“Miss Rigi, don’t jump,” Uncle Eb said in her ear. Warned, she looked up and didn’t startle at the sight of almost a dozen Staré, most of them hoplings, all watching. A strong curiosity scent masked any floral perfume in the air. The Staré didn’t draw or make representational art anymore, and their response to Rigi’s work ranged from mild curiosity to awe bordering on worship.
“Yes?” She asked in Staré.
The hoplings all bowed and one of the older males, mid-third Stamm, asked, “Ma’am, what are you doing?”
“I am drawing the flower.” Rigi turned her notebook so they could see. Several leaned so far forward they almost fell on their noses and she struggled not to laugh. “This way others who are not here can see and know what it looks like, and can see how pretty it is.”
“Ah.” Two of the adults murmured quickly in Staré. “The wise eye?” an upper fourth female asked, hesitantly, ears back as if a touch nervous.
“So it has been said, yes,” Rigi replied, closing the pad and tucking it away.
The Staré moved back a step as a group and the intense surge of //awe/nervous// made Rigi sneeze. “Please don’t do that. The Creator and Creatrix gave me a gift. I am no wiser than you are, certainly not as wise as the Elders.”
“And she doesn’t like blood fruit jam,” Uncle Eb announced over her head.
The youngest hopling tipped his head to the side, eyes wide. “But blood fruit jam is the best thing ever!”
“Tsaree! Stop that,” his minder snapped, terribly embarrassed.
“But it is!”
“You are wiser than she is. She thinks it tastes funny,” Uncle Eb assured the hopling as Rigi blushed.
“I like ginter better,” a second hopling declared.
Uncle Eb winked at Rigi and offered her his arm as awe-filled observation turned into a lively argument among the hoplings over which sweets tasted better. She accepted his offer, and once they’d strolled out of earshot of the Staré herd, gently reminded him, “I don’t eat anything blood colored, sir, even if it does taste wonderful. Which blood-fruit does not.”
He smiled a little. “Aren’t you glad that lump-fruit pads are green?”
“Woo?”
Martinus stopped and turned sideways, nose pointing to a man in a security uniform. Uncle Eb looked at the stranger, who looked back, then turned away. “I didn’t think so,” Uncle Eb muttered to himself.
“Thank you, Martinus. Good dog.”
Uncle Eb nodded. “Good dog indeed. I declare, I’m starting to think half the Crown personnel sent to Shikhari were whisked from graduation parties, put into cold-sleep, and then thawed out here. They have less experience than Paul does.”
“Paul is determined to get more experience, especially if he can do it after being told not to.”
“No doubt he gets that from your brother.”
“So Mother has said, more than once.” Her mother also blamed Cyril for Paul’s rude sounds, although Rigi suspected Paul’s being a boy had more to do with it.
“On a different subject, Miss Rigi, I understand that you have several suitors?”
She heaved a most un-ladylike sigh. “Yes. I do not want to sound ungrateful or rude, Uncle Eb, but it would be nice to have an evening to myself with just the family. Lt. Deleon stopped by two evenings ago, and Mr. Patel was in yesterday.”
“Indeed? And your thoughts, if I might be so bold as to venture to ask?”
Rigi considered as she looked both ways for traffic. There were not supposed to be any heavy transports in this district, but accidents and mis-programmings had happened. “Lt. Deleon is very sincere, and determined, and has excellent prospects. Mr. Patel tells fascinating stories about his home world, and is making quite a strong reputation for himself in Crown service. At present I have not made up my mind, and no one has asked for my hand.”
“Miss Rigi, Shikhari may be the far end of the Crown worlds, and lovely young ladies may be scarce here, but no one asks for marriage after only what, three meetings at best?” he chuckled. “You don’t have to make your mind up tonight.”
“I don’t want anyone to think that I’m leading them on, being a coquette,” she confessed. She didn’t dare say that to her mother.
He shook one finger at her. “Miss Auriga, no one will ever accuse you of being a coquette. The fact that you are concerned about being misunderstood tells me that you are not trying to deliberately mislead any of the gentlemen. And for good or for ill, you are rather better known than most young ladies who come to Shikhari in search of a husband.”
She looked down, only partly to keep from tripping over an uneven spot in the path. “That’s not what Mr. Xiaolenk thought.”
“Xiaolenk is a Stellar-Han and a cad. The two are not necessarily always related. You did not lead him on, he saw what he wanted to see. Much like a certain xenoarchaeologist who, I am informed, has discovered scratch-mint but no archaeological remains.”
Rigi covered one eye with her free hand. “Sir, do you think she is going to insist on visiting every single place where ruins were not reported?”
“One wonders, doesn’t one?” He stared straight ahead, the grip on her arm tightening. “Some people, Miss Rigi, have a singular gift for not learning from others’ mistakes, misfortunes, or experience. I cannot count the number of unhappy moments or disasters that began with the phrase, ‘I know that, but we’ll do it right this time.’” He blinked and pointed to a rapidly approaching vehicle. “I’ve never seen a wombow trot quite that fast.”
