by Sharon Rose
Travannesal uncoiled the chain he still held, much like the one draped across his daughter’s torso. He flipped it over his head. “These chains,” he said, clipping a link to the shoulder of his tunic, “identify ruling family members—topaz for Frayunomen. The primary attaches both sides at the shoulder.” He clipped the other side, anchoring the chain to hang as far down his back as his chest. “All other family members”—he smiled on Pernanyen—“only attach one side.”
Kena let her eyelids droop as Ghent responded with a comment about Plynteth customs. Oh, what pleasure to hear casual conversation between former enemies. When NorGah removed his collar, she asked, “May I see that up close?”
He brought it to the sofa and spread it out for her.
The points of the two emeralds touched within a jet setting. She traced around them with her fingertip. “Humans call this shape an infinity symbol.” She lifted the mesh, tilting the stones so light flickered through them. “These are beautifully cut gems.”
His eyes, a mixture of brown and gold, focused on her neckline. “You wear emeralds, too. Do they have particular significance?”
She touched her pendant. “It’s a gift from my parents. Jewelry is decorative, but gemstones imply that the recipient is valued.”
TarKeen returned with ShenLee. She looked so petite next to him in a colorful tunic. The hemline, trailing on one side, swung with her fluttery movement.
Kena rose and drew Antony with her. She introduced him to ShenLee, then learned a few more details of what had happened. Just now released from confinement? No wonder she was so animated.
ShenLee studied every detail of Kena’s dress. “Does it flow well with dance?”
“You decide,” Antony said. He led Kena through a few steps of swing dance, including a spin that ended with her held snug against his side.
ShenLee swayed. “Oh, yes! This gives me the most wonderful idea for a new tunic.”
Kena smiled up at TarKeen. “You were right.”
“Of course,” he said with the hint of a smile. He still looked inscrutable, probably always would, but no one could say he didn’t appear content.
Behind her, Ghent said, “I’m still wondering what you and Jenarsig meant about the balance between PitKree and Laundun. Does Pernanyen’s reinstatement cause an unintended consequence?”
No one answered, and Kena turned to see their reactions.
Travannesal looked up at NorGah from the sofa.
NorGah joined those who were already seated. “A problem could develop, though the removal of Kell is the actual cause.”
“I am concerned,” Travannesal said. He turned to TarKeen and swept his hand toward the seating area.
TarKeen drew two chairs together and sat with ShenLee, while Antony and Kena returned to the vacant sofa across from Travannesal and Pernanyen.
Travannesal continued as they settled. “Losing a ruling family could diminish PitKree influence, possibly at a critical time. A situation I do not want to see.”
“Nor do we,” NorGah said. “It’s a risk we recognized, but we didn’t feel we could delay removing Kell until we found candidate families to replace it. As long as no one claims that Kell cannot be replaced, the issue will resolve before it harms.”
“What are your plans?” Travannesal asked.
“The three PitKree ruling families want to select a replacement for Kell, then ask for a confirming vote from all seven. Since the PitKree would have already agreed, we would only need one more vote from among the Laundun.”
“Do you want to make the case that only the PitKree should vote?”
“I don’t. At some point, Jenarsig will be”—NorGah’s nostrils pinched—“past effectiveness. Since he won’t even choose an heir, the primaries must decide whether to retire him. I want the PitKree to vote on that matter, so I will not ask the Laundun to abstain from the replacement of Kell. Our only concern is that the Laundun might select a candidate themselves and all four vote unanimously.”
Travannesal seemed to choose his words carefully. “I would find it disturbing to see the Laundun choose the PitKree replacement family. There would need to be a compelling reason.”
“Naturally, we prefer consensus,” NorGah said. “The Laundun are welcome to suggest candidates. Do you have any recommendations?”
“The family of Dain,” Travannesal said. “Starting with the line of Commander TarKeen.”
“What a surprise,” NorGah murmured, showing none. The corners of his lips twitched as he focused on their wide-eyed candidate. “Ah, but perhaps we have surprised TarKeen.”
