“It will not, sir,” Greene assured him.
* * *
By the time Todd reached home that evening, he was tired and wanted nothing more than a quick dinner and enough time to review the day’s tumultuous and astonishing incidents. He could smell the dinner, but as soon as he swung in the door, he felt the atmosphere crackling.
“Oh, Lord, what’ve I done wrong now?” he murmured. The house only felt like this when Kelly was ready to scalp him.
“Ah!” She leaped from the kitchen and stopped abruptly in the middle of the living room, fists dug into her hips. “ ‘Would you mind entertaining Captain Grizz and her son, dear?’ ” She did a good imitation of Todd, further warning of his being in deep trouble with her. “ ‘Oh, all I have to do is entertain them this afternoon, show them how we live?’ ” she said, mimicking her own wifely reply. “But”—and now she advanced on him, her head down, her glower intense—“does my beloved husband drop me one little word of the essential difference between the bears I’ve met and our noble Captain Grizz? No, nary a word does he say!” With a practiced flick of her hand, she caught his outstretched hand with the hard edge of a whipped tea-towel. It stung, and even as he began retreating, she flicked the towel again, catching him even harder on the leg.
“Now, sweetheart . . .”
“Don’t ‘now, sweetheart,’ me!” She snapped the towel again, and this time he ducked because she was aiming at his neck and she’d had too much practice at that art. “Only one phrase . . . just one phrase was necessary. ‘Sweetheart, the females are bigger than the males.’ ”
“But you knew that,” Todd said, reaching for the door to put it between him and her attack. “You knew that! We told you she was immense . . . that the males are tercels. I know we said it.”
“But you didn’t say it then!”
With unexpected force she jerked the door free of his grasp and he stood there, feeling vulnerable.
“Sweetheart, you’re good at remembering details . . .” he began. Then panic swept through him. “Nothing happened, did it? With Grizz and Weddeerogh?” Surely someone would have got word to him about that.
Kelly turned on her heel. “No, nothing happened except Nrrna, Mrrva, and I were paralyzed with shock for five minutes. Even the grid operator was affected . . .” And then Kelly couldn’t maintain her angry pose any longer. She burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching her sides.
“I don’t think Grrirl, who was on the grid controls then, will ever forgive us,” she said, wiping her eyes on her former weapon, “because he really did lose it . . . even if Nrrna and Mrrva pretended he hadn’t. Even if you’d said something in your message, we still wouldn’t have been prepared for the size of Grizz and Teddy.” Her giggles were slowly subsiding. “He’s adorable! All I could think of was ‘a Bear of Very Little Brain . . .’ ”
“Huh?”
“You know, Winnie the Pooh.” She stared at her husband. “My mother read me those stories when I was a kid and I read them to our children . . . don’t you remember? Eeyore . . .”
“And the tail that’s all he’s got,” and Todd now remembered the charming stories. “What name did the kids give Weddeerogh?”
“Teddy,” Kelly said firmly. “Not my idea. Winnie ought to have been obvious, but those kids of yours latched onto Teddy Bear and there was no arguing them out of it. My word, but he can eat. ‘Sing ho for a Bear, sing ho for a Pooh,’ ” she sang. “ ‘I’ll have a little something in an hour or two.’ He can move in here any time his mother’s away . . . Swims like a dolphin. So does she . . .” Another burst of laughter, and tears were now streaming down Kelly’s face. “Thank goodness you dredged the lake last year or it wouldn’t have been up to her knees and she does so love to float, flat out. We’ve got to go to the seashore next time she’s free or perhaps demonstrate how we shoot the river rapids.”
Kelly collapsed onto a couch, then patted it for Todd to sit beside her.
“Sorry, love, but I had to get it out of my system. I mean”—she shook her head in remembered amazement—“I didn’t think the grid could take anything that big!”
“That particular grid, as you well know, can handle a whole village. So, what was the captain’s reaction? She wasn’t offended?”
