Rediscovery (20 page)

what looked like a uniform, green and black, drew his sword at the doorway, intoning,

“Dom
Lorill Hastur, Heir of Hastur.”

The dramatic entrance caught the attention of everyone, Ysaye included, and she

wondered what the arrival of yet another high-ranking native meant. News certainly seemed to travel awfully fast, considering that transportation was supposedly by horseback!

Ysaye caught the telepathic overtones that told her that “Hastur” was not only a name, but a title, and an important one at that. Lorill Hastur, as he strode through the door as if he owned it, proved to be a fairly tall young man, red-haired, strongly built, though neither as tall nor as broad as MacAran. Ysaye recognized the colors of his clothing and realized that he was among those she had seen ride in just after dawn. He looked around the room, came at once to Felicia.

“Domna,”
he said, nodding very slightly, and ignoring Elizabeth. “I have arrived just this morning from Thendara after a ten-day’s ride. Lord Aldaran has kindly told me that there are people in your keep who are unlike anyone we have ever met. Indeed, it was knowledge of these people which brings me here. You are in charge of these

strangers?”

“By the favor of my own lord,
vai dom,
”
Felicia answered, curtsying deeply, by her speech and manner quite overwhelmed by the young man. “We were told there were those in peril on Aldaran lands by the
leroni
of our Tower. We sought the strangers, and found them marooned by an ice storm in the travel shelter, and were privileged to guide them here, to offer them food and drink and music. As you can see,” she cast a sideways glance at the Terrans who had donned their uniforms, “we found them to be very strange indeed. They spoke neither
casta
nor
cahuenga,
Trade-speech nor the speech of the Dry Towns. Then we discovered that some of our oldest songs were known to them—as if by magic. Or perhaps they can read our minds, although Lord Aldaran says that most of them are head-blind. He gave them the hospitality of Aldaran. Should he have done otherwise?”

“By no means,” said Lorill, soothingly. “It is hospitality to strangers which

separates man from the beasts. There is even an old saying to that effect among our people—and for all I know, among yours and these strangers as well. Still we need to know who and what they are and whence they come. And why.”

Ysaye found this difficult to follow, since he was using not telepathy, but ordinary speech; she only got the barest sense of it by concentrating very hard, as if she were overhearing things from a distant room—just enough to gather what the conversation was about.

But even Commander MacAran could follow Lorill’s curious glances at them, and

guess that he was inquiring about the Terrans.

Lorill Hastur looked inquiringly at Elizabeth, and Ysaye wondered if he thought

she were a native. To Ysaye’s eyes there was nothing to differentiate Elizabeth from the rest of the people in the hall as long as she was silent. She wondered if Elizabeth had fallen prey to the desire to seem one of them, and dissassociate herself from her Terran fellows. Already she seemed almost at home here, and already partisan—and a little abashed about it. There was something of a stigma attached to anyone in Space Services who “went native”; a sense that they were somehow too weak to do their jobs, too easily seduced by primitive ways of life. “The Lotus-Eaters,” Ysaye had heard them called.

Too ready to forget their own world and life in the dream of a “simpler” existence.

Ysaye hoped that wasn’t what was happening to Elizabeth.
Maybe she’s just been
in space too long,
she thought.
And she always did like underdogs. Maybe that’s it; she’s
just trying to protect something that couldn’t possibly stand up to the Evanses of the
universe.

After a whispered consultation with Felicia, Lorill came toward Elizabeth, asking,

“Do you speak for these people?”

“Not really,” she replied, “I’m actually sort of a go-between. This is my superior.”

She turned to MacAran. “Commander MacAran, he wants to speak to you. This is

Lorill Hastur, and he seems to be a major VIP around here. From all I can tell, Lord Aldaran has given him leave to speak with us.”

Can he really follow what I say?
she wondered. Kermiac had been able to—or seemed to—but—

Of course I can.
Lorill Hastur’s thought was almost complacent.
I
have been
properly trained. And you are correct; Kermiac of Aldaran would not be inclined to
interfere with my wishes.

