Rift (54 page)

Reeve nodded slowly. Then he turned back to the node. “Information: map of city.” At the display he pointed at the green line heading in the opposite direction out of the city. The next display showed it connecting to the Grendel Hot Springs.

Then he called for a map of the Rift Valley.

The hot springs were north of Rhea, straight up-valley, within ten or twenty miles of their destination, though no antique train would be running. He called for the schedule anyway. The screen showed no fixed schedule, but a demand-responsive personal rapid transport system on a horizontal elevator. The crude computer was dutifully providing 150-year-old information.

It displayed: C
AR
A
VAILABLE
.

Spar spoke for Reeve when he said, “Broke, most likely.”

The two of them stared at the screen for a few moments. They weren’t finding stores of preserved food so far in Rhea. The streets were patrolled by venomous flying tennis balls, whose “Shoot Now, Ask Questions Later” policy could get them incinerated. Time was wasting away. They had to head north in any case.

When Reeve and Spar finally decided to investigate the transport line, they found that Loon had already shouldered her pack.

4

Nerys and her escorts were winding their way down the paths of the outfold, keeping an easy pace in consideration of Nerys’ pregnancy.

When Salidifor had shown up at the women’s compound with four other hulking male orthong, Nerys thought her punishment for her rudeness to Himirinan had arrived. From their smirks it was plain the other women thought so too. But Salidifor was friendly enough, and said she must come with him, instructing her to clean up and wear her best clothes. The orthong waited patiently while she did so.

While she was dressing, Haval came to her cubicle. “Nerys, they’re taking you to see someone important.” The expression on her face flickered from bewilderment to incredulity and back again.

“Who?” Nerys turned a handle to release water into her basin from the water tubes and washed her face.

“They won’t say exactly, but I think this is the chief we’ve never seen.” She shook her head. “Salidifor says she is … curious about you.”

Nerys wiped off her face and straightened her hair. “Well, I’m curious about her, too.”

“Nerys! She could be dangerous. You don’t know what to say, how to act.”

A grin met Haval’s worries. “Only one way to find out.”

Now, with the orthong escorts preceding them, Nerys walked at Salidifor’s side, watching as he instructed her on the protocols.

She was to bow to the chief, and not look directly into her eyes. She was to accept all offers of food graciously—no putting down of spoons, Salidifor said pointedly. She would answer all questions, and demonstrate what she knew of their language. For this, apparently, was the thing that had come to the chief’s attention, and she wished to see for herself if Nerys had gained some fluency. More Salidifor could not say, since he was merely reporting what others had told him. It had been several years since he had personally seen the chief.

Tulonerat was very old, he said, and generally did not interfere with the routine affairs of the habitation, much less any matter involving the breeder women. It had astonished the lords that she wished to see Nerys, and that she had asked to see her without consultation with Salidifor, and without a proper briefing. Moreover, Nerys was to see her in her own berm—a most inappropriate intrusion, Tulonerat’s attendants had made clear.

Salidifor finally admitted.

Nerys said, thrilled at the prospect of her interview.

Salidifor looked sideways at her, which was comment enough.

She used sign, so as not to embarrass Salidifor in front of the other orthong. If an orthong’s knowing human language gave too much respect to a breeder woman, now was not the time to challenge the notion.

he said.

When they entered a great clearing in front of a
rather larger-than-average bermed dwelling, they paused for a moment while Salidifor tucked a lock of Nerys’ stray hair behind her ear, a gesture so humanlike Nerys had to smile. It was clear she was on display in some way, and that Salidifor wished for her to do well. But it was not lost on the orthong escorts that Salidifor had touched her. They turned away, affecting nonchalance. Salidifor must be nervous indeed, she thought, to have committed this lapse of orthong good taste.

They entered the berm, led by orthong attendants, who herded them down its gnarled hallways, making clear she was to touch nothing. At length Nerys emerged through a door into an expansive outdoor room, very like a walled courtyard—except that it was sunken perhaps twenty feet into the ground. The grounds as well as the surrounding walls were covered with the growths of the outfold, but in very small dimension, and with great diversity. Nerys recognized a few of the forms—but in fact, as she looked more closely she saw that many of the growths were highly unusual, with patterned and blended colors, surprising given the orthong propensity for blocks of uniform coloring. Sun streamed into the garden, and under its hot gaze, the outfold seem to throb.

A great many orthong stood about, most in the sleeveless tunics typical of the females. And it was clear whom they attended upon.

