by Lyn Gala
“Do you like that piece?”
“Enough that I am glad the artist who produced it is dead so I can’t insult him with my inadequate compliments. The work is beautiful.”
Tsang moved to stand in front of Munson, blocking his view. That deadly charm reappeared in Munson’s smile.
“How do you know the artist is dead?” Tsang asked.
“The wood has a patina I would only expect to see in a piece that is several hundred years old. I assumed no one on Earth lived that long.” Munson tilted his head to the side. “Perhaps I’m wrong and you will educate me.”
Tsang narrowed his eyes. “I understood you were a poor, barely educated foot soldier who lucked into his position.”
Horror shocked Haru into silence. That was so far beyond the bounds of propriety that Haru failed to come to Munson’s defense before Munson shrugged and said easily, “Some do say that.”
“And yet you recognize the patina of a true antiquity.”
Munson studied Tsang as though he was a lower life form. “Unlike some, I have gone out into the universe to learn.”
“To learn about the quality of aged wood.” Tsang punctuated his words with a disgusted snort.
“One who wishes to learn will find knowledge everywhere.” Munson took a step toward Tsang. “Those who hide in crowded rooms might be surprised at what exists outside their narrow view.”
Tsang laughed. After a decade of buying art from Tsang, Haru had never heard that sound before. Tsang reached for his keys. “I know more than you can imagine, gutter rat.”
Munson’s smile was more open and genuinely amused now. “But I will learn more than you will dream of, little mole.”
“So, why did the colonel bring you along on one of his fruitless visits to Aizen?” Tsang triggered the key fob and the protective barrier slid away, exposing the priceless art. Haru had never been so close to the statue. He could have reached out to touch it if he dared. He didn’t.
“He had hoped I could make a more interesting offer,” Munson said.
“To get him the Aizen? That is not likely.”
“I’m not offering to buy it for him.” Liam took a step closer and rested his fingertips on the shelf under the Aizen.
“Then who are you buying for?”
Munson glanced over his shoulder. “For a merchant, you are far less informed than I expected.”
“For a servant, you are quick to voice your uneducated opinions.”
Haru had to step in before more harm could be done. “Mr. Tsang, Tuk-Liam is highly ranked among the Rownt, and Command recognizes his rank as somewhere between a colonel and a general.”
Tsang looked at Munson. “Is that right?”
“Not if the money they send to my beneficiaries is any indication.”
“Typical of Command. They give words that are never followed with actions.” Tsang glared at Haru as if he was to blame for the military’s faults.
“So I have noticed,” Munson said. Haru made a mental note to bring up the subject of increasing his Command pay to something closer to his Rownt rank.
“So why would the Rownt want the Aizen?” Tsang asked with far less animosity than Haru had expected.
“They are storytellers. He has an interesting story.” Munson thought for a time before he added. “Rownt appreciate craftsmanship. The Aizen would have a place of honor in the temple.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Yes.”
Tsang triggered the lock and the barrier slid down, forcing Munson to jerk his hand away before he got his fingers cut off. “Now you speak out of turn. I am disappointed.”
Munson turned to face off against Tsang. “You doubt my word?”
“I have heard that the women rule the Rownt, so as a man you would have no authority to make such a statement.”
“And you are a fool who listens to others, particularly those who are unable to understand Rownt culture.”
“Do you deny that women rule?” Tsang hit another button and the clear barrier turned opaque, hiding the treasures. He might as well have announced that Munson wasn’t good enough to look at his pieces.
“Rulers are chosen by age. The eldest hold the most sway, and for reasons of biology, only the Grandmothers can live a thousand years.”
“Which is another way of saying that you have no power to decide the fate of the Aizen once you purchased it.”
Munson didn’t back down or hesitate. “My word is listened to more than most, although my youth makes others hesitate to act on my word alone. However, while I don’t have the power to demand the Rownt act, I do have the understanding to predict what they will do in this circumstance.”
“And what circumstance is that?”
“The gifting of a temple artifact created by one with such talent would be displayed, either in the public temple for everyone to enjoy or in the upper levels of the temple where the Grandmothers can take pleasure in such talent.”
“You’re assuming I’ll sell the Aizen to you.”
“I am.”
The blunt answer shocked Tsang into a moment of silence. The two men stared at each other—Liam’s seven-foot frame towering over Tsang’s five and a half. “That’s an arrogant assumption,” Tsang said softly.
“I’m an arrogant man.” Munson said, and Haru could imagine his father saying the same words in the exact same tone.
“And if I choose to send an arrogant man away?”
“Then I will return with Ondry and his arrogance will outshine mine.”
“I can as easily refuse him.” The words were classic Tsang, but his tone was not nearly as confident as Haru was used to hearing from him.
Munson leaned closer. “Then we shall make, as our gift to the temple, an offer to introduce a Grandmother to you.”
“That is a poor gift for an elder.”
