by Carol Buhler
As we passed by, we exchanged greetings via reeth with the Mur, Roe and Wee families, who reported no particular problems from the human villages. As we got closer to Vuddonville, however, Furdon and his reeth-mate flew out to meet us with news of troubles ahead.
“Vuddon’s furious over the mess in Franktown,” he said as a greeting. “His shipping partners claim mass losses because of your actions and refuse to pay him his share.”
“There were no losses suffered by the ships!” I exclaimed. “Why hasn’t he sent me word of this?”
Furdon let out a loud crack of laughter. “I’m not surprised. Those shifty sea-captains are trying to cheat him. I think he’s knows it and is embarrassed he fawned so over them in the first place. Neldon and I didn’t!” The don smiled hugely at some joke he alone knew. “We got paid for our fish and didn’t invest in the fleet itself, like he did. Neither did Neldon. I’ll send him word. Vuddon chastised us for not having faith when we didn’t want to wait for the huge profits he expected.—No, no! I’m not coming with you. I’ll visit some other day, when I can gloat and not embarrass him in front of the Supreme Don.”
As his mind-mate banked away, he shouted, “Don’t tell Vuddon I told!”
Before we arrived at Vuddon’s home, he sent word to meet him in town. The message was brought and shared fairly tersely by his youngest son, a few years younger than Jol. The boy glared while delivering his father’s words, then shot off, leaving us to follow or not. Since the communication could have been conveyed via reeth quite easily, I took the personal approach as a sign of Vuddon’s anger or mortification. He’s trying to intimidate me!
Then, I remembered his words from my last visit. “Leave us alone!” He should be embarrassed.
He met us on a dock, surrounded by the male members of his family and three husky humans who looked belligerent. There was no sign of the man I’d met before, Bill Shoeman.
“You ruined my investment,” Vuddon shouted as soon as I’d dismounted.
Ignoring him, I turned to take Korola’s arm, nodded at Jol to follow, and strolled leisurely toward him, my face configured in a pleasant smile. “How could I have done that?” I asked calmly.
“You destroyed the docks! Our ships weren’t able to off-load their cargo. They had to sell at massive discounts to get rid of our product. My profit is gone!”
I shifted my gaze to the closest human. He was heavily bearded, broad shouldered, and glowering. “That’s strange,” I said to him with my face turned away from Vuddon. “That’s not how I remember things going in Franktown.”
Vuddon scurried around me, getting between me and the man. “How do you remember it?” His voice screeched.
Still staring at the dock man, or captain, or whatever he was, I said, “The docks were indeed on fire when we arrived. I had nothing to do with it. Some of the humans from Xagdon’s lands put the fire out with their air-cars.”
I changed my focus to Vuddon. “Humans were rioting near the docks. We put a stop to it. Samuel Jefferson’s best friend was shot in the head and killed—by a human. No one from the ships was involved.
“In fact…” I eyeballed the three humans, “I talked to captains from the ships. None of them were you three. What, exactly, did you do with your cargo? Because the ones I saw in Franktown were busily selling to the locals, at inflated prices.”
The nearest one snarled. “You’re lying.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really?” Without taking my gaze away from his face, I asked Aarnyon to play the scenes at Franktown for this man. He could simultaneously share with Vuddon’s reeth-mate so the don would know, as would any other reeth in the vicinity.
The big man gulped as the mental pictures forced their way into his head. He swayed and stepped back into a companion. I saw the instant that Aarnyon switched showing the scenes to the second man—he almost fell down—and some other reeth-mate, probably Baddget, grabbed them from Aarnyon and forced them into the third.
“Vuddon knows, even if you three don’t, that reeth can’t lie. Neither am I lying. You are.”
The three men turned and ran toward the dock. Jol started after them, followed by the boy who’d brought us the message, Vuddon’s youngest. He’d evidently gotten the scenes from his reeth-mate. I had to assume all of Vuddon’s family had seen them. If they weren’t melded, another reeth would have shared.
