Chanur's Legacy (25 page)

“Somebody who finds out less than I do,” she said with a flick of her ears and a frown. “No.
Gtst
skipped out ahead of us. We don’t know why.”

He wondered if she expected him to know. For that moment she sounded friendly and not threatening, and he suffered a moment of panic, reminding himself he shouldn’t slip into that kind of thinking, he shouldn’t be here.

“Probably Kshshti,” she said. “That’s what I hear.”

Kshshti was a border port. A dangerous place.

“Are we going there?”

A nod. A flick and settling of her couple of experience-rings, that said
she
was a real spacer. “I think so,” she said soberly. “You ever seen it?”

“No. No, I never was at the far stations. Except Meetpoint. And Maing Tol.”

“I’ve been there,” she said. “You really feel foreign there.”

He had slid into a personal conversation. He didn’t
do
that with spacers. He tried to stay businesslike. He lowered his ears, looked away and found occupation rolling up the sandwiches and skewering them together.

“Something bothering you?” Fala Anify asked. “You
worried
about something?” “No,” he said.

“Scared of Kshshti?” she asked. That was next to insulting. He wasn’t scared of Kshshti, he hadn’t been brought up to run in panic. But he supposed it looked that way to her, and he wasn’t willing to explain, he just didn’t want to look her in the face and talk to her, because she could really mess things up for him. He had wondered if there was a way he could possibly mess up in this port, and he had found one, that was certain. Because he didn’t think Hilfy Chanur was going to tolerate him getting involved with the crew, especially the youngest of the crew. Chihin was safer. At least she was less complicated.

“We’ll be all right,” Fala said, as if Kshshti were the center of his problems. “The captain knows what she’s doing. On
The Pride,
she was in and out of all kinds of situations. And we’re armed, the
Legacy
is, if we ever run into anything that needs it, we’ve got it. The captain knew when she set out that a lot of people could think of getting at
ker
Pyanfar through us ... so we’re outfitted for most anything. We’re not a ship anybody should mess with.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, and flinched when Tarras put her head in and asked,

“What have we got here, a romance or a lunch?” He could have died. On the spot. Fala’s ears went down, flat, in complete embarrassment.

There was tea, while the loaders clanked away. The galley annex that had somehow gotten established in the lowerdeck laundry had found another use, now that
gtst
excellency Tlisi-tlas-tin had acquired a ... staff ... fit for
gtst
station in life.

Meaning the nameless servant had acquired an interim name:
gtstisi
was
Dlima,
which meant something like Scant Necessity: not a flattering designation, in Hilfy’s estimation, but one could have settled any indignity on Dlima in the present state of affairs, and
gtstisi
could not on the one hand protest it, or, on the other (by all she had read on the matter, written of course by non-stsho) could not integrate it into a meaningful reality. In
gtstisi
condition, experiences fell randomly, and had no order.
Gtstisi
would follow orders, to be sure—mahen scientists suggested (and stsho were tastefully silent on the matter) that
gtstisi
actually required orders, so that
gtstisi
had a hope of discovering structure in the events that tumbled in apparent chaos.

So, distressful as it might be to outsiders, outsiders were advised to ignore their personal scruples and to be as arbitrary, as harsh, as demanding as a stsho of rank might be, because, contrary to mahen expectation, and, as it happened, contrary to hani attitudes, the stsho in question would not hold a grudge, would scarcely remember, and would probably benefit by the experience. So they said.

So she settled into the cushions, accepted the tea, ceremoniously served, at the foot of the pedestal on which the Preciousness rested, while the loaders worked and the cargo left their hold.

While Haisi was doubtless scouring the station for answers he might suspect she had. And while Tlisi-tlas-tin was discussing the poor but essentially necessary service
gtst
had acquired, “by the good offices of the esteemed hani captain.”

“Has this individual discussed ... hem, ... any smallest detail
of gtstisi
former life?”

A distressed waggle of fingers. “I should never accuse the esteemed hani captain of a lapse in taste, but I really cannot discuss these distressing matters. Obviously this life contained affairs which
gtstisi
could not organize in any tasteful or useful fashion. These are ... iiii ...
biological
matters. Is enough understood?”