Elizabeth swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Sir, he can follow what I say to

you and vice versa. Go ahead.”

Ysaye shook her head a little, for now she seemed to be able to pick up thoughts from her own colleagues! She could hear MacAran thinking,
So now she’s convinced
that this new fellow can read her mind directly. Nice story, but she believes it, and
something’s going on. Anyhow, no good arguing now.

MacAran just cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “If he’s a local VIP, you might as well tell him about the ship crashing. See if he believes us any more than that Aldaran fellow did.”

“Just for fun,” Evans added, “see how well he understands when I tell him to go

to hell.” Commander MacAran glared him to silence.

Felicia sucked in her breath at his temerity, but said nothing, quickly moving

away. Ysaye knew what that meant. She, at least, had understood.

Before Elizabeth could repeat the words, or even decide whether or not she

wanted to repeat them, it was already too late. Lorill had plucked the meaning from her mind. His narrow, fine features went tight.

For a moment, Elizabeth was afraid that he was going to do something—what,

she had no idea, but a shiver went through her at the look in his eyes.

But instead, he said, “You may tell your foolish countryman that I understood

that. I will spare you the embarrassment of repeating it. It is natural enough that the head-blind should wish to test me, if most folk in your land are so half-crippled and lacking in
donas.”

He paused, then added, purely mentally,
I
can think of no way to give back his
insult without putting you under the obligation to repeat an insult as crude. He cannot
understand me at all, and you would be only under the suspicion of having originated
it. But when we have some language in common, we will see if the six-fathered bastard
has enough courage to repeat his insults to one who can understand them directly.
He smiled silkily.
And perhaps, when he understands the consequences of such insult, when
he realizes that I could challenge him to duel with sword or knife, for speaking such
words, I am sure he will be very polite. Meanwhile, tell your commander that Aldaran’s
men will take him to his crashed vehicle and give him access to the communication
device. And yes, I believe your tale. I have access to information that Aldaran has not.

Elizabeth repeated what she could, and MacAran nodded.

“I don’t know how you got all that just by staring at the man,” MacAran said,

“But it looks to me like you got what you say. Thank him.”

Elizabeth complied, with relief that a nasty incident had been avoided.

Some of Aldaran’s men appeared when their leader summoned them and led

MacAran outside; Commander Britton accompanied them, motioning to Evans to stay

with the women. Felicia and Lorill Hastur went off in the opposite direction, leaving the Terrans alone.

Evans stared off after Lorill Hastur with his habitual expression of contempt.

“Evans, be careful,” Elizabeth warned wearily, feeling certain that Evans would

ignore her, but knowing that if she didn’t warn him, she would feel guilty if anything happened. “He understood your insults. I’m afraid you’ve made an enemy. He may look young to you, but he’s a man of immense importance among his people, and he has the power to—to call you to account for yourself, if he wants to.”

“Oh, sure he heard them,” Evans mocked. “If you believe that, you’ll believe

anything. I don’t believe there is anything like telepathy, but I will believe he somehow made you think he has all that power.” His sharp glare made Ysaye think that they didn’t need an enemy among the natives; they already had one in Evans. “He’s just a snobbish kid who wanted to go poke at the strangers to see if he could make them twitch—

playing ‘chicken.’ Once we get things settled, I’ll see he finds out who’s really in charge around here.”

Elizabeth sighed as Evans stalked away. “What’s the matter, Liz?” Ysaye asked.
I
might as well keep up the pretense that I can’t
hear
what’s going on
she thought.
It might
be useful.

“He’s insane; you heard him insult the Hastur lord,” Elizabeth replied. Ysaye

wondered why she had put it in that form, rather than saying Lorill Hastur. “I think he believes I somehow repeated those insults to the man’s face. He knows he made the Hastur angry, but he wants to blame it on me.”

“Conveniently ignoring the fact that you didn’t open your mouth until you

translated Lorill Hastur’s reply for Commander MacAran,” Ysaye pointed out.

