Or in other words, Lahettilas was fully expecting the Zhirrzh to search their luggage before turning it over to them. Not only expecting it, but rather magnanimously giving them his permission to do so.
Which was just as well. Thrr-mezaz had been planning to search the cases whether they liked it or not. "We will deliver them to you as quickly as possible," he promised the alien. "The warriors will show you inside. Someone will be here later to see you."
"And then there will be talk?" Lahettilas asked.
18
He hoped so. Nearly all of the Elders liked rainstorms, at least the quiet, civilized sort. The steady drumming of rain on the shrine; the gentle, almost tickling sensation of the drops that made it through the insect mesh to dribble onto their preserved fsss organs; the restless, capricious breezes whispering around the shrine's corners—it all made for a welcome change for them. A respite from the dreary routine and decreased sensory abilities that figured so strongly in an Elder's life.
He looked up at the sky again. On second thought, he amended, it would be better if the rain held off until next fullarc or at least much later this latearc. It would be a shame for the fleeting pleasures of a rainstorm to come when the Elders couldn't properly appreciate them. With virtually all of them clustered over in Cliffside Dales right now listening to the speakers at that Overclan-sponsored debate/discussion, the noise of a rainstorm would just be a distraction.
Across the path the other dome opened up, and a young Zhirrzh stepped outside. Thrr-aamr, freshly recruited to the position of protector of the Thrr family shrine. "Good latearc, Protector Thrr-tulkoj," he said, nodding politely at his superior. "You're here rather late."
"And going to be later still," Thrr-tulkoj told him. "I got a message a few hunbeats ago on the direct-link that Thrr-brov is ill, so I'll be taking his shift this latearc."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Thrr-aamr said. "Do you want me to call one of the Elders and have him track down a substitute?"
"Don't bother," Thrr-tulkoj said, flicking his tongue in a negative. "I'm not tired; and anyway, the Elders are all having a big argument over at Cliffside Dales. I wouldn't want to interrupt their fun."
Thrr-aamr grinned. "I understand. Anyway, I've finished the fullarc's statement and sent it across to your recorder for approval. I've also gone ahead and started the twenty-fullarc review of the current shrine population. Is there anything else I should be working on?"
"Nothing comes to mind," Thrr-tulkoj said, frowning at him. "Aren't we about two fullarcs early for a population review?"
Thrr-aamr shrugged. "I thought that, given how quiet it's likely to be this latearc, I might as well go ahead and get it started now."
Thrr-tulkoj smiled wryly. The kid might be young and fresh to the job, but already he'd caught on to the chief reason family shrines still bothered with protectors. Not to protect them, but to have someone on hand at all times for lonely Elders to talk to. "Point well taken," he said. "Sure, keep going with it."
"Yes, Protector."
Thrr-tulkoj glanced at the sky again. "On second thought, as long as you're already on your feet, why don't you go ahead and do a perimeter walk first. The initial section of a population review mostly runs itself, anyway."
"Yes, I know," Thrr-aamr said, reaching into the dome and picking up his laser rifle. "I'll be back soon," he added, slinging it over his shoulder and starting down the path toward the gate.
"No rush," Thrr-tulkoj said. "Might as well enjoy the air and make a really good check of the fence. As you said, it's going to be a quiet latearc."
"Sure thing," Thrr-aamr said.
Thrr-tulkoj stepped back into his dome and touched the door button. The curved wedge of material slid closed on its track and sealed; and as it did so, the dome abruptly seemed to vanish as the special ceramic turned one-way transparent. For a few beats he watched Thrr-aamr make his way toward the predator fence gate, now sealed for the latearc. Then, stretching once, he turned around and sat down on his couch, swiveled now to face the shrine. For a beat he gazed up at the brilliant white surface, growing dim as the sunlight faded out to the west. Then, dropping his attention to his desk, he activated his recorder and began reading Thrr-aamr's fullarc statement.
Across the darkened chambers came a quiet knock at the door. Frowning, the Prime looked up from his recorder. "Come in," he called.
The door opened. "Good latearc, Overclan Prime," Speaker Cvv-panav said as he stepped inside. "You're up late. I take it I'm not intruding?"
"Not particularly," the Prime said, not entirely truthfully. "Can I help you with something?"
"No," Cvv-panav said, closing the door behind him. "I just thought I'd stop by to tell you that it's started."
"What's started?"
"The retrieval of Thrr-pifix-a's fsss organ from her family shrine, of course," Cvv-panav said, settling himself down on the visitor's couch in front of the Prime's desk. "Surely you hadn't forgotten?"
"Hardly," the Prime said, looking at his armwatch. "I'm a bit surprised at the timing, that's all. It won't even be fully dark out in Kee'rr territory yet."
"It's dark enough," Cvv-panav assured him. "Certainly for a theft from a couple of simple and unsuspecting shrine protectors." He paused. "And, of course, the slightly early timing should help in getting the jump on all the rest of it, too."
The Prime eyed him. "All the rest of what?"
Cvv-panav smiled tightly. "Come now, Overclan Prime. You didn't really think I was foolish enough to take your story at face value, did you? Thrr-pifix-a being a threat to the stability of Zhirrzh culture, and all that?"
"That wasn't just a story," the Prime said quietly. In the darkness behind Cvv-panav, he could make out the image of the Eighteenth, hovering there listening. "Thrr-pifix-a's attitude is a genuine threat to the legal and traditional bases of Eldership. One that has cropped up more than once in the past five hundred cyclics."
"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Cvv-panav agreed. "And I have no doubt that you see it as a danger of sorts. But we both know what you see as the real threat to your power."
The Prime flicked his tongue. "You?"
"Very good," Cvv-panav said approvingly. "No feigned surprise; no false astonishment. And all by itself it proves that I'm right."
The Eighteenth was still there, still listening. An emergency communication link that Cvv-panav didn't know about, should this whole thing go badly wrong. "You're wrong," the Prime told Cvv-panav. "I guessed only because I understand how you think. That you see yourself as one of the High Warriors of old, who will lead the Dhaa'rr to glorious domination of the eighteen worlds. The breakwater that all other Zhirrzh must throw themselves against, to destroy or else be destroyed by."
"All politics is warfare, Overclan Prime," Cvv-panav said. "All of life is, for that matter. It's a battle of wills and of strength. Of course you're out to destroy me. That's the natural order of things."
"And where does cooperation come in?"
Cvv-panav sniffed contemptuously. "Cooperation was invented by people who didn't have enough strength to win what they really wanted. You and I are warriors, Overclan Prime. We're beyond such things."
The Prime flicked his tongue in disgust. "You've certainly recreated the attitude of the old High Warriors—I'll give you that much. Enough of this, and we won't need the Human-Conquerors to destroy our culture for us."
"I would say it's precisely that warrior attitude that we need right now," Cvv-panav countered. "You can bet the Human-Conquerors didn't grow to dominate all within their reach by making compromises with inferior peoples. Tell me about CIRCE."