Hellspark. Part 5

Alfvaen looked at her with surprise.

"Up," Tocohl said. "You were expecting the basics, weren't you? Well, they aren't h.e.l.lo, good-bye, please, thank you, and Where's the bathroom?"

"They aren't?" Alfvaen came immediately to her feet. "Jenji is that different from Siveyn?"

"Not in the sense you mean," Tocohl said, "but h.e.l.lspark language lessons always start with the proxemics and kinesics of a new language. The earliest of the old h.e.l.lspark proverbs is 'The dance is sweeter than the song.'

"Let me give you a practical demonstration." Tocohl glanced down, indicated a broad yellow stripe that halved the tapestry beneath their feet. "Stand with your toes touching that. If at all possible, I want you to remain with your toes touching that, and I want you to tell me what you're feeling while I talk to you."

Alfvaen, despite her puzzled look, arranged herself carefully. Tocohl took a step forward and greeted her formally in Siveyn. Alfvaen responded instantly in kind.

"Look at your toes," Tocohl said.

"Still on the line, but I..."

"Bear with me. How did I greet you?"

Alfvaen gave this some thought. "I'm not sure I understand your question, Tocohl. You greeted me as if you were Siveyn, you know that."

"Aggressively? As if I were a long-lost friend?"

"Neither. As if you were... Tocohl. Just as you are."

Tocohl pursed her lips slightly. "All right. Keep your toes on the line. I'm going to do it again." This time the language she chose was Jannisetti, and it required a step backward on Tocohl's part to greet Alfvaen formally.

Alfvaen had clearly learned her h.e.l.lo, please, and thank you in Jannisetti, for she responded in good kind to the greeting. Her accent was impeccable, but she stepped a full two inches across the line.

"Toes," said Tocohl. Alfvaen looked down, her eyes widening in astonishment.

"Why did you step forward?"

"I don't know," she said, stepping back to stare at the line as if it had somehow moved from under her.

"Try again," Tocohl said. Alfvaen fixed a corner of her eye on the line and readied herself visibly.

Again Tocohl greeted her formally in Jannisetti, and again Alfvaen moved forward. This time, however, she caught herself in midstep.

With great deliberation, she set her foot back, glared at Tocohl, and responded to her greeting in clipped tones. Then suddenly her anger was gone, lost in the interest she gave to her feet.

"First lesson," Tocohl said. "Why were you angry?"

"You backed away from me, as if I were diseased." She was still staring at her feet.

"No," said Tocohl, "I did not. I greeted you in exactly the same way in both Siveyn and Jannisetti.'

"But you didn't, Tocohl. In Jannisetti, you-" She closed her mouth abruptly. She stared up at Tocohl "On Jannisetti, they all backed away from me!"

"Are you that offensive?" Tocohl grinned at her. "I didn't think so."

"You thought so in Jannisetti! You backed away! Why, Tocohl?"

Shifting back to Siveyn, Tocohl said, "I'll show you the emotional equivalent of what you did to the Jannisetti in Siveyn. Try toeing that line through this... !" she challenged. Once more, she greeted Alfvaen in her own language. While the words were formal, her movements were not-instead of the requisite one step forward, Tocohl took two.

And Alfvaen instantly backed away from her.

Tocohl waited patiently where she was, making no further move that could be interpreted as aggressive.

After a long moment, Alfvaen again looked down at her toes, taking in the distance she had moved from her mark. She said, "You came at me!""And why do you suppose the Jannisetti all stepped back?"

Alfvaen stared at her feet in an embarra.s.sed fashion. "Oh, Tocohl," she said at last, "do you mean that every time I said h.e.l.lo-and thought I said it in a friendly way in their own tongue-I was... jumping at them the way you jumped at me?"

"I'm afraid so, yes."

"But why didn't someone tell me?"

"Because it's one of the hardest things in the world to tell. You interpret both s.p.a.cing and gesture on a subconscious level as you've been trained to interpret them by your culture. In fact, there are at least six different sets of proxemics and kinesics on Sivy alone, and you'd be hard put to get one of the others correctly. The fact that, to the ear, you all speak the same tongue, makes it all the more liable to misinterpretation."

Alfvaen sat down, put her chin in her hand. After a long time, she said, "I've seen it, and I didn't know what it was. And if it's that difficult between two people who've known each other all their lives...

Tocohl, perhaps I've misinterpreted Jaef altogether."

"I doubt it, or you'd be calling him 'swift-Kalat' like the rest of us. He gave you his soft-name, Alfvaen; that's a very good indication of how he feels about you." For Maggy's benefit, Tocohl added, "And I'd say you felt the same way, even though you had no soft-name to give in return."

Tocohl knelt to look her straight in the eye. "You have a good ear, and you can catch on quickly to the visual aspects." She grinned. "And you have a better motivation than most to learn. I'd bet money you can get all the basics on a conscious level by the time we get to Flashfever. If you're willing, that is...?"

