Drowning World (6 page)

A sudden thought gave her hope. “Before making any decision here, I would wish us to hear from the learned Jemunu-jah.” The reaction from the assembly showed that even those who most strongly supported Aniolo-jat recognized the name. Though Jemunu-jah was not even a Hata-nua, his reputation was known to even visiting chiefs. Even the bellicose Yeruna-hua grunted considerately.

“Ah, Jemunu-jah,” Aniolo-jat murmured in a way Naneci-tok did not like. “The famous, the clever, the hardworking Jemunu-jah. The Jemunu-jah who has been well schooled in Commonwealth ways. I, too, recognize the extent of his knowing. I, too, would desire hear his opinions on this so very important matter.” The Hata-yuiqueru's ears dipped forward in a gesture of sadness and regret.

“Distress-saying, there a problem. Jemunu-jah is gone away for a while just now.”

“Gone away?” blurted a minor Hata-niu. “Gone away where and how?”

“The human Hata female Matthias ask for Sakuntala help in find one of their own who gone lost in southern Viisiiviisii.” He turned a slow circle. “You all know that kind crazy-person human, go out by self or as couple to collect stinking stuff that Commonwealth tanasuas take apart to make medicine and other things.” He lowered his voice significantly. “Jemunu-jah not go alone, though. He make traveling with help . . . of Deyzara.”

The last was too much for Naneci-tok. The imputation inherent in Aniolo-jat's tone could not be allowed to stand unchallenged. Rising from her chair, she did not still its swinging but let it continue to rock back and forth behind her as an indication of her distress.

“I know well Jemunu-jah. He among smartest of all not-Hata.
Heesa,
he work close and well with Deyzara. Also humans. Jemunu-jah work well with all and any who respect his smartness. He is Sakuntala ear to toe, proud and true.” Turning slightly, she focused her attention on the patiently waiting Aniolo-jat. “Who send Jemunu-jah away into Viisiiviisii at this so important time?”

“Why, human Hata Matthias specifically ask for best of local Sakuntala. Specifically ask for one who speak human lingua well. Specifically ask for one who can work with Deyzara. Who else so qualified but Jemunu-jah? Not worry about the skillful one. He return safe and soon.”

Heesa-mu,
she thought to herself—
but not soon enough to participate in this debate and offer his opinion
. Someone in the High House was being too clever by half, and she did not think it was wise but dozy old Molavil-isi, who had barely stirred during the course of the discussion.

Yeruna-hua's tongue flicked out to slap the wooden floor—a strong sign of disgust. “What could that one have to say that make any matter? He is with humans all time. Work with humans, talk with humans, help humans.” Piercing eyes blazed. “This one think that oh-so-clever Jemunu-jah maybe not so Sakuntala proud and true anymore. This one think maybe he now become very tall, very good-hearing, good-seeing, nice-pattern-fur
human
!”

Attempting to counter a serious accusation on behalf of one not present to defend himself, Naneci-tok saw her incipient defense drowned out by the perplexed muttering of her fellow Hatas. At the same time, she found herself wondering if the combative outbursts of Yeruna-hua arose from within his own heart or if he was acting as a spear point for the more “reasonable” Aniolo-jat. The Sakuntala were masters of shifting alliances. But she could not be certain. Either each Hata was honestly propounding his own agenda or else they were displaying the same kind of shrewdness Aniolo-jat attributed to the absent Jemunu-jah.

It might not have mattered even if that praiseworthy individual had still been in Chanorii and available to address the High House. He was not a Hata and unless invited to do so beforehand could not speak at a traditional assembly such as this one even to defend himself.

A young and neutral Hata-niu rose somewhat timidly from her chair. “If we do move against Deyzara as Aniolo-jat proposes, someone like Jemunu-jah who work close with both humans and Deyzara could be caught in middle.”

“
Heesa-mu
,” muttered the relentlessly belligerent Yeruna-hua, “that would be serious loss indeed.”

