Galatzi Joy (Galatzi Trade Book 3)

by Robin Roseau

  She replied, but I didn’t understand, and Cecilia didn’t translate.

  The people we saw had all stopped and were watching us. “They are unaccustomed to seeing the governor?” I suggested.

  “I blend,” she said. She was dressed in local clothing. I was not.

  “I am fairly certain you do not blend, Cecilia,” I said. “I imagine yours is the only head of hair quite like this on the entire planet.”

  “And yet, they’re staring at you, wondering who you are. They all know the shuttle arrived yesterday.” She took her wife’s hand, and then we were walking, three abreast.

  As we passed people, they offered greetings, friendly greetings. I heard “Governor”. That was in English. I heart “Cecilia” and “Sartine”. No one said, “Vendart.”

  We didn’t stop and chat, and they didn’t introduce me to anyone.

  Eventually we stepped through the doors of a building, and I recognized a restaurant. I followed the governor and Mrs. Governor to a table. We sat.

  Everything was a marvel. I looked at the table. “This is the same material as the buildings. This is made from a tree?”

  “Yes,” Cecilia said, then translated my question to Sartine, who smiled at me. “Meals here are served to the table.” She gestured, and I looked to another table. There were several plates on the middle of that table, and I realized people would serve themselves like one might at home.

  “I understand.”

  “Sartine will order. She will probably also dish your plate.”

  I jumped to a conclusion. She was worried I would react poorly. “I won’t embarrass you, Governor.”

  “She has experience introducing me to foods,” Cecilia continued. “She will give you small portions and see what appeals to you. You should be polite, but honest. If you do not care for something, it makes no sense to say otherwise, as she’ll take you at your word.”

  “And heap more upon my plate.”

  “Just so,” Cecilia said. “And order it next time as well.”

  A young woman approached the table. She seemed enamored of Cecilia’s hair, and actually stroked it while talking rapidly. Cecilia smiled at her and responded a few times while not seeming the slightest put out by the attention. Then she introduced me, and I learned the girl’s name was Maridarn.

  I repeated it, and the girl slowly corrected me. “Ma-rid-ARN.”

  I repeated it and she nodded, smiling and setting her hand on my shoulder.

  “They are very casual with touch,” Cecilia said quietly. “She means nothing in particular by it.”

  I nodded slightly. The girl spoke, and Cecilia said, “She asks when you arrived. Are you able to answer?”

  “Talmon one day,” I said in the girl’s language.

  “One day?” she echoed.

  “Is my accent that bad?”

  “Yes, but not so poor she didn’t understand. She knows you wouldn’t understand if she asked more.”

  “They had to have seen the shuttle.”

  “Oh, yes. And now you have confirmed you were a passenger.”

  I smiled at the girl. “One day,” I repeated. “Talmon beautiful.”

  The girl’s smile broadened, and she began speaking quickly. Then she lifted her voice, and I realized after a moment she was introducing me to the entire room of people.

  “What is she doing?” I asked quickly.

  “Can you guess?”

  “She’s telling everyone here about me!”

  Cecilia laughed, then spoke quietly to Sartine, who smiled.

  “Yes,” Sartine said in English. “She tell all.”

  “She knows nothing about me,” I said in slow, careful English. Sartine put on a face, so Cecilia translated for me.

  “She know…” then she said a word in Talmonese, and Cecilia said in English, “She knows enough.”

  Then the girl turned back to me, reached for my hand, and began tugging, speaking urgently.

  “What does she want?”

  “You promised not to embarrass me, and you know what she wants, Maddalyn,” Cecilia said.

  “Am I supposed to let her do this?”

  “It is the Talmon way. Are you a Talmon girl or not?”

  “I am,” I said. I let the girl pull me to my feet. Then she dragged me from table to table, introducing me to absolutely everyone: the patrons, another boy whom I thought might be her brother, and then she even pulled me in back, where I met two more people cooking the meals for all of us. We didn’t shake hands, but I did my best to exchange greetings without mangling their names.

