Out of Step

My entire being is simply restless. There's my foot tapping an irregular rhythm on the deck. I can't stop my teeth from grinding. But mostly, it's in my hands. They're twirling a fan, folding and unfolding, circles and loops and dances from a simple motion. For a moment, it's in the air, end over end, spinning like a top and then it's back in my palm. I keep it simple for a moment, just going through my knuckles.

The seasickness did its best to stem the tide. That faded after the first day. I took to pacing the deck. I got in the way of the hands moving ropes and hauling sailings, so they shut me back down below. I tried my hands at the card games but lost too much of my money too fast. I even tried planting myself next to the kind lady with a guitar. However, that caused more problems than it solved.

The restlessness in my fingers keeps the fan moving, but it's also moving through me. It's crawling up my arms, up to my shoulder, then back down through my spine like a column of army ants. My neck tenses. My hands keep moving. The fan keeps moving and now my leg's jittery and shaking. I'll capsize the whole ship at this rate. We'll all have to swim to shore. Some of us will probably drown. Probably me first.

The fan goes up again, snapping open. It catches the air on the descent and it spirals like a whirligig seed. And then it's back to me, back to my knuckles, over, under and through.

A small shot of applause snaps me out of my anticipation. I see the remnants of it flow out with a jab to the ribs.

"I apologize for my sister," says the rib jabber, "I'm afraid she has yet to learn any manners."

Even with my concentration back to the world around me, it takes a moment to make them out in the smoky hold. It doesn't help that the first pass over my new companions leaves me confused. I seem to be seeing double. And then I see that they are twins. That is one mystery solved. I can also infer that at least one of them is a lovely young woman. And I am left pondering for a moment as to the other. I settle on another lovely young woman based on the clothing. Really, both of them are the same, except for the scarf around their necks, one red, one blue. It seems their mother's habit of dressing them the same didn't wear off once they went off on their own. Or maybe their mother still dresses them. I am still somewhat unfamiliar with aniso customs. My travels didn't take me that far west.

"I don't mind," I say, "I usually do this with a pan out so people can toss in coins."

I like the blue one. She actually starts rummaging through her packs for her purse. The red one has to step in and stop the con. I stop the show. I think that's only fair. No money, so the curtain falls.

"Why'd you stop her?" I say, "I could use the help."

"I saw you at the card game" says Red, "You did that to yourself."

"And I thought of a way to get myself out. Until you came along and ruined it."

Blue is sheepish and meek and trying to reassert herself as something respectable. It comes back easily, although her eyes keep glancing up to my ears. I make them twitch for her and she jumps. We are all simply waiting and watching and hoping that the next second will be the one where we dock. I doubt it. Everything the crew has said points to another day on open water. That's terrible. My hands are also terrible. They've decided that the fan needs more movement again. It's just through the knuckles though. It will only fly when someone decides to show some cash.

They're scholars. Or academics. Or intellectuals. Not that much difference between the three and I've met them all. They tend to get testy when they're called the wrong thing. They have a metal band linking three of their respective fingers on their respective left hand. It's a stamp, technically. And it's a brass knuckle, practically. I move the fan I smooth circles and they're hypnotized again. All that brain and brawn can't do too much against a slighted hand.

"I've got a question for you two," I say as the fan goes still once again, "What do you call our destination?"

"The new world," says the red one. She's slipped down a bit on my list of favorites. The blue one goes up with that same jab to the ribs.

"It's not really a new world if people were already there, Bethan," says Blue.

"If you do that again Carina, I will take your arm off," says the newly named Bethan, "And besides what else am I supposed to call it. Professor Pilkington called it that in his lectures."

"If you actually went, then you'd understand that was what it was called at first. Once contact was made with the local population, the academy changed the name to match their name."

"And what might that be?" I ask. There's an odd smile on my face. A bit too mean to be something sweet, but the joy I've had as they try to come to a conclusion is fun. I watch as Carina's ears turn red, right to the sharp tips. The prodigious mind is turned over and working and coming up with nothing.

"Starts with an 'A,'" I prompt.

