by G. Howell
“I believe so, Sir.”
“Good,” I smiled. He flinched then caught himself. “Well, better,” I amended and turned for the bedroom. “Is there somewhere I can unpack my clothes? And no I don’t need help; I am quite capable of doing it for myself.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“And my name’s Michael.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sigh.
------v------
Satin sheets were wrapped around my legs. My face was flat against more satin, the smooth fabric sliding against my beard. I blinked muzzily, still mostly asleep and floating in a weird warm place where Chihirae and Jackie were playing mahjong.
“It’s morning, sir,” a voice was saying.
I opened my eyes, blinked. The Voice was right - it was. Dim light was filtering in around the side of the curtains, and then suddenly flooded the room as the drapes were pulled aside. “You slept well I hope, Sir,” the steward, Hiesh, was saying as he opened the curtains, then stalked across the expensive rugs to stand at the foot of the bed with his hands clasped before him. “Your schedule has been prepared and is waiting on the desk. Her highness wishes to start as soon as is possible. Kiesh will help you with preparations, Sir. And is there anything you would prefer for your breakfast?”
“Huh?” I responded and struggled to sit up, yawned and stretched. Tendons popped and crackled.
“Breakfast, sir? Is there anything you desire?” He was staring. Not at me. Matter of fact he was being pointedly careful not to stare at me by keeping his eyes locked very fixedly at a point over my head. I scratched my chest, amused, then his question registered.
“Oh,” crap, I hated not being able to order a simple continental. “Bread rolls or grains are fine. Cooked eggs are good. Not too much meat, and if there is make sure it’s very well cooked. Almost burnt., please.” By Rris standards that would be medium rare. “And no seasonings that haven’t been cleared.”
“Yes, sir,” he said and went to organize it.
The glass here was good. The multitude of diamond-shaped glass planes in the mullions that made the window were clear and free of blemishes so details of the world outside were discernable, rather than becoming kaleidoscopic smears of color as cheaper panes were wont to do. Still, I unlatched the windows and swung them wide. Out there another fine day was simmering. The sun was low, bleaching the horizon white and leaving the sky overhead a deep and bottomless blue. Young light touched the hills, washing over the golden grasslands around the palace. I admired the view as I ran through a few vigorous stretches, then a few dozen crunches and pressups. Going for a run would have been a good start to the day but I wasn’t sure how my hosts would have taken it.
I’d was on my dozenth crunch when I heard the voice venture, “Sir?” I kept going but glanced around at the Rris standing in the doorway, carrying an armful of blankets and staring at me. I guess it had good cause: it’s not everyday you walk into a room to find a giant hairless ape lying on the floor, feet tucked under the edge of the bed and repeatedly folding and unfolding himself.
“A?” I grunted as I touched elbow to knee. “I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
It... she was still there when I’d finished. As I got up her ears went back and she got that look that said she was seriously thinking about running. “Can I help you?” I asked, grabbing a towel and wiping sweat away from my eyes. “I met you last night? You’re on staff?”
“A, sir,” the Rris with the stack of linen squeaked, then tried again. “Sir, we were told to attend you.”
“Attend me?” I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.
“Yes, sir,” she squeaked again and glanced around, as if looking for someone else. “To assist you this morning.”
“With what?”
Her ears went back and she was looking positively distraught. “Sir, anything you need. I... I’m here to change the bedding, sir. And to clean, sir. And I didn’t mean to stare, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Ah, Okay. Thank you. Don’t worry. Go ahead,” I said and caught myself before I smiled at her. Then I slung the towel around my shoulders and headed for the bathroom.
