The Strangers of Kindness (10 page)

“I was completely correct: These natives had never seen the like of my bowls. Oh, they were crude and unharmonious and unlovely but, my dears! The fuss! In no time I had obtained enough of what they use for currency—funny little discs of base metals, nothing to get excited about, Greedies—to exchange them for a dwelling right in the town.”

“A dwelling! You actually went inside it?”

“Of course. It was the custom there. I was told it was one of the most admired dwellings on Merchant Street. Very spacious. The windows were mere holes, no glass of course, or covering of any kind. I found I had to cover them, because the people were so curious about my activities, always peeping in.

“The walls were very thick—a span or more—so it was always cool inside, and I expended much energy just staying warm when inside. I had made my morph heavy, with wide folds falling to the ground from the arms, and that helped keep me warm. I had great fun incorporating our familiar colors and icons into its patterns.

“It made me less homesick,” Pasha Sands added, and the narrative faltered for a moment. “Ah, my friends, there were times in those early days when I despaired of ever seeing our fair world again.

“I’d left my morph naked-headed; those thick growths of hair would have been very difficult to create and maintain. I must say I think I cut an elegant figure. My neighbors were quite in awe of me. Very curious of course, but I cultivated a mysterious reticence. During the day I tended my shop; at night I went back to the beach and gathered silicon in little bags, and began storing it in one of the three ‘sleeping chambers’. And I watched my neighbors, looking for the subtleties of their communication, and for clues as to how I could accomplish the tremendous amount of work I had to do to get off the planet.

“It’s the custom there for the merchants to display and sell their wares outside their dwellings. They have colorful awnings overhanging, for shade. So I did the same, setting out the crude bowls I could create in the (really inadequate) fireplace of my home. I’d sit outside my door under the awning, and visit with the passers-by, and perhaps,” it added airily, “sell a bowl now and then.”
 

The theta-vibrations became serious. “It was from my neighbors across the street that I finally learned how I could get my work done.

“It was a pair of them. One tall, with limbs all knobby and a round protruding belly, bristly pate and a broken
beak
of a nose, my dears, you can’t imagine how unattractive! Its mate was equally repugnant, though its opposite. Where the tall knobby one had a voice like the wind through the caves of Fidiremitt, you know, low and scraping, its partner sounded like glass breaking.”

Dismayed shudders.

“It was much shorter, too, and wider. A vast stretchy mouth lined all round with hideous red—I found out later this is
not
natural—and the laziest creature you’ll ever meet.

“They had only recently cemented their partnership, a subject of much interest to the fat one, for it spoke of it incessantly to all its equally repulsive friends who came daily to hang about and drink its tea and gossip under the awning. The knobby one was quite wealthy, I soon learned, and that above all seemed to be its main attraction. I was glad to hear it had something to its favor.

“The beginning of such a partnership evidently is made socially acceptable by a ceremony attended by as many people as can wangle an invitation. They call it a ‘wedding’, and everyone is expected to bless the new partners with gifts. These, too, were endlessly discussed by the fat partner. But the present that interested me most was the third person in that household—another of their own species. Ownership of one another, it turns out, is one of the symbols of status in that society.”

Skeptical One’s disgust overcame for a moment its usual skepticism. “You mean this so-called intelligent species of yours practices ownership of individuals of their own kind?
Ownership
?”

“They call it slavery. This pair had been given a slave for the wedding, and from where I sat each day I was able to learn a great deal about its advantages for the owners. And,” Pasha Sands added, “its disadvantages for the slave.

“The knobby one’s name was Kalda, its partner’s name was Kriessa. Kalda kept fairly busy buying and selling its goods—it specialized in herbs and spices from all over the continent. Kriessa kept busy mainly by talking and eating and pouring tea. The slave, whose name I eventually heard was Anna, they kept toiling nearly all the day and night. It was a little, thin thing, black hair like a cap and dark eyes, skin tan like Goraby marble. Kalda had it carrying barrels of spices for the customers out of the store to their carts, cleaning, unloading new merchandise from the large wooden wagons that rolled up to the back of the establishment nearly every day, tending the customers weighing out the spices, scrubbing down the board patio in front of the place, all manner of taxing and lowly work, while Kriessa either ignored it or castigated it in that nerve-shattering voice.

“I never saw the creature stop and rest once, from dawn till long after the sun had gone down and all the stars were out and the whole town had settled down to sleep. For, after the business day was over, it would go inside and soon the smells of their strange carbonaceous foods would reach my door, and I could see Anna through the windows, serving Kalda and Kriessa their dinners. After, it would do the cleaning from the meal. I don’t know when, where, or what they let it eat.

“Kalda every evening went back downstairs into the shop for more work, and it would bring Anna out to the front door and chain it there to sleep on the boards. I asked, once, why it slept out there, and Kalda said its duties included guarding the shop at night. So they got their full value out of that gift.

“But I realized that this might be a way for me to get my glass-blowing workroom built. I couldn’t do the labor myself, my morph was far too frail in that tiresome gravity. By then I knew that I’d need to keep my work from prying eyes, so I planned to dig a workshop chamber, under the floor, and that’s heavy work. Building the kiln, also. And hauling the necessary amounts of silicon from the sea-side would be more than I could do, as well. I needed someone strong, someone whose steady work I could ensure, and who would keep quiet about what I was doing. Kalda’s and Kriessa’s treatment of Anna, and Anna’s utter subjugation by them, told me that a slave would fit the bill.”

Fat One was so outraged that it forgot the taboo against uttering one’s given name in a group. It spluttered Pasha Sand’s name out loud, and spat accusingly: “And you decided, did you, that your unusual circumstances would justify such immoral behavior?”

