Hellspark. Part 33

"Context always matters, Maggy. In Darragh's position I'd want it very badly."

"Okay, if you say so. But if she wants it badly, I'm gonna deal high."

"Good for you." And Tocohl found herself exchanging a smile with Nevelen Darragh as Maggy stepped the arachne forward to indicate her willingness to accompany the judge.

Tocohl did not kibbitz Maggy's negotiations; she would have to learn sometime. To her surprise, Maggy did not volunteer any information about them beyond the observation, "Nevelen Darragh is a mean trader."

"Then I hope you learned a few things from the experience."

"Yes," said Maggy. But from then on she kept the arachne close by Tocohl's side, d.o.g.g.i.ng her heels even when there was no need for a separate presence.

A long series of thunderstorms kept meetings with the sprookjes brief and intermittent, but with Tocohl and Bayd working in silent concert, knowledge of the language had progressed to primitive sentences in both Tocohl's pidgin and the sprookjes' own native language. Darragh, it turned out, was as good as Tocohl or Bayd, once she dealt with an established language. Learning that rea.s.sured Tocohl: Darragh would be more than competent to handle any need for judgment that might arise between the sprookjes and their newfound neighbors.

"Better a judge that speaks the language than one who relies on a translator, even if the translator is Bayd," Tocohl observed to Om im as they waited out yet another storm in his cabin.

The judges had taken up residence in the common room, and by unspoken agreement, the surveyors socialized elsewhere-generally in the infirmary, with layli-layli calulan's blessing. Rib healed, Tocohl had long since decided she'd get more sleep on the cot Om im offered, even though her feet hung off the end of it.

Alfvaen thrust her head in and said, without preamble, "Maggy, Bayd arranged it for us to spend the storm in the lightning rods with LightningStruck." That, they had learned, was the name of the sprookje Tocohl had dubbed Sunchild; it carried more a sense of "reckless" than "brave" and suited her admirably. "If you want to join us, come now."

"No," said Maggy, without hesitation, "but thank you."

Alfvaen frowned briefly at Tocohl and then, after a quick glance over her shoulder at swift-Kalat's eagerness, she shrugged after her own fashion and vanished.

Tocohl said, "I'm surprised at you, Maggy. You won't miss a thing here if you send out the arachne..."

"I want to see you. I can't see you through your spectacles."

Om im leaned to one side to consider the arachne. "Stubborn," he said, "I'll bet I know where she gets it, Ish shan." To Maggy, he added, "It seems to me you might be interested in the activities of the judges."

"Buntec says they're doing exactly what Tocohl did when we first arrived: reading the files, watching the tapes, asking questions. She's waiting for them to con Edge-of-Dark, she says."

Om im laughed. "Maybe they have and Edge-of-Dark hasn't caught on yet. John the Smith still hasn't touched his blade to how Tocohl trained him to stand on my safe side." At Tocohl's look of inquiry, he added, "I asked Bayd; she asked Maggy."

"You didn't tell John the Smith."

"Of course not," said Maggy primly, then giving credit where credit was due, she added, "Bayd and Om im didn't think that would be a good idea."

"I agree. Better he thinks it a matter of prestige than one of hazard. We wouldn't want Om im to getan undeserved reputation for violence."

"By all means," Om im said, "let's keep it to a deserved reputation for violence."

Maggy stepped the arachne closer. "Was that a joke?"

"A small joke, but what else would you expect from someone my size? And you both need a little cheering." He brought his gaze level to meet Tocohl's. "Stewing in your own juices is one thing, but with four judges stirring the pot and Buntec throwing in spice by the handful-"

"Buntec? Have I missed something?"

"Maggy may have missed something: she can't tape visuals for you from a hand-held like this one."

He gestured just enough to remind her that Maggy's hand-held was still at his belt. "Buntec told Windhoek-the one who looks like he's sucking a lemon?-Buntec told him that to charge you he'd have to charge the entire survey team for contributory negligence and creating a public hazard."