  We she pulled me back to Cecilia, both of them were smiling broadly, although at least they weren’t outright laughing.

  “I won’t remember all their names,” I said.

  “Then you need to grow more comfortable with your implant,” Cecilia replied. “Do you know how?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get ready,” she said. I began talking quietly to Melina while Cecilia spoke rapid Talmonese.

  “Governor.”

  “Aide?”

  “Ask her to help me say each name properly.”

  She nodded and said a few more words. The girl nodded then set her hand on her chest. “Ma-rid-ARN.”

  “Maridarn,” I said, and she nodded. Then she spoke rapidly again.

  “Did you see the section about names?” Cecilia asked.

  “No.”

  “They give names that give away their order of birth. Her name means she is the third daughter.”

  “Sartine?”

  “First daughter. It’s in the dictionary.”

  “I understand.” I turned back to Maridarn. “Maridarn girl three.”

  She nodded then pulled on my hand. We went table to table again. I learned names, and Melina quietly remembered them for me, storing both the name and several images of the person as well as information where I had met them.

  The woman cooking was named Relamine. I practiced her name and then I said, “Relamine girl one.” Both Relamine and Maridarn smiled and nodded. Then I pointed back and forth. “Relamine one, Maridarn three?” I didn’t want to go diving for the name for sisters. Relamine was clearly quite a bit older than Maridarn, but I didn’t know what sort of gap there might be, especially if there were seven boys in between the two.

  The two exchanged a look, but then Relamine said, “No. I am,” then she said a word I didn’t know. But she pointed to Maridarn and made a rocking motion with her arms. “Childano,” she said, holding her hand in the air. I realized that was the name of a first son. “Yulistine.” She lowered her hand. “Narlain.” Her hand came down further, a second daughter. Then she lifted her hand. “Paolorid.” A second son. Then she lowered her hand to Maridarn’s head. “Maridarn.”

  I smiled and nodded. “I understand.” That would become my most used phrase in three different languages.

  Maridarn laughed and gave me a quick hug, then pulled me back to Cecilia and Sartine. I touched her arm for a moment then settled back in my chair, more than a little overwhelmed by such simple events. “Is it going to be like this everywhere?”

  “Probably,” Cecilia said. “Welcome to Talmon.” That was in Talmonese, but I understood the words.

  Maridarn laughed and said something quickly, then she counted down -- that part I understood -- and when she reached “one”, the entire room shouted, “Welcome to Talmon.”

  “Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Well,” Cecilia said. Then she spoke quickly to Sartine. Sartine addressed Maridarn. The two spoke back and forth only a moment, and then the girl hurried away. She was back nearly immediately, it seemed, setting down three glasses and a pitcher of water. A minute later she was back again, adding two more glasses plus a mug and a pot.

  “Will drinking from a glass I have used disturb you?” Cecilia asked.

  “No.”

  She moved the glass to me. “Try it. You aren’t going to like it. It is far too sweet. Do not make a face.�
��

  I nodded, picked up the glass, and gave a sniff. It was some sort of fruit juice. I tried it, and she was right: it was very sweet. I set it back down.

  “I saw you had some of the local tea,” Cecilia said. “Can you drink it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is for you, then,” she replied. “If you encounter something you don’t care for, I don’t think you want this juice to clear the taste, and water isn’t always enough.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You need to grow accustomed,” she continued. “Including the juice. It is ubiquitous. The fruit grows even in Indartha, and it stores well, although they ferment it to make it last through the winter. Further south, you can have fresh all year, but as you can guess, they do not ship food. Trade is actually rather minimalized. Furs from the north. Cotton from the south. There are two iron mines on the planet. Steel is iron smelted with carbon. The quality of their steel is good, all things considered. Steel is shipped, but it is very expensive and used sparingly. There are some luxury goods that are shipped, but not in any volume.”

  I tried to get my head around that. “I think you told me more than just what is shipped.”

