The Rivening

Go Messages

"Don't worry. I'm better than I look." Peter shuffled into the dining room.

Connie did worry, though Peter kept reassuring her every day that he was stronger. It was now seven days since they'd come through the passage. What was taking him so long to recover?

It was laborious passing messages during the Go games, especially when Harnell sat at the table, as she occasionally took interest in how the game was going. Slowly, Connie and Peter managed to communicate a few pieces of information. The first was a notion Connie had about the pictographs that she covertly wanted to ask Peter.

"I've wondered if you've noticed the pictographs here in Dahria?" Connie shook her head slightly back and forth and mouthed the word 'no' to Peter.

He pretended puzzlement. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

"Harnell made some pictures when she tried to leave me a message. There." She pointed, "There on the board above the buffet. Arden said writing is different here." She turned to Harnell, "Do you have books, Harnell?"

Harnell looked up from her embroidery, "Writing is mostly for passing on information like that list of food. Or some domain rules or maybe technical information. Though a lot of that is passed on through learning visits. One of the main purposes of the convenings is to share information and set up those visits. And, of course, domains keep chronologies. The trackers do that. But made-up stories like your novels? No, we're storytellers. Runnings get passed around, but that's all."

"Runnings?" asked Connie.

"If you're listening to a storyteller and hear something new you like, you might write up a running of the story sequence and use it for yourself."

"Steal someone's story?"

Harnell looked perplexed. "No one's stealing. Ideas often come from something you've heard, who maybe heard it from someone else, and on back and back. But your telling is unique to you. And then it might inspire someone else. Some of the best new stories are from the oldest stories." She went back to her embroidery.

Peter said, "Fascinating. No, I hadn't really noticed the writing. You know Vossey only speaks very limited travel English. I haven't yet learned a lot about our new home here. But I'm teaching her Go."

Connie said, "Well, I just thought that pictograph stuff was sort of interesting. Thought you might have an opinion as you do about most things. Anyway, no matter." Connie raised her eyebrows. "What new Go strategies have you got for me today?"

"Give me a minute." Peter sat thinking. "Okay, these sound funny together, but I think they make a good game combo. First, there's the Delphi strategy." His fingers were quiet. "You know the Or-a-cle of Delphi?" He tapped three fingers as he said each syllable of 'oracle.'

Harnell looked up, "The Oracle of Delphi? Ha, that's a legendary Dahria passage, you know. One of the last ones that a small, Earthside elite was aware of. How does the strategy work in Go?"

Connie felt a little panicked, but Peter smoothly moved into describing a strategy he'd taught Connie once before. Harnell continued to watch the game and ask questions about the play. "You have another strategy you're going to show Connie tonight?"

Connie worried Harnell suspected they were up to something.

"What do you think, Peter?" she shrugged. "Maybe one a night is enough."

"Sure. Let's just keep playing."

Peter placed his next stone. "Harnell, what was that music in the amphitheatre today?"

"They're practicing for the big Brodurne program."

"Oh right. That's coming up soon." He spoke to Connie, "Did I ever tell you that I used to play the trombone?" He quietly tapped on the second syllable – bone."

"Peter, you are always a wonderment."

He turned to Harnell, "Do you have trombones in Dahria?" He repeated a tap on the 'bone' syllable.

Later, when Harnell got up to get a tea, Connie leaned over the Go board and whispered quietly moving her lips as little as possible, "Oracle bones." She played her stone and looked up at Peter who nodded.

As Harnell walked back to the table, Peter said, "You've got that right. Well done, Connie. Your strategies are all matching up."

After the surgery on his face, one of the first outings Peter wanted to do was to visit the Royal Ontario Museum and show Connie the Shang Dynasty oracle bones. Prior to immigrating to Canada, Peter's mother was a scholar of ancient Chinese writing. She tutored him for years on ancient Chinese scripts. He had memories of visiting the museum with his parents and his mother interpreting characters etched in the ancient oracle bones.

The bones were a bittersweet reminder of the scholarly studies she left behind to come to Canada and provide her young son with the opportunities the West could offer him. Opportunities, Peter felt, he'd squandered.

Peter's 'oracle bones' message told Connie her hunch was right, that the Dahrian pictographs bore some resemblance to Chinese characters, likely ancient scripts. She was dying to ask Peter how much he was able to comprehend of the Dahrian script. From the look on his face, she guessed, more than a little. If he could read them even half ways, it would be a great help. That is, once he was well enough that they could extricate themselves from their current situation.

Over the next few days, the other messages Peter gradually eked out were: 'bad drink' and 'I am ok.' One evening, when Fanik sat with them, absorbed by a mechanical drawing he was working on, Peter wrote letters, one at a time, in his fruit puree. He spelled and smeared away the word 'yawlag.' Twice. Connie didn't understand and asked Tessa the next day if she knew the word.

"Yawlag? Cross-water station?"

"I guess. I heard someone say the word a few times and wondered what it meant. What is a cross-water station?"

"Flying sailing place. Yawlag flying sailing to Selchia." Tessa laughed, "Yawlag people act – what's good word? – important - Cross-water special place. Today Crustic people act important. Crustic no important tomorrow. No more Earthside school."

As Tessa spoke, her eyes caught movement over Connie's shoulder beyond the open greenhouse door. "Oh! Harnell come."

Connie turned around and saw Harnell pedalling up the driveway. What inopportune timing. Tessa's comments had erupted a mountain of questions in Connie's head. But they would have to wait. She knew she'd better divert Tessa onto another topic and quickly began peppering her with questions about the leafy greens in the trays in front of them. By the time Harnell walked into the greenhouse, Tessa was fully engaged in pointing out the staggered planting cycles.

Harnell wasted no time on pleasantries. "Rennish wants you to come back. She's taking you to the Brodurne program tonight."