Peters ignored that. “Our ship operator will arrive in a few moments. He will take you back to your ship so that you may ask what the schedule is to be. Will you want him to wait, or can you find your own way back here?”
“No! This is not acceptable!”
“Nor is it ideal for us,” Peters pointed out. “We had intended to use the dli for a few llor of relaxation, visiting the points of interest. Now we must give it up to ferry underlings about, but it’s better than standing around waiting to be taken notice of.”
“I am not authorized to do this,” Gool wailed.
“Imagine our concern,” Peters said, so flatly the other winced. “Ah. Here is our ship operator.”
“Hey, Peters,” said Gell as he came up, with the arm-lifted salute. “This why you teach me English?”
“Naw, but it can be handy, can’t it?” He grinned. “Mind takin’ a little trip?”
“Reckon not.” Gell looked the stranger over. “He don’t look like much.”
“He ain’t much. Just a flunky.” Peters switched to the Trade: “Gell, I introduce Gool, a low-precedence representative of the ferassi. He needs transportation back to his ship, so that we may determine what the delay is and what the new schedule will be. Gool, Gell will deliver you to your ship. If you think the business can be concluded quickly he can wait.”
“No,” Gool said, looking and sounding trapped. “No, it wouldn’t be that quick in the best of cases. I or another will return later.”
“Soon, or so I hope. Be off with you.” Peters waved idly. “Gell, you might take along a pencil and paper, make a few notes, y’know? And certain events of the recent past ain’t for discussion, if you take my meanin’.”
“Yeah, no prob,” said Gell with a wink. “Let us go,” he said to Gool. “I was about to take a meal, and I want to get this over with.”
“Yes,” Gool said dully.
“This way,” Gell told him in a brisk tone, and took him by the upper arm to escort him off. Gool went without enthusiasm but without a struggle, and the pilot threw a flash of grin over his shoulder as they left the hall.
“You took a rather stronger line than I might have in this situation,” Prethuvenigis remarked without particular emphasis. “Overawing underlings is not a particularly difficult exercise.”
“Hmph.” Peters straightened from his deliberately idle pose and released his tension in a spate of English: “No, browbeatin’ peons ain’t real useful, but when the whole thing’s stuck, you push on the bits you can get at and hope for somethin’ to wiggle. I reckon Gool done wiggled a little.”
“Kh kh kh!” Prethuvenigis laughed full-throated, like a fifty-caliber letting off a burst. “Yes, our friend Gool has certainly wiggled. Whatever happens, this is almost certain to be entertaining.”
“Entertainment may be all we get,” Peters observed sourly. “From the way he acts I reckon Mr. Gool ain’t got much horsepower.”
“I fear you’re right.” Prethuvenigis smiled and went back to the Trade: “Gell mentioned food. Since we won’t be having a meeting, a meal would be a good way to pass the time.”
“Yes… Let’s check the restaurant here,” Peters agreed with a nod. “From what I saw as we approached, the surrounding area seems not to offer much in the way of amenities.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The view down the valley made Peters homesick, not a feeling he much relished. He’d enjoyed being a sailor; the ocean was so agreeably flat. A wide verandah with a roof supported by turned columns of unfinished wood looked off into the hazy far distance between heavily wooded peaks. Gell found him there, sitting in a rocking chair, reading.
“What are you reading?” the Grallt pilot asked as he settled into an adjacent seat.
Peters held the book up. “I brought it with me from the ship, in case there were idle moments. It purports to be a book of philosophy.”
“It sounds dry.”
“That’s not the adjective I’d choose. The author maintains that objective reality cannot be established, that each of us experiences a different Universe.”
Gell grinned. “I remember as children, we tried to establish whether each of us saw colors the same… we reached no definite resolution, as I recall.”
“Yes, I had the same experience. It’s not something I’d thought of in this connection; thank you for the insight.”
“You’re welcome, I’m sure.”
Peters nodded, placed a strip of cloth at the page he was perusing, and closed the book with a snap. “So. You delivered Gool to his ship, I take it?”
“Yes… the experience contained some moments I’d prefer not to repeat. The ferassi are not a welcoming folk.”
“No red carpet was spread, or so I would assume.”
“Carpet?”
Peters waved that off. “Your pardon, an allusion to one of our aphorisms. What happened?”
Gell looked around. There were several others sitting on the porch, mostly Grallt and n’saith and a single bulky zeref. “I’m not comfortable discussing it with others nearby,” he confessed.
“Speak English,” Peters suggested. “It ain’t likely anybody here can make it out.”
“I ain’t got enough words,” Gell said, and wrinkled his forehead.
Peters surveyed his surroundings. “Perhaps we should take a walk.” He gestured at the woods near the inn, where a marked path wound between the trees.
“In there? It seems isolated and dangerous. I’m not an especially brave person.”
“Hah!” Peters chuckled. “I spent my childhood in a similar environment, and have walked part of that trail. From my point of view it is so well-tended as to be very nearly urban.”
“From my point of view it seems to offer all the amenities of primitive wilderness, including teeth and claws concealed in the trees,” Gell retorted in good humor. “But if you’ll assure me that you’ll ward off the predators, I’ll give it a try.”
“It is an axiom that… hm, how shall I translate it? My father’s father says the most dangerous thing in any forest is a hungry man.”
“True on a ship as well. Hm. Very well, let’s go.”
They walked across the lawn and set off down the trail, which wound along a contour of the slope. It was paved with pea-gravel between carefully-set stones and crunched underfoot. After a few minutes Gell offered, “Perhaps we are isolated enough here. The forest makes me nervous.”
Peters shook his head. “Well it should. As a child I could approach within a few eights of tell, perhaps less, under such conditions, without your being the wiser. What we want is an open area. I believe such is just ahead.”
They came out in a clearing perhaps two acres in extent. An outcropping near the center provided seats. “This is probably sufficient,” Peters said, looking around. “No one can approach closely, but keep your voice down.”
“For some reason I don’t feel like shouting,” Gell said wryly.
“That’s not an uncommon feeling.” Peters grinned. “To tell the truth, I feel much the same. My childhood was long ago… what did you find out?”
Gell settled back against a sun-warmed stone. “The ferassi are not a welcoming people,” he repeated. When Peters nodded understanding he went on: “The ferassi vessel is a quarter the size of Llapaaloapalla in each dimension, perhaps as much as a third, and has no internal bays for landing. It is necessary to set down on the dorsal surface, and trust the zifthkakik to provide air to breathe if you have no airsuit. We approached the ship from aft, and immediately they began showing the wave-off pattern, denying me permission to land. I persisted in my approach, and they produced the green lights you may recall from not long ago—”
“Yes.” Peters produced a wry smile. “In my culture, a green light means ‘proceed’. Not so here.”