Rigi stared, then smiled. “That’s Stodge, sir.”
“Stodge.”
“Cyril named him.”
Uncle Eb closed his eyes and shook a little all over. “All is explained. Does Stodge ever move slowly?”
“No sir. He came without a low gear. A bit like Dr. De Groet,” she ventured with a little smile and a wink.
“Very much like Micah. Which reminds me; I need to speak with your parents about borrowing you for a possible trip to Courtland Bay. Micah thinks he’s found something, but he wants you and Captain Prananda to give him your expert opinion.”
Rigi stopped on the walk and turned to face her uncle. “Dr. De Groet alone, not the Institute, not the Crown Xenoarchaeological Society.”
“Just Dr. De Groet, I give you my word.” He raised his right hand, as if taking an oath. He looked a little sad as he did, and Rigi knew why.
Rigi patted Martinus and nodded. “If there are no problems or complications, I will go, for Mr. De Groet and you, sir. But not for anyone else right now.”
“Thank you. I would not ask but Micah is even more enthusiastic than usual. I’m not certain if I should be excited or terrified.”
“An excellent question, sir.” Stodge and the cart zoomed past, Makana mouthing something Rigi could guess as they rounded the corner. “So much for Stodge being afraid to go back into the shed.”
“Have you ever seen a wombow or spotted leaper turn down food? Cyril would refuse dessert first, I believe.” He opened the front gate.
“In which case I’d probably plan on running away in the night because a disaster is about to ensue or the seas have dried,” Rigi murmured under her breath. Uncle Eb’s head whipped around and he gave her a deadly serious look, fire in his eyes for an instant, before the predator’s gaze faded and her eccentric uncle returned. Rigi shivered, remembering Tomás’s words.
10
Touching the Sunset Waters
Rigi unfolded from the long-distance flyer with her dignity intact at least. Her back ached, her neck had a crick from falling asleep, and her ears rang. The speaker for the alert chimes had been beside her head, and apparently she leaned against it at some point. The tone announcing the beginning of the landing descent had sounded right in her ear, and she wondered if she had a bruise from jumping up against the seat belt. Was Lexi laughing at her? Not that the dignified Staré would ever admit to such a thing, but she still wondered. At least her brother had not seen the jump. Rigi wal
ked slowly to the back of the flyer and waited while seventh Stamm workers handed down the bags and cargo. When they all emerged from the cargo area, Rigi stood on her toes, leaned in, and sang, “Lo, the winter is past, the time of rest is o’er.” A pair of red lights blinked on, flashed twice, and turned brown. She stepped back as Martinus jumped to the ground, then they turned and surveyed the new land around them.
The soft, warm air smelled rich and wet. A pair of brilliant green birds flew overhead, and Rigi could see huge trees looming past the edge of the landing field, a tall green wall with shadows below it. Somewhere to the west, the great southern sea washed the land, but that was tens of kilometers away. The hazy white sky looked close but not rain-storm close, and something large and dark soared slowly by high above the trees. Rigi wanted to stand and stare, but they needed to clear the landing space in case someone else arrived or needed to depart. She picked up the case with her shooters, gestured for Martinus to follow, and walked to where Cyril, Uncle Eb, and Aunt Kay were talking with a quickly gesticulating Dr. De Groet and a heavyset, stern man with a ruddy, round face under a hard-worn floppy hat. The stern man seemed to be glowering at Cyril, who actually appeared a little intimidated. Rigi wondered who the gentleman was.
“So you’re the one my daughter picked. I though you’d look more respectable.” He must be Mr. Sorenson, then Rigi realized.
Cyril struggled for a good answer, but Uncle Eb saved him. Perhaps. “He’s quite responsible, sir. In fact, I wager my nephew is responsible for more chaos, early resignations, and quiet weeping in senior chiefs’ wardrooms than any junior officer in the Stellar Navy in at least a generation.” Rigi’s brother turned crimson red and tried to stutter a denial.
“In that case no worries. I was Navy, weapons. Came here because plants just die, they don’t demand four-fold paperwork followed by requests for more details and an additional eighty-page document.” He stuck out a beefy hand, Cy took it, and they half-embraced. “Welcome to Courtland Bay.”
“Thank you, sir. This is my sister, Auriga,” Cy gestured and Rigi curtsied, since her hands were full.
“You shoot?”
“Yes, sir, hand-shooter and rifle. I clean my own game.”
Mr. Sorenson seemed to relax. “Good. You’ll come by Fairland Farm after you do your digging and poking?” Rigi got the feeling that it wasn’t really a question.
“Certainly, sir,” Aunt Kay said, smiling.