“I believe she thought we weren’t sure how to greet her appropriately and instructed us,” Kelly said, snuggling up to him. “And Teddy was no problem at all—especially after he saw Hrrunna. After that, when he wasn’t in the water, he was rocking her. Thank goodness they eat anything, and almost everything. I’ll have to do a major resupply tomorrow. Another thing, Grizz wouldn’t come in here . . . she figured our floors weren’t up to her weight . . . but she looked in through every window. On tiptoe she could even see into the dormer rooms.” Kelly stifled another bubble of laughter. “She seemed to approve—but mainly of the lake. Thank goodness you and Hrriss dredged that lake!” she giggled. “How did your day go?”
“Well, now that you mention it, I am glad we dredged the lake,” he replied at his most casual. “Gringg love water sports. There’s the ocean, too. I’m not sure they have tidal seas . . .”
“Yes, but what do they want to trade?”
Todd affected a very serious expression. “Not what we expected at all.” He wondered how long he could play this one out before he told her the “awful truth.”
* * *
Once the details of trade items became public knowledge, there was great competition to show the Gringg what Rraladoon craftsfolk and farmers had to offer. Since the old Hall would be more inadequate than ever with even a few Gringg inside, every village offered its green as marketplace. Nearly half the Gringg on board the Wander Den wished to participate actively in trading, so no village had a chance to feel deprived or neglected.
The remaining Gringg were interested in other facets of life on the planet. Their wishes were accommodated despite continued vehement protests and ominous warnings from Spacedep. Gringg were “adopted” for a day by people in every line of work. With scrupulous impartiality, Kelly and Nrrna acted as secretaries for such engagements. So it was not surprising that when Shbrrgahnnn asked to have a closer look at some of the four-footed beasts which were in such continuous use by Hayuman and Hrruban, Kelly asked her brother to oblige him.
“Only if the smell of a Gringg doesn’t freak my patients out,” Mike Solinari, a veterinarian, replied.
“The Gringg smell pleasant,” Kelly remarked, a trifle sharply, “and my house pets and our horses have exhibited no reaction to their presence.” She didn’t add that dogs pretended the mountain of flesh wasn’t there and the cats remained well beyond the range of even Teddy, but they hadn’t exhibited a “physical” reaction.
“Well, sick stock doesn’t respond normally. That voder contraption unnerves me,” Mike said, “and I understand its purpose.”
However, Kelly did agree to wait and help if the Gringg freaked out Mike’s patients. So, early on the scheduled morning, Kelly Reeve delivered the guest to the hospital for a trial meeting.
“Now, bro,” Kelly said, introducing the Gringg, “your niece and nephew have renamed him Cinnamon.”
“I can see why,” Mike replied affably. “He’s got hair the same color as we do.” Mike’s poll was fiery red, much brighter than Cinnamon’s, though both could be termed red. Where Kelly was dainty and slenderly built, Mike’s features were heavier and his frame carried extra bulk. He had a friendly, open face that wore a grin of anticipation as the Gringg climbed awkwardly out of the Reeve family hovercraft.
“Cinnamon, this is my brother Mike,” Kelly said, holding onto the Gringg’s arm. Then she gestured toward a tall, hollow-chested Hayuman with black hair and a broad, blunt nose, and a narrow-striped Hrruban. “Bert Gross, who’s also a veterinarian, uh, animal doctor, and Errme. He’s an intern. Studying to be an animal doctor.”
“Fardles, he’s a monster!
” Bert muttered, nevertheless extending a hand to the Gringg. “Greetings, or whatever.” The Gringg touched his claws gently to the middle of the man’s palm. Bert drew back, pretending to make sure all his fingers were intact.
“I am most pleased,” Cinnamon said after the usual preliminary growlings came through the voder. He showed his long, white teeth, and all three doctors swallowed.
“Bet he brrrush zem a lot,” Errme quipped weakly.
“I’ve never seen anything with red eyes before that wasn’t stark raving mad,” Gross added.
“All right!” Kelly said, keeping an affable grin on her own face, just as glad that neither Bert nor Errme had translators. “Let’s see what effect Cinnamon has on the stock. Today I’ve got to touch a lot of bases!”