"Oh, Veschke's sparks," said Tocohl and laughed in spite of herself. "She didn't really?"

"She did. And Edge-of-Dark backed her up. I wish you could have seen Windhoek's expression; it went well past the sucking a lemon stage."

"You want to see?" Maggy said. "I didn't miss it. I was watching with Geremy and Garbo. I didn't know it was funny though."

"By all means, let me see." And when Maggy had played through the sequence for her, she laughed loud and long. Windhoek's expression was all that Om im had promised. "Buntec chooses her targets well," she said, when at last she had caught her breath.

"That was funnier the second time," Maggy said. "Most things aren't. Why is that one?"

Tocohl gave this the consideration it deserved. "Part of it was actually seeing Windhoek's expression. Part of it was relief-Maggy, I was afraid you'd stopped socializing altogether. I was worried about you."

"Oh," said Maggy, "because I keep the arachne here?"

"It hasn't left my side for five days. Have you been talking with Geremy and Garbo all this time?"

"Since yesterday."

"At least to members of the survey team and to Bayd and Geremy," Om im confirmed. "As for the judges"-he grinned-"well, she used a spate of Sheveschkem on Windhoek that turned Captain Kejesli a remarkable shade of green. He's been muttering the same words under his breath for a week. Maggy may not have been talking, but she's certainly been listening."

"It was her not talking that concerned me. Even insults are something of a relief." She eyed the arachne sternly and added, in warning, "As long as you don't make a habit of it."

Chapter Sixteen.

THE STORM RAGED through the night but it was not the storm that kept Tocohl awake. Bayd had accompanied the party and she put the time to good use, conferring with Tocohl through Maggy.

Tocohl had the easier time of it, for Maggy screened out most of the blinding light and the deafening thunder to convey only the sprookjes and Bayd's commentary.

"I'll take the next storm watch," Tocohl said. "I wish I'd thought of that sooner; it would have saved us a lot of time."

There was a pause as Bayd waited out the thunder. "It's hardly a matter of neglect. This is not something I'd volunteer for more than once. If there is a next storm watch, you've surely got it. Most of us are only here because we wanted to see if it lived up to Buntec's lurid description."

"And?" Tocohl prompted, amused.

"Buntec didn't tell the half of it."

Again there was a momentary silence from Tocohl's vantage point; again Tocohl knew from the sharp reactions of those nearest Bayd-Nevelen Darragh and swift-Kalat-that Maggy had blotted out another thunderclap. The sprookjes sat content, excited only by Bayd's questions and answers. They had already learned that thunder and lightning distracted her, although neither Bayd nor Tocohl could tellif they understood why.

Given the ruffling of their feathers, Tocohl thought there was a good chance they were speculating on the subject among themselves. She could only make out a phrase here and there, and the one that recurred most often was "strange sprookje."

When the sound faded back in, Alfvaen-Tocohl saw her at Bayd's glance in her direction-said, "Bayd, I'm just curious, but do they have any trouble telling you from the other h.e.l.lsparks? When they talk about me, Om im says, he can always tell because they look like me for just a moment."

"No, they can tell us apart better than we can them. They've had to give us names, though, which they continue to use. Random syllables don't translate well into sprookje, and Tocohl and I decided it was safer for us to learn sprookje before we confuse the issue again by trying to teach them a purely verbal language like GalLing'."

"What sort of names?" The voice was swift-Kalat's, Bayd turned to give Tocohl a view of him through dimming rain and said, "Remember that they weren't aware each of you was from a different culture. When they discussed you among themselves they referred to you with a proxemic and kinesic overlay that defined each of you unmistakably; in practice, you were 'the Jenji,' Kejesli is 'the northern Sheveschke,' Dyxte 'the ti-Tobian,' and so forth."

"Oh, is that all," said Alfvaen, sounding disappointed.