“You’re right,” Elizabeth said in surprise. “I didn’t. And Lord Lorill is angry,
really
angry; he called Evans a six-fathered bastard, and suggested he might challenge Evans to some kind of duel if he dared repeat it.”

Ysaye considered that. “Interesting insult. Bastard used to be an term of insult in many societies, but what do you suppose six-fathered means?”

“I suspect it’s an aspersion on his mother’s virtue—or maybe her ancestry,”

Elizabeth said doubtfully. “I don’t think I really want to know; but it was something not very nice, judging by the tone. Anyway, I wouldn’t go around gratuitously insulting that man; if they have a code duello here, incorporated as part of their law, the Empire might just uphold it. And the moment Evans set foot on soil that was
theirs,
he would have to obey
their
laws.”

“I wouldn’t want to go around insulting anybody around here, even if the Empire

doesn’t
uphold a dueling-code,” said Ysaye. “There was no reason for Evans to pull that kind of stunt; it could have precipitated a serious diplomatic incident. Besides, the people here have been very hospitable to us.”

“They certainly have. And there’s still the question of how they knew we were

there and in trouble,” Elizabeth added, thinking about the telepathy issue. “I mean, how else would they know about us without some ability to sense thoughts?”

Doctor Lakshman joined them just at that moment. “Good question,” Aurora

remarked. “If they found us that way, from here, that implies that somebody has a pretty good range.”

“Yes, it does,” Ysaye agreed, “as well as raising the question of which of us they can pick up and how much they can tell without our knowing it.”

That was not the most comfortable of questions—and the answers to it were even

less comforting. The three women exchanged uneasy glances, as each of them tried to examine their memories for anything that they might have thought could cause them trouble.

“Did they say anything about Kadarin or Felicia?” Aurora asked, changing the

subject. “I’m looking forward to an explanation for them.”

“And both Felicia and Raymon are old Terran names,” David remarked. “What

kind of explanation does Evans give for that? Or has he decided that this is a Lost Colony after all?”

“Apparently he has.” Elizabeth answered.

“I’d bet a year’s pay he’ll think of something to explain mind-reading,” Ysaye

said. “Probably something totally strange. The man may know botany and drugs, but for anything else he’s practically useless, if not a downright liability.”

“I’ll be glad when Captain Gibbons brings the ship down,” Aurora said. “If you

want the truth, in a way I’m rather glad that the standard First Contact procedures got botched. It makes things so much simpler.”

Simpler, perhaps,
Ysaye thought soberly,
but by no means easier.

The mere existence of the wrecked shuttle, concrete, impossible to replicate, and quite solidly
there,
turned Kermiac Aldaran from a skeptic to a fervent believer. The change was quite remarkable, really; he had gone out with his men to see the “craft” of the strangers, possibly quite prepared to find nothing more exotic than a ruined cart or wagon, yet equally prepared for something entirely outlandish. In the case of the former, he would probably have had his guests escorted to more secure quarters, or so Ysaye suspected, quarters in which the local equivalent of psychiatrists could attempt to deal with their delusions. In the case of the latter, she was not certain what he would have done. From her impressions, she suspected he would have treated them as supernatural visitants.

But he got neither cart nor occult phenomena; instead he found himself inspecting something obviously made by the hand of man, but infinitely more complicated than anything his people could produce. And it was a vehicle made entirely of
metal;
he confessed to David that this alone would have convinced him. There was enough metal to be scavenged from the interior alone to supply his armsmen with metal weapons for the next three generations.

That had given them a basis for trade; in return for permission to bring the big ship down, a place to land it, and agreement to open negotiations for a spaceport, Captain Gibbons granted Lord Aldaran salvage rights on any non-tech, unusable

equipment in the shuttle, and the shell of the shuttle itself. There was no point in even trying to salvage anything but the electronic equipment from the wreck. MacAran had returned saying that he must have hit his head harder than he’d thought, to say that it was only the landing gear that kept them from taking off. With the huge rents in the side of the craft, there was no way it could have been made spaceworthy.