In my mind, it would help Jol get over his hurt if he brought one of these three connivers down, so I let them go and only a moment later, the rest of Vuddon’s sons were in pursuit. I turned to the father. “I’m sorry they tried to trick you, my friend.”
Vuddon sagged—I didn’t want to gloat at his chagrin—leave that to the others. “I’ve been learning the hard way how devious humans can be. Let’s go to your home and set up a court to gather the facts and try these men.” I took his elbow and walked him toward his palomino reeth-mate. “What happened to Bill Shoeman, that I met last time I was here?”
The don straightened his back and drew his arm out of my grasp. “Those three…” He threw his head back toward the docks. “…told me he was cheating. They got a crowd together and voted Bill out of office. I think he’s still in town.” He stopped and glanced at me. “I guess they probably cheated him, too.”
“I expect so.”
“I’ll send someone to find him and bring him out to the house. We’ll hold court and get this straightened out.” He sighed. “I suppose you think I’m a stupid, old fool.”
“Not at all. I’ve been fooled by these humans, too. That’s why we’re doing this inspection. I’ve decided it’s up to me to try to control the more outrageous humans so I’m now being the Supreme Don, not the Joe Family Speaker.”
Part IV
Dates: 831 through 850
Location: Gareeth, eastern section of the continent
14. Understanding Doesn’t Help
Unfortunately, the rift between Jol and Jackson did not heal. Shortly after returning from our first inspection tour, which had taken us way north into lands I’d never visited, Jol, Korola, and I paid a special visit to Samsville to attempt reconciliation. Sam acted as moderator, supposedly to keep tempers contained as Jol, Jackson, Jackson’s parents, and Paul discussed the event that had left Paul’s father “no more than a vegetable,” according to Paul.
It became immediately obvious that none of the humans, even Sam, understood or accepted Jol’s reason for not plunging in to save Paul’s father. “When a life is at stake, leader’s commands shouldn’t take precedence,” Sam said firmly to Jol.
I couldn’t keep quiet. “How was Jol supposed to know a life was at stake?” I snapped.
Jackson’s father shot right back. “It was obvious. Two against one.”
I turned to glare at him. “It was not obvious. You weren’t there. Even I didn’t know how serious his injuries could be.”
“I was there,” Paul shouted, jumping out of his chair. “Jol’s older than me. He should’ve helped. I begged him. He just stood there, watching.”
Jackson was nodding although still in his seat. “He should have helped.”
I realized how fruitless it was to argue with them. Sam, Jackson’s parents, the boys before me judged Jol based on his chronological age. Yes, in terms of years lived, Jol was older than either Jackson or Paul, by a year or two. But in terms of maturity, he was younger. I didn’t want to explain the maturation rate of the don—which I only at that moment realized was so different from human. In my mind, Jol was not mature enough, at age twenty-eight, to have judged the outcome of the beating the Bowler brothers inflicted. I barely understood how grievous it had been.
I stood. “Jol, I’m sorry. They don’t understand—and I don’t think we can convince them. Let’s go.”
He rose, face frozen in a look of despair. But, he said nothing as Korola and I led the way to our reeth-mates. We mounted and left in silence. Relations between Samsville and the Joe family were strained from that point forward.
Shortly
after that encounter, we heard of Jackson’s marriage, soon followed by young Sammy’s. Korola and I shook our heads, but decided we didn’t understand human ways any more than they understood ours. I had been in my forties when she and I married—she’d been thirty-eight. Jol wasn’t even showing interest in the opposite sex—a comforting behavior for his parents.
When Jol and I left on the next judgment tour, we stopped outside of Johnstown for a brief visit to Dr. Tucker. I took the opportunity to ask him how long humans lived, as a general rule. His answer stunned me. “Sixty to eighty years, usually. A few into their nineties.”