“On the contrary. A Rownt elder would never walk into a shop without a proper introduction. Without me to ease the way, the Grandmother would have no access to this beauty. It would be a magnificent gift, and I would have the great pleasure of watching you attempt to negotiate with a thousand-year-old Rownt.” Again, Munson’s predatory smile returned. The bastard was enjoying this. More shocking, the corner of Tsang’s mouth twitched in amusement.
They deserved each other.
“Do you have so much faith in your alien?” Tsang asked.
“She has no need of compliments from me, so I will limit myself to saying that your skills are adequate for a man who has not yet reached thirty.”
Haru cringed. Tsang was at least fifty or sixty years old.
Instead of taking offense, Tsang smiled. “Do all Rownt trade like you?”
“The good ones do.”
He laughed again. “Bring your Grandmother back and let me see if her insults are better than yours. You seem to have the skill of my three-year-old great-nephew, and I don’t like children.”
“A great flaw in you, but then you have so many perhaps it doesn’t affect you to admit one more.” Munson started for the arch. Clearly the negotiations had ended without a deal, but both men appeared happy enough with the outcome.
“Go on. Get out,” Tsang shouted.
“Happily,” Munson called as he threaded his way carefully through the crowded front room. Haru followed.
As they reached the street, Haru said, “I apologize for any insult Tsang offered.”
Munson laughed. “Rownt love insults. That’s how we tell each other that we have faith the other person is strong enough to take it and dish it out. I would be offended if he had treated me with kid gloves.” Munson was a strange, tangled knot of English idioms and alien ideas.
Haru led them back toward the car. Earlier, he had wondered if Rownt were fellow travelers on the eight-fold path toward enlightenment. If they were, it would make sense that the Rownt souls, like the souls of humans, could transcend death. If so, it was possible Tsang had met the Rownt or even been Rownt. Haru could believe it, although that was a
theory he did not plan to share with his superiors.
However, if Munson appreciated a good insult, Haru could take a chance on some honesty. “I’m fairly sure you both require therapy,” he said.
Munson gave him a huge grin. “Probably. So, let’s go back and discuss what you have to trade for osmium. No doubt it’s not enough, but I’m in a rare generous mood. No doubt your lack of competence has affected my willingness to take advantage of your inferior position.”
Haru shook his head in amusement. “No doubt,” he agreed, and ignoring all his own training in diplomacy, he didn’t even try to make his words sound believable. Perhaps it was time to add more honesty and a few insults to his diplomatic repertoire.
Kensho Part Four
The Grandmother lumbered down the ramp into a misty rain. She had been on ship far too long because she found the rain irritated her eyes. Earth smelled like Verockt with the heavy metal refining processors belching out toxins into the misted air. The Rownt there used salt water to capture the heavy byproducts and pull it back to the ground where it could be repurposed.
“I can escort you,” Liam offered.
The Grandmother tightened her eyes. Liam had the soul of a palteia, but his concern for her still confused her. Any creature who could earn the attention of a palteia had to feel joy, and she was no exception. But every time he returned to Ondry with undisguised delight, she was left with an emptiness in her life.
She honored Zach and recognized that his loyalties turned to her more with each day, but Liam was so Rownt in his thoughts that he roused her emotions in ways Zach could not. She wondered what the next fifty or hundred years would bring with Zach. It was possible that he would travel the same path Liam had. In that case, she mourned that she would die before him and leave him to suffer as only a palteia could. It was equally possible that Liam was unique and that in fifty years Zach would still long for his home and she would lose him. She worried that her fears would prevent her from committing herself to her palteia as was proper.
Until all the Grandmothers had decided the extent of Rownt and human compatibility, she would cherish Zach and hope that they had a future as secure as the one she saw for Liam and Ondry.
“Your chilta deserves your attention. You have provided the introduction.” The Grandmother said no more. Trade matters with humans were delicate, and Liam was far too insightful to allow him to witness too much. She did not know how humans would react when they realized how Rownt processed small amounts of metals and had few to trade. And Liam did not deserve the burden of carrying that secret. However, as long as humans produced palteia and the depth of the connection between their species was unknown and untested, Rownt would trade with humans, even if they did not wish to.
Liam continued at her side. “I would not want to make you walk alone.”
Liam’s Rownt was far better than Zach’s, but sometimes the Grandmother still struggled to parse the nuance. He could not force her to walk, so his statement was more about his preference. However she was too polite to ask whether he intended to imply he wished to go with her or whether he considered her an obligation.
She considered the dilemma as she walked. “I am sure Colonel Ito will be an adequate escort,” she said after a pause long enough for Liam to clarify his wishes if he chose to.
Without another word, Liam turned and walked back up into the ship. The Grandmother lumbered toward the far end of the field where a human transport waited. The large platform had no top, which meant she could avoid folding herself into an inappropriate space, but she would have little protection from the unpleasant atmosphere.
A human got out of the transport and trotted toward her. She quashed a certain discomfort at having a predator move so quickly, but as she had told the generals, it was good that their species had such obvious differences to remind them to avoid assumption. “Ma’am, Colonel Ito is waiting at the Command base.”