Pasha Sands faced the insult and stared Fat One down. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. Besides, you know me, I have the softest
frombur
of anyone we all know. It wasn’t
required
that one treat a slave so poorly, and I never intended to. Just listen, my fat friend, let me tell the whole story before you judge me.

“I inquired of Kalda how one obtained ownership of a slave, and once it believed that I was honestly asking—it seemed inconceivable to Kalda that anyone could be unaware of this custom—I was informed that it required only a quantity of their crude coinage, and attendance at a slave market, conducted near the wharves every fifth day. One could survey the available merchandise and haggle with the auctioneers and go home with as many slaves, as few, as skilled or as brutish as one liked—and could afford. A new shipment came in every few days, brought in from inland regions or from over the sea. Kalda advised me to insist on an inland slave, as the language from across the waters might cause me, a non-native speaker, difficulties.

“‘More convenient, is all,” Kalda croaked, Take any one you like; even if the shit can’t talk our language un’ll know who’s boss. Getting your orders figured out might take longer, and require more exertion on your part, if ‘ un can’t talk right.’ I didn’t know, then, what was meant by ‘ exertion’ . But I decided to follow what sounded like good advice.

“I will spare you the details of this auction,” Pasha Sands said in a low voice, with a theta-resonance that made the others uneasy. “I had been there long enough to understand some of these peoples’ language of aspect—what some of their infinite variety of postures and facial expressions conveyed of their interior states. It became clear to me at the slave market that those being displayed and purchased were the most unfortunate on the planet. I’ve never experienced such a dreadful dampening of my spirit—and I was on the outside of the cages!

“And it was in the slave market that I found out my perception of this species’ anatomy was far from accurate. These slaves looked very different from all the people I had seen so far. Standing in that hot, dusty market square, amid the noise and confusion and stench of beasts of burden, I realized what I’d missed.

“What I’d taken for a dazzling variety of outer integuments was in reality only fabrics—just similar to the awnings over the shop doors! The poor slaves wore much less than the free people—some had only a length of dirty rag wrapped around the middle. I felt like a fool—here I’d been laboring to maintain this cumbersome morph! And it was then I saw that the funny hairs grow pretty much everywhere on them, too. Under the arms, down the legs, all over the face. So I resolved to undertake another morph that very night. With a slave handy, I could see details up close, and hope to do a better job.

“I selected one. Taller than my morph, yellowish hairs. Looked like a good sturdy one. I observed it for quite awhile without its knowing. It was quiet—I watched it seek a corner of the cage and squat out of the way when a fight broke out amongst some others who were about to go on the block. It had a straighter posture, and a bit more clothing—a rough, brown tunic thing with a rope around the middle. I liked the look of it, overall. I bought it and thought to lead it right home to begin work. But the auctioneer stopped me. That barbarian put chains on the thing’s arms and handed me a little metal piece to unlock them after we’ d got home. I watched my new property carefully as the auctioneer chained it, but it just kept looking at the ground as though there was nothing unusual or unexpected about such treatment.

“It was inclined to trail along behind me as we made our way through the streets toward home. I had to ask it several times to walk beside me. I wanted to talk to it, ask questions—I had so many! This, it seemed, was
quite
unusual and alarming. The creature seemed barely able to stammer out replies. I began to worry whether it was intelligent enough to learn what I had to teach it.

“But the most astonishing thing was when it asked me what I would name it.”

“No! It had no name?”

“That was my question exactly. Its answer only added to my amazement. ‘Many names, Master,’ it said, ‘ from many masters.’ From its tone I gathered that here was another custom I was showing my ignorance of. So I asked if it had none of its own. It was then I noticed for the first time—perhaps because it was the first time it had looked at me directly—that its eyes had sky-blue centers.

“It said, ‘My mother named me Jared.’ ”

* * *

The new Master showed its new slave into the spacious house on Merchant Street and they stood blinking in the cool darkness, after the heat and glare of the afternoon market.

“My name is Pasha Sands,” Pasha told Jared. “Here, give me your hands.” And it removed the hateful chains and threw them into a corner. There were some cushioned stools and a soft couch in the main room. Pasha gestured for Jared to sit down, then absorbed itself in making its morph comfortable. It was startled when it turned and saw Jared on the floor on his knees, to one side.

“Won’t you sit?”—waving at one of the chairs.

Jared fingered his grimy tunic. “I’d get it dirty.” His eyes stayed on Pasha, but his face held no expression.

Pasha studied the young man with growing curiosity. “Jared, I’m not from this place. There is much I don’t know about getting along here, about living. I hope you will help me.”
 

“However I can, Master.”

Pasha winced. “To start with, please don’t refer to me that way. Please call me Pasha. Where I come from people don’t own one another. But I need you very badly, both to work, and to teach me. Teaching first. Is it really true, Jared, that the laws allow me to treat you in any manner I choose?”

Jared went a little pale, and looked confused. “Surely you know that, Master—I mean Pasha.”

“No, I don’t. Why else would I ask? So it’s true? Tcha—” Pasha’s gaze flew around the room as though seeking escape from this barbarity. Finally the alien sighed and looked down at Jared again. “I intend to teach you things, too. But I must know with certainty that you will not reveal any of it to anyone else. This is entirely unreasonable, but what I’m asking is your loyalty. I’m not cruel, Jared. I would never hurt you, you’ll be treated well. Can that be enough to ensure your silence in these matters?”

Pasha hadn’t enough experience with humans either to note or to understand the greyish color Jared’s face had drained to. “I’m yours, Master, that’s all I’m for is to serve you, my life itself is yours. Besides, who would I tell? I’m alone here. I won’t speak to anybody at all unless you want me to.”
 

What Pasha missed in the face, it heard in the voice. “How have I frightened you? Your voice is filled with . . .”—it floundered between its own species’ rich menu of communications and the frustratingly limited humans’—“. . . with vibrations!”