Гарри Тертлдав - The First Heroes

"Father, you gave me the idea!" Fummirrul blurted out. His face, like Dett's, was red with suppressed emotions, but he had ceased his trembling.

"I? I never said a word!"

"That day when you stopped by the pen with Uncle Mebaw, you said a man must do his best to cope with a dilemma. My dilemma was that the sheep kept eating seaweed on the shore. How could I deal with it? Building the wall higher would only stop them while they were in the enclosure, but they were constantly running off when I took them to the pastures, too. Tying them up didn't work—they chewed through every rope I tried. So I thought to ask Gefalal what they did with the sheep on her southern island. You remember, she and her brother, the boy that died on the boat trip, were shepherds to this very flock of bothersome sheep."

Dett blinked. Until this moment, he had forgotten his original purpose in coming to the pen. "Gefalal. Yes. What then?" "I'd talked to her before, Father. It's so interesting to know her people have many different words from our own. For instance, she calls the ocean—"

"You stray from your story. Uncle Mebaw and the Mastersinger would scold you for rambling. What did she say of the sheep?"

Fummirrul rubbed the head of a nearly grown lamb as it butted him with affection. "It took a while to understand enough of her words. We learned more from each other when I brought her out to the pastures. She is very good with the sheep. Father, you will never guess what she told me! These southern sheep eat seaweed nearly all year long, save the summertime when the ewes are lambing. When the young lambs are a few months old, they too eat the seaweed. See this rascal here? He likes it as much as his father does." The lamb was now taking delicate nips of the seaweed at the boy's feet. Trouble, nearby, took far larger mouthfuls, as did the ewes that had ambled over, now that Dett had stopped shouting.

"At first, Father, I didn't know what to think. It seemed stupid. But then Klevey walked in your dream, and the Seaman appeared, too, with seaweed draped over his flipper." "And he left the seaweed after he vanished," said Dett, thinking hard. "Do you think he left it for us to feed the sheep?"

Fummirrul shrugged. "I am just a boy. I don't know much about interpreting dreams. But it seemed to make sense. So I used that—and Gefalal's advice—to convince myself that it was all right. Father, it must be all right! For the grasses have grown poorly and there is not enough grain for the village, let alone the flock, but there is still seaweed. The old sheep are starving, but I have lost but one of the new flock, and that a swaybacked lamb."

Dett didn't reply at first. Only minutes ago, he and Mebaw had been discussing the meaning of his dream. His brother thought he, Dett, would somehow help save the village from Klevey's destruction, and maybe he was right. Well, partly right. Dett did not see how he could be a savior when all he had done was fuss and fret. He was a confirmed worrier. Jolpibb used to tease him about it. But perhaps his cautious ways had saved lives.

Fummirrul, on the other hand . . . He had interpreted an elder's dream and taken action on it—a bold thing to do for a mere boy, but the interpretation could be a valid one. Dett's gaze passed from the weak older sheep to one of the new ones. Most were gray, but this was the brown ram, and he stared back with bright brown eyes. The brown was having his share of the ladies, too, Mebaw had said. The sheep's robust condition—and that they were intent on breeding—certainly seemed to vouch for the validity of the interpretation. Come spring, the Western Islanders who had lost their flocks would lack wool and mutton, but Dett's village would not.

"F-Father?" Fummirrul sounded anxious. "Is it all right?"

"Yes, I think so," Dett said. "I will talk to the council about it. Grandmother may be irked to realize that you may have interpreted an important dream more accurately than she or the Mastersinger did. My son, if you have a talent for such things, perhaps you will be Mastersinger after Uncle Mebaw."

Fummirrul wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I want to go to sea with Grandfather and the uncles. That is why I want to learn Gefalal's tongue. Then, if we go to the Great Island, I can speak to the people there, and trade for their things." He scratched the lamb's ears, looking wistful. "But, of course, someone else would have to watch the flock."

This intention surprised Dett only a little; Fummirrul was a restless spirit, not given to staying in one place, growing grain and gathering seabird eggs off the cliffs. Dett believed his son would do well as a fisherman-trader, especially if he made the effort to learn other people's tongues.

But that was all yet to come. "You have done well with the sheep, but when you are a man, some other clever youngster will take your place as shepherd." That youngster might have heen Orrul. Or the baby. "However, I fear you must wait some time before learning more of Gefalal's language. Great-Uncle Talloc has forbidden you to see her." When Fummirrul began to cry out in protest, Dett raised a restraining hand. "I do not agree with him, but as she is in his household, I cannot countermand his desires. He may change his mind, given time.

"Look. It is beginning to snow again. I will help you move the sheep into their barn, and then we will see what messes little Rarpibb has made for us, eh? That mutton stew last night was so tough, I thought she'd cooked her doll."

That won a sly grin from his son. "True, Father! Say, if I hid her doll and pretended to eat it, that would make her squeal indeed. May I play such a joke?"

With that, Dett understood that Klevey's rampage had caused only some of Fummirrul's low spirits. The rest came from worrying about his feeding the sheep. "Indeed you may. It will be fine to hear her squeal again. I have sorely missed that sound."

The elders readily accepted Fummirrul's interpretation, once they had inspected the old and new sheep, and heard from Gefalal that the creatures did thrive on seaweed on the Great Island. Klevey and Lord Father Winter continued to torment the islands for another year. Illness took more lives during the second winter after the Day of Darkness; Glinaw, the Mastersinger, and even Grandmother Glin succumbed. The elders, however, took care that no one starved, carefully doling out precious mutton as needed. Talloc, in particular, readily shared what his depleted family would not need. It also helped that they were better prepared for Lord Father Winter's fury; everyone had plenty of warm woolen clothes and thick blankets.

As the community dwindled, new unions formed to take the place of the old. Dett married again, to Aip, the widowed sister of one of his brothers-in-law. Aip was a pleasant woman, not as lively as Jolpibb, but kind-hearted, with a young son who regarded Fummirrul with awe and eagerly helped with the sheep. Everyone rejoiced when the first warm spring days returned. Mebaw, now Mastersinger, sang "The War Against Winter," and there was a feast at the Pit to celebrate the binding of the Chill One to the seafloor. They dined on a whale that had beached itself, but Dett found himself savoring the fresh cheese made from ewe's milk nearly as much as the whale-meat. He had a dream that night, as he did after the feast of venison, but it was an enjoyable one. He saw his dream-self walking on the shore with dream-Fummirrul. The pair of them found tracks in the sand running down into the sea—ones that matched those of Klevey. Dream-Dett surveyed the horizon and rejoiced to see a distant red smudge vanish into the waters.

He turned to tell dream-Fummirrul, only to discover the boy was crouching, eye-to-eye with the gray seal. "Hail, Seaman," dream-Dett said. "Have you come to tell us the Red Scourge has returned to the Mother?"