For Bayd's ear, Tocohl said, "She was hoping for something more romantic."

Bayd took the cue and said, "You got an actual name, Alfvaen. You, they call 'One-Who-Was-Poisoned.' It took us three days to puzzle that one out. We kept being distracted by the Siveyn overlay they used and didn't realize they were being more specific than that."

Alfvaen looked from Bayd to LightningStruck, suddenly embarra.s.sed. "Oh, Bayd! Can you tell LightningStruck that I didn't mean to hurt Tocohl, so she won't be afraid of me?"

"She's not afraid of you," Nevelen Darragh said, in such a way that Alfvaen was fully rea.s.sured by the sound of the statement alone, and once again Tocohl too was somehow rea.s.sured by the judge's perspicacity.

"How about you?" Alfvaen asked. "If I understand this correctly, Tocohl simply would have been 'the h.e.l.lspark.' But so are you and Bayd and-"

Bayd laughed. "What they use to signify h.e.l.lspark is any behavior that compromises between two or more cultures. Tocohl is now officially known as Strange-Sprookje-h.e.l.lspark-With-A-Crest-Like-The-Sun-On-Penny-Jannisett, and I got dubbed all of that plus 'Newly-Arrived.'"

Alfvaen turned widening eyes on Darragh who smiled and, making the Siveyn gesture of formal self-introduction, said, "Strange-Sprookje-With-A-Crest-Like-Frostwillow, at your service."

Alfvaen began a smile-but it froze and faded. Crossing upturned arms at her wrists, she said only, "I understand." The gesture said in no uncertain terms that the two of them were barely on speaking terms but that Alfvaen would be civil.

Bayd turned swiftly, granting Tocohl a view of Darragh's reaction: a swift upcurling of both hands that said, Give me time to prove myself.

"The best she could do, under the circ.u.mstances," Tocohl commented, for Bayd and Maggy only. It was not sufficient to soothe Alfvaen; Tocohl could see that rigid control set in muscle by muscle. "Bayd,"

she said in warning, "remind her that I called in the byworld judges myself."

That had the effect Tocohl expected. Alfvaen frowned but her limbs loosened, her shoulders sagged.

"She didn't have to do it, Bayd. Why did she?"

"But she did have to do it!" Darragh said in surprise. "I thought you understood that."

"I don't," snapped Alfvaen, and swift-Kalat said, "To speak reliably in h.e.l.lspark, you mean."

Darragh looked from one to the other in astonishment. Bayd said, "I think you'd better explain it to them, Nevelen. They apparently haven't thought it through."

"She had to do it for the sprookjes' sakes," Darragh said. "The moment she decided they were worth the risk, she doubled their chances of safety. Your accusation of murder would have held up Kejesli's report for a time, swift-Kalat, but for how long? Suppose Tocohl hadn't found the language.What then?"

He snapped his wrist, startling even Tocohl with the sound. "Then," he said, "I'd have made an official request for a panel of byworld judges-" In mid-sentence, he stopped and stared at Nevelen Darragh.

"Which would have taken months to clear through channels," she said. "That's what happens when you make an official request through a bureaucracy. And meanwhile, the chances are good that MGE would have sold the planet, the Inheritors of G.o.d would have taken possession, and the sprookjes would have been in very great danger, if what happened to Alfvaen more than once is any indication."

She shifted to take in Alfvaen and went on, "It takes precisely the same number of byworld judges to try someone for posing as an official of the Comity-or as a byworld judge. And it gets an instant response if it goes to the right recipient."

"Which it did," said Alfvaen.

"Which it did."

Maggy's soundproofing went briefly into operation. Tocohl saw the others flinch but Alfvaen, thoughtful now, kept her eyes on Darragh. When the sound returned, it was only the sound of rain.

Without a word, Alfvaen turned her left hand palm-up, curling the fingers as if to enclose something very fragile. It was fragile, indeed, for it was the beginning of renewed trust she offered to Nevelen Darragh.