He rushed his answer. “I have never aspired to that.”
“That’s good.” NorGah uttered a faint laugh. “Because it would have been illegal earlier.”
“Even now, I do not seek it.”
NorGah narrowed his eyes, studying TarKeen. “What do you seek?”
He looked at ShenLee before answering. “The one commission I long for would be to captain a ship assigned to search for a new PitKree home-world.” He glanced at Leonfir, with a hint of a smile. “Legally, not by mutiny.”
Leonfir laughed. “I always knew I would lose you if PitKree were allowed more opportunities to captain. I did not expect to lose you to government, though.”
“Indeed, I do not wish for that.”
“That’s good, too,” NorGah said, “because Dain would start as non-ruling. You would have no direct involvement but will need to raise at least one of your children fit to be the primary member of Dain.”
“I have no idea how to raise children for government,” TarKeen said, “and I would rarely be on-planet.”
An ironic tone crept into NorGah’s voice. “I guarantee that the family of Pont will assist with education—perhaps others will also—but the skills are essentially leadership. That, you already possess. As a captain, you would demonstrate it daily in sight of your children. The entire point of a non-ruling generation is to keep the perspective of common vocations involved in our government.”
NorGah kept his focus on TarKeen. “Think a little further. If you are dedicated to the search, hopefully with more than one ship, you will probably find our new home-world in your lifetime. So, your children would be on-planet. Just on the new PitKreel, rather than Elaundun.” NorGah’s brow lifted. “When the PitKree ruling families eventually relocate to our new home-world, it will be critical that at least one of them understands the colonists and the planet.”
TarKeen nodded. “That is a good point.”
“I’m puzzled, though,” NorGah said, looking at ShenLee, sitting thigh-to-thigh with TarKeen. “I was told you are not married.”
Finally, a broad smile dispelled TarKeen’s impassive expression. He rubbed his fingers along ShenLee’s. “That is likely to change in the very near future.”
She smiled up at him and murmured, “Certain to change…”
NorGah angled his head. “ShenLee, do you have ancient memory?”
“Yes, from before PitKreel’s destruction.”
“The three of us,” NorGah said, “will talk more later, though not until you’ve had time to…” His eyes strayed to Kena and Antony. “Ah, but wait. There is another point I want to understand. Kena, you said TarKeen knew more about Humans than the rest of us. What did you mean?”
She cocked an eyebrow at Antony, and he nodded. It was time. “TarKeen, I gather you have not told them yet of events on Dur?”
“No,” he said. “I was unable to share with any except ShenLee.” He turned to YefRon. “Have you told anyone?”
“Not yet. It’s too astonishing to be lightly spoken. I have a medical report ready, and I’m willing to link.”
“Then, perhaps you can show Travannesal, while I show NorGah.”
Kena shared a smile with Antony and Ghent, then waited. What would their reactions be? TarKeen finished first, then went to link with Leonfir, while NorGah sat blinking, his brow drawn tight. Pernanyen watched him, her chest swaying so fast that it seemed her
clamped lips were the only thing holding back a deluge of curiosity. Kena fought the urge to giggle.
When YefRon finished with Travannesal, the two primaries stared at each other for a moment. Travannesal closed his eyes and leaned back. Wanting time without speech, no doubt.
Pernanyen grasped YefRon’s arm. “Please show me.”
“Tomorrow. You should rest more.”
She flung a hand at the primaries, and her voice squeaked. “With the way these two look? You’re going to tell me to wait?”
Kena laughed as YefRon said, “You’ve had four deep—”
Pernanyen jumped up and darted over to perch on the end of the sofa where Kena sat. “You understand, don’t you? Please, will you show me?”
Kena nodded, her eyes still scrunched. She drew a breath and differentiated. Pernanyen accepted her link with no more surprise than a blissful intake of breath.