Hilfy thought; and thought; and thought in widening circles ... with the confusions that came of studying alien language and custom much of her life, and not least among them the stsho. When everything else failed, the maxim ran ... ask the alien how to ask the question.

“Then,” she said carefully, and paused while Dlima poured; and paused further while Dlima served Tlisi-tlas-tin. “Then how shall I ask what information you might have gained in this port?”

“Nothing is easier.”

“How shall I ask? I wish to benefit from your unquestionable good taste and elegant gracefulness. You have shown most extraordinary virtues ...”
Never
attribute exact words like frankness to a species which might not value it. “... in dealing with the stresses of this voyage. And I am moved to wonder if your resourcefulness and intelligence might have gained information which would make your person far safer if the captain of this ship should learn it.”

Moonstone eyes blinked several times, and the tiny mouth sipped at the delicate cup. “You have discovered a graciousness uncommon in your species.”

And other species could be, by other species’ standards, great boors. But she smiled and kept hani opinions behind her teeth, as invalid in this venue, even on her ship. “I thank your honor.”

“As to the answer to your question, I think it very clear that the nameless person of no distinction was at one time a close associate of a person who has behaved tastelessly. Whether this abandonment was intentional or not, it is equally clear that this movement is not coincidence. The designated recipient of the Precious-ness has gone to Kshshti.”

“Could your excellency possibly enlighten me further as to the doubtless impeccable reasoning that has led your excellency to that conclusion?”

“Kif are involved. They would not readily convey this person closer to mahen centers of power. They had rather seek areas where circumstances are more favorable to them.”

Meaning the border, the Disputed Territories that were still, despite aunt Pyanfar’s good offices, a matter of disagreement between kif and mahendo’sat. She had no quarrel with that reasoning. She was only glad to hear it confirmed.

“But, enlighten me again, excellency: how has this individual known we were coming? How has
gtst
managed to evade us not once but consecutively? Or is this
gtst
doing?”

Tlisi-tlas-tin carefully set down
gtst
cup, with that twist of the wrist that signaled an end of tea, and a seriousness approaching severe.

“I cannot say.”

“I have trespassed. But may I ask: do you advise us to continue as we are, and pursue this individual to Kshshti? And is there reasonable likelihood that there we may discharge our responsibilities and increase our respectability?”

“We must continue. We must go to Kshshti. There is no question.”

“I thank your excellency for your most extreme good will. I am always enlightened and invigorated by your discourse. As your excellency knows, there is a mahe pressing us closely, who has offered us bribes and threats in his insistence to view the Preciousness. ...”

“Unthinkable!”

“I take it our refusals of this individual are wise.”

“Villainy, utter villainy. Avoid this person!”

“He thought he could lay hands on your excellency’s servant and extract information. The foresight of my crewwoman prevented him doing this. I therefore suspect he does not have the full cooperation of the directors of this station, or he could have laid hands on
gtstisi.
I think that he knew of
gtstisi
existence here, but not the exact whereabouts, nor could he discover it before we did ... quite unexpectedly and by the forwardness of this juvenile person, and thanks in no part to the mahe in question.”

“Most impressive.” Tlisi-tlas-tin gave a slight glance aside to the servant. “Most desperate.”

“I understand from this mahe that stsho were murdered here, most recently. He implied this was connected to the disappearance of Atli-lyen-tlas.”

“Distressing. Most distressing. Is there other information which may be tastefully asked?”

“He implied that the sight or even information about the nature of the Preciousness might enable him to make a critical judgment of its meaning.”

Gtst
crest fluttered, lifted and lowered. “Unmitigated and unjustified arrogance!”

“I take it your excellency does not approve of his proposal.”

“I perform indignities upon his graceless proposal.”

“Is he possibly telling a falsehood?”

“In a most shameless fashion. This is a trading style well-known among mahendo’sat, this obtaining piece after piece of what one wants.”

“A mahe could not possibly understand the meaning hi the sending of the Preciousness.”

“You are far more tasteful than he and you do not comprehend.”