"Willing?" And once again, Alfvaen was on her feet. In three steps, she'd set her toes once more against the broad stripe in the carpet. "All right," she said, "show me how it works in Jenji. I swear I won't move an inch."

Tocohl laughed. "You probably will-but by next week you won't."

In fact, it was the rigidly codified rules of dueling that gave Alfvaen her greatest a.s.set in learning the proxemics and kinesics of Jenji. Tocohl could explain certain uses of s.p.a.ce between two speakers in terms of the very precise movements of the duel, codifying them in Alfvaen's mind.

All in all, Tocohl was pleased with her pupil. Even now, as she fairly crackled with antic.i.p.ation, Alfvaei spoke in Jenji and carefully maintained the proper polite distance. Tocohl knew it was no easy task for her-on Alfvaen's world, physical closeness implied intimacy.

"I mean no denigration of your teaching ability Tocohl," she said, "I am only afraid that I will forget my lessons-s. If I's-stop thinking about it, I will s-step back." The emotional stress had brought her slurring back.

Tocohl's hands moved swiftly as she manually brought the Margaret Lord Lynn into geostationary orbit above the survey camp; Maggy flashed confirmation. Tocohl said, without looking up, "Take a pill and don't worry. I'll let you know when you can stop thinking about it."

(Something is bothering her,) Maggy said privately (What's wrong?) (Nothing we need worry about, Maggy,) said Tocohl in the same mode, (I'll explain it later.) Aloud, she said, "There we are. Good to know my brain hasn't atrophied. Now see if you can raise Captain Kejesli."

She glanced briefly at the serendipitist and wondered why she'd ever thought those quick green eyes pale. "Your pardon if I speak Sheveschkem?"

"What distance do I s-stand for that?"

In Jenji, it was not a joke, but Tocohl grinned back at her. "Stick to Jenji," she said. "The usual survey team is so diverse that no two members speak the same language. Don't confuse the issue."

Maggy pinged for attention; "I have Captain Rav Kejesli," she said. Tocohl pointed to an area of the screen.

A face appeared in the indicated spot, dwarfed by the full-screen display of the stormy atmosphere of Flashfever. Tocohl shifted her attention to take in Rav Kejesli. He was a stocky man with gray eyes and a worried expression. His long dark hair was elaborately beaded and clicked with each movement ofhis head. A festival pin glittered in his vest lapel-a pin of remembrance, in the northern style.

Tocohl made the northern gesture of greeting and introduced herself.

"Yes, yes," Kejesli responded. He returned the gesture automatically but he spoke in GalLing', his voice impatient. "You came because of Tinling Alfvaen?"

"No. I came at the request of swift-Kalat twis Jalakat of Jenje."

"What is it you want?"

"Your permission to land, and proper coordinates for a skiff."

"Permission denied," said Kejesli.

The words chilled her, even as Alfvaen gripped her arm convulsively. Permission to land on a planet this late in survey should have been a formality, Tocohl knew. She gripped Alfvaen's hand, answering convulsion with firmness, and waited, frowning slightly, for the bad news.

"Quarantined? Are you quarantined? Whatzh-what has-s happened?" Alfvaen demanded of him, the shock of his refusal making her slur violently despite every effort to speak plainly.

Kejesli jerked his head violently, starting a stormy rattle. "No, Alfvaen! Nothing like that! We're taking normal precautions. Everything is all right!" He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands across them as if suddenly he were very tired.

He said at last, "-No, everything is not all right. We lost Oloitokitok. But, Alfvaen, swift-Kalat is fine. There is nothing to worry about."

"Then why won't you let us-ss land?" demanded Alfvaen.

"It is my prerogative." His hand came up, the Sheveschkem shrug.

There was a single sharp movement to her side and Tocohl turned. Alfvaen stood, rigid, her right arm shoulder high, her forearm parallel to her chest. The fringe shivered with the tension of her body. "This is your choice, then! Look on me, child of fools!"

She had spoken in Siveyn, but it was clear from Kejesli's horrified expression that he knew what had happened. Tocohl addressed Kejesli brusquely in his own language, as if translating Alfvaen's words: "Your whim prevents her from fulfilling her obligation to swift-Kalat. She will challenge you if you do not reconsider your action. She's angry enough to do it, too. And if she goes to a full challenge and you don't give her satisfaction, you'll never be able to work with a Siveyn again. And she'd have judgment on her side; there would be no recourse. Is it worth that much?"

Kejesli jerked his eyes away from Alfvaen. "Veschke's sparks, no!" he said. "How-?"

"How do you get out of it?" Tocohl finished for him. "-Reverse your decision." Kejesli frowned and Tocohl switched back to GalLing'. "It's not your prerogative, Captain," she said. "We have mail."