As expected, Aniolo-jat took a far more rational view of the possibility. Whether he believed it or not, Naneci-tok reflected, was another matter entirely.

“Jemunu-jah is skillful enough to take care of self. Time here-now is for worry about future of all Sakuntala—not individuals.” He turned another slow circle. “I say to you, my fellow Hatas, that all future of our people will be decide here today, and that we must make right decision.” He paused for emphasis. For a long moment, the liquid percussion of rain spilling through the central opening of the High House was the only sound in the circular chamber.

“Otherwise, we and our cublings can forward look to long lives of prosperity and good health as part of this great star-place Commonwealth—working low jobs for Deyzara. Where is the
mula
in that?”

As an appeal to reason as well as emotion, Aniolo-jat's speaking clearly moved the Hatas. Others spoke after him—some to agree, others to dispute. Naneci-tok used her chance to point out once again that moving against the Deyzara might well bring the Sakuntala into direct conflict with the Commonwealth and its superior technology. Her words were listened to by most. But not all. Yeruna-hua and his own small circle of virulent supporters were as ready to kill humans as they were Deyzara. The amount of support that showed itself for this extreme position frightened her. By contrast, Aniolo-jat appeared reasonable and almost restrained.

Which was probably the idea, she knew.

When the vote was finally taken, it was still raining. The sun did not show itself from behind the clouds, as it sometimes did in the evening. This was taken as a good sign by Manarapi-vea; he spread his arms and ears wide to intone the ceremony of parting. More katola was passed around, followed by bites of hot pipa fruit that enhanced the katola's narcotic effect. The Hatas weaved and chanted in their chairs, their multiple swinging disturbing the column of rain in pleasing arcs.

Through the relaxing hallucinogenic haze induced by pipa and katola Naneci-tok tried to sort out the import of what had been decided. Her own people would not stand by as events unfolded. They could not, lest they be subjected to more than approbation by the other clans. They would join Aniolo-jat and Yeruna-hua and the others in a coordinated attack against preselected Deyzara targets. The aim would be to “persuade” the Deyzara to agree to the combined Sakuntala demands before the humans could decide to intervene. If this could be done, even an awakened Cecolou-tiu agreed, then everything the cunning Aniolo-jat predicted might well come true, at small sacrifice to the Sakuntala. The alternative proposals put forth by Naneci-tok and others among the Hatas who believed in equal treatment for all, even Deyzara, were politely but firmly voted down.

It was to be war, then. No, not war, Aniolo-jat insisted. A quick, overwhelming bite, like a nougusm striking a bloated laja, then stepping back to watch its prey collapse from the shock. It would all be over before the distant Commonwealth tribes could make up their minds what to do about it. With the aims of the Sakuntala achieved, these tribes would accept the result. Of this Aniolo-jat was certain. While the Sakuntala knew little of other Commonwealth peoples, he had seen enough of humans to know how their system functioned.

As for Yeruna-hua and his ilk, she doubted they even cared about the underlying causes of the forthcoming course of action. They just wanted to kill Deyzara, preferably as many as possible. And perhaps even a few humans, for the
mula
that would accrue to whoever did the killing.

This not a good time, she told herself when she finally rose shakily from her chair to exit the High House. Her own advisers and clan would be waiting anxiously to hear the details of what had transpired within. She tried to convince herself that Aniolo-jat was right, that the Sakuntala had on this day decided on the correct course of action to ensure their control of their world far into the future. But she was far, far from sure that was the case. Extended to the sides, her ears seemed to catch strange sounds at play. The pipa-katola combination working its magic, she decided.

Not all of her own people would be disappointed in the decision taken by the Hatas. Many were of like mind with Aniolo-jat and even Yeruna-hua. It was her task to lead them, to advise them, but not to control them.

