Hellspark. Part 13

Kejesli shrugged, Sheveschkem-style, and said "You haven't asked about Oloitokitok, h.e.l.lspark.

Shouldn't you be investigating his death as well as the sprookjes?"

"Tell me about Oloitokitok," Tocohl said, and Kejesli blinked as if caught completely off guard at the question. Om im raised his head slightly, about to speak, then glanced at his captain and held his tongue.

After a moment, Kejesli murmured, "I don't know, I-never knew him, not really. He was-" He stopped speaking abruptly, his hands worried the edge of the table. He looked away, his face darkening.

When he looked back again at Tocohl, he was angry: angry with himself. "He did his job and he never complained. I can't tell you anything more than that; you'll have to ask someone else."

"Ask Timosie Megeve," suggested Om im, "he and Oloitokitok seemed close. I'll give my views, but you'll have to bear in mind that"-he jerked his thumb back over his shoulder, a modified point that included Kejesli-"they're all crazy!"

Tocohl eyed him solemnly. "You're working in a madhouse," she said, then added to Kejesli, whose scowl had become still more p.r.o.nounced, "Sometimes the only way to deal with other cultures is to a.s.sume they're harmless nuts-because they are, by your culture's standards."

"And you, h.e.l.lspark?" said Kejesli sharply.

Tocohl spread her hands grandly. "I am the maddest of all: I shift from culture to culture." She inclined her head slightly in expectation of applause.

"Charlatan," said Om im. "You h.e.l.lsparks are the wardens. All you do is humor the inmates and keep them from killing each other whenever possible."

"You," Tocohl said, "have an exaggerated esteem of h.e.l.lsparks that transcends all reason."

"Hardly that, Ish shan. I once saw a h.e.l.lspark drive a person to complete distraction by simply talking to him. Mind you, I understood the language they were speaking, and the content of the conversation gave me not a clue as to how the trick was done. But it was deliberate and we all appreciated it." To Kejesli, he said, "Havernan, remember?"

"I remember," Kejesli said grimly, "that unbelievably rude Katawn customs inspector."

Om im looked surprised. "I didn't think rude, so much as long-winded and boring." He turned back to Tocohl, "In any event, none of us liked him; all of us wished he would go away. It was at that point that the h.e.l.lspark breezed through. She had little patience for customs at best-none for the Katawn, apparently. She talked to him for some fifteen minutes at me and the next thing we knew he was screaming at us to get out and never come through his station again.

"I always thought she'd insulted him or blackmailed him in some fashion," Kejesli said.

"No," said Om im, "I a.s.sure you the conversation was completely innocuous. So what did she do, Ish shan, or is that a h.e.l.lspark state secret?"

Tocohl considered him. It was only a matter of idle curiosity that sparked his interest, but the feel of Kejesli's was something much stronger. How would you drive a Katawn to distraction, she thought.

Then she had it."Think back, Om im," she said, "try to visualize it. As the h.e.l.lspark talked, did she keep walking?"

He obliged by closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he said, "Yes, she did. She picked up this and examined that and walked here and there...'

"Then I can tell you how she did it: by picking up this and examining that and walking here and there... Constantly moving as she spoke, right?''

"Yes," said Kejesli.

"It's simple. A Katawn can't hold a discussion with someone unless he's facing them, across a table or across a customs counter, for example. Or turned to face them"-she demonstrated by turning to address Om im face-to-face-"like this."

She grinned at the deviousness of that other h.e.l.lspark. "As long as that h.e.l.lspark kept moving the Katawn couldn't address her properly, and he had no sense of what was wrong. What sheer frustration that must have been for him!"

"You're right," said Kejesli, with a small sound akin to a gasp. "He kept trying to stop her, to get in front of her."

"Finally," Om im said, "he burst into tears and-as I said-screamed at us all to get out and never darken his customs office again." The small man gave her an almost proprietary look of admiration. "I had no idea, Ish shan, how easily you can manipulate people with language!"

"You do well enough in your own," Tocohl observed, and he arched a gilded brow in pleased acceptance of the compliment. Then he grunted and whipped his arm up sharply. (Watch out,) Maggy snapped simultaneously.

