Rediscovery (15 page)

said ruefully. “But now that we know they’re from a Lost Ship, there are a lot of assumptions we can make. And most human languages, including a lot of the dead ones, are in the ship’s computer. So once we get back to the ship and the corticator, we won’t have any trouble communicating with them.”

Ysaye was unable to restrain her disbelief. “Won’t have any trouble? Really,

Elizabeth. After we just discussed how easily a language can change?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth amended hastily, “the language will have evolved; there

will be a lot of new words for new situations.” She went on hesitantly, “But at least we’ll have the basics, and can begin our work without having to start from scratch. We know where they come from, and basically that they’re of Terran origin—whether we can tell them, or not.”

“But why wouldn’t we be able to tell them?” asked Evans. “Does it have to be

done by rank, or something?”

“Of course not.” Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. “It’s a matter of culture

shock. Just look at it from their point of view. Here you are, a planet without even space travel, and we come along and tell them they were just, well, seeded here by an

interstellar society. That they’re
us.
They have probably forgotten that entirely. They probably even have some variation of the old theory of origin from the Gods.”

Evans sneered. “Superstitious religious drivel.”

Elizabeth shrugged again, and now that she was out of her area of expertise,

Ysaye could tell she was feeling on uncertain ground with Evans. “Maybe by your

standards, but what else would they have to go on, after two thousand years of isolation?

Especially if their ship actually crashed. There are ways of telling them who and what they are that don’t come across in a way that would offend or shock them. That’s what xenopsychology can do, one of the things it’s all about.”

“I think we would do better to wait for a xenopsych,” Ysaye said, with a frown for Evans and a cautionary shake of her head for her friend. Elizabeth looked all too ready to try to take things into her own, inexpert hands. “That’s their specialty.”

“Well, I’ve had some xenopsychology,” Aurora said, “but I’d rather wait for a

professional xenopsych. We don’t really have one on this crew. On the ship—maybe Doctor Montray.”

“I’m not sure we are going to be able to wait,” said Elizabeth, “when we know

who they are and we
don’t
know when the ship is going to be able to send anyone down

—”

Elizabeth shook her head and turned away from them. She listened to the

musicians for a moment, but when they paused at the end of a tune, she suddenly stood and with a look of determination, began to sing the words of the ancient folk song she had known so long, in a high clear voice.

“Why should I

Sit and sigh,

Pullin’ bracken, pullin’ bracken
—

Why should I

Sit and sigh

All alone and weary,
”

The harper, who had just begun another melody, broke off in mid-chord; he got up and came toward Elizabeth in astonishment. He addressed her in what sounded like a flood of Gaelic, very swift and all unintelligible. Elizabeth made signs to him that she did not understand, that she could only understand the words to the song. After a minute she began another ancient song; this one she could not sing in Gaelic, but only in English. After a moment, however, the harper picked up the melody and began to play with her. There were little differences, but after a moment they adjusted to them, reaching the refrain together.

“What is that song?” Aurora asked. “I’ve heard you sing it fairly often.”

“The one I don’t know the Gaelic words to? It’s called ‘The Meeting of the

Waters’ and is supposed to be the oldest English or Irish melody in existence. It goes back to at least the twelfth century, several centuries before Terra got into space.” She smiled. “At least we have real proof that they
are
the New Hebrides colony. No one else would ever have known that one.”

“It goes back more than several centuries before space flight,” Ysaye said. “Eight hundred years before Terrans even walked on the moon.”

Elizabeth took up another song, this one in Gaelic, and that, too, was picked up by one of the lute players. Among them, there seemed one or two who knew more music than the others, but all of them were crowding now around Elizabeth, eager for more.

Commander Britton spoke up behind them. “Good thinking Elizabeth! You seem

to have found a way to communicate with them, even if you don’t speak the language

—”

“Nobody alive speaks Gaelic; not anybody I know of who’s gone into space

anyhow. Maybe a few old professors of language at the top universities might know some of it,” Elizabeth said. “As soon as we have access to the computer, that will be remedied; we’ll have tapes and the corticator. Someone, probably David, will be

speaking Gaelic like a native within a couple of hours. Or maybe half a dozen of us.”

“I should hope so,” Britton said. “That has to be our number one priority, getting a way to communicate with these people. Although it was an excellent way to lessen potential hostility, we can’t just stand here swapping folk songs all night and all day. I think—”

He broke off, so they were never to learn what he thought.

“Stay professional everyone,” Britton said in an undertone. “Here’s somebody

important coming.”

The great doors of the room opened, and a tall man came into the room. He

seemed to be in early middle age; his red hair was starting to go gray, but his eyes, also gray, were keen, and his clothes, though similar to those of the rest, were finer of cut and material than the others’. He spoke for a moment with the harper who had first played the song which Elizabeth had recognized, then advanced toward them and bowed.

“Whoever you may be,” he said, in poorly inflected but understandable Terran

Standard, “be welcome, you who bring music to my hall. I am Kermiac of Aldaran. I do not know from where you come and you seem to have sprung from the loins of no

Domain I have ever heard of. Tell me, do you come from beyond the Wall Around the World, or do you come here from the Fairy Kingdom?”

The storm had been a powerful one; so powerful that within a day it had traversed the Hellers and had brought a fair load of snow to drop down upon the rest of the Domains. For a while, as the winds wailed about Leonie’s windows, she had the oddest fancy that it had sought
her
out, to take revenge upon her for snatching the strangers out of its grasp. Now, though, it was over, and the garden of Dalereuth Tower was ankle-deep in melting snow and mud, the flowers re-emerging from their snow-pods.

Fiora, urged by her promise, went looking for her arrogant protege, following the faint traces of her surface-mind to the garden.