Kena kept it light but revealed the event and her own understanding. Though Antony’s body was dead in that horrible moment, Antony himself still existed. Kena felt Pernanyen draw her hairline back as she grappled with the idea of someone being dead but still alive. Best leave it at that for now. Kena withdrew.
Pernanyen leaned sideways against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.
When Travannesal began questioning, Antony gave an explanation similar to his words on the Ontrevay. His death was hard for them to grasp. Even YefRon’s documentation seemed to puzzle them.
Pernanyen finally entered the conversation. “His body died, but Kena knew that he, the inner part of him—spirit and mind—is always alive. Don’t you recognize this? It reminds me of the Founding Words.”
The unique pronunciation caught Kena’s attention. “What are the Founding Words?”
The door opened, and an aide said, “Sir, Gwillenin requests—”
A high-pitched squeal drowned him out. “Kena!” A pearly-haired child leapt from the arms that held her and darted into the room. She dashed around the furniture and flung herself into Kena’s lap.
Kena laughed and drew the child to her chest. “Oh, my little Pearl.”
Wide, brown eyes, generously flecked with gold, stared adoringly at her. “Kena! Kena! Kena!” Pearl chirped. She couldn’t hold still, first pressing her cheek to Kena’s breast than leaning back to hold Kena’s face between two little hands, then bouncing on Kena’s legs.
“This is Jennellee, though I call her Pearl,” Kena said to Antony. “Isn’t she the sweetest child!”
“Absolutely.”
Kena introduced Gwillenin, who lingered by the door, twining her fingers, then taught Pearl to say Antony’s name. Pearl settled down and laid her head on Kena’s chest, her honey-brown skin emphasizing the white sheen of her hair.
At last, Kena could return to the question still clamoring within her. “Pernanyen, what are the Founding Words?”
“They are myths and fables,” she said. “We still use some of them to teach children about choices. The earliest myth tells of a creator who infused a special kind of life into two creatures, female and male. They looked like us, but were supposedly—well, more like animals until that moment. An explanation, you see, of how the Laundun came to be. The PitKree have similar stories from before we met them. So close, in fact, culturalists argue that we share common ancestry, even though physical scientists say it’s impossible.”
“How similar are they?” Antony asked.
“Common themes but different stories,” Travannesal replied, holding Kena’s gaze. “For instance, a Laundun fable refers to the knotted threads of a tapestry as decisions that combine into the picture of our life.”
He watched her for a moment, and she realized her lips had parted. Her words to Jenarsig aboard the raepour craft…She turned her surprise to a smile, and he continued. That art form did not exist in PitKree culture. They have a similar fable, in which pathways divide at every choice, taking travelers to different experiences and destinations.”
“But those,” Pernanyen said, “are clearly analogies. If sairit, like spirit and mind, is separable from body, then…well…that concept mirrors some of the stories that we assume are myth. I must read the Founding Words again.”
NorGah seemed about to speak, then turned his head aside. “Later, for that. Kena, Antony said you are sent to us as an ambassador. A word with varied meanings among races. In what way are you an ambassador?”
How far should she go with this? “Humans believe that everyone has purpose and associated abilities, bestowed by our creator. Similarly, each race has purposes, which are fulfilled by the entwined actions of individuals. No person, no race, exists alone. It is said that Humans are to shine light on paths, which means to reveal. In effect, every Human is an ambassador.” A humble sort of awe stirred in her at their intent expressions. “Antony and I have shown you another side of reality. A side that has not enlightened your pathways before. But now, it can.”
“What destination does that point us to?” Travannesal asked.
Kena smiled. “A destination is only one part of a journey. In fact, it may simply be the transition to a new one. We learn, choose, and act throughout an entire journey. We fulfill our purposes all along the way, not only at the destination.”
Silence stretched until more words came to Kena. “There are many means to fulfilling a purpose. Sometimes, plans go awry. They may conflict with the plans of others, for not every choice is perfect. Yet, the purpose remains. There is always another path to achieving it. Perhaps, you should look at the Founding Words and rediscover what you once knew. We would love to share what Humans know and learn alongside you.”