No wonder they’re in such a hurry to grow up, marry, and produce the next generation. A further thought brought Sam’s opinion of Jol’s actions into better perspective for me. Sam considers Jol, at twenty-eight, almost middle-aged, certainly beyond the late-childhood we know him to be.
Dr. Tucker asked why I wanted to know. I explained that my father had died at the age of one hundred forty-four and that I expected to live for another eighty years myself. He studied me, then Jol. I thought Jol looked exactly what he was, a young don just entering adulthood. I wondered what Dr. Tucker thought.
“I see the problem, when I look closely,” he said. “I once told you I was trained to be observant, but I sure failed on this point. When I compare Jol to, say, Paul, I see that, although he’s taller, and probably a whole lot stronger, he’s not filled out and muscled like an adult—like you, or like Bardon. Even like Paul was compared to his father. You all mature much slower than we humans, don’t you?”
I nodded. “I think that’s the root of the problem between Paul, Jackson, and Jol. They’re thinking and behaving as adults, at the prime of their lives. As their parents expect them to. Jol is still an adolescent.” He groaned at my description. “It’s true, son. No matter you and Jackson were best friends, Jackson has outgrown you—or rather out-matured you. You will catch up and pass him within the next twenty years. He’ll be an old man when you’re just reaching your prime!”
I turned back to Dr. Tucker. “We didn’t know when we encouraged their friendship.” I had another thought. “How old are you?”
He grinned sheepishly. “Twenty-nine.”
Jol and I gaped in astonishment.
As we continued south on our tour, Jol and I discussed the consequences we saw developing, brought to light by Dr. Tucker’s revelation. We realized that Sam had looked old when we’d seen him last. Twenty-five years had passed since I’d first met him—I hadn’t noticed the aging process taking its toll.
“Paul wasn’t left a helpless teenager like I thought,” Jol said. The worry that had colored his words was gone. “Unlike how I would have been if you had died, or been crippled.” His words changed my guilt over the incident, too. “Now I understand Jackson’s obsession with girls. It’s all he talked about as we moved Paul’s family south.”
“It makes more sense of the way the humans scramble for more land, more equipment, more everything.” I added my thoughts to his. “They don’t feel they have time to enjoy the world like we do.”
“Dad.” His voice held a serious tone and I listened with all my being. “Just because I understand them a bit better now, I still don’t like them much.”
I sighed. “I don’t either, but we’re stuck with them. They won’t be leaving.”
“Yeah. I know.”
**
The court we’d held in Vuddonville defined don-human relations for the next ten years, keeping Jol and me extremely busy. At first, we traveled together to act as judge in disputes between human groups, or between don and human. Soon, however, he became better than me at keeping his temper while listening to ridiculous complaints and, sometimes, even sillier counterclaims or defenses. I would have thought my counterparts would be above complaining of the human’s barking dogs, noisy festivals, or rampaging cattle trampling grazing grounds. Not so.
We divided the land between us; I took the coastal areas and he took the interior to the highlands. I still, based solely on my premonition, refused to allow humans access to mountain lands and put in place a strict policy: if some human required raw materials for production that had to come from the foothills or crags in the west, either Jol or I contacted the appropriate don family and arranged the mining and sale.
The mountains came to mean a refuge of quiet and tranquility for me, emotional states I no longer found in my everyday life.
The human population grew rapidly—every supply ship brought more “refugees,” as I began to think of them. Whenever I talked to the pilots about transporting only equipment and not settlers, they told me horror stories of more and more crowding on Earth and the extensive efforts his passengers had made to escape. Even though I felt my home was being overrun by humans, the pilots always convinced me I was saving the lives of those who arrived on the ships.
New human cities developed, mostly in organized and planned ways, but they put pressure on don holdings. Humans just plain took up space, and no matter how hard we tried to control them, they seemed to seep out from their centers and devour more land. They reproduced at an alarming rate, then married and reproduced more at a much younger age than we don did.