The bath was impressive: sunken into its dais and lined with white tiles painted with small green lilies, it was big enough to be a small swimming pool. The faucet was a big silver sluice in the shape of broad lily leaves: definitely not mass produced judging by the quality of the engraving on it. There was hot water … well, tepid at best, but the morning wasn’t cold and it was a bearable substitute for a brisk shower. Arranged along the side of the bath were brushes, things like small gardening implements of wood and metal designed for raking through Rris fur and coarse enough to scratch me raw. The soap was the grey, grainy stuff like coagulated caustic porridge with sand in it that was so common here. Horrible to use, but it was all there was. I dunked my head, rinsing the coarse stuff out of my hair, and when I lifted it again there was another Rris standing there and staring at me.
The rotted groom there to ‘attend’ me, which included helping me wash. I had to persuade him that I was quite capable of doing that by myself, but did agree to let him lay out my clothes. That was enough to salve his professional pride and give me some privacy.
Although when I saw what he’d laid out I started to wish I’d brought Tich along.
------v------
If the day had started off hectic enough, the pace picked up. Within an hour I was walking the corridors of yet another alien palace. Chaeitch, Rraerch, and Chriét had been waiting in the antechamber when I’d emerged from the bedroom, Chaeitch chittering aloud, Rraerch looking distinctly amused and the Host seemingly a little bemused. They’d been there long enough to overhear my... discussion with the groom over the outfit. Is it really so difficult to understand that pants with tail slits might not be appreciated by someone without a tail?
That had been sorted out. My clothes might have been a peculiar cut by Rris standards, slacks, moccasins and a loose-shirt weren’t haute couture here, but it was a cut that fit me. I’d had them custom made by one of the best tailors in Shattered Water, using my well-worn clothes from home as patterns. The materials were unorthodox, but they were comfortable and durable. I’d also unpacked my laptop from its padded and sealed travel case and carefully slung that over my shoulder. Back home it’d been expensive; here, ‘priceless’ still didn’t come close to describing it.
A small procession made its way from the guest quarters into the halls of the palace. The Shattered Water Rris - Chaeitch, Rraerch and the guards - and I were escorted by Open Fields royal guards in a cordon around us, some in front and some behind. Their weapons were holstered or sheathed and secured with yellow ribbons. A mark of courtesy Rraerch told me, showing that the weapons couldn’t drawn quickly.
Soldiery was becoming a part of the background by then. It wasn’t difficult to not even notice them while seeing the rest of the world. Sunlight flooding in through windows we walked past was warm against my skin and gleamed off marble floors and expensive ornamentation in the palace halls. Outside the heavens were a cloudless blue vault, arching high above a vista of summer-golden grass and the green of trees. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day.
We walked through elegant halls of alien architecture and past history. Not a human history, but it was still a past deeper and richer than my young United States had known. There were tapestries and paintings hundreds of years old. There were cracked and time-bleached wooden totems imbued with the ghosts of scents of notable Rris long-dead when my country was still an upstart colony; polished maple wall panels with bas-relief carvings depicting stories of people and places, no two the same.
Chaeitch prodded me with a claw and reminded me that we did have an appointment to keep.
It was in an audience chamber off a suite in the southeastern wing of the palace. The setting was informal and
minimalist. The room was bright, painted and papered with light colors: pale creams and white embossed wallpaper void of any pictures and coarse woven white rattan carpeting. A dozen white leather floor cushions with matching white-lacquered side tables were arranged in a circle, nine of them occupied by Rris. The only one I recognized was the Lady H’risnth. She was across the room, on her cushion in a pool of sunlight flooding through the windows at her back. Daylight flared from her loose white blouse and the golden torc around her neck.
Rris gaped and openly stared at me. The Lady simply inclined her head and for a second I thought I saw a flicker of amusement. “Good morning, Mikah. You slept well?”
“Very well, thank you, Ma’am,” I bowed slowly. “My thanks to you and your staff for your hospitality.”
“And our thanks to you for being here today,” she smiled. “Please, sit.”