  “Probably,” she said. “For instance, you do realize they have no refrigeration.” I stared. I hadn’t thought about that. “Further north, they have ice boxes, but they don’t get sufficient ice here during the winter to accrue a supply. They are very good at canning and drying.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “You were taught the importance of dietary supplements.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Summer and autumn foods are most varied, with ample fresh fruits and vegetables. As winter arrives, access to fresh diminishes, and the diet shifts to canned, dried, or those few vegetables that store well, plus, of course, livestock.”

  “Livestock?”

  “Sheep and chicken is most common, although there are some very significant cattle ranches. And, of course, the majority of the population lives near the coast.”

  “I can’t imagine the sea is filled with edible fish.”

  “They populated the seas. After 500 years, they’re teaming with Earth fish. The two sets of life have managed to coexist. I have no idea how they accomplished that.”

  “So expect a lot of fish in the winter?”

  “Expect a lot of fish all year,” she countered. Then she turned to Sartine and switched languages. I tried to grow accustomed to the sounds.

  Maridarn returned to our table bringing a breadbasket with her. She set it down along with three plates and sets of silverware. I waited until she was gone but then picked up my fork. “What is this material?”

  “Ah,” Cecilia said. “Tree sap.” She said something quickly to Sartine, who opened a pouch and set several coins on the table. “They use it for everything.”

  I gestured to the coins and watched Sartine. She nodded, so I picked one up and examined it. I turned it over and realized it carried the likeness of a woman on one side. I studied it carefully, then looked even more closely at Sartine.

  They were both watching me.

  “Her picture is on their money.”

  “She is Indartha Vendart,” Cecilia said. “Yes. Her picture is on their money. Beginning next year, I am told mine will be as well. She has threatened to place my picture on the lowest numbers.”

  “Shouldn’t yours be on the highest?”

  “If I appeared as governor, perhaps, but I appear as Vendart’s Wife.”

  “A lowly position?”

  “Not necessarily. Sartine teases me. It is not that I care, but they make the most of the smaller values.”

  “And so you would spread far and wide.”

  “Probably not, as coins from Indartha are not found in much volume very far from Indartha,” Cecilia replied. “Turn it over again. What do you see?”

  I examined it. There was some pattern around the rim, and then it looked like someone had picked up the coin while it was warm, pressing in a dirty fingerprint.

  “To prevent counterfeit coins, each carries a live impression,” Cecilia said.

  “Live?” I echoed. “She makes each coin herself?”

  “She presses her thumb into each with her image,” Cecilia replied. “For the big coins, they make only a small number, and it takes little time.”

  “And for the small coins, you would be pressing them for weeks.”

  Cecilia laughed. “Just so.” She switched back to Talmonese and spoke quickly. Sartine laughed then pulled more coins from her pouch, sorting them before spilling several small coins across the table. “Maddalyn.”

  “You just volunteered me!”

  Cecilia laughed. “Sartine loves the idea.”

  “How much are those worth?”

  “With Talmon coins, size matters.”

  “You’re putting me on the smallest.” I picked one up, but there was no person and no thumb print.

  “They use a unit of money from Earth called a dollar. The smallest with an actual imprint is one dollar. That one is one tenth of a dollar.”

  Sartine took the large coin from me. “Five ten dollar,” she said in English.

  “Fifty,” Cecilia clarified.

  “Got it.”

  She found a smaller coin and showed it to me. It had her picture. “Two ten dollar.” She sorted some more then shrugged. “One ten dollar Hilopid.”

  “Hilopid is her younger brother,” Cecilia clarified.

  “One dollar,” she said, and slid a coin to me. I saw the image of a man. “Hilopid.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  She spoke to Cecilia, who said simply, “Next year.”

  She set the fifty-dollar coin down. “Two ten dollar. Hilopid. One ten dollar. Hilopid. Dollar. Cecilia.” Then she slid a one-tenth dollar coin at me. “Maddalyn.”

  I smiled at her. “I can’t tell which of us she’s teasing more, but I bet it’s you. I think I’m safe.”