The Grandmother touched her communication device and it offered a polite, “Of course.” The vehicle rocked as she climbed in, but she did not wish to question human engineering so she remained silent as the driver started the engine. She then held the side of the transport and tried to feign comfort as the vehicle lurched and sped toward the building. In the distance, humans held up signs with images of Ondry snarling. They disliked Rownt visiting their planet. The fear would prevent mistakes and slow the relationship. She approved. She also assumed that humans did not care for her approval.
The vehicle stopped in front of the large government building, and as she got out, one of the tires made a loud noise and then hissed like an angry kawt.
“This way, ma’am.” The driver gestured toward the building where she had met with the generals previously. She assumed most of their rooms were too small for her to fit inside. Humans’ tiny frames were advantageous when it came to ships and housing. They could utilize such small spaces. One of the first descriptions of humans in the temple at Janatjanay had described them as colored angry and tiny. She agreed.
She ambled into a large room, expecting to see a table set up for trade. Instead, two small humans waited beside a pair of mats on the floor. She recognized Colonel Ito, but a much younger male in unfamiliar clothing stood next to him. “Welcome,” Ito said and he bowed. “I thought you might enjoy some tea. This is Lieutenant Saito.” He also bowed.
The Grandmother studied these humans. They both had angled eyes that reminded her of Ondry. She used her computer to respond. “I am unsure of my reaction to tea.” Many human foods were unpleasant.
Ito bowed again. “Based on Rownt nutrition files, it is safe and hopefully enjoyable. Many humans dislike tea because it is bitter, but even if you do not like the liquid, the power of the ceremony lies in taking a few moments to find quiet and peace before engaging in trade. The lieutenant is proficient in the tea ceremony.”
“My mother would disagree with that assessment, but I can serve tea without spilling it,” the lieutenant said in a low voice.
Ito ignored the interruption. “Tea is traditionally served as the participants sit on mats, but I can have chairs or tables brought if you would be more comfortable.”
“It is acceptable as is,” she said carefully. She hoped speaking some English for herself would build some trust. Much of human language required a flexibility in the mouth and lips that Rownt lacked, but she had practiced certain phrases.
Ito bowed again and then sank into a position where his legs were folded under him. She suspected that if she bent her body in such a manner that regaining her feet would require significant effort. Instead she spread her feet wide and lowered herself to the floor, leaving her knees high in the air.
The young one tended a round warmer in the middle of the room while Ito watched.
The colonel was small, even by human standards, but he had the gray hair that indicated age. He was also much more willing to sit in silence. He half-closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
She used the computer to voice her next question. “What is the significance of serving tea?”
Ito tilted his head, which suggested some sort of acknowledgement of the question, but he did not answer for several minutes. “Earth has many cultures. In my culture, sharing a meal followed by tea serves as a moment of reflection and peace. Neither Lieutenant Saito nor I am qualified to prepare a true tea ceremony, but it did seem appropriate to offer a moment of quiet reflection.”
Lieutenant Saito held out a bowl toward her, and she accepted it. Her hands dwarfed his, so she was not surprised when he scurried away on his knees to serve Colonel Ito from the far side of the warming device. Most human food had an unpleasant sweetness or a bland quality she tolerated in small doses. However, the tea had a pleasant odor. The lieutenant offered Ito a bowl, and he accepted it and took a small sip while she typed on her computer. “I had not understood humans to associate such concepts with the consuming of food or drink.”
Ito smiled slowly, a nd then nodded at the lieutenant. He left before Ito
spoke. “Humans are greatly varied in their beliefs and habits. As I understand it, we are far more varied in our beliefs, religions, and cultures than the Rownt.”
This was the sort of conversation the generals had avoided. Given that the Calti had a library of human stories and forms of entertainment, she did not understand the point of avoiding such an obvious truth. “After reading of Earth, I tend to agree. Are you from a grouping different from the humans I have met so far?”
“That would depend on how you define a grouping. I was raised in the Greater States, so I have a similar cultural background to many of the generals and colonels you've met, but my family immigrated here from Japan. Japan has a different set of cultural expectations, and sometimes I find that I lean on those traditions even though I never lived in Japan.”
“Is serving tea one of those traditions?”
Ito offered another abbreviated bow. “It is. Whenever my parents were dealing with a difficult or touchy subject, they would often retreat to the quiet of tea which facilitated words that were softer and more measured. As a young man, it frustrated me greatly. I wanted them to react, and they preferred to retreat into logic and tea.”
That was a valuable insight. She had raised enough young to know that emotion captured the imaginations of young Rownt, which was why status went by age. Human stories suggested that the same was true of humans, but she had not trusted tales meant for entertainment. After all, the Rownt still told many stories of their gods, but few believed in the reality of such beings. “The young are often frustrated by logic. That is why we do not hold their lack of logic against them.”
Ito laughed. His was a gentle laugh compared to Zach who would burst out with such wild sounds that it had startled her when she’d first heard it. “Why do I get the feeling you have given me the reason why you are so patient with the human species as a whole?
“Perhaps because the human species as a whole is young and likely to act like a teenager frustrated with elders who do not speak words quickly enough.”