Water
to Water
by
Karen A. Wyle
Genre:
Science Fiction
Two
young Vushla questioned what everyone knew about death. What should
they do with the answer?
When the time comes for
Vushla to die, they go into the ocean and are dissolved away. Or so
Terrill has always believed, and still believes after taking part in
his father's final journey. But when he meets a young Vushlu who
lives by the sea, Terrill must confront information that calls this
fundamental belief into question. Will the two of them discover
the truth? And what should they do with what they find?
Character Interview with Kititit the Weesah Peddler
Q. How did you become a peddler?
A. Well, now. That’s a ways to think back . . . . When I was
a young sprout, we had a neighbor who was a peddler, wagon and all. I thought
her wagon was about the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, all painted up as it
was. And she used to let me help load the goods in the back – leastways,
helping is what she called it. Getting in the way is what I’d call it,
remembering. And when she’d been away and came home again, she always had
stories to tell about the places she’d been. I’d never been anywhere, and I got
to hankering after a life like she had.
Q. Your wagon – did it used to be your neighbor’s?
A. Right you are! Though by the time she figured she was
ready to stay home and play with her grandchildren and take it easy, the wagon
was what you might call used up – the canopy, anyway. My folks gave me a new
one, and I picked what to paint on it.
Q. You have a mate and children, I hear. How have you
managed to strike a balance between traveling and family life?
A. Well, I don’t have just any mate. I made sure to find a
lady as liked to hear stories. I promised to always bring back plenty of
stories. And she’s an independent sort – doesn’t need someone at her elbow all
the time, telling her how to do things. A mate as hung around every day might
get annoying for such as her. So we suit each other. And the longer I’m away,
the longer I stay home and do my bit with the young ‘uns and the beasts and the
garden and all. And now that some of our young ‘uns are grown, she has plenty
of help when she needs it.
Q. You’re acquainted with Terrill and Honnu, I believe. How
did that come about?
A. I’ve known Honnu a good piece of his life, I’d say. I
visit a few different fisher villages, and he lives – or lived, I’m not sure
which is right just now – in one of ‘em. I was the first Weesah he ever saw, I
reckon, and how he would stare! Anyhow, he’s a curious fellow and always likes
to hear my traveler’s tales.
Q. That brings up an interesting point. Aren’t you somewhat
given to exaggeration in those tales of yours? Should Honnu believe everything
you say?
A. (laughs) No, I can’t say as he should. But I reckon he
knows that. Now, I wouldn’t say he knows just what to believe and what not to.
But if he ever asked me, serious-like, I’d tell him.
Q. And Terrill? How did you meet him?
A. That was luck, if luck is something that happens, as to
which I’ve no firm opinion. His da took ill, and Terrill was one of the funeral
party as took him to the sea. I left Honnu’s village about the time they left
to head home again, and we got to talking on the road. A nice young fellow. On
the serious side, and tending to worry more than is comfortable for a youngster
his age. I did my bit to cheer him up, when I could.
Q. And how did Terrill and Honnu meet each other?
A. (chuckles) Well, I’ll maybe let you ask one of them about
that. I’d best be packing up and heading on, pretty soon. Any last questions?
Or might you be wanting something from the wagon before I go? I’ve got some
good knives I picked up a few towns back. Or if you’ve little ones at home, I
have toys -- balls for juggling, and these dolls. See the bits of shell that
make up the armor? And of course, I have fish. Always plenty of fish.
Karen
A. Wyle was born a Connecticut Yankee, but eventually settled in
Bloomington, Indiana, home of Indiana University. She now considers
herself a Hoosier. Wyle's childhood ambition was to be the youngest
ever published novelist. While writing her first novel at age 10, she
was mortified to learn that some British upstart had beaten her to
the goal at age 9.
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