“Why, we will be thanked.”
“Thanks buy no cargo.” She licked her thin Ups. “The People will be in debt to Sisu . . . and there will be a change in status of ships. We won’t suffer.”
Krausa smiled slowly. “You always were a shrewd one, My Mother.”
“A good thing for Sisu that I am. Take the fraki boy and prepare him. We’ll do this quickly.”
Chapter 8
Thorby had two choices: be adopted quietly, or make a fuss and be adopted anyhow. He chose the first, which was sensible, as opposing the will of the Chief Officer was unpleasant and almost always futile. Besides, while he felt odd and rather unhappy about acquiring a new family so soon after the death of Pop, nevertheless he could see that the change was to his advantage. As a fraki, his status had never been lower. Even a slave has equals.
But most important, Pop had told him to do what Captain Krausa said for him to do.
The adoption took place in the dining saloon at the evening meal that day. Thorby understood little of what went on and none of what was said, since the ceremonies were in the “secret language,” but the Captain had coached him in what to expect. The entire ship’s company was there, except those on watch. Even Doctor Mader was there, inside the main door and taking no part but where she could see and hear.
The Chief Officer was carried in and everyone stood. She was settled on a lounge at the head of the officers’ table, where her daughter-in-law, the Captain’s wife attended her. When she was comfortable, she made a gesture and they sat down, the Captain seating himself on her right Girls “from the port moiety, the watch with the day’s duty, then served all hands with bowls of thin mush. No one touched it. The Chief Officer banged her spoon on her bowl and spoke briefly and emphatically.
Her son followed her. Thorby was surprised to discover that he recognized a portion of the Captain’s speech as being identical with part of the message Thorby had delivered; he could spot the sequence of sounds.
The Chief Engineer, a man older than Krausa, answered, then several older people, both men and women, spoke. The Chief Officer asked a question and was answered in chorus — a unanimous assent. The old woman did not ask for dissenting votes.
Thorby was trying to catch Doctor Mader’s eye when the Captain called to him in Interlingua. Thorby had been seated on a stool alone and was feeling conspicuous, especially as persons he caught looking at him did not seem very friendly.
“Come here!”
Thorby looked up, saw both the Captain and his mother looking at him. She seemed irritated or it may have been the permanent set of her features. Thorby hurried over.
She dipped her spoon in his dish, barely licked it. Feeling as if he were doing something horribly wrong but having been coached, he dipped his spoon in her bowl, timidly took a mouthful. She reached up, pulled his head down and pecked him with withered lips on both cheeks. He returned the symbolic caress and felt gooseflesh.
Captain Krausa ate from Thorby’s bowl; he ate from the Captain’s. Then Krausa took a knife, held the point between thumb and forefinger and whispered in Interlingua, “Mind you don’t cry out.” He stabbed Thorby in his upper arm.
Thorby thought with contempt that Baslim had taught him to ignore ten times that much pain. But blood flowed freely. Krausa led him to a spot where all might see, said something loudly, and held his arm so that a puddle of blood formed on the deck. The Captain stepped on it, rubbed it in with his foot, spoke loudly again — and a cheer went up. Krausa said to Thorby in Interlingua, “Your blood is now in the steel; our steel is in your blood.”
Thorby had encountered sympathetic magic all his life and its wild, almost reasonable logic he understood. He felt a burst of pride that he was now part of the ship.
The Captain’s wife slapped a plaster over the cut. Then Thorby exchanged food and kisses with her, after which he had to do it right around the room, every table, his brothers and his uncles, his sisters and his cousins and his aunts. Instead of kissing him, the men and boys grasped his hands and then clapped him across the shoulders. When he came to the table of unmarried females he hesitated — and discovered that they did not kiss him; they giggled and squealed and blushed and hastily touched forefingers to his forehead.