  “I think you’re right,” Cecilia said. But then she reached for the coins. “Sartine.” She clicked down the fifty-dollar piece. Then she tapped the table. “Cecilia.” Then the ten-dollar coin. “Hilopid.” Then a one-dollar coin. “Maddalyn.”

  Sartine looked at the coins then said, “No.” She held her hand to one side of the fifty-dollar coin. “Sartine.” Then she tapped the fifty and where the twenty would be. “Cecilia. Hilopid, Hilopid. Maddalyn.”

  I laughed, but Cecilia looked at me. “She’s serious, Maddalyn.”

  “She’s not going to put me on money. I’m nobody.”

  “Maddalyn, Sartine will do anything for me I ask, and this was my idea.” She tapped the one dollar coin.

  Then Sartine spoke quickly and added a few of the small coins and said, “Maddalyn.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Right.”

  “Ah, you didn’t hear what she said. If you are unable to have this conversation in Talmonese by the time we press the money, you’re going on the little ones.”

  “She’s offering incentive to avoid learning?”

  “Imagine pressing your thumb print into each of the small coins,” she said. “They are made in a mold, pressed eight at a time for the biggest coins, but twenty at a time for the smallest. Then before they cool completely, you make a print with one thumb, a print in the next with the other thumb, and then wash your hands before you press the next two.”

  “It is not that I would be on small coins, but it is this pressing that is the threat.”

  “Yes.”

  “She won’t do it.”

  “She certainly would,” Cecilia said. She turned to Sartine and said a word in Talmonese, then in English said, “Agreed.”

  “Yes,” Sartine said in English. “Agreed.” She turned to me. “Talmonese.” She made a talking gesture with her hand.

  “I’ll study hard,” I said, nodding.

  “Good.”

  * * * *

  The next day began much like my first full day, but of course,
I already had my desk. I continued my studies. I made tea. I didn’t receive an invitation to lunch this time, and I made do in the kitchen. And then Sartine arrived. She greeted me warmly then stepped past me into Cecilia’s office. Fifteen minutes they both emerged.

  “We’re heading back to Indartha,” Cecilia said. “You may work from my desk if you wish, but if you can’t bring yourself to do so, I don’t care where you study.”

  “Then you don’t mind if I study outside your office in Indartha.” I stood up. “I need five minutes to grab my bag. I packed last night. How long will we be gone?”

  “You’re not going.”

  “Governor Grace,” I said, “I am your personal assistant. I cannot assist you with personal things if you are in Indartha and I am here.”

  “No.” And then they both stepped past me. I hurried around my desk, chasing them, finally getting ahead and setting myself in their path.

  Sartine chuckled, but Cecilia didn’t seem remotely amused. I looked into her eyes and then slumped. “You hate me. You hate that I am here. You hate that Aunt Anna sent me. You hate that I am to write reports. You intend to send me back on the next shuttle. You think I should go back to Frantzland like a good little girl.”

  Cecilia stepped loose from Sartine and closed the distance to me. “I would not make one suggestion what Anna White should do with you,” she said. “And hate is far too strong a word, and is used much too widely. I don’t hate. I don’t have an opinion about you, Maddalyn. But you’re partially right about the rest. I am not impressed that Anna sent her niece to spy on me.”

  “I am not a spy!” I said hotly. “I am your assistant, and the only thing I am to report is whether you will let me do my job!”

  “I didn’t want this job,” she said. “This one and a few others conspired behind my back and foisted it on me. I was ready to go home to Centos Four after the First Planetary Congress. But if Anna is going to send me someone, she should send me someone who can actually help me. I need medical staff to help me open a rejuvenation center. I need engineers to help me establish electricity in the major cities with heating and lighting. I need people who will fall in love with Talmon so they’ll commit themselves to learning the language. I need teachers, thousands of teachers. And they need to speak fluent Talmonese, too. I can’t ask the entire planet to learn English. And I need money to pay for everything I need to import. Instead, she sent me you. I’m sure you were quite competent in your previous job, and I am sure Anna can find something you can do well. But until you are fluent in Talmonese, you are worthless to me.”