by Rachel Ford
He blinked at my tone, then nodded slowly. “Okay. Alright. You want me to tell her tonight?”
I nodded in turn. “Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me why it has to be tonight? What the big deal is?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Frank. You just have to trust me.”
He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled. “Alright. Of course, Kay.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Chapter Fourteen
We left the office together, and Frank went in search of his sister. She was still in the alcove with Ger, and I watched the young man start at the sight of his brother-in-law. A quick greeting ensued, and then Ger excused himself.
I tried not to watch, but the truth was, I didn’t try hard. I had found an alcove of my own, where I was free from prying eyes. It was nice to take a break from being an exhibit. And, I was anxious about how this conversation would go.
I knew telling F’riya the truth was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. We couldn’t keep deceiving her without damaging her and Frank’s relationship. And once he entrusted her with his secret, I had no doubt that she’d share hers as well.
But some part of me kept second guessing the decision. Was I motivated more from my unease lying to this woman, whose burdens were heavy enough already without the added weight of our deception, than good sense? Was my conscience taking precedence over my judgement?
I found myself chewing at my thumbnail, stealing glances at the siblings as they spoke in hushed tones. I couldn’t hear anything they were saying – they were on the opposite side of the room. But I could read their expressions well enough.
The first few minutes were not particularly promising. Discomfort painted itself across Frank’s features, and confusion across hers. These two emotions seemed to give way after a space to understanding. F’riya shook her head. Frank shrugged. Then, they were both laughing.
She hugged him, and he grinned at her. Then, he stood to leave. F’riya caught his arm, and her easy expression fell away again.
I pulled my hand from my mouth as I realized I was attacking my nail again. Had she decided she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, keep his secret?
His expression, though, didn’t seem to reflect any danger. He was, I thought, surprised. F’riya leaned in to whisper something to her brother. His surprise deepened, until it was full blown astonishment.
Then, he laughed and pulled her into a hug.
I breathed out in relief. She told him. It had been the right call after all.
Knowing that my meddling hadn’t wrought disaster, I decided I’d snooped enough for the night. I slipped out of my alcove, intent on mingling.
And, as soon as I did, I was back in the aquarium, eager faces turning my way to get a look at the strange creature passing by. I was quickly coming to hate parties, I decided.
I wandered aimlessly through the crowd for several minutes, pausing to talk to a few friends of the family here and there. “You are a human? You’re bigger than I thought you would be,” one woman said, not unkindly.
“What a curious affair this is,” a man informed me. “Very untraditional.” Then, without so much as an introduction, he moved on.
“Magdalene?” another woman, almost bumping into me, asked. “No, she had red hair.” She surveyed me with curious eyes. “You must be another human friend of F’er’s?”
“That’s right. Katherine Ellis,” I said, extending my hand.
“V’era arn Kurila,” she said, studying my outstretched palm.
“Oh,” I flushed. “Sorry.” I retracted the hand, and bowed.
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, was that a greeting?”
I nodded.
“Show me.”
I did, and she seemed to find the gesture delightful, for she giggled. “Very curious manner of greeting. Charming. Although, I suppose, not very hygienic.”
“I suppose not,” I agreed.
“I didn’t realize F’er had made so many human friends,” she said. “Are there more on his ship?”
“Our crew complement is about half human,” I nodded.
“How many Kudarians?”
“Just Frank. Err, F’er.”
She gaped. “Only one Kudarian, on an entire ship?”
“There’s only sixteen of us,” I cautioned.
“Still,” she persisted. “How does he manage, with no other Kudarians to keep him company?”
“Well…uh…we’re all very good friends.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I could do it.”
“It’s definitely not for everyone,” I demurred. “It’s a challenging life.”
She mused the words for a moment, then nodded sagely. “Well, it’s been a pleasure to meet another human, Katherine. Two, in one night: my mate will be sorry he didn’t come.”
I met more of Frank’s relatives, too. He had a prodigious number of cousins. I counted at least a dozen on his father’s side who sought me out to make my acquaintance, and eight – or was it nine? – on his mother’s. And that didn’t count those who hadn’t chose to introduce themselves.
A few had been pointed out by their siblings. “And that’s my brother, F’yol.” And, “Brilia’s my younger sister. She’s over there, with our parents.”
A few couldn’t make it. I was informed that, “F’yil wishes he could be here. But he couldn’t get off work.” And, “F’rel and T’yan wanted to be here, but they couldn’t make it back to Kudar in time.”
Of course, I knew none of these people anymore than they knew me, so the loss wasn’t profoundly felt – in either direction, I was sure. Still, I would offer a standard, “Oh, that’s too bad,” or, “Maybe next time.”
His family, for the most part, struck me as congenial. There were a few upturned noses, but most seemed to regard me with a friendly curiosity. Sometimes, as in the case of F’vir ark inkaya, a little too friendly.
He raked a long look over me after we exchanged names, and nodded appreciatively. “I can see what F’er sees in you humans,” he offered with a toothy grin. He glanced back at Maggie, and shook his head. “A fine woman, that.”
I stared at him, an eyebrow raised. He seemed not to notice my disgust, or not to care.