Sam grew ill and his son, now called Sam, Jr. instead of Sammy, took over the leadership of Samsville. For old times’ sake, I stopped in to visit as often as I could. We talked of what Sam called “the good old days,” a term I couldn’t agree with as I thought life prior to humans had been much better than after Sam and his ship invaded my grasslands. Every time I visited, it seemed there was another tiny child running around behind Sam, Jr.’s wife. He never spoke with me. Neither did Jackson, whose wife also produced another baby every year. Jol had yet to find someone he cared enough about to court, let alone marry.
I could wait for grandchildren.
15. Escalation
The judicial load soon grew out of Jol’s and my ability to handle. Disputes between single humans and groups of humans escalated too fast. We pressed Sardon and his oldest son into judge duty, and soon, my daughter Kora, demanded to help, saying she was bored at home. Korola and I discussed it. At twenty-six, our daughter was more mature and more level-headed than either Jol or I had been at that age, and she had traces of the soother talent in her makeup. The ability to sooth emotions popped up quite often in don and reeth, especially in the Joe family. Kora’s ability wasn’t outstanding—but it was stronger than mine. I was more comfortable reading emotions than soothing them. Korola and Jol had no trace of the talent.
We decided to give Kora a try and the next round I started, heading north this time, I took her with me. The journey to Wofdon’s holdings took us three days. Kora exclaimed at the beauty of the Sapphire Sea, where we camped two of the nights. On the south shore, the sand was smooth and white, the water glistened the brilliant color that gave it its name, and the breeze caressed warm and gentle. We fished and stuffed ourselves that first night while I questioned Kora about different cases that had come up in the past and what she would rule if she heard something similar.
With no need of blankets, we curled up with our reeth-mates and fell asleep, comfortable with each other.
The next day, we flew along the length of the Sea, marveling at the changing landscape below us. Human villages dotted the shoreline, more plentiful in the south than toward the north. Although we could have sped our progress to reach the Hes family home, we chose to camp again among the rocks and heavy pine forest of the northern shore—so incredibly different from the south. We ate from our provisions and Kora pelted me with questions regarding the rest of our beautiful Gareeth.
To my surprise, the humans we’d routed out of Petersborough and sent north had mostly thrived. Once out from under the influence of Pete Mason, they’d knuckled down and farmed like they’d said they wanted to. Wofdon reported that Pete had died of natural causes within the last year and that his sons had divided equally the property Pete had claimed and were respectable, law-abiding citizens.
&nb
sp; Still, he had a full two-day’s worth of disagreements for me to pass judgment on and it looked like a good mix to hand over to Kora. At first, the don and humans present seemed offended that a female would act as their judge. When she appeared, in the deep blue jacket and skirt I knew instinctively had been specially designed by her mother, the complainants and defendants came to attention. To me, she was still the baby girl who’d pestered me most of her life. To them, she was regal and packed with authority. I sat back to enjoy.
Only one time did she consult me on a case in the full two days. Brothers claimed the boundary lines between their properties were incorrect causing a thin strip of land to be disputed between them. Each had a map and diagram to explain their position. I appreciated that they hadn’t decided their difference with fists but had brought their disagreement to our court. Maybe humans can learn to get along—with each other and with us.
When Kora brought me the maps, I understood that the dispute was more serious than I’d thought. The discrepancy consisted of a small ravine which carried a stream and the only water available to each parcel of land. In order to legitimately farm, both brothers needed access to that water. Kora and I decided to divide the ravine in half, cross ways, and assign the lower half to one brother and the upper half to the other. We also made the one who received the upstream portion sign an agreement, punishable by monetary compensation, to never block the stream with a dam or other obstacle that prevented water from reaching the lower section.
The brothers agreed and signed the papers. Kora grinned with accomplishment, and we retired to share dinner with Wofdon’s family. Although I would continue the route with Kora for at least a month, she was well suited for the job at hand.