Free Law of Survival by Kristine Smith Page B

unbred, like his Sànalàn, wore theirs in tight napeknots. All wore shoulder-grazing hoops or helices in their ears. We are the Gold People of the High Sands. A dène vynshàne Rauta Shèràa. He never felt the surety of this more than in the contrast with humanish. Never more than now, the differences daunted him. So vast. So overwhelming.
    He took his seat at the point of the arrowhead-shaped table, in a chair so low that his knees complained as he lowered into it. On one side of the arrowhead sat the secular dominants who acted in Cèel’s stead, Suborn Oligarch Shai and next to her, Speaker to Colonies Daès, their chairs pitched slightly higher than Tsecha’s in deference to his status as their religious dominant. Tsecha stretched out one leg beneath the table as surreptitiously as he could, and wished that they had deferred to the status of his old joints instead.
    He looked to his Jani again. She looked back, her eyes half-closed as though her head pained her, her face as a wall. He nodded, and she responded with a flick and waver of the fingers of her left hand, a Low Vynshàrau gesture of agitation and the need for explanation. Then Derringer turned around to speak to her, and she let her hand drop.
    Derringer. Tsecha watched the man point his finger in Jani’s face, his expression stern. He scolded her constantly, for reasons Tsecha could never comprehend and Jani refused to discuss. But only when his dominant is absent. When General Callum Burkett attended meetings, he and Jani talked as Derringer sat most quietly. Which was not to say that Burkett never scolded Jani, or that Jani never scolded him in return. In the end, Burkett listened. Derringer never did.
    I have used up all my dried pokegrass, Eugene. But the Haárin who managed the ornamental gardens did grow leafbarb to discourage the feral animals that evaded embassy security barriers. A wondrous plant, leafbarb, and truly. Not only did the blade-sharp yellow leaves poke through clothing admirably, but their clear juice contained a chemical that caused humanish skin to erupt in a seeping rash….
    â€œMinister Ulanova.” Suborn Oligarch Shai gestured toward the chair at her side. “Join us at table, so we may begin.”
    A miniature figure rose from her front row seat beside Lescaux and walked to the table. Her hair and clothes were as wood-brown, her face as sharpened stone, her steps as minced as a youngish. “My gratitude is yours, and truly, nìaRauta,” Anais Ulanova replied in stilted High Vynshàrau as she mounted the chair across from Shai. Her knuckles whitened as she clenched the rim of the seat to keep her balance, her tiny feet dangling half an arm’s length above the floor.
    Tsecha glanced at Jani, who bit her lip and looked away.
    â€œIn deference to Vynshàrau directness and openness, I will simply begin.” Anais had returned to English, which sounded as forced as her Vynshàrau. Many of the assembled attached translator headpieces as she spoke, while others paged through their copies of the official Exterior report that had been provided them. “I wish to state for the record how much the Commonwealth esteems the Oligarch’s candor in dealing with this unfortunate chain of events. I would also like to state that this idomeni custom of facing difficult matters in such a straightforward manner is one that humanish also esteem and appreciate, and one that we will seek to maintain as our diplomatic relations strengthen.”
    How glorious, Anais! Tsecha had to clench his hands to keep from erupting into humanish applause. Somewhere in that speech was a point, I believe, although it would take a crew of deep-pit miners many seasons to uncover it.
    Anais continued. “The situation I speak of is, of course, this regrettable circumstance in Karistos, which is the capital of Elyas, one of our Outer Circle colonies. It is indeed unfortunate that Karistos city