I carefully folded myself down to the indicated cushion then unslung the laptop and placed it on the low table beside me, the mat black case of modern materials like a patch of night against the spotless white lacquer. Rris watched me. I guessed that a lot, if not most, of them had probably been in that crowd the previous night, they’d seen me before, but I was still a novelty. Chaeitch and Rraerch took the vacant cushions to either side. I saw Rraerch give me a careful glance: trying to judge my mood.
“Your honors,” The Lady said to the assembled personages, “your attendance today at the occasion is welcome. Our guests have come a long way and the least we can do is ensure it is worth their while. I am sure this [something] will be prove to be a productive and peaceable forerunner of many more such unions.”
I almost frowned. There was a phrase I didn’t know. And underlying all that there was something else. A warning? I didn’t have time to puzzle over it. After that little speech The Lady settled back, folded her hands and let the Rris to her immediate right - an advisor - take over. Her Ladyship’s amber eyes turned to me and she blinked, lazily it seemed, and I had to turn my attention to the advisor.
It was introductions first. The Rris in the room were leading Guildmasters; those the Open Fields government had considered highest priority. They knew I was only there for a limited time, so they’d picked representatives from various guilds and institutions. There was the Metalworkers and Miners Guild administrator; the printing guildmaster; Merchants and Traders master; a representative from the Engineering Guild; a couple from the University, one of them a ‘life-studier’. In other words a biologist. They were fields that they thought could profit the most in the time available. No military representatives there. Or rather, nobody was introduced as outright military. But when it came down to it, a farmer was a military resource.
Reactions to the introductions were... mixed; to a certain extent. All those Guildmasters were there by the good graces of the government, and they knew it. They were courteous, polite and a couple of them, the biologist, seemed openly friendly, but it was difficult to tell for sure. They’d doubtless been briefed about me, and it’d also doubtless been made absolutely clear to them that if any of them gave me any trouble their hides would be used as doormats. So they were as gracious and polite as they might be to her highness herself. I only noticed a couple of instances of ears twitching back, of lips flicking back from sharp teeth.
I was getting used to meeting Rris. It didn’t work both ways. There were a lot more of them than there were of me so while I might become accustomed to them, there was little chance they’d all grow used to me. But they were willing to listen to me, and especially to what I could give them. Nothing circumvents prejudices like good, old-fashioned greed.
They were primarily interested in industrial applications. Especially where they could be applied to their mining and refining industries. Iron and steel were major industries in Cover My Tail, therefore so were transportation, coal and coke mines, refineries and techniques and products related to them, such as the increasing demand for coal gas. New techniques and equipment were of serious interest to them.
And so was the fact that Land of Water had massively improved steam engines and that these engines required high-grade coal to run. It wasn’t difficult to see that if these machines gained in popularity then there would be a corresponding demand for fuel. You could almost hear the cash registers ringing up the totals in their heads.
Those engines also provided opportunities and solutions to other problems. Like improved pumps and lifts for deeper mines; like boats and trains that could haul more goods further and faster; like reduced workforces and therefore reduced costs. Just one technology could start an avalanche of other possibilities, each bringing with them further opportunities. These Rris were businessmen. I could practically see their nostrils twitching as they scented rich meat in the air.
And through it all the Lady H’risnth sat quietly and watched, seeming almost disinterested in the whole thing. She watched, she twitched an occasional ear, but she didn’t say anything. She watched me, I know that. Once I glanced at her and caught her eye and I’m sure I caught a flicker of an amused smile, as if there was a joke between us, quickly hidden again under serene imperturbability.
I’d been warned that she was a sharp player, but for some reason she was sitting this one out.
“And are these designs so difficult to produce?” the Metalworkers master was asking me. He may have been one of the most powerful members of that guild, but he had spent time actually working at the craft. He knew a thing or two about the subject. Probably more than I did when it came down to the practical aspects of ironmongery.