There was little need for the warning: Om im caught Kejesli's wrist against his own with a subdued crack that bespoke considerable force. Glaring at Kejesli, Om im reached for his dagger with his right hand.

Kejesli, totally stunned by the smaller man's reflex action, eased back into his chair. He splayed his hand at his throat. Om im returned the partially drawn dagger to its sheath.

The two continued to eye each other warily.

(Need the arachne?) Maggy asked. It was not as unlikely a query as it seemed; Maggy had already learned to use the arachne to trip Tocohl's opponents in a brawl.

(Thanks, no), Tocohl said, although she continued to eye the Sheveschkemen warily. Aloud she said, "Yes, Captain?"

Kejesli lowered his splayed hand to rub his bruised wrist, glaring at the two of them while he did so.

Then he leaned forward once more, this time very slowly. "What are you really like, h.e.l.lspark?"

The intensity in his manner shocked her; she met it with curiosity of equal intensity. "I don't understand the question."

Still glaring, Kejesli said, "You charge into my quarters like Veschke herself; you kiss that hull-ripping Vyrnwyn's hand and that hull-ripping Vyrnwyn puts on hull-ripping boots!-Now you've got Om im acting like a maniac!"

Om im, now content to settle back and watch Kejesli with equal interest, said to Tocohl, "I told you, Ish shan. They're all crazy!" This time his thumb jabbed at his own chest.

"You change," said Kejesli. As he delivered it, the observation was an accusation.

"No," said Tocohl, "I don't. Not in the way I think you mean. You accuse me of changing my personality to suit the culture I'm dealing with?" Yes, from his reaction, that was what he was asking.

"Captain," she said, "what you saw in your quarters was... the real Tocohl Susumo. I don't change personalities when I switch languages. Think of it, well, like transposing a melody from key to key. It's still the same melody, right?"

He had stopped scowling, but the intensity of his interest remained. "Go on," he said.

"That's what I do when I switch from language language: I transpose. That's all I do. I a.s.sure you Edge-of-Dark thinks me as flamboyant when I speak Vyrnwyn as you think me when I speak Sheveschkem. Or as Om im thinks me when I speak Bluesippan.

Kejesli looked unconvinced.

"Perhaps," Tocohl said thoughtfully, "it might be some help to you if I spoke h.e.l.lspark?""Yes," he said, as if surprised by the suggestion. "It might at that. I've never heard h.e.l.lspark spoken; every h.e.l.lspark I ever met spoke Sheveschkem to me." The scowl returned briefly. "Or spoke some other language to someone else."

"It is considered the polite thing to do-use the language of the person you're speaking to, if at all possible," Tocohl pointed out.

"I know," Kejesli said curtly. His sweeping gesture disposed of politeness for the moment. "I've heard h.e.l.lspark had a manufactured language, like GalLing'. I've never heard it spoken and-yes-I'd like to very much."

"Then you will. First, though, I want to correct popular misunderstanding. Yes, both GalLing' and h.e.l.lspark are artificial languages, but other than that, they bear no resemblance. In fact, they are diametrically opposed in intent. GalLing' was originally composed of all the sounds all the known human languages held in common, so that a speaker of any of the languages at that time could speak GalLing'

without an accent. Oh, inflection gives you a clue, so does intonation, word choice, and so forth." She paused to drain her cup of winter-flame and set it aside.

"h.e.l.lspark," Tocohl went on, "took the opposite route. It was originally composed to incorporate every known possibility of human language, all the sounds of all the various tongues, not to mention such refinements as inflection, tonal changes, proxemics and kinesics, as well."

Kejesli blinked, and Tocohl decided to leave well enough alone. She said, "Simply put, someone who speaks h.e.l.lspark can speak any of the known human languages without an accent. Nothing comes as a surprise. Where GalLing' was designed to exclude, h.e.l.lspark is inclusive."

Om im said, "Languages change too."

