Repnik nodded. “Precisely.”
Jackson Gates, the team exobiologist, moved between them and introduced himself, earning Toni’s gratitude. He was a soft-spoken, dark-skinned man with graying hair and beard, obviously the type who cared little about cosmetic age treatments. She judged his age at barely over fifty.
Lanrhel then introduced her to the other members of the Edaru council. The oldest woman, Anash, came forward and presented Toni with a strip of decorative lace, similar to the beautiful hangings on the walls. Toni lifted the back of her hand to her forehead again and thanked her.
The multitude of introductions completed, they sat down on the leather-covered chairs and couches, and Ainsworth asked in barely passable Mejan if anything had been decided regarding treaty negotiations with AIC. Lanrhel looked at Toni, and she repeated the request, adding the correct inclinations and stripping it of the captain’s Anglicized word order. Why hadn’t the councillor referred to Repnik? She’d been studying like a fiend for the last month, but surely his command of the language was better than hers.
Lanrhel leaned across the arm of his chair and murmured something to Anash. Toni caught mention of the treaty again, and the words for language, house, and her own name. Anash looked across the circle at her and smiled. She returned the smile, despite the headache she could feel coming on. The first day on a new planet was always difficult, and this time she’d had conflict brewing with her boss even before she got off the shuttle. But next to Anash, another woman had pulled out her crocheting (a far cry from the stiff formality of the official functions she’d had to endure on Admetos), a man with eyes the color of the sea on Christmas had joked with her, and she still had a sunset to look forward to.
And no one was going to toss her into the ocean just yet. She hoped.
#
From: Preliminary Report on Alnar ag Ledar, primary language of Christmas. Compiled 29.09.157 (local AIC date) by Prof. Dr. Dr. Hartmut Repnik, h.c. Thaumos, Hino, Marat, and Polong, Allied Interstellar Research Association first contact team xenolinguist, Commander, Allied Interstellar Community Forces.
The language of the Mejan people of Christmas is purely oral with both inflecting and agglutinating characteristics. Tense information seems to be given exclusively in an inflected auxiliary which takes the place of helping verbs and modals while also providing information on the addressee of the sentence. Nouns are gendered, masculine and feminine, but with some interesting anomalies compared to known languages. Adjectives are nonexistent. The descriptive function is fulfilled by verbs (e.g. jeraz, “the state of being green”).
#
The arc of the rings lit up like lacework in the last rays of the setting sun, while the sky behind it showed through purple and orange and pink. Toni took a deep breath and blinked away the tears that had started in her eyes at the shock of beauty. Beside her, Sam was silent, too wise to disturb her enjoyment of the moment.
They were sitting on the veranda of the house AIRA had rented for her and any other women from the ship who had occasion to come planetside. Together they watched as the colors faded and the sky grew dark. The small moons accompanying the rings appeared, while the brilliant lace became a dark band, starting in the east and spreading up and over.
“Maybe that’s why they seem to set such a high store by lace,” Toni finally said when the spectacle was over.
Sam nodded. “I’ve thought of that too.”
She took a sip of the tea, sweet and hot with a flavor that reminded her subtly of ginger, and leaned back in her chair, pulling her sweater tighter around her. The night grew cold quickly, even though it was early fall and Edaru was in the temperate zone.
“What have you learned about the role of women since you’ve been here?” Toni asked.
“Well, since they will only talk to the men of Edaru, it’s a bit difficult finding out anything. But they don’t live in harems, that’s for sure.”
“Harems” was Repnik’s term for the houses of women, although they could come and go as they pleased and the houses were off-limits for men completely, as far as the first contact team could determine.
She laughed, briefly and without humor. “I wonder what bit him.”
Sam was quiet so long, she turned to look at him. In the flickering light of the oil lamp, his face was shadowed, his expression thoughtful. They had a generator and solar batteries for electricity in Contact House One and Two, but they tried to keep use of their own technology to a minimum.
“I don’t think he ever had a life,” Sam finally said. “Most people are retired by the time they reach 100. But look at Repnik — what would he retire to? His reputation spans the known universe, but it’s all he’s got. There’s no prestige in hanging out on a vacation planet, and I doubt if he knows how to have fun.”
His generous interpretation of Repnik’s behavior made her feel vaguely guilty. “True. But I still get the feeling he’s got something against women.”
“Could be. I heard he went through a messy divorce a few years back — his ex-wife was spreading nasty rumors about him. I’m glad I’m not the woman working under him.”
“Bad choice of words, Sam.”
He smiled. “Guilty as charged.”
Mejan “music” from a house down the hill drifted up to them, an odd swooshing sound without melody which reminded Toni of nothing so much as the water lapping the shore. Some native insects punctuated the rhythm with a “zish-zish, zish-zish” percussion, but there were no evening bird sounds. According to Jackson Gates, the only native life forms of the planet were aquatic, amphibian, reptilian or arthropod. There were no flying creatures on Christmas at all — and thus no word for “fly” in the Mejan language. Since the arrival of the xenoteam, the term “elugay velazh naished” (“move in the air”) had come into use.