“I dunno,” Bert Gross said, muttering under his breath. “I’ve been hearing rumors that these guys are pretty dangerous.”
“Oh, horseapples,” Mike said. He liked the Gringg on sight. Cinnamon seemed friendly and curious, not threatening as some of those in-flow visitors from Earth had suggested. The Gringg stood looking around him, sniffing the air, nostrils wrinkling ever so slightly.
“I guess the barn does smell kind of pungent,” Mike said with a grin, and wondered if the voder translated the tone in which words were said, or meant. “It’s a warm day, and we haven’t mucked out our patients’ stalls yet,” he explained to the Gringg. “Come along. You don’t have to do any of it, but we can talk to you while we work.”
The isolation stables were in a big airy barn that had ventilators along the roof line, to circulate air through the building without chilling the patients below. Sensing the visitors, some of the sick horses and mules started whickering nervously, and one animal kicked the partition in its stall. Mike promptly marched Cinnamon out again, while Kelly exclaimed in some dismay until Mike and Cinnamon re-entered the barn through the downwind door.
“Can’t be too careful,” he explained to his slightly puzzled guests, keeping his tone low, hoping the voder translation would be equally quiet. It was. “Horses are delicate. There are a couple of high-risk mares in foal. I don’t want them to abort. Say, here’s a fellow who’s only in for a sore leg. Have a look.” Leaning over the stall door, he beckoned the Gringg close.
A low hiss of admiration escaped Cinnamon’s lips as he gazed at the young bay horse standing on the straw. The animal looked up from the hay it was lipping, wisps hanging from its muzzle as it gave the unusual shape a long stare before it started to chew again, but it didn’t panic. It twitched its dark satin coat here and there as if flies troubled it, and raised its white-bandaged leg, curling the hoof under the protection of its body.
“See? No reaction at all,” Kelly said. “I’m off!” And she departed before anyone could delay her.
“The creature is very beautiful,” Cinnamon said, speaking more softly through the translator than Mike would have thought possible. “What is such an animal used for?”
“We ride them,” Mike explained, gritting his teeth as the voder squawked back. The gelding switched its ears and rolled its eyes apprehensively, but didn’t do more, since it also heard Mike’s familiar voice. “We use them as non-polluting—well, nontoxic-polluting—transportation around here. They run on hay instead of batteries, and besides, they can be good friends to you. Some of this type”—he pulled Cinnamon across the aisle to a sick cow “—are reared as food animals and their hides are used for other things.”
Cinnamon gave the cow only a cursory glance and went back to admire the horse. “They are like gentleness and night and wood,” Cinnamon said, struggling for Hrruban words to express his admiration. “Hrrrsses must surely be the most lovely creatures on Rraladoon.” He spoke the new word with a trill that enhanced the Hrruban pronunciation.
“Well, we kind of like them, too,” Mike said, a little overwhelmed to be on the receiving end of poetry so early in the morning. “Stay and see how we care for them. I’ve got to spend some time in the surgery this morning. Bert, you have the comm.” He passed his voder over so that any queries Cinnamon had could be understood. Then, with a nod at the others to begin their work, he left for his office.
Cinnamon watched intently as Errme and Bert hauled out soiled straw and spread fresh, doled out medication, checked bandages, and generally cared for the ailing hoofed animals. When the round device on the wall had its two indicators pointing directly skyward, work ceased, and Mike returned to collect the Gringg.
“Do you have any questions about what you’ve been seeing today?” Mike asked.
Considering, Cinnamon rolled his fleshy lower lip. “I want to know what is the purpose of this place. I have watched you. Why have a vet-er-i-nar-y hospital when you eat animals? Why not just eat the ones who can no longer serve you?”
Errme and Gross thought this was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Mike shut them up with an eloquent glance.
“You don’t farm animals, do you?” Mike asked rhetorically.
“Morra,” Cinnamon replied. “Only plants such as grain, vegetables, and fruits. All of our meat is caught wild. There is plenty of game around us, and we are good at preserving that which is uneaten.”
