Free Damia's Children by Anne McCaffrey

cubes and rounds that were ’Dini seats.
    As honored guest, she sat—on a conspicuously Human chair—by Plus, who had added extra decorations to its display, and several smaller versions of itself, also much bejeweled. It was very polite to examine in close detail the jewelry of another ’Dini and so Laria performed that social obligation, exclaiming in admiration and managing to find something new to say about each ornament presented for her inspection.
    By the time these courtesies for Plus’s entourage had been acquitted, her jaws ached and her tongue was dry in a parched throat.
    â€œDrink?” she asked Tip who had been hovering close by: possibly for just this requirement. She turned her head away from the main group and rubbed her jaw muscles, yawning to ease the tension in her mouth and lips: actions which could be misconstrued by ’Dinis if seen.
    The sun was beating down again and she resolved to find herself a hat as soon as possible. She’d never needed one but somehow she had to protect her head.
    Sunstroke is what you hazard,
Yoshuk told her,
but we’ve allowed for that.
    Distance meant nothing to a Prime telepath but Laria was instantly aware that Yoshuk “sounded” closer. She peered around her and saw the twoHumans entering the square. They were instantly lost in the melee of ’Dinis dancing to the rhythmic percussive beats. In fact, the rhythm was very difficult to deny and she’d had to keep her feet from tapping as she made the diplomatic jewel inspection. ’Dinis were very susceptible to cadence and the adept ’Dini dancer could perform incredible feats in tempo with drums or other tapped surfaces and objects. She’d danced at home but she also knew that there were certain protocols about dancing which she had to respect while on Clarf. Tip and Huf had been unable to explain the ramifications but she’d been promised full instruction once she arrived on Clarf.
    Suddenly the two Humans emerged out of the gyrating crowd of ’Dini, and the man both wore and carried headgear. The woman, who was taller than the slender little man, wore some sort of ornate turban about her head. The yellow and white fabric made the perfect frame for her dark skin and dark eyes.
    â€œI am Nesrun of Betelgeuse,” the woman said and her smile of very white even teeth was even more impressive against the dark chocolate of her skin. She held out her hand, palm up, and Laria made the formal contact, brief and somewhat electric as it was. Nesrun had a startling touch, vibrant, deep yellow, with a curious acid taste. But she nodded as if she approved of however she perceived Laria in the tactile contact.
    â€œI am Yoshuk of Altair,” the man said, grinning broadly with some secret amusement as he held out his hand.
    As he was quite the most beautiful man Laria had ever seen, she was curiously hesitant to completethe courtesies. His smile deepened as if he had caught her diffidence though she had instantly shielded. He was softer than Nesrun had been, deep blue, and lemony: a combination which startled her almost as much as his beauty. The skin touch was swiftly replaced by the hat he put in her outstretched hand, a hat similar to the one he wore.
    â€œThese are specially developed against harsh tropic suns, Laria. Our welcome gift to you.”
    Laria was properly grateful, especially as the hat was an excellent fit, shading her eyes as well as the back of her neck with its slanting brim. There was air space above her pate: neither heat nor the pressure of the sun was so intensely felt.
    â€œWith all we know about Clarf, no one thought to mention the sun,” Nesrun remarked.
    â€œThough, God knows, I have mentioned it innumerable times and so has every Human visitor,” Yoshuk added with a droll grin of resignation.
    Laria was aware that she was staring at Yoshuk, but he continued to smile pleasantly as if accustomed to such scrutiny: even