Beyond her, LightningStruck curled her hand in imitation of the gesture. Bayd said, "Veschke's sparks, Alfvaen. That's going to take me a month to explain!" and started in.

Tocohl and Bayd worked through the night. When the sky cleared briefly as the sun rose, LightningStruck escorted Bayd and the others back to base camp. After a few clear signs that they all needed sleep, the sprookje disappeared once more into the flashwood. No others came.

"Do you suppose they have some way of communicating with each other by long distance?" Tocohl said, stifling a yawn. "

"On this world," said Om im, "it's probably by grapevine."

With so little sleep, this reduced Tocohl to a fit of giggles. "Definitely a botanical artifact," she agreed, explaining the joke for Maggy's benefit. "Go away," she added to both of them, "let me sleep." But as she dozed off, she was well aware that neither Maggy nor Om im obeyed, and she slept more soundly for that.

When she awoke, it was to Om im's light hand on her face. "Ish shan, we've a full day of sun ahead of us-and the sprookjes have brought you a royal visitor." She blinked at him. "You slept through the night," he explained, "and there's a crested sprookje in camp."

That brought her fully awake and to her feet. She bounded down the cabin steps, Maggy at her heels, and followed Om im to the little garden Dyxte had planted in front of layli-layli calulan's cabin.

Dyxte's plants luxuriated in the pale sunlight and, in the midst of them, stood a brilliantly crested sprookje.

A sharp smell a.s.saulted her nostrils. Under her breath, she said, "Veschke's sparks-is it injured?"

She could see nothing apparent wrong with it but the smell was that of infected flesh.

"No, no, Ish shan!" Om im was laughing but trying as well not to breathe in; it gave his laugh a curious quality. "The mystery of the torn-up thousand-day-blue is solved. That's what you're smelling."

He pointed to a small plant that swelled purplish-blue through the compound's red mud.

The crested sprookje ruffled at the small group of brown sprookjes. No, thought Tocohl, watching more carefully-the crested sprookje bristled. The brown sprookjes picked through Dyxte's garden, pulling out the thousand-day-blues and tossing them aside into a pile.

A knot of surveyors watched this all, cameras taping furiously. Tocohl stopped beside Dyxte, who gave her a full-body smile and said, "Graffiti. One of the camp sprookjes planted thousand-day-blues in my landscape."

"Watch," said Bayd, "the brown ones think it's funny."

Bayd was right, to judge from the feather rufflings. Despite the smell, the brown sprookjes cheerfully went about ripping out the thousand-day-blues. When they had found them all, one of the brownsprookjes gathered them into a bundle and walked toward the flashwood, holding them at arm's length all the while.

This sent the rest of the brown sprookjes into ripplings of delight.

"Children!" said Tocohl. "The brown sprookjes are youngsters!"

"I think so," said Bayd.

As the smell dissipated, the crested sprookje stood off to examine Dyxte's work with what seemed to Tocohl a practiced eye. Then it stepped in for a closer look at layli-layli calulan's pennants and the tattered festoons of Tocohl's moss cloak. Judging from its stance, it was very pleased with the effect.

Tocohl stepped forward, Maggy rippling the stripes in her 2nd skin in the most formal greeting they knew in sprookje. The crested sprookje ruffled its feathers in the same pattern; simultaneously, its crest rose. (Veschke's sparks, Maggy. How are we going to answer that one?) (We're not,) said Maggy.

(All right, but let's tell His Nibs we're not physically capable.) This they managed with some effort. The crested sprookje came closer, examining Tocohl as carefully as it had the moss cloak, even to running a gentle finger along her arm-and puffing in surprise to learn she was not feathered. It drew her hand upward to scrutinize. Tocohl winced in antic.i.p.ation of a nip but it did no such thing: instead it drew her hand gently along its own feathers, spreading them to display the skin underneath.