“My cousin’s a lucky man. Even if she is a human.” He flashed a toothy smile. “Hey, you planning to be here long? Pretty girl like you probably has a full schedule. But if you’re free, I’d love to show you around Kriar.”
“Katherine?” a voice called my name, not a moment too soon. I was about to say something I’d probably regret.
I turned to see Frank’s younger brother, F’rok. “Excuse me,” I told my creepy new acquaintance, escaping as quickly as I could.
“Sure thing,” he called after me. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be around.”
Thanks for the warning. “F’rok,” I said, gratitude seeping unbidden into my tone. “What can I do for you?”
He glanced back at his cousin. “Sorry about him. He’s…” He shook his head. “A creep.”
I laughed. “I gathered.”
He grinned at me. “I figured you probably needed an escape.”
“I did. Thank you.”
“Come on,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him. “I’ll show you my favorite hiding spot.”
“Hiding spot?” I blinked. It was like this kid could read my thoughts.
He grinned again. “I saw you in the alcove.”
I flushed. “Oh.”
“My spot’s better. No one will see you.”
“Thanks. I mean, the party is great. But I feel a bit like an exhibit at the zoo.”
“Zoo?”
I explained the concept of zoos as we walked, and he nodded.
“Ah, like an animal preserve, then.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m sorry. They don’t mean to be rude, but most of us have never seen a human before.”
“I know. I’m not offended. It’s just – tiri
ng, after a while.”
“I hate parties, myself,” he said. “They’re loud and pointless. You can’t find the people you know, and it’s too busy to really get to know anyone else.”
“Well,” I said, “I can’t disagree with your reasoning. But, then, I’m kind of an introvert.”
“Introvert?”
“You know: shier, quieter, more reserved around strangers.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “Then I suppose I am an introvert as well.”
I smiled. If our short acquaintance was anything to go by, he was considerably more introverted than I was. Until this exchange, he’d barely said five words to me. “Probably.”
He led me out of the crowded ballroom and past the packed sitting rooms. We bypassed the dining room, and slipped into a study. “Here,” he said. “It’s the perfect place: you’re close enough to hear the call for dinner, but no one will bother you.” He glanced around, gesturing to the bookcases. “Plus, there’s a good selection of books here. Some in your language, too.”
I looked around, and then laughed. “You’re right. It is perfect. All we need is food, and we’re set for the night.”
He grinned. “The kitchen is just down the hall, actually.”
“Damn. You really have planned for all contingencies.”
“My parents host parties at least once a month,” he declared. “I’ve had a while to perfect my system.”
“So,” I said, breaking the stillness. F’rok and I had been holed up in the study for a good fifteen minutes or so. He’d picked up a book, and slipped into a comfortable seat on the opposite side of the room. I’d found a weathered tome of old Earth stories, but my concentration was slipping. I suspect it had to do with feeling a miserable guest, sticking my nose in a book and ignoring my host. “Do you read a lot of books from Earth?”
He glanced up. “Uh, I try to. We don’t get many here on Kudar unless they’re imports. But F’er always sends me new ones, as he finds them.”
“You’re not into digital books, then?” I wondered.
He shook his head. “They’re prohibited on Kudar.”
I blinked. “Really?”
He nodded. “The priests believe that there is spiritual component to the written word. It’s lost when it’s not actually written. The word becomes empty, its meaning gone.”
“Oh.” I’d met people who had strong preferences one way or the other based on convenience, aesthetics, and so on. This seemed a rather severe take on the digital versus physical book debate, though. “Wow. So, what happens if you get – I don’t know, caught with digital books?”
“There’s a fine. And the importer could go to jail.”
I whistled. “Holy crap.”
He studied me for a moment.
“Sorry,” I said. “That just seems…I don’t know. Extreme.”
He nodded, declaring matter-of-factly. “It is. But it’s a way to control what comes into Kudar, now that we’re a member of the Union.” He shrugged. “Intellectual freedom is guaranteed under the Union charter, so technically works from off-world are legally available here. There’s no profit in shipping bulky cargo with a low selling point – like books – though. And if you make it impossible to exercise a freedom, you don’t actually have that freedom except on paper.”
I couldn’t fault his take, but his no-nonsense delivery did take me aback a little. “Well…uh…Kudar is very traditional.”
He snorted. “Traditional is a pretty euphemism that covers a multitude of sins, Katherine. It’s an excuse to maintain the status quo, not a reason. It’s what people fall back on when logical persuasion fails, to make a bad idea an unassailable aspect of culture or morality.”
I thought on his words for a moment. “I suppose there’s something to be said for that. I can’t remember the last time I heard someone cite ‘tradition’ as the reason to do something good or necessary.”
“Exactly. It’s never ‘we need to stitch up your cut because that’s tradition.’ No, there’s a real reason for that: so you don’t bleed to death.
“When it’s tradition, it’s always the awful things. Look at F’er and Magdalene: people keep saying it’s a ‘nontraditional’ marriage. They’ll hear that for the rest of their lives. Their kids will hear it. And what does it mean? Just that someone doesn’t like that he’s marrying a human.”
“Which,” I agreed, “isn’t a compelling argument.”
