Free Legacy by Steve White Page B

taking a small device from one of her coverall's pockets and putting what resembled an old-style hearing aid in one ear. Then she made a stately gesture to the small group.
    The Danuans—Tiraena had adopted the name, admitting that it was shorter than what her people had inflicted on the locals and had a fairly civilized, meaning Raehaniv-like, sound to it—stood their ground calmly, as the handheld voder began translating Tiraena's greeting into their own fluting language. They must have met humans before, or at least heard of them. The latter was not unlikely; this culture might not have metallurgy, or writing, but it was surprisingly cosmopolitan.
    Sarnac, with nothing to do except look unthreatening, contented himself with watching the Danuans. It was always eerie looking at a nonhuman life form you knew housed sentience. But compared with the Korvaasha it was easy to meet a Danuan's eyes. For one thing, they had eyes, plural—two of them, like they were supposed to. Binocular vision seemed to be the most common pattern, though evolution had produced trinocular arrangements on at least two known planets. The overall form was not unattractive: a slender centauroid, covered with a short cream-colored coat of what was not really fur, not really felt. The head, which tapered to a mouth that performed all the functions of its human equivalent, sat atop a long neck that was flexible enough to point the large dark eyes in any direction. Sarnac wondered how different the Danuans' worldview must be from that of a being like himself, for whom the universe was a hemisphere in front of whatever direction his body was facing.
    The conversation concluded, and Tiraena turned back to the other humans. "It's all right. Her name is . . . Cheel'kathu is close enough. She's the leader of a caravan that's proceeding in the direction we want to go. Her clan is organizing a trading voyage south, and the raft will be departing when she arrives. She learned about us from her relatives, and she's eager to help us in exchange for the trade goods I've promised her once we reach the base." She looked grim. "Also, she's heard about the Korvaasha. I told her we're their enemies, and I think she believes me. That's almost enough to make her help us for free."
    "Does that mean there are Korvaasha around here?" Frank's voice was almost back to normal now. Only drugs—and Tiraena's promise of a prosthetic hand that would make the Solar Union's state-of-the-art products look like an iron hook—had enabled him to keep pace at first. That, and Natalya's constant attention.
    "No, she's just heard stories. They're enough," said Tiraena with a grim look. "Which is to be expected, as even you must know." She instantly looked annoyed with herself. "What I mean, of course, is. . . ."
    "Yeah, I know," Sarnac cut her off. He couldn't help thinking of what had been found when Nueva Patagonia had been retaken from the Korvaasha, and the tales the survivors had told.
    She must have read his expression. "No, really, I apologize." Wryly: "I remember, as an adolescent, hearing my grandparents wonder out loud if I had been cloned from original cells of my great-great-grandfather Varien hle'Morna."
    "Sounds like a compliment," Sarnac ventured. "Wasn't he a great historical figure?"
    "Yes. He was also, by all accounts, an insufferable, condescending old grolofv ." She smiled crookedly. "He didn't suffer fools gladly—and his definition of 'fools' was a bit more inclusive than most people's!" She hefted her pack and motioned the others to follow her, and they set out after the Danuans.
    Sarnac and Tiraena walked side by side in a silence which he finally broke. "I suppose we really can't compare our experience of the Korvaasha to yours. I mean, Earth's never been occupied by them."
    "No, and you should be thankful. Remember what I told you about why my name is a traditional one in our family? Well, there's another reason: it's a way of reminding ourselves what we