Seemingly, even this was not appropriate. An expression of outright panic showed on the man’s face. Good Lord, what had she said now?
“We have made arrangements,” he said. “A balloon-car. Perhaps this first time, until you are more familiar.”
“Whatever you think best,” she said firmly, disabusing him of any notion he might have that she would make difficulties. “We are completely in your hands.”
His face cleared. “Your cooperation is much appreciated, Lady Marjorie.”
She forced herself to smile over the screaming impatience inside her. She had been testy ever since they had arrived. Testy and hungry. No matter how much she ate, it did not seem to quell the sick emptiness inside her. “Let us take up the matter of titles, Obermun bon Haunser.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
She decided to make the point she had been wanting to make about the difference between Sanctity and Terra. “At home, on planet Terra, among those who once called themselves Saints and now identify themselves as the Sanctified, I would be addressed simply as Matron Yrarier. Men are either Boy or Husband. Women are either Girl, or (briefly) Bride, or Matron. Both sexes are at some pains to marry early and lose the titles of childhood. We — that is, our family — are not among the Sanctified. I do not regard any of Sanctity’s female titles as pertaining to myself.
“I am, however, Terran. In my childhood home, the area called Lesser Britain, I am Marjorie, Lady Westriding, my widower father’s eldest child. ‘Lady Marjorie’ would only be correct if I were a younger daughter. Also, I have the honor of being the Master of the Westriding Hunt. The position was offered me, I believe, because of my good fortune at the Olympics”
He looked interested but without comprehension. “Olympics?”
“A Terran contest of various athletic skills, including horsemanship,” she said gently. If there was much the Yrariers did not know about Grass, there were many things the Grassians did not know about the Yrariers, as well. “I rode in what is called puissance jumping, in which the horse cannot see what is beyond the barrier, and that barrier is well over his head.” He showed no comprehension. “You do not have that here, I see. Well, I did that, and dressage riding, which is a very gentle sport, and endurance riding, which is not. I was what is called a gold medalist. Roderigo was a medalist also. It is how we met.” She smiled, making a deprecatory gesture. Obviously the poor man knew nothing about all this. “So, I might be called Lady Westriding or Madam Yrarier or Master, though the latter is appropriate only on the hunting field. Perhaps there is some title given to ambassadors or their wives here on Grass? It would be convenient for me to know what title would be considered acceptable.”
Despite his initial ignorance, he had followed all of this closely. “Not, I think, Madam Yrarier,” he mused. “Marital titles are not customary except between family leaders, that is in ‘bon’ families. Each family has one Obermun and one Obermum, almost always husband and wife, though it might be mother and son. There are seven aristocratic families currently, quite large families by now: Haunser, Damfels, Maukerden, Laupmon, Smaerlok, Bindersen, and Tanlig; and these families use the prefatory ‘bon,’ before their names. When a child results from a liaison between members of these families, it is given a surname by either the father or the mother, depending upon what family the child will be part of, and thereafter continues in that name whether later married or not.”
“Ah,” she mused “So, in meeting a woman or child, I will not know—”
“You will not know the relationship. Not by the name, Lady Westriding. We are a country people, sparsely scattered upon a small part of our world. Long ago we fled the oppression of Sanctity and the crowding of Terra” — his raised brows told her he had taken her point — “and have had no wish to allow either upon Grass. Though some estancias have been lost, we have never added another estancia to the initial number — except for Opal Hill, of course, but we did not build that. We know one another and one another’s grandfathers and grandmothers back to the time of settlement. We know who liaised with whom, and what child is the child of whom. It seems to me appropriate you should be called Marjorie Westriding or Lady Westriding. This places you upon the proper level in your own right. As for learning who everyone else is… you will need someone who knows. Perhaps I could recommend someone to you as secretary, some lateral family member, perhaps.,…”
“Lateral?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow, shivering a little at the chill in the room.
He was instantly solicitous. “You are cold. Shall we return to the winter quarters? Though spring is imminent, it will still be more comfortable below for the next few weeks.”
They left the high, cold room and the long, chill corridors to go down a long flight of stairs into the winter house, the cold weather house, into other rooms where the walls were warm with grass-cloth, cozy with firelight and lamps and soft, bright couches. Marjorie sank into one of these with a sigh of relief. “You were speaking of my hiring as secretary a ‘lateral family member’?”
“Someone parented by a bon, but on one side only. Perhaps with the name, but without the bon.”
“Ah. Does this represent a great handicap? This lack of a bon?” She smiled to show she meant it teasingly. Still, when he answered, it was with such a stiffness as to tell her it was no laughing matter.
“It means one has a commoner parent. Such a person would not live on an estancia except in a service capacity and would not attend the summer balls. One without the bon would not Hunt.”
“Aha,” she said to herself, wondering whether the Honorable Lord Roderigo Yrarier and his wife would be considered sufficiently bon to hunt or attend the summer balls. Perhaps this had been the reason for that business about the Hunt and the delay with the horses. Perhaps the status of the whole mission was somewhat in question.
Poor horses, lying there all cold and dead, no warm stable, no oats, dreaming, if horses dreamed, of a fence too high to jump and green grass always out of reach, unable even to twitch.
Aloud she said, “Obermun bon Haunser, I am extremely grateful for all your kindness. I shall send Anthony down to the port tomorrow in one of the fliers you have so thoughtfully provided. Perhaps you will have someone meet him there to assist him with the horses. Perhaps some kind of trailer or provisions truck can be obtained?”
“This was our dilemma, Lady Westriding. Our culture does not allow vehicle tracks across the grasses. Your animals must be airlifted here. One does not drive here and there on Grass. One flies. As quietly as possible. Except in the port area and Commoner Town, of course. Surrounded as it is by forest, roads are quite appropriate there.”
“How interesting,” she murmured. “However it is done, I am sure you will attend to it impeccably. Then, if you will be so gracious as to recommend one or two people who know the way things are done on Grass, perhaps I can begin furnishing the residence and making the acquaintance of some of our neighbors.”
He bowed. “Certainly, Lady Westriding, certainly. We will requisition a cargo vehicle from the commoners. And in one week’s time we have arranged for you to observe the Hunt at the bon Damfels estancia. It will give you the opportunity to meet many of your hosts.” He bowed again, taking himself away, out the door and up the stairs to exit through that empty house. She heard his voice echoing there as he greeted the other bon and departed with him. “Hosts,” he had said. Not neighbors. She, wondering if he had meant what the distinction implied, was very much aware of the difference.