“Exactly. So instead of openly being racist, they’ll hide their true meaning behind ‘tradition.’”
As with F’riya, a tinge of guilt crept into my breast. F’rok’s worry for his brother was heartwarming – but, though he couldn’t possibly know it, entirely unnecessary in the circumstance. “Well,” I offered, trying to lighten the mood, “that’s a much more serious take than mine. My example was going to be lutefisk.”
“What’s that?”
“A true evil that humans force on each other, under the banner of tradition.” My lead-in caught the young man’s attention, and I explained the gelatinous, fishy Scandinavian food made from lye-dried cod. He listened with fascination – and a touch of mortification.
“People actually eat that?” he wondered, wrinkling his nose so that his forehead ridges deepened into great caverns across his brow.
“They do,” I nodded grimly.
“Have you ever eaten it?”
I nodded again. “Yep. One of my friends in school was Scandinavian. He talked me into it.”
F’rok laughed. “Not quite as pernicious an example as I had in mind, Katherine, but it illustrates the point rather well.”
“Oh, F’rok, believe me: it’s pernicious.”
“What is?” a voice behind us asked, and we both started.
“Frank,” I said, grinning. “How’d you find us?”
“I saw you two talking earlier, and when I couldn’t find you anywhere…” He shrugged. “I know my brother: this is his favorite hideout.”
F’rok smiled. “True. Well, there’s plenty of room, if you need to disappear for a few minutes.”
Frank shook his head. “No, I need to get back out there. I just wanted to tell to you.” He glanced at me. “You were right.”
“I’m glad. Thank you for listening, Frank.”
He smiled at me. “No, thank you, Kay.”
“Of course.”
He nodded, and for a moment we were all silent, F’rok glancing between us in visible confusion. “Well, I got to go. But I owe you.”
I brushed this off. “No you don’t. Now get out there and enjoy your beautiful bride’s company.”
He grinned. “Alright. See you around. I take it you two are going to come out of hiding for dinner?”
“Hell yeah,” I said. “I’m starved.”
“As long as they’re not serving lutefisk,” F’rok offered.
Chapter Fifteen
The call to dinner came a few minutes later, and we left F’rok’s sanctum sanctorum. I’d given him little by way of explanation regarding Frank’s appearance, saying only that I’d offered him some advice that must have panned out.
He didn’t push, and for that I was grateful. He was a private young man, and as such seemed to respect others’ privacy.
Despite our short acquaintance, I found that I liked him a lot. He had none of Frank’s unreservedness, none of his gregarious charm. But out of a crowd, he was friendly and kind, with a sharp mind and informed opinions.
The Inkaya children were three-for-three outstanding in my book: all of them intelligent, charming, friendly people. I hoped I would get to know Frank’s brother and sister better during our stay.
In the short term, though, I was separated from anyone I knew. My place at the table was beside the Nikya family. I wondered at the coolness of their greeting, until the young lady was introduced as Kia arn nikya. Oh shit. This was Frank’s formerly intended, the young woman he’d passed over – as far as they knew – for Maggie. And not just her, but her entire family.
I
swallowed my discomfort, and smiled as broadly and congenially as I could muster. “A pleasure to meet you all.” Then, taking my seat, I cast a final furtive glance over the bunch.
The elder male, Kri ark nikya, watched me in stony silence. Nefi, his mate and Kia’s mother, refused to look at me at all. They were a handsome couple of middle-age, though stern-faced in the moment.
Beside them, sat Kor and Kia. Kia was a lovely young woman with fair hair, broad features and frame, and very pink skin – the latter, I presumed, being a product of embarrassment rather than anything else. Her brother Kor was as handsome as she was beautiful, with well-defined features and a square jaw that was, now, set into a scowl.
Well, this won’t be awkward at all. I’d barely taken my seat, though, when a man in a shimmering gold keltar and a nemes-style headdress sat across from me. He ran cold eyes up and down me.
The Nikyas, meanwhile, offered respectful salutations. “It’s an honor to see you again, High Priest Akura,” Kri greeted.
High priest? Hell. What’d I do to draw the short straw? Aloud, though, I said, “An honor to meet you, sir.”
“You are Katherine?” he asked, making no effort to return the pleasantries. “The other human?”
I nodded.
“And what is your relation to the family?”
“I’m a friend of F’er’s and Maggie’s.”
“I see. It is not my custom to break bread with a human, but if you are friends of the Inkayas, I will share a table with you.”
“Oh.” I blinked at his words, laden with unstated meaning. This was, I was to understand, an honor – an honor of which I was entirely unworthy. “Well, I shouldn’t like for you to be uncomfortable, High Priest. Not on my account. I’m sure someone will be willing to swap seats with you if you asked.”
For a moment, he stared, slack jawed, at the insolent creature before him. I smiled politely in turn, holding his gaze. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” he said in a minute.
“Ah. As you see fit.”
We settled into an acrimonious silence, the Nikyas beside me regarding me with a measure of horror, and Akura making a visible effort to ignore me altogether. I feigned a nonchalance I definitely did not feel. This night couldn’t end soon enough. But I’d be damned if I was going to let these people know my discomfort.