“Well, there are more reasons to have animals than for food,” Mike said. “Not all animals make good eating.”
“Can you show me some?”
“No, I can’t. Every beast we raise has a double purpose. These, for instance,” Mike said, drawing Cinnamon to the sheepfold, “we raise for the fleece on their backs which makes our clothes.” Capturing one of the merinos, he showed Cinnamon the depth and fineness of the wool and then demonstrated the difference with a hardier mountain sheep. The Gringg gingerly felt each fleece, nodding as he appreciated the different textures.
“The captain will want to know about these,” he said.
The Gringg was careful to input all new vocabulary into the memory of the voder at his throat. By the end of the morning, he could discuss what he had learned with intelligence and a measurable degree of clarity.
“These bruins are smart,” Bert commented, impressed.
“Tape-learning,” Errme said, shrugging his plush-covered shoulders. “He is amassing a bluffrrr’s guide, zat is all.”
Errme looked puzzled when Cinnamon shoved away the chair beside their table in the lunch room. Then he realized that the Gringg was quite capable of reaching the table even parked on the floor beside it. Not knowing how much a Gringg ate, Mike had made arrangements with the cafeteria cook for double quantities of everything. As he watched the Gringg eat, though daintily enough for all his size, Mike was a little sorry that he hadn’t made that triple. Cinnamon exclaimed with pleasure over everything he tried, and ended up consuming as much as all three Rraladoonans put together. When his plate was empty, he was clearly though politely looking around for more.
“You eat more than my brother Sean,” Mike said, with respect, leaning over to speak through the voder around Bert’s neck. “I didn’t think anything short of a Great Big Momma Snake could pack it in tighter.”
“Everything had a most delicious flavor,” Cinnamon said, rolling back on his tail and running the tip of a claw between his teeth for stray morsels. “I admire also the variety of textures and aromas.”
Mike grinned. “The grub is good here. What’s Gringg food like?”
“We eat protein, carbohydrates, starch coming from different sources. I will show you some of our eatables at another time. Now I must be curious about all aspects of our new friends, who are so very different from Gringg.”
“You can say that again,” Bert said, surveying the alien with a narrowed eye, forgetting that he was wearing the voder.
“Why must I repeat it?” Cinnamon asked, drawing his brows together over his snout.
“Uh,” Bert said, and looked to his friends for help. Mike guffawed.
“It’s a colloquialism,” Mike ex
plained, taking hold of the voder. “It means he agrees with what you said.”
“Would it not be simpler to say ‘I agree’?” Cinnamon asked, and the men laughed again.
It was impossible for anyone passing through the lunch room to miss the shaggy hulk of the Gringg. A few eyed Cinnamon warily and hurried on. Mike recognized those as interns from Earth. Most of the usual Rraladoon staff, however, stopped to be introduced. Cinnamon’s head kept turning back and forth, trying to follow multiple conversations. Mike decided he was happy to be in the midst of everything. One by one, the medics and visitors recalled appointments, and disappeared, leaving the four of them alone at their table.
“Okay,” Bert asked. “So, Cinnamon, what do you want to do this afternoon?”
“I wish to learn more about the pretty hrrrsses,” he said eagerly.
“You and everybody else,” Mike said, pushing away from the table with a mock sigh of exasperation. “Come on. We’ve got Mrs. Lawrence’s hunter gelding in for an abscess on his rump. He’s pretty calm. I don’t think he’ll spook at the sight of our pal here.”
In the treatment barn, Mike greeted Nita Taylor, one of their veterinary assistants, who was washing out a bucket under the pump at one end of the horse barn. “Got a visitor here to see Amber.”
Nita glanced over her shoulder, then stood up to take a fullfaced stare at the Gringg. She was a willowy girl of middle height with light-golden skin and dark brown eyes and hair. The things most people noticed about her were her perfect cupid’s-bow lips, and the fact that she was as shy as an urfa. She nodded, tilting her head toward the stall.
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