Leonie had wandered into the garden, although it was not a particularly pleasant place to be at the moment. This time the weather had been none of her making, and true to her promise she had not meddled with it. It had been a disturbing experience, actually

—the feeling of wanting to change something and knowing she could not, dared not touch it. Now she came to the garden, not to look at her own handiwork, but at what she could have prevented, if she had been permitted. She was idly stirring the ropes of the swing, when Fiora, fastidiously shaking snow off her shoes, found her.

“I thought you would want to know,” the Keeper said, “that the search party sent from Aldaran has found your strangers.”

Leonie turned to Fiora with a face full of interest. “Was no more said than that?”

she demanded.

Fiora smiled at her, as if amused by her curiosity. “They are a party of about a half-dozen men and women who had taken refuge in the old travel shelter between

Aderes and Alaskerd. They must be from very far away; but they seemed harmless

enough. The technician at the relay said that they knew some of the oldest mountain songs.”

That little only whetted Leonie’s appetite for more information. “Why do you say they must be from very far away?”

“I am not sure; that is what the messenger said to me,” Fiora replied, and her brow creased for a moment with puzzlement, for that
was
a very odd thing to have said. “They are quite odd, however; let me think, for she told me some other things that would confirm her words.” She paused to think. “Ah, she said that they seem to know nothing of our customs. They speak neither
casta
nor
cahuenga,
for all that they know several mountain songs, so perhaps that is why the messenger said that they were from far away.

Or perhaps it is because of
their
customs and costumes. Some of the women might be Renunciates or something like it, for they wore breeches and some of them, earrings; yet they were in the company of the men, so whatever they are, they are not ordinary Chartered Renunciates.” She shook her head over what she had remembered from the message. “I must agree with the matrix worker who told me of them. They are certainly people of strange aspect. I know no more than that.”

Leonie rubbed her temple, then murmured without thinking, “I feel sure they are

from the moons.”

Fiora shook her head. “I know that you said that the night you learned of them—

and you have been quite correct in all else—but Leonie, that stretches the bounds of believability. How can that be? You know perfectly well that nothing human can live on the moons.”

Although she had not intended Fiora to overhear her words, Leonie felt impelled

to defend them. “I do not know how,” said Leonie stubbornly, “but I feel it.”

“Well, that’s as may be,” Fiora said, with a faint suggestion that she was humoring Leonie by not arguing with her. Leonie frowned a little but held her tongue. “I must admit to you that what I have been told does not match any peoples I have ever heard of.

Not even Dry Towners or wild mountain folk speak languages no one can understand—

nor do they act and dress as these folk do.”

“Then they might as
well
be from the moons,” Leonie retorted, “And we know of no other peoples they might be! They are surely not
chieri
—so where is it you think they may come from?”

Fiora shrugged. “I myself feel they may well be from some land beyond the

mountains, where we thought was only frozen waste. Perhaps they have even come from beyond the Wall Around the World. Or perhaps the ancient mountain tales of fairy folk are true after all, and they come from the fairy realms. Whatever they may be does not matter to us; they have been welcomed by a party from Aldaran Tower, and perhaps by Lord and Lady Aldaran themselves. We do not know who or what they are, nor do I

think it right to indulge idle curiosity about these strangers. If it is of any concern to us, we will know soon enough.” She paused a moment, then continued, as if reluctantly,

“As a Hastur,
you
should know well enough that there is little love lost between Aldaran and the rest of the Domains. It may be that Lord Kermiac of Aldaran will take any inquiries poorly. It might be more politic to pretend that these strangers are ordinary travelers, until those of Aldaran choose to tell us otherwise.”

“As you wish,” Leonie said, secretly promising herself that she would

communicate as soon as possible with Lorill and ask him, or perhaps her father, Lord Hastur, to journey to Aldaran and investigate. This made no sense at all. If there were people
that
odd now in the hands of Lord Aldaran, shouldn’t
someone
be concerned?

What was the matter with Fiora? Didn’t she have any curiosity, any worries about what these strange people might mean to her?

Well, Leonie had concern enough for both of them. Far from feeling that they

would know soon enough, as Fiora said, she felt that at the Tower, they were isolated so much from the regular pattern of Comyn life that they might not find out about these people until too late—

Too late?
Whatever had made her think that? And too late for what? Yet there was something ominous about these strangers, however innocent they had seemed to be. As ominous as her feelings of troubles coming from the moons.

Fiora, of course, had picked up some of her thoughts. She looked uneasily at

Leonie, blind eyes seeming to stare at and through her protégée. “You are determined to find out about these people, aren’t you?”

“I think it my duty,” Leonie said doggedly. “Although I am not fully trained, you have said yourself that my
laran
is very strong. It told me that the strangers were in that shelter. It warns me now that there is something about them that is amiss. I do not know what is wrong, but I feel it must be looked into.”

Fiora sighed. “You should be content to leave it to us, Leonie. Truly. If there is anything to be done, surely we can deal with it. But would it be of any use to demand that you should stay out of it?”

“Not the slightest,” Leonie said, with a faint smile, and thought,
How well Fiora
is beginning to know me.
“I am not ashamed of my curiosity! I have been in the right too many times; I see no reason to forget that.”
And I am in the right this time, too. Fiora
wants me to think first of others
—
well, I am. No one else seems to worry about these
people, so I must. Anything I feel I should know…I shall find a way to learn.

“Leonie,” Fiora said reluctantly. “You above all should know that the Comyn

Council is not on the best of terms with the Aldaran Domain. We do not know all that they are doing in the Hellers. It is said that they alone do not abide by the Compact. And they seem to think not only that we do not care what they do there, but that we
should
not care, that we have no right to care. They are a dangerous people, up there in the Hellers; scarcely removed from mountain bandits. I must ask you to be cautious.”