gods were having a good time, or at least Holzd was. Dirant wondered why it was that he alone attended the feast.

“Vision and reliability are so far divorced from each other for humans that what alone is required to prevent the former altogether is for the planet to spin a little and hide from you the sun your weak eyes require to fulfill one of their two purposes, that is, not to be expressive, but to see. They are here, all the gods whose habit is to make this world their concern, and how will you perceive them?” Such was the elucidation Holzd gave in response to his priest's unspoken musings. He also used his unconventional hands to point out the fair's Ritualist, a matron named Marilihm laSerdin. She was happy to discuss class matters with a colleague.

“The Ghostly Botherment Ritual is a favorite around this time of year, both for the customers and us. We offer packages around it. Mind you, you need helpers, but it's up to the town to provide those, and volunteers are easy to find. The celebrants have to run around poking each other. The kids love it, especially the ones with brothers.”

“So many of my brothers deserve to be bothered, and yet I was given so few opportunities for it that I must now consider myself deprived.”

“I can well believe that, sir. I just have daughters myself, three of them, but my sister went the other direction, and she said . . .”

While Marilihm had little to say about the origins and development of the rituals employed in Yumin fairs, festivals, weddings, funerals, and religious observances, her understanding of their present usage could hardly be bettered. Dirant learned about the Orange-Scented Ritual, Shared Blood Ritual, Cubed Juice Ritual, and many more. “That's what we call them. They used to have fancier names in Old Yumin, but we're more to the point today. Who has time for obfuscation and that? Towns order the rituals they want like menu items at a restaurant. Some of us call it a degradation of the art, but I don't hold to any grumbling. My dear grandmother told me a lot of rituals went unused because nobody knew their names or that they even existed, so how could anyone ask for them? Losing a little of the mystery around my rituals so long as I get to do them is a trade I'll take fifteen days out of the week.”

Dirant had never agreed more with anyone, not even when Silthree declared that Below a Certain Point was getting stale. “Public awareness is perhaps the most salient impediment faced by our class, more than our woeful inability in combat. How many people experience a crying need to have a tree branch strengthened for a short time and will never realize there is a solution?”

Marilihm laughed. “Somebody came up with a ritual for that? Oh, you really do get on, you foreign Ritualists.” She swapped rituals with Dirant according to the collegial tradition of their class, and if Takki got nothing out of it, at least she was free of the perilous Punishing Unction Ceremony.

As grateful as she was for that, the conversation did not absorb her interest. While the Ritualists compared compensation, which for an itinerant Redrin ceremonialist consisted primarily of room and board as opposed to the company man's salary, she was observing the crowd. Something she saw compelled her to shake Dirant's sleeve.

“Ressi. I don't want to interrupt, but isn't that Lord Audnauj sneaking off by himself?”

“Pardon me a moment.” Dirant's eyes confirmed what Takki was seeing, which would have been unremarkable except for the particular nobleman involved. “That is worrying,” he commented in Usse, and disengaged from Ritualist chat with compliments on both sides in order that he might get to spying.