"They do. And every time a new possibility pops up, somebody very quickly coins a handful of new words to incorporate it. The words get flung like candy to the youngest kids, who tease us old-timers with them until we 'catch on.'" She grinned. "You wouldn't believe the word games that go on in a children's Babel."

"You're right," said Om im, "I wouldn't."

Tocohl turned back to Kejesli. "So, Captain Kejesli, what would you like to hear in h.e.l.lspark?"

"Veschke's Refusal," he said.

She began in almost a whisper, knowing he would hear her over the echoing rumbles of the storm.

Like an incantation, the rhythms of her rising voice drew others from all corners of the common room.

Although they did not understand the language, they knew a performance when they saw one. Intent on catching at least the flavor of the original, Tocohl saw them come only hazily. Again and again and again, she bade them "Strike! Strike!" Again and again and again, Veschke refused them coordinates of Sheveschke, and each time she bade them strike, Kejesli jerked in angry agreement. She paused a beat-the room grew utterly silent- Dropping her voice, she delivered the words once more in a whisper: "Steel or fire, strike! Strike!"

A ripping crack of thunder split the air. Tocohl took a deep breath, grinned. Looking up, she said, "Couldn't have been too bad a translation. Thanks for the special effects, Veschke." With a swirl of her moss cloak, she sat down.

Someone had begun to snap his fingers, another clapped, a third stamped his feet in time. Startled, Tocohl looked around her-the first thing she thought was, I'm glad Buntec's not here to see that! The second...

"Veschke's sparks!" she said in GalLing'. "If you think that was good, you ought to hear the original the way Ja.s.sin does it!"

Om im said, "That's the best argument I ever heard for learning Sheveschkem."

"That's the best reason I know for learning any other language," Tocohl said. "Well, Captain, did I give you some idea?"

"What?"

Pretty potent stuff, Veschke's Refusal, even in my butchered translation, Tocohl thought. Aloud she said, "Have I given you some idea of the sound of h.e.l.lspark?"

Kejesli shook himself visibly. "Yes," he said, "yes. Thank you. I think even Ja.s.sin would haveapproved."

"That's high praise indeed! I cheated a bit here and there, using a word that wasn't exact but had the better sound. In translating something like that, accuracy in feel is more important than accuracy of phrase. I could give you something prosaic if you wish, handy phrases for the tourist, for example."

He stared at her, as if afraid she might conjure up typhoons with a "Where's the bathroom."

"No," he said, "no thank you. My curiosity is more than satisfied."

"Fine, then we're back to the subject of the sprookjes."

Maggy pinged urgently for her attention. Tocohl thumbed her ear for silence, realized that only Kejesli would recognize the gesture, and said, "Just a moment."

(Yes, Maggy?) Maggy's only reply was the scene flashed onto Tocohl's spectacles. Tocohl watched and listened, then whistled. "Captain? There's trouble in the infirmary. I think we'd better get there right away."

Feeling that the captain would wish to deal with the situation with as few complications as possible, Tocohl had spoken in Sheveschkem. Kejesli rose, this time answering in the same tongue, "Lead, I sail with your sparks."

She had him halfway across the compound, splattered in mud and drenched in rain, before she recognized that too as a line from the Epic of Veschke.

Om im, still at her right hand, reacted to her urgency by foregoing the politeness of a knock or a chime. He burst through the door to the infirmary, Tocohl and Kejesli at his heels. After that Tocohl had no time to consider poetry.

"Trouble" was the greatest of understatements: the wash of emotion within was almost physical.

Across the body of what must have once been Oloitokitok, Ruurd van Zoveel, gripping the edge of the table so fiercely that his veins stood out like rope, bellowed at Alfvaen and layli-layli calulan.

Answering rage filled both their faces. Only swift-Kalat, seeming more concerned than angry, stepped forward to soothe the Zoveelian.

Alfvaen would not risk him. Taking two steps forward to swift-Kalat's one, she interposed herself between the two. "This-s is your choice, then! Look on me, child of fools!" Her arm snapped sharply across her chest in challenge. The fierce green glare she fixed on van Zoveel brought the enormous man to bay.

