Chapter 1, Part 4
And now a digression, for several of you have asked about tea, and I am delighted to oblige your curiosity. For tea is emblematic of our species, indeed!—we consider it the official drink of the empire. Many are the tracts that discuss its virtues.
Like the aunerai version, our tea is made from the leaves of a plant; in our case, an epiphytic vine, the
let arva (directly, "tea vine"). It is found natively on First World, growing on the branches of a shrub found on the sides of hills and ditches: a very humble plant that one, we even name it so:
gelme sherani, "the humble plant"; more on this in a moment. Without the tea vine,
gelme shera are overwhelmed by direct sunlight and die. Likewise, the tea plant cannot survive without a host to suspend it, nor does it grow very high. It is well-suited to its partner.
Together, tea vine and host offer a considerable bounty: the
gelme sherani's leaves can be ground as an analgesic and its small berries are delicious; they are also crushed to form the basis for the pigment that dyes the stoles of Public Servants such as myself, a color adequately translated as "mulberry." The tea vine, of course, yields the tea leaves; like you, we cure and dry the leaves in many different ways, each method yielding a different flavor. Unlike your beverage,
let is a mild relaxant. It is not strong enough to induce sleep, only to calm a troubled thought, if such a thought you may be holding. It is a bright, quiet sort of mind it fosters.
You can imagine, then, why we so value tea. It is the core of many words and phrases:
let aidaremethil, or "tea-plant symbiosis," is the state of working with another to achieve your mutual success. That success-gained-with-others also has a word:
letemereth.
Letshilva means something like "complete usefulness," and describes when every last particle of utility has been wrung from something; as we use every part of the tea vine and its partner, the berries, the leaves and as every part of both plants is useful to one another, so in
letshilva everything contributes without holding back.
Ashlet is the word we use to describe someone who works harmoniously with another, complementing their strengths and compensating for their weaknesses. And
ieleten is the word we use for the failure that comes from attempting to make one's way alone in a situation or environment where one absolutely needs aid; you may remember the word
iekuvren, "destructive independence," a flaw that leads to
ieleten, failure, and finally
akuvrash, the destruction of the community. It is from that word for failure that we derive the name for the tea vine, in fact, for that concept came first; as a species, we faced
dar ieleten, which is to say the failure of a people, for only by pulling together in the traces were we able to survive. The partner shrub also derives its name from another venerable word:
gelmesh, which is to say "foundation of a positive relationship." This root informs the word
gelme, for is not humility the source of our ability to love?
In conflict, we speak of
let raikash, "tea victories." These are reached by compromise on the part of both parties, as in two enemies making concessions. The victory is impossible without both their contributions, so this word is both pleasing in symbol and act (for it is customary to make our treaties over a tea table).
So then: a very important plant, not just for its taste or history, but for what it means to us.
In flavor
let varies from grassy and astringent to smoky and earthy, but the mouthfeel is always clear; we do not mediate it with thick liquids except for a syrup we make for children. Though it was found first on First World, it is successfully farmed as far as Third.
Let arva also grows on the colonies, though not as easily... our farmers are at work on a cultivar that will thrive there, so that wherever Ai-Naidar dwell, they might have their tea. I have no doubt they will succeed.
You ask, perhaps, if there are words and symbols for endeavors and successes reached alone. And there are. But I have digressed long enough, for it is here in the story that I meet Shame. Let us continue.
© 2011 M.C.A. Hogarth, Stardancer.Org