“Most certainly so, excellency.”

White fingers reached for the cup again, and turned it. The conversation was ended. “A symmetry of information has been reached,”
gtst
said. “Do you agree?”

There were a handful of questions she would ask that would not get answers—questions like: what part are the kif playing? Are they working for anyone but themselves?

The stsho might think they were. That was the trouble. Everything was the stsho’s estimate of what was going on ... and the stsho had had their fingers burned before. The stsho might be the last to know what was going on. The stsho might be the last to know that they were understood by the mahen scientists who wrote treatises on their psyche.

Gtst
excellency said that no mahe could comprehend the nature of the Preciousness—but Haisi chased them from star to star trying to learn what it was?

One
could
conclude that a mahen Personage might not be the only player in this contest ... that the information Haisi wanted might be going to someone who
could
interpret it.

“I have a thought, excellency.”

One did not break the symmetry of a conversation. Tlisi-tlas-tin’s brow knit and
gtst
mouth drew thin in displeasure.

“Would a stsho
hire
a mahe to ask us about the Preciousness?”

The frown deepened and lifted.

“Or enter into collusion with some mahe for that purpose?” Another frown settled on Tlisi-tlas-tin’s brow.

“These are disturbing questions,”
gtst
said.

“Are they wise questions, excellency?”

There was no immediate answer.

She cleared her throat. “Graceless as it might be, I might purvey him false information, and I would for your excellency’s protection do so, if it would not offend you. But I would not know what falsehood might be believed by whoever hired him.”

Tlisi-tlas-tin’s respiration increased markedly. “These are most distressing ideas. I must consider them.”

That the stsho would deceive ... was well-established. But lying was not a word one tossed about carelessly, dealing with other species. Some species did. Some didn’t. Some would, individually. Some would, collectively. And what some called lying others called an answer for indecent curiosity. Meddling with reality
or
its perception was, at least among oxy-breathers thus far studied, what intercultural scientists called a potential flashpoint—a ticking bomb in any interspecies dealings: the more alien, the worse in potential.

“I take my leave of your excellency. I entrust matters to your wisdom and discretion. Should I fail in elegance, I trust that your grace and most excellent sense will advise me to a more proper course.”

“Most gracious.”

“Most excellent and enlightening.”

She
hated
bowing and backing. It wasn’t hani. And she didn’t do it all the way to the door, not quite.

Being hani.

No question then where they were going—and since they had missed that wretch Atli-lyen-tlas twice due to
gtst
damnable haste in going wherever
gtst
was going (one suspected now, away from them) speed might be of the essence. Which meant no delay in loading cargo, no great mass to what they could take, and no time to fuss about the niceties of what they took.

“Got a few possibilities, captain,” Tarras said. ‘’Kshshti not being an unusual destination out of here.” Meaning that they couldn’t be too picky on that account either.

Hilfy read the list. It was a matter of figuring what they could load quickly, and one of the best answers was something light and valuable and easily disposed of in a port that bordered kif territory (she shuddered to think, and refused to carry small edible animals) and likewise lay on the receiving end of two lanes coming out of mahen territory, and one port away from stsho space and tc’a.

Methane load, maybe, which she hated almost as much as the small edible animals.

Or pharmaceuticals. She read the latest market reports from a ship inbound from Kshshti, ran it through the computer program that could spot the relative bad deals and bargains compared to markets elsewhere, factored with points of origin for the goods in question, plus a set of keywords like shortage and various diseases and rise and fall of prices in the business news. It advised, at least, it read news faster than a mortal eye could scan it, and it liked the pharmaceuticals possibility, the radioactives (another load she was not fond of, since one was at the mercy of the company in question’s packaging practices, inspection was not easy, and some of them were appallingly naive about what a loader did to cans.) But Kita was an importer of such materials, while Kefk, one step further on from Kshshti, was a moderate exporter of said materials and reasonably would be shipping them to Kshshti... figuring trade possibilities was a headache on a border, because you
couldn’t ‘t
get thoroughly accurate information across said border: traders lied, governments lied, and the black market flourished, but a well-known ship was ill-advised to play that game.