For Kejesli to refuse the delivery of mail for anything short of the planet-wide quarantine he had just denied was unthinkable, and he accepted the excuse Tocohl provided him gratefully. "In that case," he said, "you have permission to land."

Again in Sheveschkem, Tocohl said, "Say to her, This is my choice: that you and I clasp hands and drink together." Kejesli did so, and although the words came out slightly differently in GalLing', the effect was good enough. Alfvaen slowly lowered her arm and turned her back to the screen.

"Well," Tocohl interpreted in Sheveschkem, "you're not good enough to drink with, but she'll forgo the fight."

Relief washed his features. Without taking his eyes from Alfvaen, Kejesli went on, "If you'll link with our computer, Captain Susumo, we'll transmit the coordinates you need. I suggest that you wait out the storm. Lightning is hazardous in a skiff-or any other small craft, for that matter."

"Then give me coordinates for a cla.s.s 13 trader, if you will."

He complied. When she had acknowledged receipt, he said, "I'll send a daisy-clipper to meet you as soon as the storm pa.s.ses." With one last worried look at Alfvaen, Kejesli broke contact.

Tocohl programmed her landing. While Maggy checked her figures, Tocohl responded to the survey computer's customs queries. The only item of interest was her moss cloak, and since no other moss cloak was present, customs okayed it. It always pleased Tocohl that her cloak was a one-to-a-world item.

Then she leaned back and waited quietly.At long last, Alfvaen turned back. "My apologies," she said formally, in her own tongue, "I thank you for your a.s.sistance. I had no cause to challenge. I should know Kejesli better by now. He does what he thinks MGE expects of him and nothing more."

"I'm afraid nothing is that simple. Someone on this world must have pa.s.sed the word to have you delayed," said Tocohl, "and Captain Kejesli is as good a suspect as anyone else."

At Alfvaen's shocked look of denial, Tocohl said, "Just bear it in mind." Her hands danced and the image of Flashfever swelled. "Now, I promised Kejesli mail and mail he shall have," she grinned. "Go write a letter.-And just in case Kejesli tries to restrict us further, specify hand delivery to swift-Kalat."

Alfvaen went to write a letter. Tocohl's hands danced again on the console. (Now, Maggy,) she said, (in answer to your question: Alfvaen finds swift-Kalat s.e.xually attractive-judging from the way Kejesli spoke, that's no secret. She wants to learn his language in order to be more attractive to him. She's now afraid that she'll do it badly and ruin her chances of a relationship, or of learning that he doesn't return her feeling.) (Oh,) said Maggy. (-So Alfvaen will tell him she loves him and fight a duel with her closest friend and win and be cruelly wounded?) (Wait, wait!-Veschke's sparks, Maggy, what have you been reading?!) Maggy's recital of what she had been displaying for Alfvaen lasted through planetfall. (Maggy,) said Tocohl, firmly, (we're going to have to have a long talk about fiction. I think you still misunderstand its purposes: fiction is a lie for entertainment, it's a lie the listener willingly accepts for the sake of something else.

(Alfvaen reads formula fiction. Each book, as I'm sure you've noticed, follows a set pattern, and the delight of the reader is in the variations on the theme-while the theme fulfills certain basic emotional needs. Alfvaen's a romantic: she wants to see duels fought and won at great cost for great pa.s.sion.) She broke off as Alfvaen returned, her letter prepared. Clipped to her belt was one of Maggy's hand-helds, striped diagonally with gold and purple for easy identification. Alfvaen touched it lightly and explained, "Maggy s-said to ask you if I might carry this's-so's-she could talk to me."

Tocohl gestured her permission. "That's for voice transmission only-remember, Maggy does listen unless you tell her otherwise." She looked slightly away from the Siveyn. "Maggy? Why don't you activate an arachne and poke around on your own as well?"

"You didn't tell me to," said Maggy.

"I'm telling you to, now. Check that construction in your Siveyn grammar: it indicates a non.o.bligatory suggestion or request."

Planetfall accomplished, Tocohl gathered her cloak about her and led the way to the cargo hold to await local transport. Maggy pinged for attention almost immediately, and relayed a message: "Move a.s.s, h.e.l.lspark!" said a deep, cheerful voice. "This lull won't last forever, and I've an allergy to lightning!" The words were GalLing' but the delivery was pure Jannisetti.

Tocohl glanced quickly at Alfvaen's feet. Yes, the Siveyn was wearing boots. That left only Tocohl indecent by Jannisetti standards. (Maggy, I need boots-red ones,) she added quickly, knowing that Maggy would ask. From the soles of her feet to the top of her calves, her 2nd skin turned a dark red, with st.i.tching in all the appropriate places and a darkening of shadows to suggest thickness. (Thank you.

Now let's "move a.s.s" like the lady says.) Maggy popped the hatch. Tocohl whistled her wonder and thrust her head through for a better view.