It was impossible for contact to leave a culture the way it was before. Leaving native culture untouched was an article of belief with AIRA, but it was also a myth.
Toni finished her tea and put down her mug. “It’s occurred to me that Repnik’s being led astray by the fact that Christmas is a seeded planet. Most of the other languages he worked on were of non-human species.”
“Led astray how?”
“Well, when they look so much like us, you expect them to be like us too. Language, social structures, the whole bit.”
“It’s a possibility. Just don’t tell him that.”
“I’ll try. But I have a problem with authority, especially when it’s wrong.”
Sam chuckled. “I don’t think Repnik is serious about the harems, though. It’s just his idea of a joke.”
“Yeah, but there are also some odd things about the language which don’t seem to go along with his analysis. Grammatical gender for example. Repnik refers to them as masculine and feminine, but they don’t match up with biological sex at all. If he’s right, then ‘pirate’ and even ‘warrior’ are both feminine nouns.”
“I don’t have any problem with that.”
Toni pursed her lips, pretending to be offended. “But I do.”
“I probably get them wrong all the time anyway.”
“Don’t you use your AI?” Like herself, Sam had a wrist unit. AI implants had been restricted decades ago because they led to such a high percentage of personality disorders.
He shrugged. “I don’t always remember to consult it. Usually only when I don’t know a word.”
“And there’s no guarantee the word will be in the dictionary yet or even that the AI will give you the right word for the context if it is.”
“Exactly.”
Toni gazed out at the night sky. Stars flickered above the horizon, but where the rings had been, the sky was black except for the shepherd moons. Below, the bay of Edaru was calm, the houses nestled close to the water, windows now lit by candlelight or oil lamps. She wondered where the green-eyed driver was, wondered what the Mejan executed people for, wondered if she would get a chance to work on the women’s language.
&n
bsp; She repressed the temptation to sigh and got up. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the contact house. I need to talk to Ainsworth before he returns to the ship.”
#
The legend of the little lace-maker
Recorded 30.09.157 (local AIC date) by Landra Saleh, sociologist, first contact team, SGR 132-3 (Christmas / Kailazh).
As long as she could remember, Zhaykair had only one dream — to become the greatest maker of lace the Mejan had ever known. All young girls are taught the basics of crocheting, but Zhaykair would not stop at that. She begged the women of her village to show her their techniques with knots, the patterns they created, and she quickly found the most talented lace-maker among them. Saymel did not belong to Zhaykair’s house, but the families reached an agreement, and the little girl was allowed to learn from Saymel, although the job of Zhaykair’s house was raising cattle.
But before she had seen nine summers (note: approximately thirteen standard years - L.S.), Zhaykair had learned all Saymel had to teach her. She begged her clan to allow her to go to the city of Edaru, where the greatest lace-makers of the Mejan lived. Her mothers and fathers did not want to send her away, but Saymel, who could best judge the talent of the young girl, persuaded them to inquire if the house of Mihkal would be willing to train her.
The elders sent a messenger to the Mihkal with samples of Zhaykair’s work. They had feared being ridiculed for their presumption, but the messenger returned with an elder of the house of Mihkal to personally escort Zhaykair to the great city of Edaru.
Zhaykair soon learned all the Mihkal clan could teach her. Her lace was in such great demand, and there were so many who wanted to learn from her that she could soon found her own house. Her works now grace the walls of all the greatest families of the Mejan.
#
“If Repnik refuses to allow you to work on the women’s language, I’m not sure what I can do to help,” Ainsworth said.
“Then why did you send for me?” She hardly felt the cool night air against her skin as their open carriage headed for the AIC landing base. If she hadn’t returned to the contact house with Sam, she would have missed Ainsworth completely. A deliberate move, she suspected now.
“I thought I could bring him around.”
“Can’t you order him?”
“I don’t think that would be wise. With a little diplomacy, you can still persuade him. In the long run he will have to see that he needs you to collect more data.”
Toni rubbed her temples. The headache she’d first felt coming on during the introductions in the common house had returned with a vengeance. “He’ll probably try to use remote probes.”
“He already has. But since none of us are allowed in the women’s houses, they can’t be placed properly. We’ve tried three close to entrances and have lost them all.”
“What happened to them?”
“One was painted over, one was stepped on and one was swept from a windowsill and ended in the trash.”
They pulled up next to the temporary landing base, and the light from the stars and the moons was replaced by aggressive artificial light. Ainsworth patted her knee in a grandfatherly way. “Chin up, Donato. Do your work and do it well, and Repnik will recognize that you can be of use to him. We’ll get the women’s language deciphered and you will be a part of it. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Maybe everyone was right and she was just overreacting to Repnik’s reluctance to let her work on the women’s language. It was certainly nothing new for AIRA researchers to feel threatened by others working in the same field and be jealously defensive of their own area of expertise. Toni had seen it before, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Her first day on Christmas was not ending well. At least she’d had the sunset.
The captain got out of the carriage and waved at her as the driver turned it around and headed back into town.