If only Jemunu-jah had been present to offer the benefit of his knowledge. Away helping the humans to find a lost one of their own, Aniolo-jat had told the assembly. For a brief moment the katola fog cleared. Had the human Hata Matthias truly asked for Jemunu-jah specifically? Or had his name been put forth as the most suitable candidate available by another party? If so, who was the other party, and why had they specifically proposed Jemunu-jah to go?

She thought she might ask that question of Aniolo-jat, who was nothing if not responsive to questions. But he was not nearby and she was very tired. She decided she would ask it of him tomorrow.

If she remembered.

4

I
t was raining more heavily when Jemunu-jah and the Deyzara Masurathoo left the office of the Hata Lauren Matthias. A few humans, huddled against the rain and looking characteristically miserable, passed them on their way to the Administration Center. Jemunu-jah observed them pityingly. Their bodies shed water and they swam well, so why did they always look so unhappy? A human acquaintance had once said something to him about “eternal leaden skies, perpetual damp, and depressing gloom.” It made no sense. The rain brought life. It kept the water high, forcing wandering predators to swim instead of run. It refreshed and cleansed.

At least the Deyzara were more stolid in their acceptance of Fluva's climate. Not that they had much choice, being permanent residents. They had long since made their peace with the unremitting rain. Glancing to his left, he watched his unwanted new companion's eating trunk flop loosely against the smooth lower portion of the skull as its owner tugged his wide-brimmed rain hat tighter down on his naked pate. How did this Masurathoo feel about his adoptive home world and its native inhabitants? When they were cooped up together in a small skimmer Jemunu-jah knew he was likely to find out.

Protruding beneath the hat, the speaking trunk uncoiled from the top of the Deyzara's head. “Please excuse me for pointing it out, but I can tell that you are not very personally pleased with this arrangement, though it shall prove financially and professionally advantageous to us both, I think.”

“Heesa,” Jemunu-jah replied with curt courtesy.

Round, baby-soft eyes turned to goggle up at him. “Do not think you are alone in your emotions. I am similarly less than happy with the present arrangement, and would have much preferred to contract this business with another of my own kind.”

At least they had that much in common, Jemunu-jah mused. “I feel same way. Two Deyzara searching by themselves step out of skimmer in Viisiiviisii, that two less Deyzara on my world.” He waited for the other to disagree by retorting, “Our world,” but the two-trunk was either too preoccupied or too smart to respond overtly to the deliberate challenge. What he did say mildly surprised the Sakuntala.

“As much as it pains me to admit it, you are most probably correct, sir.”

Though it was at most a mild honorific, and a human one at that, it was not what Jemunu-jah had expected to hear.

The Deyzara raised a hand and pointed. Following the line formed by the two soft opposing digits, Jemunu-jah found himself looking at what at first glance appeared to be a pair of transparent perambulating storage containers advancing up the walkway. As they drew nearer, he saw that each protective layer sheltered one of the other major partners in the Commonwealth, the hard-shells who called themselves thranx. They were progressing with agonizing slowness, as if (despite their use of four trulegs and two foothands to additionally steady themselves) they feared each step would send them tumbling into the water below.

“Look at them.” Though he knew it was not a mature reaction, Jemunu-jah could hardly contain his amusement at the sight. “They step like newborns.”

“It is well known that they are unable to swim, or even to float.” Above his eyes, Masurathoo's speaking trunk bobbed gently from side to side as he spoke. “One should pity these two, as it is most clearly evident they would rather be anywhere else than here.”

As they came closer to the two thranx, Jemunu-jah experienced a sudden highly uncivilized urge to bump into the nearest and send it stumbling toward the walkway railing, just to see how it would react. Curious as to what Masurathoo would think, he voiced his desire to his shorter, softer companion.

“Oh, Mr. Jemunu-jah, sir, that is thought most unworthy of a civilized being!” Hesitating, the Deyzara lowered his voice. “But one that, I confess, could prove highly amusing in its consequences.”