"Does it rhyme with 'within?'" asks Bethan. I nod. She keeps shooting up. Might even surpass that lovely lady with the guitar at this rate. Carina keeps trying and I am in no mood to actually help her. She looks adorable flustered and frustrated.

"Aldyhn," she eventually offers. There's confidence in the answer, tempered a bit with the obstacles to the conclusion. I smile and nod. She does not get a grade. She does not get a 'job well done.' Not even a thumbs up. She looks so absolutely devastated at the lack of approval. I might as well have just taken the sky from her.

"See," says Bethan, "It's not so easy to remember things."

"And then one for you," I say, "What's my name?"

She is now on the top of my list, because she falls for the ruse. She's rattling her brain for that particular fact and she does not have anything to go on. The twin is also going through the motions and has nothing. An exam without a trick question is not a good exam. And to my immense pleasure, neither of them catch on.

"Johnathan," I say.

"I knew that," says Bethan.

That sets me off and I am now laughing at them. That sets off Bethan in just the same way as the faint praise did to Carina.

"You're a very rude man," says Carina.

"I am. I really, really am. I should be ashamed. Being so mean to the guests of my home. I apologize. You clearly mean no harm. But can you blame me? I've had so little entertainment on this trip."

"That's something else that's been bugging me about you," says Bethan, "I thought that leporis weren't supposed to leave their home forest."

"'Supposed to' only has the power you let it. And besides, I'm coming back. That has to count for something."

They don't seem to buy it, but that's not what I'm selling right now.

"You left home too," I continue, "It's a thing most people do at some point. Even if it is just down the street. I went down the street, then off to port, took a new name, and found myself someplace else. And I was someplace else for a good long while. It was a different someplace else every so often."

"Then what brings you back?" asks Bethan.

"What time of year is it?" I ask, "And why am I so restless?"

The rumors, I love the rumors my long ears bring. I love the rumors that come with rarity. Over my travels, I've crossed paths with only two like me, one man and one woman, together. Another little rarity of my kind. As much as the sweeping generalizations keep getting things wrong beyond the surface, there is a grain of truth to it. We tend to stay home. And home is good to us. I didn't want something in that vein of good for a bit.

And they come to the rumors once their learning fails them. The ears mean something to them. I flick them again and that turns their cheeks red. The fan is still, for once. The legs are still. The boat keeps rocking and the card game a few arm lengths away keeps going on.

"That's real?" Carina asks, voice small and just a bit scared. Maybe. I could be reading a bit too much into it.

"Just as real as my tail," I say.

"I told you they had tails," says Bethan and it appears the rib poking is a secret language between them. Elbows belong in ribs so that everything has just enough pain to bring in the sense.

"Professor Pilkington said they didn't, but that his conclusion wasn't based off any firsthand accounts. This was before the trade route was established. That's why we came," says Carina.

"You came all this way just to see if we had tails?" I ask.

"No. Well, not the only reason. It's a historic moment. Granted, it's not the first ship to make port. But it has to be in the first 20. That's significant. And I know for a fact we're in the first 10 from the academy. So, yes Mr. Johnathan, we did come to see if you had tails. And see what your markets look like. And see your architecture, your culture, your art, your music, your civilization."

"I don't know why you keep giving me credit for all those things. Haven't been back in years. And I'm pretty sure all of the things you mentioned were well in place before I was born."

"Can you at least tell us if that rumor is true?" says Bethan, "And before you get smartassy about it, that rumor. Not the tail one or the one where your ears can come off or the one about you only eating carrots. That. One."

I chuckle. I really like Bethan. She's great. I bet I could cheat her out of her pocket money very easily, but I also bet I would get a punch to the nose for the attempt.

"First, yes, tails are real again. No, they can't come off but I can move them. Some can only get a twitch, but I get a full swivel. And I actually don't care for carrots. Don't mind them, but fonder of figs, if anything."

And I sit back, draw out the moment, let the fan come back into play and give the moment something to work against. It's spinning. Dancing, really, upside down, snapping open and close, flirting across my skin before coming still with a sharp little click.

