Chapter VI

The day of the Changing of the Wives came to the ship. It was a very important ritualistic day, held, always, three weeks and one day before the Festival of the Casting Off.

The morning of the day, Nestir spoke to the assembled complement. He explained its symbolic importance: he explained its historic development; he delivered, in cretia ultimatum est, an exegesis on the Jarcon. And then he took off the cloak of priestcraft and cast it to the floor. “For I am,” he said, “Ah, a man as you are men.”

Then, being no longer empowered to pronounce a benediction (under normal conditions, the function of a younger priest), he left the cheering members of Flight Seventeen A and sped directly to his stateroom.

The afternoon passed uneventfully. The complement of the ship moved about their routine chores tingling in anticipation of the evening.

At the evening meal, a new seating arrangement was instituted at the insistence of the steward and the third mate. The newly formed couples were to sit side by side.

To accomplish this, it was necessary to set two extra plates in the officers’ mess. One, for Wanda, next to the third mate; and one, for Joanne Marie, beside the captain.

“Please pass the meat,” the third mate said.

Nestir handed it across to him.

“Thank you, Father.”

“Today, in culpa res, I no longer have that honor,” Nestir reminded him. “The blood-red cloak of priestcraft will never again touch my shoulders this side of the Reward.”

“I’d be a little sad,” said the steward.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the third mate said.

“It probably all depends,” Helen, the wife of the second mate, agreed.

“Hit’s a far, far better thing I do,” the first mate said sonorously. He was a little drunk.

The captain speared one pea and ate it. “I envy you,” he said, looking over at Joanne Marie.

Wanda Miller, who had already upset her glass of water in the third mate’s lap, said, “Pass the biscuits, hey ... You uns have better’n we do.”

“No,” said the steward, “not at all, my dear. We eat the same as the crew.”

“Yes; precisely so,” the third mate said.

“Except ours is fixed up a little differently,” said Jane.

“An’ our cook can’t fry an aig,” the first mate said.

“I wouldn’t say that,” said the captain.

“Shucks,” Joanne Marie said, “anybody can fry an aig.”

“On the contrary, Madam. I recall once, when I was a political adviser for the Kong regime...”

“Do you mean mea-Kong?” the steward asked.

“No, that was in Koltah.”

“Yes,” Nestir said. “I am very familiar with them. They...”

“That’s not the one I meant,” the captain snapped.

Nestir leaped to his feet. “Well!” he said loudly. “I’m through eating.”