Something else they unexpectedly had in common, Jemunu-jah realized. A little humor could go a long way toward defusing the tension each felt in the presence of the other. That was going to be increasingly important once they were both restricted to the limited confines of a small scout skimmer. Of course, he wasn't going to
actually
bump into one of the clearly terrified thranx. Still, if he should happen to do so (entirely by accident, of course) and if it did stumble toward the edge of the walkway, he could grab and steady it in an instant. No harm done. The two hard-shells were very close now.

He had not yet decided what to do when the chigyese landed right on top of the alien he was unworthily contemplating nudging. The chigyese had a soft, flexible body that enabled it to squeeze into narrow clefts in the branches of trees. There it could swell itself with water, rendering it impossible for would-be predators to extract. To move about the trees it had a dozen long, glistening tentacles lined with fine hairs. It was not very strong, it had poor eyesight, and its tiny mouthparts were adapted not for biting but for sucking plant juices from new growth.

None of which was known to the two thranx. As the anxious chigyese sought to free itself from the suddenly hysterical surface on which it found itself, the thranx on which it had landed began hopping about on all six legs while flailing frantically at the soggy object clinging to the back of its b-thorax. Instead of helping, the hard-shell's horrified companion was tripping all over its six legs while uttering frantic cries for help. In the panic of the moment, they spoke in Low Thranx instead of terranglo. Acutely conscious of the deadly water below, both visitors lurched away from the railing. This only sent them careening wildly toward the railing opposite.

Jemunu-jah would have helped, had he not been overcome with laughter. Masurathoo tried to call out to the two visitors that the chigyese was quite harmless and that if the one afflicted by its presence would only stand still and let it go free, it would crawl away as fast as its arms would carry it. Unfortunately, his speaking trunk kept emitting small bubbles, this being the Deyzara method of expressing laughter. It was a reaction he was unable to control. Jemunu-jah noted the phenomenon with interest. He'd heard about it, but this was the first time he had ever seen a Deyzara laugh. Usually the two-trunks were so businesslike it made one want to scream. Or cut off their speaking trunks.

Meanwhile, the poor chigyese was doing its best to extricate itself from its hopping, flailing, wildly chittering host. Slipping on the perpetually damp walkway, the thranx thus afflicted fell down, kicking and fighting with all eight limbs. This finally allowed the traumatized chigyese to find purchase on a different surface. It proceeded to scramble clear. In less than a minute its long arms pulled it through the side of the railing and it dropped from sight over the side, hopefully to land this time on a more amenable and less feverish surface.

During the commotion, the protective coverings worn by both thranx had been worked into a tangled shambles. Helping her companion to his feet, the female struggled to untangle her knotted ovipositors before fighting to adjust her own rain shield. It seemed to Jemunu-jah an unnecessary activity, since by now both hard-shells were soaking wet. Moisture sputtered from the breathing spicules that pulsed madly with exertion on either side of their exposed Thoraxes.

“That,” he declared as he and Masurathoo continued on their way, “is funniest thing I see since adolescent relative Moukie-jeu get swallowed by ourulu plant and need to spend three-day having female relations de-sap him hair by hair.”

“It was certainly most amusing.” Words instead of bubbles issued from the Deyzara's speaking trunk. “They were displeased that we stood by and watched without providing any assistance.”

Jemunu-jah looked down sharply. “You can do hard-shell's click-talk?”

“Dear me, no.” Using one hand, Masurathoo raised the end of his speaking trunk higher than its internal muscles alone could lift it. “We make sounds and words by sending air over the inflexible ridges that line the insides of our
cotos
. To manage thranx speech requires the ability to snap something flexible against something unyielding. Humans and Sakuntala have internal mouth organs called tongues that are capable of doing this. We do not. But while I cannot speak High or Low Thranx, I can manage some of their meaning-rich gestures, and I can understand some of that speaking.”

It was not meant to be a soliloquy on superiority, Jemunu-jah knew. Nevertheless, he reacted defensively. So many Deyzara were not shy about flaunting their intelligence, their mastery of terranglo, or the ways of the Commonwealth. They could not help it, he supposed. But it was a poor way to endear one's kind to such as the Sakuntala.