When they were nearing the city again, Toni leaned forward, propping her arms on the leather-covered seat in front of her. The driver was the same one they’d had this morning. Strange that she’d been so fixated on Ainsworth and her own problems that she hadn’t even noticed.
He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled but said nothing.
Toni took the initiative. “Sha bo sham.”
“Sha bo sham, tajan.” The planes of his face were a mosaic of shadow and moonlight, beautiful and unfamiliar.
“Ona esh eden bonshani Toni rezh tajan, al?” Me you call Toni not mother, yes?
He laughed and shook his head in the gesture of affirmative, like a nod in Toni’s native culture. “Bonlami desh an. Tay esh am eladesh bonshani Kislan.” Honored am I. And you me will call Kislan.
She smiled and offered her hand as she would have in her own culture. He transferred the reins to one hand, then took her own hand gently and pressed it to his forehead. His skin was warm and dry. She couldn’t see his smokey green eyes in the starlight, but she could imagine them. When he released her hand, she could have sworn it was with reluctance.
Perhaps the day was not ending so badly after all.
#
The women of Anash’s family, the house of Ishel, were gentle but determined — they would not allow Toni to learn Alnar ag Eshmaled, “the language of the house,” from them until she promised not to teach it to any men. Which of course was impossible. The point of research funded by AIRA was for it to be published and made accessible to everyone in the known galaxy. You couldn’t restrict access to data on the basis of sex. On the basis of security clearance perhaps, but not on the basis of sex.
“Bodesh fadani eshukan alnar ag eshmaled,” Anash said, her expression sympathetic. No man may speak the language of the house. Permission-particle-tense-marker-present-female addressee verb negative-marker-subject object: with the mind of a linguist, Toni broke down the parts of the sentence, trying to see if the women favored different sentence structures than the men.
So they weren’t going to speak their language with her. She had spent her first two days setting up house and getting her bearings, and now that she finally had an appointment with some of the women of the planet, she learned that Repnik was right — she wouldn’t be able to do the job she had come here to do. But at least they had welcomed her into the women’s house and were less careful with her than with the men of the contact team. With the camera in her AI, she had recorded Anash and Thuyene speaking in their own language several times. She felt a little bad about the duplicity — she’d never had to learn a language by stealth before — but if she was going to do the job she came here to do, she didn’t have a choice. And when it came right down to it, AIRA never asked anyone’s permission to send out the probes used in the first stages of deciphering a new language. Stealth always played a role.
But what a dilemma. AIRA was required to make their knowledge of new worlds public. Not to mention Toni would only be able to make her reputation as a xenolinguist if she could publish the results of her research. Perhaps they could work something out with AIRA that would make it possible for her to study the women’s language.
“May I still visit this house?” Toni asked in the men’s language.
Anash smiled. “We are happy to welcome the woman from the sky. And perhaps you can teach us the language you speak as the men of the sky teach the men of the people.”
“Why is it that you will speak with the men of Edaru and not with the men of the first contact team?”
The smile vanished from Anash’s face. “They are offensive.” In the Mejan language it was more like “exhibit a state of offensiveness,” a verb used for descriptive purposes, but it was nonetheless different from the verb “to offend,” which connoted an individual action.
“What have they done?” Toni asked.
The older woman’s face seemed to close up. “They speak before they are spoken to.”
Was that all it was? The men of the contact team had offended the Mejan sense of propriety? “So men of a strange house may not speak to a
woman without permission?”
“They may not. That intimacy is only granted within families.”
How simple it was after all: someone had merely made the mistake of not asking the right questions. She had read stories of contact teams which had suffered misunderstandings from just such a mistake. But how were you supposed to know which questions to ask when dealing with an alien culture? It was no wonder the mistake had been made over and over again.
And their team had the excuse of having lost their sociologist after less than a week.
Toni rose and lifted the back of her hand to her forehead. “I will come again tomorrow at the same time if that is convenient.”
“I will send word.”
Toni started to nod and then caught herself and shook her head.
Visiting a new world was exhausting business.
#
DG: sci.lang.xeno.talk
Subject: We aren’t redundant yet (was Why I do what I do)
From: [email protected]
Local AIC date: 21.10.157
Okay, I’ll explain it again, even though I’ve been through this so many times on the DGs it makes my head spin.
No, we can’t just analyze a couple of vids made by a drone and come up with a language. Even with all the sophisticated equipment for recording and analysis which we now possess, at some stage in deciphering an alien tongue we’re still dependent on the old point and repeat method. The human element of interaction, of trial and error, remains a necessary part of xenolinguistics. IMNSHO, the main reason for this is that analyzing an alien language, figuring out the parts of speech and the rules at work (which is the really tough part, and not simple vocabulary), is more than just “deciphering” — a very unfortunate word choice, when it comes right down to it. “Deciphering” implies that language is like a code, that there is a one-to-one correspondence between words, a myth which supports the illusion that all you have to do is substitute one word for another to come up with meaning. Language imperialists are the worst sinners in this respect, folks with a native tongue with pretensions towards being a diplomatic language, like English, French or Xtoylegh.
Looking Through Lace Page 2