Truly, this world had been struck by the fist of Veschke!

The broad gra.s.sland below was alive with light. As the spray-laden wind rippled through it, it flickered and flashed in response. Beyond, some two kilometers, the gra.s.slands gave way to woods-and the woods themselves winked jewel-bright lights. The air was so pungent with ozone it stung her nostrils; lightning flashed, brief and spectacular, into a far-off group of stiff black structures.

A daisy-clipper edged in, cutting off her view of the shimmering world and subst.i.tuting that of a broad brandy-dark face. Still in wonder at Flashfever itself, Tocohl had enough to spare for the remarkable piloting that brought the pilot virtually nose-to-nose.

The Jannisetti woman stared back at Tocohl and then, suddenly, grinned hugely. "Good," she said,her satisfaction plain, "you pa.s.s. Wait until you see it by night-it's a Port of Delights and a firework display all rolled into one! Now, pull your eyes back in your head and let's get the h.e.l.l out of here."

Tocohl stepped lightly from Maggy's hatch into the daisy-clipper and held out a hand to a.s.sist Alfvaen. Without taking her eyes from the landscape, Tocohl made a circle of her arms. The arachne squatted on its long, spindly legs and leapt. (Close the hatch, Maggy,) she said, settling the arachne's fat round body on her lap and adjusting the legs so she could see past them.

"Buntecreih," said the Jannisetti, turning the daisy-clipper around and settling into a low fast skim toward base camp, "but everybody calls me Buntec.-The arachne won't last long here; you probably should have left it on board your ship.

"You've heard of electric eels? We have electric mice, tigers, buzzards, you name it. Corner any wildlife around here and you're in for a shock, literally." Buntec's voice turned abruptly grim. "We just lost a man that way."-Tocohl touched her forehead in acknowledgment, and Buntec went on, forcing herself to a lighter tone, "Half the wildlife, plant or animal, on this flashy planet uses electricity for defense or offense-and one good zzzzzzaaap! from an Eilo's-kiss will fuse your arachne solid. Either that, or a tape-belcher will get it."

"Tape-belcher?" said Alfvaen, and Buntec laughed. "That's right. The first time we saw one was when it swooped"-she demonstrated expressively with the hovercraft, and Tocohl clutched at the arachne to keep it on her lap-"down and scarfed up a tape recorder. Thought about it a minute, gave a horrendous belch, and barfed it right back up again. And if you think this sounds disgusting, wait until you see one!"

(Maggy, you're not to wander around until we get you full descriptions of these things. Maybe losing a mobile doesn't hurt you, but until somebody invents a cheap superconductor replacing it takes credit we could better spend other ways.) (For more memory, you mean?) (You're getting greedy, aren't you?) Tocohl grinned.

(Yes,) said Maggy. There was a pause, then she added, (Was that the right response?) (Very. On the nose. Now cut the chatter and let me find out what's going on here.) Buntec was commiserating with Alfvaen in no uncertain terms. "Yeah, I heard they dropped you after Inumaru. SOP for the s...o...b..s. Kejesli was on that one, too, wasn't he? And he didn't make any objections?"

Buntec set the craft down with an abruptness that Tocohl expected to be followed by a hard jolt-it wasn't-and answered her own question. "Naw, he wouldn't. Too worried about his own hide. I never saw such a rattlebrain!" She lifted her chunky hands from the controls, cracked her knuckles, and twisted around to face Alfvaen. "And I'll bet you thought that noise was just the doohickeys in his hair! No, I tell you, it's three loose thoughts in an otherwise empty container."

"Maybe you're right," said Alfvaen. "He didn't want us to land, and I don't think he'll let us stay."

"I fixed him." Buntec tapped her nose with self-satisfaction. "I figured from the rattling he did when he told me to pick you up that you were the last person he wanted to see, ever." Alfvaen flinched, but Buntec went on, "He may not want to see you but the rest of us do." She emphasized her point with a finger-tap, this time to Alfvaen's nose. "So I jogged his brain a bit on that count... and I made a few calls on my way out to get you. Half the survey team is waiting for you in the common room-let Old Rattlebrain try to throw you off planet with us around!"

She turned to take in Tocohl as well and added, "And wait'll the other half finds out about you, h.e.l.lspark! He'd better let you stay: we're all sick of looking at each other. With what we've just been through, we need the diversion." For a brief moment, her face darkened as she added, "Another two weeks of nothing but sprookjes and I'll tip darts and hunt Vyrnwy."

Tocohl raised an eyebrow at this last, but Buntec only spread a flattened hand and said, "Better a little harmless excitement, I say.-And I say you'll stay if I have to peel Kejesli and roll him through a field of zap-mes."

A sudden gust of wind brought a torrent of rain. "s.h.i.t," snapped Buntec, "me and my big mouth.