"Yes," I say through the creaking boards and billowing sails, the card game and the guitar, "Yes. That's how we copulate. Is that a smart enough word for it? Fornicate? Populate? I'm having trouble coming up with a word that doesn't end with 'ate,' and I don't want to offend your delicate sensibilities more than I already have."

"Thank you," says Carina, "for the clarification. We'll try to incorporate it into our dissertation when we return to the academy."

"Oh good. I was hoping that I could help the academy. They seem like they do such good work."

"How many?" asks Bethan.

"Pardon? I'm not sure I understand."

"Don't play innocent now. How many? At one time?"

"Personally? Two."

"Really? Really, really? I thought it went into the twenties."

"Again, first time back in a really, really long time. As in, this is my first time since me and my dad decided that there were other things to life than the forest. So, I'm working off the same rumors as you. Really. Really, really."

And now I've frustrated and flustered them both and they don't know what to make of me. Shame. I was hoping they might have an inkling or two after this rather enlightening set of conversations. At the end, they probably think I'm a bit of a cheeky shit. I already knew that. So, no one learns anything and we are all left dumber for the effort.

"Can you teach me the fan thing?" asks Carina. She's making a return now. I beckon for her to come sit next to me and it seems someone is going to learn something after all.

---

I'm on deck and just waiting. Waiting on the prow with my foot back to shaking and tapping and trying to break through the floor and drown us all. We're not that far from shore. I can see the docks. I could probably leap from them and swim if I had to. Or I could just wait the extra handful of moments so we can safely disembark and start waltzing through town like curious gawkers, taking in the sights.

All in all, I think it is the towers that have caught me so off guard. I do not remember them. I don't really remember anything being taller than the trees. But if I had to hazard a guess, someone with a lot of money is playing a blimp route at some point once all the trade winds have been charted and confirmed. But their presence alone breaks the horizon in a new way. It's almost like a city.

There are still the remnants of what the uncivilized might call the savagery present in the heart of all things untouched by their ideas. There are still trees to rival and even surpass the towers. There are no clogged waterways and creeping bloom of city sewage out into the water. The sky is clear for birds and clouds and the afternoon rains.

We are the only ship in the harbor. It seems that the twin's estimate was off. Not quite the first twenty, if some of the banners are to be trusted. Exploratory merchants and frontiersmen, probably some anglers mixed in with the prize hunters and anyone who has decided they would be the first at something. I imagine there's one or two at port just wanting a chance to simply drop out of where they were and find something like peace and quiet for once in their lives. And I even imagine that there's a few like me, feeling that call so deep to come through them. Nothing back where we came from felt right. Nothing I saw on the ship. The aniso twins did their best as ambassadors for their kind, along with the guitarist. The card game had the requisite ursis to complement their kin on the crew. And a handful of homins because they crop up everywhere. I like them, in the broad strokes sort of way. I like all of the kinds I've come across, now that I think about it. Certainly a healthy dose of absolute jackasses who don't deserve the air they breathe, but generally a friendly smile at the very least.

To my surprise, one of the towers changes. A banner rolls down like a sudden downpour and I catch a shock of burning red. There's movement behind me on the mast and I catch the sail change to match the tower. That little bit of shade suddenly sends a thrill through me. I've seen it before. I've worn parts of it before. I don't think it means quite what I think it means. It's a good color. It's a wonderful color. I wish I had my fan again, but that's on loan to a twin with an unbreakable promise to return before we disembark. I will frisk everyone on the way down the gang plank if I have to.

"Morning, John," says a voice. I jump and I almost have to follow through on my plan to swim to shore. Another voice laughs at me and I feel the grand karmic scales realign.

"Buddy, you need to loosen up," yawns Bethan, "It is going to be hard as hell to get laid when you are this wound up."

"Don't need that advice from you," I say, "I've gotten laid before. I can do it again."

"Yeah, but this is your first time, right? I'm sure you've read the same bodice rippers as I have, but that's not a good basis for the real thing."