We just as smart as you are, he told himself with certainty. You just had head-start period on us. Given time and education, he felt, the Sakuntala would catch up.

Unless they took a shortcut by eliminating the Deyzara altogether, as certain rabid Hatas and Yuiquerus like the notorious Aniolo-jat frequently expressed a desire to do.

Having shared mutual amusement at the discomfort of the two thranx, Jemunu-jah found himself in a slightly better mood by the time he and Masurathoo finally reached the transportation depot. Suspended by thick strands of strilk from dozens of pylons and massive trees, the port was designed to serve the close-in needs of several communities. The main port, where the shuttles that shifted people and goods between the surface and orbiting KK-drive ships landed and took off, was located a number of keleqs to the north, atop the only piece of semisolid land in the entire region that rose above the waters of the Viisiiviisii year-round. For ages it had been an important hunting ground. No sane Sakuntala would live there, of course, since solid surfaces were also favored by carnivores. Its clan owners now relaxed in Commonwealth-supplied leisure, their traditional hunting territory having been leased for the port.

Even though they could be counted among his own clan's old enemies, Jemunu-jah did not begrudge them their good fortune. He was only upset that his people had not been able to share in it. And of course, no one had expected the T'kuo to share with the A'jah or any other clan. That was not the Sakuntala way.

It was one of the ways that was going to have to change, he knew, if his kind were ever to catch up to the Deyzara. The clans would have to stop fighting among themselves and learn to cooperate. Despite the example posed by the races that made up the Commonwealth, such changes were proving difficult to instill. Something else, some other force, was going to have to be found to unify the Sakuntala.

He intended to check in with the depot master himself. Irritatingly, his companion beat him to it. Something about the Deyzara obliged them always to speak first.

“Good morning, my friend.” Masurathoo waved his speaking trunk politely at the human attendant, addressing her in perfect, barely accented terranglo. Jemunu-jah knew that, unlike the Sakuntala, humans were not disturbed by such movements. But then, he knew, humans had spent many hundred-years among many different kinds of intelligent beings and were used to strange shapes and gestures.

Peering out at them from her dry, dehumidified office, the stout middle-aged human female pushed back her hydrophobic cap and smiled at her visitors. Her expression showed that she was not used to seeing a Sakuntala and Deyzara walking alone together.

“Mornin'.” Her eyes went skyward. “Think it'll rain today?”

Jemunu-jah knew he should have smiled, but he had heard the joke far too often from far too many humans. It had to be allowed in the Deyzara's favor that they did not repeat it.

Standing in the morning downpour, he pushed his way roughly past Masurathoo before the Deyzara could venture any additional expressions of politesse. Though he was eloquent for a Sakuntala, Jemunu-jah knew his own terranglo could not equal that of his companion. But it was more than adequate.

“I Jemunu-jah, this Masurathoo. We are to go search Viisiiviisii for missing-absent human Hasslema. . . . Hasmogi—Hasa. We have authorization from office of Lauren Matthias for use of one scout skimmer.”

There! Surely that was as clear as the silently watching Masurathoo could have managed.

It certainly was clear enough for the human attendant. She bobbed her head in the fashion Jemunu-jah had long since come to recognize. “Yep, the office let us know you were coming. You're all set to go, fueled and provisioned.” She hesitated as she started to exit the office. “It's just the two of you then, is it?”

“Verily, that is correct,” Masurathoo confirmed, getting in a couple of words before Jemunu-jah could respond. Magnanimously, the Sakuntala let it pass unchallenged.

The attendant led them out onto the small staging area and into an open hangar protected from the rain by a hypo curtain. Inside, a number of skimmers were being serviced by human techs and their mechanical subordinates. Emblazed with the hourglass/infinity symbol of the Commonwealth, their craft was just large enough to accommodate four humans. It would allow the two of them to carry out their survey in comparative comfort.