Maggy's arachne scuttled from beneath the table to position itself for a better view of the two.

Behind Tocohl, Kejesli began, "What's all this bellowing? What's the hull-ripping matter?" At that point, he must have registered Alfvaen's threatening stance, for his voice dropped to a whisper in Tocohl's ear, "Tocohl-"

"Not now," she snapped. Across the room layli-layli calulan, never taking her dark eyes from van Zoveel's face, twisted the bluestone ring from her left index finger and slapped it down beside Oloitokitok's body. Tocohl heard a muted exclamation of horror from Om im.

Alfvaen would hold her pose until van Zoveel returned her challenge, but layli-layli calulan reached for the second ring, began to twist it off.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tocohl charged across the room. Vaulting table and body, she came down close enough to startle layli-layli calulan into a moment's pause. It was enough to let her press on. She grasped the shaman's wrists, attempting to part the hands with the ring still on her finger and praying inwardly that Veschke's blessings covered this. In Yn, she demanded, "Would you have it go astray?"

The plump woman did not struggle, she merely went back to what she had been doing before Tocohl's intervention.

"Layli-layli calulan!" said Tocohl. "You do not know his true name! Will you risk the death of one of these others, or your own?"

"You lie," said layli-layli, but her arms stilled in Tocohl's grasp, their motion uncompleted. Her black eyes burned into Tocohl's.

Tocohl held the gaze as she held layli-layli's wrists, summoning words. "I do not lie. Think! 'Van Zoveel' simply refers to his planet of origin, and 'Ruurd' is the commonest of male names on that world.Do you know his true name?"

The burning gaze dropped from Tocohl's face. Layli-layli calulan reached for the ring she had removed, and Tocohl released her wrists. The shaman's smoldering anger appeared to subside as she slid the bluestone ring back on her finger, but she said, "He's left his G.o.ds behind him, nor could they protect him if I knew his true name."

With that, she turned her back, consigning the group to nonexistence.

Relief shivered along Tocohl's spine. When she rounded the table once more, this time to deal with the lesser problem of Alfvaen, she moved easily, with a ghost of a smile. Her incomprehensible exchange with layli-layli calulan had distracted the others enough to lessen their tension as well. Van Zoveel had stopped his bellowing to treat her to a puzzled look. Using that for a hook, she beckoned him with a conspiratorial jerk of the head, as if she might explain if he came closer. When he took the step, she caught him by the arm and tucked him away safely behind her, well beyond dueling range even if he knew the proper responses.

Om im slid silently into the s.p.a.ce left vacant by van Zoveel. He said, "I am the fool, if Ruurd and Alfvaen will not clasp hands and drink together." It was in GalLing', but it was perfectly acceptable by Alfvaen's standards.

Maggy's arachne p.r.i.c.ked its way closer and said politely, "May I watch, Alfvaen, Om im? I have never seen a real duel."

Still stiffly posed, Alfvaen said over her forearm. "I don't want to fight you, Om im. I was only trying to protect swift-Kalat." It was a break in the ritual, and a welcome one to both Tocohl and Om im.

"Duel?" said van Zoveel, taking a step forward to stare at the two of them in utter amazement. He spun on Tocohl, his ribbons fluttering nervously, "Are they crazy? Tocohl? I don't follow this one."

"You threatened swift-Kalat, Alfvaen challenged you, Om im appointed himself your champion,"

Tocohl said, summing it all up as briefly as possible. In Bluesippan she added, "Fool is right, Om im."

Om im answered in the same tongue, "I offered my blade; you accepted. Get her to fight on my terms and we'll both be fine."

Instead, Tocohl glanced at van Zoveel. "-Oh, if he's to save your life, van Zoveel, he would like to know just what this is all about."

For the first time, Tocohl saw fear in the Zoveelian's eyes. "I was angry," he said; with effort he kept his voice low and level, "I only spoke words, Tocohl. I have no actions to perform."

Tocohl raised her voice, "Alfvaen? He says he didn't mean it: he never intended harm. He'll clasp hands and drink with you and swift-Kalat"-she glared at van Zoveel-"right?"