I refuse to rise to the bait. She's tired. I would trounce her in a verbal battle of wits and leave her sobbing on her first day of a very exciting trip. That day should be full of merriment and wonder and complete sensory overload. Something taps my shoulder and Carina made good on her promise. Then it's gone.

I turn and she is standing there. The fan snaps open and she sends it up. It flutters down in a lazy fall. She has to chase it, but it's in her palm. She snaps it closed and flips the business end over to me. I give a little nod of approval and I might as well have just shot her full of sunshine with that little act. Bethan doesn't appreciate the lack of attention, but she has yet to impress me today.

She does not impress with the rote repletion of pleasantries, although I am glad to go through them. I slept as well as could be expected. Could go for a bit more, but I also wanted to be the first off the boat. The twins slept well. They offer me a bit of dried fruit and I think I like them in earnest at this point. Kind of a shame it took so long to make their acquaintance. The fan's back in my pocket. The twins ask about the towers and I give no answers.

The captain shouts his orders and the shore keeps growing closer and closer. I can see the people start milling about in preparation for our arrival. Not quite the most practiced port I've seen, but still better than it was when I left. Everything is moving in and out with a good pace that's only going to get faster and faster as the years roll by.

The ship gets that wonderful thrill as we all realize that we'll disembark soon. The trip's over. Everyone's gathering their things and we have nothing but time to kill. It infects the twins next to me. They join me in beating our soles against the grain. We'll run a rut down to the ocean floor just before we make port.

The call comes out. There's a bell involved. Someone on the dock tosses a line and the ship tosses one back. They get hitched and we are all invited to the reception. Just like that.

And I can't find it in myself to move at the moment. That's fine. It turns out that I'm not the most eager to get out. That goes to the guitarist of all people. A dark horse to the end. She gets a nod and a wave and a 'get on your way' from the women at the end of the plank. Good to see the customs are cordial and quick at least. Still, I should probably see how they handle if something goes wrong so I know the procedure.

"Are you okay John?" Carina asks, just a bit of play in her voice. I take a deep breath in through my nose. The salt air is sharp and clean. I catch the loamy earth and vibrant leaves from inland rolling out. If I delude myself, I might even be able to catch the streams where my father and I fished even farther.

"No," I say, "Not really."

"Oh. Well. If the guards give you trouble, I'm pretty sure Bethan and I can take them if we stack up and get on each other's shoulders. That would probably put us at eye level. Do you count the ears? I'm not counting the ears."

"It's not that their guards. It's that their women."

"Really? That's it? Mr. Gigolo? A harem in every town, the Blue Fish Admiral wrapped around your little finger, something about the Serpent of the Sands, I was kind of nodding off at that point, but really? Two normal guards?" Bethan scoffs.

"And I'm surprised you believed those. I met the admiral once and she almost crushed my hand when we shook. Left me shaking for weeks."

And I am still shaking as it turns out. My leg won't stop. It's sending out waves back to where I came from so some other vessel can come save me.

"You can talk to us, right," says Bethan, "Just think of them as two really tall versions of us."

"I don't think they're going to be really impressed by the fan trick and outright lies."

"Can you do the thumb thing? That's always a crowd pleaser."

They've taken a page out of my book and seem to settle on being annoying. And it works. I'm more exasperated with them than I am anxious over the gangplank. I still let the heavier guys go first, just in case it decides to break.

I did not get here by being timid and shy. I will not leave here by being timid and shy. The twins get me up and swaying and now the twins are trailing behind me like a cape. The walk's all too short and all too long.

Two of them, dark skin like mine, tall ears maybe a shade or two lighter, head and ears covered with soft down, sharp noses with just enough of a tilt to be condescending. Their faces are stoic and serene, even as they glance me over and decide whether or not to let me in. The spears they wield are thin and light, more for show than anything else. But they are still sharp and fast and work well with the knives on their belt. I can't help but feel everything start to flutter and melt as they stare me down. The urge pushes me into them, but the stance stays low and grounded, rock solid. I do not focus on the softness of their scent and the promises of their bodies. I am gazing past them. There is a nascent city on the other side of their long legs, wide hips and narrow waists. None of that even crosses my mind, even as they push up against me.