Kena stroked Pearl’s hair and looked into her golden-brown eyes. “I did not foresee where my path would lead when I rescued this precious one. I could have chosen indifference and left her. But I also saw a path of love, which I chose to walk.” She let out a contented sigh. “Someday, we will tell Pearl how her cries for help opened a new path within PitKree and Laundun purposes.”
A comfortable silence stretched. An enormous weight was evaporating. Tension that Kena carried for so long, she ceased to recognize how heavy it had been.
Antony turned sideways to Kena, his arm resting on the sofa back and his hand on her shoulder. His focus on her alone. Ghent carried the conversation now, and Kena started to feel like she and Antony were in a bubble. Separate—even in the midst of this little crowd.
“You look content with a child on your breast,” Antony murmured in English.
Kena sighed in a soft hum.
Pearl reached up to touch Antony’s beard, a feature no PitKreelaundun possessed. He smiled at her.
So sweet that he was kind to an alien babe. “You look comfortable with a child, too,” Kena whispered.
“I could get used to it,” Antony said, holding her gaze. “But first, I’d like to get used to my wife. Will you marry me, Kena?”
A surge passed through her, making her fingertips tingle. She’d known this would come, but not until after the constrained link— Okay, it is after. By all of a few minutes! Another side of her interrupted, like spirit arguing with mind. Oh, stop pretending. Love is far past the budding stage. Her shoulders shook for an instant, and she realized her smile was already answering him on its own. Better get the word out. “Yes.”
He tilted his head until it touched her forehead, then he uttered a suppressed groan. “Why did I ask you in a crowd, where I can’t kiss you without shocking everyone?”
She shook, trying to hold back a giggle. Kissing could get really strange reactions from some races. “Bad planning?”
“Are they linking?” someone asked.
“No,” Ghent said. “Humans don’t link with each other. But these two get very, very close. Humans embrace and sometimes touch facially.”
Kena and Antony laughed.
“Jennelleepearl,” Gwillenin called, “come here.”
The combined name warmed Kena. She shifted Pearl from her lap then let Antony pull her to her fee
t.
“Just a minute,” he said in Prednian, then turned his back to all but her. He positioned them so no one could see their kiss. At least not their lips.
The strength of his arm around her—his kiss, so warm and tender. Though brief, the seconds slowed for her, stretching this treasured moment.
“More later,” he whispered. With his arm still tight around her, he turned them both back to their audience. “Kena and I have also reached a decision—the sort of decision Humans announce.” He softened his voice and met her gaze. “We are engaged to marry.”
Ghent rose and carefully pronounced an English word. “Congratulations.”
Kena narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?”
“I researched Human courtship customs a while ago.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “It seemed I would need to know about them.”
Antony laughed as TarKeen asked, “What should we know?”
“At the announcement,” Ghent said, “women embrace, and men clasp wrists…like this.” Ghent extended his hand to Antony, and they exchanged a grip.
How surreal to be accepting good wishes among the PitKreelaundun.
“What is the custom between opposite genders?” TarKeen asked Kena.
“Either. Let the woman decide.” Kena wrapped an arm around TarKeen’s chest, and he gripped her shoulders. Hugs between former enemies. Kena released him and turned to embrace ShenLee, her heart overflowing. “We wish you joy, also,” Kena said.
“Thank you,” ShenLee swayed, her tunic swinging like an inner dance stirred her. “Do you marry soon after the decision?”
Antony shook his head. “We’ll likely go to Earth first. Marriage begins with vows at an event called a wedding, which family and friends attend.” He drew Kena tight against his side. “How soon for you two?”
“Circumstances have already made us wait far too long,” TarKeen said, touching ShenLee’s black hair. “We shall join soon.” They exchanged a soft look. TarKeen turned back to Kena. “The PitKreelaundun marry by forming a deep sairital bond.” His faint smile formed. “The old PitKree word means to converge, as in two paths joining.”