Jesus, am I a dope. “Allow me to compliment you, and the First Voice of the First Family, upon your command of English.”
“The First Voice of the First Family chose to learn it for this occasion; I have had the advantage of long training. To return to your question: we have long been undecided how to address one of your warriors. It seemed an unnecessary question to answer-until now.”
“Well, Advocate, the quandary you left unanswered now stands before you in the flesh.” Caine indicated Richard, who stared at him.
“This male, Richard of the Family Downing, until injured in one leg, was an elite warrior in his youth-and a commander of as many as fifty such elite warriors who were of lesser rank.”
Yaargraukh swung far back-surprise? First Voice seemed to rear up higher: he looked down-but directly into Richard’s eyes. “You are a warrior? In answering, you may address me directly.”
Richard shrugged. “Yes, I was-a long time ago.”
“This answer is no answer: one never stops being a warrior. One is, or one dies.”
Yaargraukh intervened. “With respect, First Voice of the First Family, consider your own cousin, Uungsk’srel Swift-Eye: although he lost both legs in the Eighth Zh’t’zhree Dispute, he has yet to lose a challenge.”
First Voice reflected for a moment. “This is true. And he speaks more war-wisdom with each passing year.”
Downing, emboldened, leaned closer to Yaargraukh, mimicking their body language. “Pardon me, but how can a legless Hkh’Rkh prevail in combat?”
“Not all challenge is combat, Richard of the Family Downing. The one who is challenged chooses the means of its resolution. Uungsk’srel Swift-eye, having lost his ability to fight, now always chooses contests of the mind; he is largely held to be invincible, and is now but rarely challenged.”
Richard turned halfway toward Caine: “Like the old code duello; the man challenged chooses the weapons.”
Yaargraukh had stepped a little closer. “So you remain a warrior?”
“I remain unafraid of challenges.”
“This is well-answered-but we cannot yet know what it means in terms of honor.”
First Voice waggled his neck. “Some questions are answered simply by living with them. So you may guide us to your food, Richard of the Family Downing-and if you are careful in your tone, so that there is no hint of challenge, you may speak to me directly.”
Richard had regained his composure-and his diplomatic acumen. “I am honored, First Voice of the First Family. And I would first take you to meet a human I suspect you shall find even more perplexing in the matter of human honor than I am.”
“How so?”
“He is a great warrior and war-captain-and recently rescued his sister from abductors, slaying half a dozen single-handedly to do so. He is also the son of a great warrior and a great general. His name is Trevor Corcoran; would it please you to meet him?”
First Voice’s spine fur had spiked straight up and was quivering. “Show me this human.” They went into the room together.
Yaargraukh lingered behind a moment. “It has been gratifying to meet you, Caine of the Family Riordan. I noticed your name in the human self-reference; I would speak with you again.”
I’m in the self-reference? What the hell for? Aloud: “I would welcome that, Yaargraukh. If you have heard many of our broadcasts, then you will know humans often agree to such invitations merely to be polite, but I mean it when I say that I look forward to our next meeting. Very much.”
Yaargraukh leaned closer; at this range, the odor of his breath was discernible: it was a cross between musk and fresh-mown clover. “We shall speak again before this evening ends.” He placed one of his massive hands at the base of the immense, smooth slope of his ribcage. “My honor.” He pony-nodded and followed First Voice’s entourage.
Chapter Forty-Six
ODYSSEUS
Caine watched as Yaargraukh’s hulking back disappeared among those of his fellow Hkh’Rkh. If most of the Hkh’Rkh are like him, we’re in good shape, but if they’re mostly like Graagkhruud-Caine elected not to proceed down that speculative path. He returned to the buffet tables, where a cluster of Dornaani had surrounded Visser, possibly because she was standing in front of-and preventing access to-the seafood dishes.
Caine announced his approach with the Dornaani greeting: “Enlightenment unto you.”
Alnduul turned halfway, so that his back faced neither Caine nor Visser; a very wrinkled Dornaani joined him in his change of facing. “Enlightenment unto you, Caine Riordan. I wish to introduce Third Arbiter Glayaazh.”
Recent reading triggered a connection: the Third Arbiter was the number three spot in the Dornaani Collective. So that’s who was representing their race down in the dome today. Caine made the splay-fingered gesture; the raisinlike Glayaazh responded in kind, lids half closed.
Caine spoke as he moved over to Visser’s side. “It is a great honor to meet you, Third Arbiter.” He took Visser’s elbow gently, towed her closer to Alnduul-and away from the food. The other Dornaani moved into the vacated space and began daintily yet greedily emptying the trays. Visser remained oblivious to anything but Glayaazh.
Who spoke softly. “As I was remarking to your ambassador, your patience was exemplary this day. But more important, so was your decision not to reciprocate the inconsideration of others. This is the sign of a mature race; we are honored to have you here.”
“I wish others felt the same way.”
“Surely, some do. However, I do not believe that any of today’s difficulties reflects an attitude toward your species. Rather, these behaviors were intended to exacerbate disputes already extant in the Accord.”
“Then it would seem to me, sir, that-”
Glayaazh’s mouth made a quick quarter-rotation. “You may wish to know that, according to your conventions of address, it would be more accurate to title me ‘madame.’”
Caine felt his face grow warm briefly. “Glayaazh-ma’am-my sincere apologies.”
“They are unneeded, but it if puts you at ease, I accept them. Now, you were preparing to offer an observation?”
“I was simply going to remark that if this is the usual degree of discord and tension, then the ‘Accord’ is a rather oxymoronic title for this organization.”
A tiny ripple distressed Alnduul’s perpetual pout. “Well said. And, sadly, true. Particularly since any failure to resolve these frictions is indicative of our failure as Custodians.”
“That seems an overly harsh self-assessment, Alnduul. But, on a practical level, since we do not know what the Accord’s current tensions pertain to, it is difficult for us to know how best to proceed.”
“We are aware of, and regret, this.” Glayaazh considered the small bowl which, minutes before, had held a thorough sampling of the sashimi: the fish was gone, the rice remained. “I must also remark that despite your artfully oblique inquiry, I cannot tell you more about these disagreements.” A pause. “Not at this time.”
Caine remained calm, even as he grasped after the thin strand of hope that Glayaazh had just proffered. “Can you tell us more about these disagreements before we return to Earth?”
“I would like to do so.”
Visser folded her hands. “May I speak frankly?”
“Of course.”
“It is of great importance to us to better understand the frictions to which you allude. So when deciding whether you will share this information with us, what will determine your course of action?”
“Why, your course of action.” Glayaazh placed her bowl delicately on the nearest buffet table. “You must excuse me: I tire easily. The ceviche was particularly delectable. I thank you.” She splayed her fingers-“Enlightenment unto you”-and started toward the exit.
Caine moved his arms to return her gesture-and barely stifled a gasp of pain: there was a sudden uncomfortable spasm in the arm which had been wounded during the assassination attempt on Mars. Damn. He rubbed the small scar: the spasm-not really a pain-had been a surprise, since the injury hadn’t bothered him for at least two weeks. He looked up: Visser had left along with Alnduul, attending Glayaazh and her retinue to the exit.