The grog rested easily in Calara's stomach now, and the buzz in her head was an easy and a comfortable hum that matched well with the general rumble of happy beasts in the mess and fierce weather outside of it. The otter was leaned over the table now, her chin resting on her paws as she listened to song after song, each one filling her heart with the glow of companionship. And warmth that, though it couldn't rival that of the three cats together on the bench, was pleasant and comforting. She cheered Griblo and Herman. She stomped her footpaws and her rudder in time with the verses. She gasped with surprised and laughed gently to the conclusion of young Korya's story.
"Aye, even the best of seabeasts can get themselves turned around in a storm. A worthy adventure that was." The otter sat up straighter on the bench and cleared her throat. "I've got a story as well, not one that happened to me but a traditional one from the Driftsong clan. It's got some singin', too--" and she held up her paw to forestall the groans that had already begun-- "but don't you fear, it's singin' of a mournful, chant-y sort more suited to a voice like mine." She grinned, flashing her sharp teeth. "I know my own weaknesses."
"This one's called 'Peter Kagan and the Wind', and it's a ballad of loss and love and the dangers of the sea. It talks of seals. My clan has legends about them, shapeshifters we call them, and we believe there's more to them than most beasts think." A half-smile quirked her whiskers. "Forgive me for the length, it's the sort of story we would tell around the hearth when the winter winds were cruelest and the snow and ice the coldest, and we wanted the longest songs and stories to tuck ourselves away."
She paused, took a breath, and began, her voice low and sing-songing back and forth, but the ballad, as she had promised, was not one that depended so heavily on a pleasant tune and her rough rumble suited it well enough.
~*~
Peter Kagan was a lonely beast,
in the summer of his years.
But then one day he got tired of being
lonely, so he went away off to the
eastward, and, when he came again,
he had a wife with him.
She was strange, you know, but
she was kind, and people liked her.
And she was good for Kagan,
she kept him company,
and, winter come to summer,
they were happy.
Kagan had a dory then, had a lugsail
on her mast.
He'd go offshore for three, four days,
setting for the fish.
But oh, his wife was sad then;
she never liked to see him go.
She'd go down and call to him:
Kagan, Kagan, Kagan.
Bring the dory home.
The wind and sea do follow thee,
And all the ledges calling thee.
He said that he could hear her singing
twenty miles to sea, and, when he
heard her, he'd come home,
if he had fish or none.
She was a seal, you know.
Everyone knew that; even Kagan,
he knew that,
But nobody would say it to him.
Then, one day in that year's autumn,
Kagan says:
I got to go now. Go offshore and get some fish.
But she says: No, don't go away.
She starts crying: Please don't go,
the wind is coming, and the snow
Kagan, Kagan, Kagan.
Don't go out to sea.
The stormy wind and snow do come,
And oh, but I do fear for thee.
But Kagan's not afraid of snow;
it's early in the year.
He puts his oars in,
and he goes to sea.
Kagan sails out on the Alton Sound.
The wind is west all day, and going
down; the fish are coming to him.
Kagan reads the writing on the water and the sky.
He sees the haze, up very high, above the clouds.
He says: That's all right for autumn,
only a change of wind. I'm not afraid of wind.
But Kagan reads it wrong this time.
The wind goes away, and then comes back southeast.
The fog comes 'round him.
Kagan says: I better go now. Find
that gong-buoy off the Sunken Ledges.
Then I'll know the best way home.
He puts the sail up, and he bears away
to the northward for the gong.
But oh, the wind is watching. The wind
backs 'round to the eastward and
breezes on. They sail a long time,
and the sail is pulling very hard.
Finally the wind's so strong the sail
tears out.
Kagan takes it in, and the dory goes
drifting.
But then he hears the gong-buoy;
it isn't very far away.
Kagan, Kagan, Kagan:
Bring the dory home.
The wind and sea do follow thee,
And all the ledges calling thee.
But the dory goes drifting;
By and by the buoy goes away.
Kagan says: Okay.
He puts the oars in, starts to row back
up for the gong.
But oh, the wind is watching. The wind
backs 'round northeast, and makes
the sea confused.
The wind says: Listen, I got something
to tell you.
Kagan, rowing: I don't want to hear it.
But the wind humps up - makes the seas
short, makes it hard for him to row.
Finally the seas are so steep Kagan
knows he isn't getting anywhere.
He takes the oars in, and the dory
goes drifting, now.
Kagan says: Okay, now I got something
to show you.
He takes a slip of wood to make a
needle, wazes up the handline for
a thread - sews the sail up smaller, sews a reef in it.
Wind says: What you doing?
Kagan says: You keep watching.
Kagan puts the sail up now, bears away
to the northward for the gong.
But oh, the wind is watching, now.
The wind backs north-northeast.
Kagan can't hold his course, now.
Kagan says: Okay, 'then. He brings
the boat about;
Now he's steering east.
The wind says: You're heading out
to sea.
Kagan says: I'm not afraid of water.
I'll come about, bye and bye,
when I can fetch that gong.
The wind says: I'll veer on you;
I'll go east again.
Kagan says: You go ahead. Then I can
hold my course again.
Ths wind says: I'll back.
Kagan says: You back too far, and
you'll have to clear. You know that.
I can keep ahead of you.
Wind says: You may be smarter, but
I'm stronger. You watch.
Wind gets bigger, blows harder.
Finally there's too much wind.
Sail says: I can't do it.
Kagan says: I know that. Thank you.
He takes the sail in, and the dory
goes drifting.
Kagan takes the sail off the yard.
He pulls it 'round him: Now, you
keep me warm.
The wind says: He can't keep you warm.
Wind snatches off north-by-east:
I'll freeze you.
Kagan says: I'm not afraid of cold.
But Kagan is afraid. He doesn't know
what to do.
But oh, the wind is working, now;
the wind brings ice and snow,
The wind blows long and long and black.
Kagan says: I'm dying. Sail,
keep me warm.
Sail says: I can't do it, Peter.
Kagan dying, and the wind blows.
Kagan, Kagan, Kagan,
Turn thee now to me;
Turn thy back unto the wind
And all the weary, windy sea.
Kagan, Kagan, Kagan,
Lay thee down to sleep,
For I do come to comfort thee,
All and thy dear body keep.
So Kagan lies down in the bottom
of the boat, and tries not to be
afraid of the dying.
And he dreamed of her then,
of his wife.
He dreamed she was coming to him.
He heard a great calling down the
wind, and he lifted his head,
and he saw her coming.
Over the rail of the dory she came,
and laughing, to his arms.
And all in the night and the storm
they did lay, and the wind and the sea
went away.
And in the morning they found him,
asleep, with the sail wrapped
'round him.
And there was a seal lying with him,
there, curled over him like a
blanket
and the snow was upon the seal.
