“Sit,” he said.
The Keidi watched Martin intently as he lifted the wooden staff from the chair, then placed it across his lap as he turned and sat down. It was about two meters long and smelled faintly of some oily preservative. About one-third of the distance from one end it had been tightly wrapped with thin rope to give a secure and comfortable grip to a Keidi hand, and the other end came to a blunt point which was tipped with metal. The Keidi’s watchful attitude made him wonder if the staff represented more than a mere aid to travel, and if the gift might be a test of some kind. Slowly, he lifted it from his lap and laid it on the ground at his feet. As he sat back, Beth hesitated then did the same.
“Thank you,” he said, leaving it unclear whether he was referring to the invitation to sit or the gift of the staff.
Beth slapped suddenly at the side of her neck and the
Keidi said, “They breed in the mud and are particularly hungry at this time of year. Later I can give you an ointment to repel them, but you may well prefer the insect bites to the smell.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Beth said.
Martin thought of the variety of chemical and vibratory insect killers available to them on the ship, and forced himself to remain silent. For some reason the Keidi preferred talking to Beth.
“Your offer to dry out our mud was refused,” the other went on, “because we do not like or trust Galactics, and will do everything in our power to avoid obligating ourselves to them.”
It was time he rejoined the conversation, Martin thought. He said, “This is our first landing on your world. Can you tell us anything about the situation here? If such a question is not deemed to be an impertinence or an intrusion on your privacy, that is, and you are free to talk about it.”
“I am free,” the Keidi said, “to talk.”
But he did not talk again for several minutes, during which Beth and Martin watched him attentively and more and more people came out to watch the three of diem. Finally, he widened the focus on his horn to include them both, and spoke.
“I have skills which are important to this community,” the Keidi said, “and for that reason I am not completely trusted, and that is why we are sitting out here in the cold. It is to show them that I have nothing to hide, that you are not trying to bribe, threaten, seduce, or otherwise influence me to leave them and not, as you may have thought, because I am ashamed to show you the inside of my home.
“Why did you lay your staff on the ground?” he added, swinging the horn around to bear on Martin. “Your familiarity with the local customs makes me uneasy.”
..Martin looked down at the staff, then said quietly, action wasn’t calculated, it was simply that battle staff on my lap felt awkward and unnecessary, the natural thing to do was to place it on the floor.
The horn and the eyes remained focused on him for a long moment, then the Keidi said, “The natural thing for someone like you to do would have been to drive the staff into the ground beside your chair, where it would have been within easy reach in case of sudden attack on you. This action would have symbolized a bloodless attack on our territory and signified to us that, while you were presently unguarded, you had powerful support and any harm or insult offered you would have brought dire retribution. You are Galactics, after all; such power is available to you.”
He looked toward the lander and the black and silver emblem prominently displayed on its hull, and went on. “Had you done the natural thing, we would have exchanged a few words about the weather or something equally unimportant, then you would have had to return to your ship because nobody else would have spoken to you. But you did not do the natural thing, you did the right thing. You voluntarily disarmed yourselves as is the custom when one is among family or close friends. It is unusual for complete ignorance and correct behavior to go together.”
He paused for a moment to hold both hands palm upward for a moment, then stood up.
“There is nothing I can tell you about this stinking, inhabited swamp we call home,” he went on, “that could possibly interest a couple of Galactics. Much more important things are being done in the First’s Estate, but special permission is required before overflying his territory…”
“We are not Galactic Citizens,” Martin broke in, hiding his disappointment over what seemed to be the sudden end of the meeting while trying desperately to prolong it. “And we would much rather talk to people who did not fire missies at us. And to strangers like us, all news is interesting, and probably important. Besides, we are taught that it is theoretically possible to discover and deduce everything that there is to know about any planetary culture simply by talking to one of its members, given the opportunity and sufficient time.”
“Sufficient…” the Keidi began, and made a startled, braying sound. “The few years remaining to me are insufficient for such a project and, forgetful though I have become, I do not remember offering extended hospitality. Quickly, bring your chairs inside.”
“Is it all right?” Martin asked anxiously, looking at the distant circle of watchers who were becoming fewer by the moment. “Do they trust us now?”
“No,” the Keidi said, “but it’s going to rain.”
The first large drops were slapping into the mud as they entered the shelter.
They followed him into a small, unlit, outer room, stumbling against what felt like a long, thin table and several chairs similar to the two they were carrying, and through a heavy curtain into what was plainly the Keidi’s living quarters. By the light of two wall-mounted candles Martin could make out the dim outlines of a bed, one big, low, thickly padded chair, a few large and small tables, wall cupboards, and many well-filled bookshelves, although not all of them were filled with books. The entire surface of one wall was covered by staves, mounted horizontally and labeled as if they were trophies of some kind. A few of them were decorated with colored bands and carvings and had long, highly polished metal ferrules, while the majority of them had the warped, knobbly look which suggested they had been whittled from the branches of young trees. There were two empty places in the display which, Martin felt sure, their newly acquired staves had occupied.
Although there were no ventilation openings visible, the room smelled fresh and clean except for the faint, acrid odor of the candles. Both the visibility and the smell increased as the Keidi moved around the room lighting more of them.
“An interesting collection,” Martin said, nodding toward the wall and trying to find something complimentary to say about the place.
“Most of them were sent to me when their owners died,” the Keidi said, “and some are the gifts of important people who felt obligated to me. I like to look at them when, as sometimes happens, I wonder if I am as content here as I expected to be. But I can only use one at a time, so you may keep those two as long as you need them.”
Martin, who had been about to replace his staff on the wall, wondered what kind of being this was who would lend his trophies, which occupied pride of place in the room, to a couple of strangers.
“We, too, are obligated to you,” Martin said.
“You are,” the Keidi said, dropping heavily into his seat and motioning for them to bring their own chairs closer. Even on those totally alien features Martin thought that he could read incredulity as he went on. “If two of you are going to deduce the details of our entire culture by questioning only me, you had better begin.”
“The questions,” Martin said carefully, “would include asking why some people shoot missies at us while others extend hospitality.”
“Some people,” the Keidi replied, “maintain themselves in constant readiness for war, and react violently against any threat to their security. A Federation World ship would be seen as the ultimate threat. Then there are other people, some very selfish, unscrupulous, culturally undernourished people, like myself, who might consider the surrender of half a day’s time and two well balanced staves a fair exchange for the chance to talk to beings whose background and thought processess are unfamiliar. Will you answer as well as ask questions?”