The Iron Man [Serial]

Like a Prayer

I was glad for another rest after an afternoon of lifting, cleaning, and literally washing dirty linen in public. I did not mind the work itself. It was no worse than what I'd done in the dhobitorium, and here the solvents were less harsh and the air fresher. I knew the next day I'd be right back to lessons and training, and I didn't mind that either, especially as I believed in my cause. The breaks were nevertheless welcome.

Prim and the Chief both joined us after their work with the Narcís and we shared a light meal as we watched the sun set. I'd seen sunsets over water before, and recently from the fin of the Narcís, but this one came with warm air, the company of my crewmates, a full belly, and a few sips of wine. It was divine.

Alpha built a small fire outside the tent, and we rolled one of the carpets there to sit nearby. Murphy took up his sitar and began to check its tune, and Prim showed us that he had his lute with him. They played for us. It was lively, and Dolores began to clap along. I followed, keeping time as best I was able, as others joined us.

"Who will dance?" Dolores asked, "Ghat?"

Garin was seated at one end of our semi-circle, though not far from Sina and I. He set down his metal cup on the rocky ground, then looked along the line. "Not alone," he said.

"Alpha!" Dolores called, "You can dance for us, Captain."

He was at my other side, a space between us, and close to Prim. Alpha looked past me to Garin. "I'll follow."

Garin grinned and lifted his brows, but he quickly stood and walked to a place the other side of the fire. Alpha got up from the carpet and edged around the fire to join Garin. Nearby, Prim and Murphy spoke, but between their low voices and the instruments I could not distinguish the words or language. I supposed them to agree upon the type of music for the dance, and afterward they did increase the tempo of their song.

I had not seen dance quite like this. Garin, in his short-sleeved shirt, tapered trousers and rubber-soled plimsoll shoes, started with feet close and arms extended at his sides. Alpha, beside him, seemed statuesque as usual, but in military-styled boots unsuited to dance. He bowed his head to watch Garin's feet. They stepped and kicked with rapid angular movements, one foot frequently crossing before or behind the others.

The dance closest in comparison for me was the clogging I had seen both in Queensfort and London, only without the distinctive sound of hard-soled shoes on planking or factory floor. Alpha and Garin moved closer, hands touching each other's shoulders, and then later apart gain. When Garin added some arm movements, Alpha lagged behind. Then, smirking wickedly, Garin untied the scarf at his neck, swung it about. He caught the end of his scarf in his opposite hand, held it before him and jumped. He jumped right over the scarf.

The genius could dance.

Alpha pouted at him and dismissed Garin with a tilt of his head. His fingers curled in invitation to Murphy or Prim. "I am a much better musician," Prim said.

"You know my people's dancing is insanely boring to watch," Murphy said.

Alpha replied to him in Arabic, which I half understood having learned to say "no" and "friend". I imagined it to be something like, "Don't be coy, My Friend."

Murphy set aside his sitar and walked around the fire. "You better all clap for me," he said.

Sina suddenly made a shrill yodeling-like sound. I turned so suddenly, she stopped and laughed at me. "You will get used to it," she said, "clap for him."

I squinted in question, but then made myself focus again on the dance. The footwork was slower, but similar in its movements, however their hips seemed to sway quite a bit more. Surely I sighed or some involuntary thing, because English country dances had no such motions. Yet their positions in relation to each other were alike to corners. Alpha and Murphy stepped forward, stopped with arms bracing each other's chests, then stepped back. When they circled each other, it was not unlike corners changing, though with more intensity of gaze than I had ever seen in a barn or hall.

It was obvious to me in the moment they had done this before. There was no studying of feet to copy each other. There was no indication to me whether one led or followed.

I felt longing without knowing rightly whether I wanted to be with them, or to be them. At the same time, I felt entirely inadequate to the task.

They went through several changes in position, being back to back and then front to back. Always the dance was focused in rhythmic steps and movement of the hips. When they were done, Murphy embraced Alpha and kissed his face once, while Sina trilled at them.

Then Alpha sat again at Prim's side and by his gestures asked him about his lute, while Murphy dropped to the vacant space between us.

Murphy took my hand. I let him hold it. Actually, I squeezed his hand, for I didn't know any words to say.

Only a short while later, Sina, Garin, and the Chief variously excused themselves to go into the tent and rest. Dolores moved to sit at Prim's other side. I could partially hear their conversation about "master-slave morality" and "a novel called Siddhartha".

I lifted Murphy's hand. "Is it true?" I whispered, "That your family wants you to be a priest?"

He did not answer immediately, perhaps deciding who informed me. "I have older bothers. It's more they don't need me to marry or inherit- anything in particular."

"Oh. Do you know? You've never even told me your name."

"You never asked." He laughed. "It's Tyron."

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Twenty chapters to learn his real name?! LOL.

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