“Sir, some of the innovations look simple enough, but if they’re not carried out correctly and with the right materials, they can be lethal. Simply raising the pressure of boilers is pointless if the plating and seams won’t take the extra strain. And simply making the walls thicker makes it more expensive, larger and heavier and therefore any extra power you gain from the size is lost in simply moving the engine and its fuel.”
He looked thoughtful. “And these materials and tools for manufacturing, they are complicated.”
“Some of them extremely so.”
“So of course we would be buying them from you.”
Chaeitch stepped in: “Initially, yes. For the time it took you to develop your own. Which I’m sure you could do in admirable time.”
I saw the guildmaster’s head go up fractionally and there were slight movements from the others: shifting weight, twitches of tails, flicks of ears... Lady H’risnth glanced at me again and I saw her pupils dilate momentarily. Two years I’d been there and I still couldn’t interpret most of that body language. The head going back in a human would have been wariness, but in them I thought it was something a little like... would pride be the word?
It was dangerous ground for me. That was why Chaeitch and Rraerch were there.
“Faster than we were able to,” Chaeitch drove it home. “We’ve been down that trail so we know exactly what will have to be done and the footsteps to follow to get there. You won’t be going off down any of those interesting dead ends.”
It sounded good. Like the computer industry back home: You can buy the product, brand spanking new off the assembly line, but the supplier will always still be a few steps ahead of you. If you want to troubleshoot or upgrade, then you and your cash’ll have to go back to them. By the time Open Fields got any sort of engine running and reverse-engineered it, Shattered Water would have the next generation.
The morning continued in that vein. Each side trying to take while making it look like they were giving. Which is what salesmanship - and politics - is all about. It all felt decidedly... unclean.
I didn’t have any regrets about my chosen career path.
Except that my former career was as a graphic artist, not an engineer. My training was in arts, aesthetics, and design. My work exposed me to a lot of different fields, but only fractional aspects of the
m. In the past I’d produced brochures for vineyards, interactive displays for pumping manufacturers, presentations for manufacturers of geotextiles, animations for tool manufacturers, shows for pet food producers, and weirder things. I’d covered some limited aspects of those industries in excruciating detail while other sections I didn’t have the foggiest idea about. When it came to retooling a society on the cusp of an industrial revolution, artistic ability didn’t rank highly on the scale of desirable skills.
I was all they were going to get.
------v------
Our hosts must’ve been aware of my limitations and my difficulties with the Rris language. Speaking a tongue my vocal chords had never been intended to speak for any period of time was uncomfortable for me. Actually physically debilitating in fact. Servants made sure my water glass was full and also produced trays of snacks and tidbits which were good excuses to shut up for a few seconds. Some of the hot pastries they brought through were extremely good, although the way the Rris watched me masticate each mouthful made me feel like I was putting on a sideshow for them. If they were annoyed by the interruptions, they didn’t give any outward signs of it.
There were so many of those little snacks that when the stewards announced that the midday meal was ready, it came as a surprise. I hadn’t felt the slightest bit hungry, but when I looked at the window the shadows were short: it was noon. Time had passed faster than I’d expected.
Lunch was served in an adjoining room. White gauze curtains billowed, riding the breezes blowing through the open windows behind them: an entire wall of French doors opening onto a vista of summer skies and the grass and tree covered hillsides of the palace grounds. Food was laid out on the huge table in the center of the room and as you might have expected, it was a lavish spread with bowls and trays of assorted meats and pastries and breads and more meats. The plates were fine porcelain, looking and feeling a little like bone china. The cutlery was silver, and polished spotless. I was able to use the Rris utensils pretty well by then. At least, the fork-like things and knives I didn’t have any problem with, it was the things like chopsticks with little tines on the ends I had a bit of trouble with. I was all too aware of the Rris watching me as I manipulated bits of food from my plate to my mouth. Her ladyship... I glanced her way to see her staring back, just staring unblinkingly at me with her head tipped slightly to the side and an expression that might have been amusement insinuating itself about her features. Might have been. I wasn’t sure.