Nerys bowed to the individual half-sitting, half-lying on a long chair that, like so much of the orthong furniture, might just as easily have been grown as built. Tulonerat was small, not much larger than Nerys herself, and she was silver-gray, except for the palms of her hands. She wore a sleeveless tunic without embellishment, as though at her age she was beyond vanity, or that at her level display was unnecessary.

The center of the garden was paved in flat hexagonal stones. The six directions of each hexagon allowed
for expression of subtle emotional states, as Nerys had learned, but as yet she used the hexagons clumsily. She felt Salidifor’s hand on her back, and his soft push, propelling her forward.

Tulonerat watched her from the pinpricks of her barely open eyes. Then she closed them.

Respectfully, Nerys waited for Tulonerat to say something. And waited. As the minutes passed, Nerys grew exceedingly uncomfortable. She turned around to query Salidifor with her eyes, and he made a nearly imperceptible chin movement:
No
. Nerys turned back and waited.

Next to Tulonerat, one orthong—female by her clothing—stood close by the high chief, watching Nerys with glittering eyes. Nerys struggled to keep her gaze down when in fact she wished to see everything possible. Time seemed stuck. The orthong attendants seemed capable of enduring this boredom with equanimity, and did not communicate with each other or move from their set positions near Tulonerat.

After perhaps fifteen minutes, when Nerys thought she could bear no more, the old orthong finally opened her eyes and signed,

This was a disappointing beginning, prepared as Nerys was to show off her dance language. Nerys spoke in her best orthong, but managed a misstep due to nervousness.

Tulonerat repeated.

Nerys was never the best of singers, but she produced a tune of her clave, in human song:

She had time to think how strange it was to sing a Whale Clave song in the garden of an orthong chief.

Tulonerat asked.

Tulonerat was fingering a white and yellow, bulbous plant by her side, a stalk with a coil of patterned blue and purple around it. Then she signed:

Nerys took a step forward and danced,

This question caused a stir among Tulonerat’s attendants. It was likely rude for her to ask questions, and Nerys resolved to be more careful.

The old orthong watched Nerys for a long moment.

Nerys hesitated for a moment, planning her moves. Then she danced, using left-side and right-side high movements, dipping movements—all as Salidifor had shown her. She was proud of how she’d learned to combine hand sign with dance, a complex grammar of great flexibility. She went on,

Here, Nerys waxed more eloquent, daring to use the hexagons, facing to the right, using forceful, active verbs to describe a whale in motion. Everyone watched her closely now, even those attendants that had been rudely looking elsewhere while she danced. As she continued, she felt the whale’s presence, and her arms took on its fleshly power. When she was finished, Nerys thought that for the first time she had managed
to amaze an orthong—in fact, a roomful of them. She glanced at Salidifor to see if he approved, and she thought from his demeanor that he was pleased, though he remained quiet as stone.

Tulonerat now turned to the plant at her side, and did not bother to look at Nerys as she signed,

Taken aback, Nerys found that she couldn’t help but correct such an impression.

Nerys hesitated. Where indeed?

With some shame she said,

Tulonerat said.

To Nerys’ great annoyance, Tulonerat closed her eyes again.

Anger flickered in Nerys’ chest. She pushed it back down, but it flared up again. She would not be dismissed after having performed for this old hag, and she would not leave unanswered the accusation that she made up stories.

Nerys found herself saying, The attendants stirred, but Nerys didn’t care. She moved full around to the hexagon in back of her and, swiveling upon it, said with sadness, She considered trying the movement for anger, but prudence won out. She finished by saying, not
a pup’s tale.> She
sensed that she had danced very well. When a claw or two flashed, however, she knew she had gone too far.

Many of the orthong now stood watching Tulonerat, who seemed oblivious of any insult, closing her eyes once more. But Salidifor came forward and took Nerys firmly by the arm. His look, she thought, was a little angry. Then he stopped, looking past her, and slowly turned her around to face the court.

Tulonerat’s closest attendant stood in front of the chief. The attendant said,

As Nerys did so, the attendant walked around her, observing her carefully. At this, the other orthong turned away. This was to be a private conversation.

The attendant stood in front of her now, at a little distance, saying,

Nerys looked back at Salidifor, who had turned away. She had to answer as best she could, and not stray from protocol this time. But if this was her only chance to speak to these chiefs, how much should protocol matter? As they said in the clave, corn ripens only once.