Rigi looked around and saw a dark Staré pretending to be part of a tree trunk. Kor had arrived early, not that Rigi expected anything different. Tomás would be arriving the next day, weather permitting. Rigi wondered if they’d get to hunt leapers for supper again. She liked wild leaper meat. Would Cyril be upset? Probably. Well, he could just be upset, she decided.
As they went to their ground transports, Rigi wished that Makana had come with her, but he and wilderness, meaning anything wilder than the woods around Keralita, well, the less said the better. He was a very urbanized Staré. Lexi and Kor each took one transport, Kor riding with Cyril, Dr. De Groet, and Uncle Eb. Lexi travelled with Aunt Kay, Rigi, and Martinus. “So, Rigi, have you been to this part of Shikhari before?” her aunt asked once Lexi had the nav programmed and everything appeared to be working properly.
“No, ma’am. The headwaters of the Kenusha River are as far west as I’ve ventured.” The plantation belt was not considered a relaxing and scenic recreation location. “I understand there are some lovely places out here.”
“There are, and some new dangers. Trap lizards for one, and that thing that falls out of trees onto people, the green not-a-snake thing. And don’t pet the little furry black-furred mammals that appear soft and pettable. They’re not.”
Rigi wondered once again if anything on Shikhari didn’t bite, sting, kick, trample, or otherwise try to kill humans and Staré. Even the obligate herbivores had bad tempers. “Other than that, is there anything to worry about, ma’am?”
Lexi’s ears twitched but he stayed quiet. “Just Micah’s enthusiasm and afternoon storms. They form over land by day. At night sometimes storms come in from the sea. Oh, yes,” Aunt Kay caught herself. “If you go to the beach, take Martinus and your heavy-duty shooter. That legendary creature from hopling stories that will jump onto land in search of prey? It really exists.”
Even Rigi had heard that story, and she gulped.
“Micah swears that he’s cleared everything really dangerous away from the site he thinks he found, but you know Micah.”
Lexi’s ears swept from side to side. “Yes, Mistress Trent. The only creatures remaining are merely mostly to somewhat dangerous, meaning they will allow you to stagger a few meters before killing you.”
“Something like that probably.” Rigi wondered if that was why Dr. De Groet didn’t have a wife. Most men his age had married a decade ago at least. Oh well. Rigi sat back and looked at the thick-trunked trees and peered at the shadows between them, trying to see the understory. Something brilliant green flapped past, probably chasing bugs. Rigi considered trying to get her pad out to sketch things, but she tended to get road-sick. It wasn’t worth it, and they’d be here for two weeks, so she’d have plenty of time. Her stomach rumbled, confirming the wisdom of her decision. Being hungry always made road-sickness worse, at least for her.
They got to the camp, put their baggage into the four tent-shelters, and met at the main dining tent. Several fifth Stamm Staré peered out of the kitchen tent, then emerged and put platters of roasted tidbits, nuts in something, and the crunchy root strips that Rigi always thought of as Staré candy, because they ate themselves stuffed if they had the opportunity. Cold drinks also emerged. Kor and Lexi took plates and ate off to the side, backs to the humans. Rigi was glad Kor had finally learned not to eat while facing humans. Staré dining habits put her off her own food. It wasn’t their fault—their jaws worked differently from humans’. Rigi nibbled the nut clusters, enjoyed the roast bites, and studied the world outside the anti-varmint field.
According to the maps, the coastal forests extended inland for tens of kilometers. A warm current from the equator brought moisture into the area most years, moderating the climate and creating an isolated semi-tropical humid forest. It wasn’t true rainforest, or so she thought she recalled reading, but very close, with a thick over-canopy in some areas. The area did not include a nature preserve per se, but development had yet to get much farther than the plantation belt to the east. The birdlife almost rivalled that of the Bataria Archipelago. The off-shore fishing was said to be excellent, but Rigi had already decided that she and a boat would remain no more than nodding acquaintances.
“So,” Uncle Ebenezer said, planting his elbows on the table and holding a cold drink in one hand. “What is it you think you found, and what are we going to do?”
Micah De Groet set his own drink down. His hair had gone grey over the past six years, but he still acted as if he were thirteen or fourteen years old. His energy made Rigi tired. “Not think, know, and the local Staré have confirmed my suspicion. Just to the north, four kilometers or so, there’s the remains of a city two kilometers inland. It was not inland when it was built. The river, the, ah,” he put stubby, strong fingers to his forehead. “Brain’s blanking.”
“The Strahla,” Kor said from behind them.
“Thank you. The Strahla carries a lot of sediment and has been building its mouth out into the bay. I think the city may have been a port, but that’s not all that I want you to look at. The local Staré have been expanding their settlement and think they found something odd.”
Uncle Eb raised one finger. “They think their find is odd, or they think we might consider it odd.”
“Yes to both. Apparently they were not expecting to find anything besides dirt. I don’t want to say more in case I prejudice your observations.”
“Hmm.” Uncle Eb thought, shrugged, and drank more from his bottle. “I defer to your experience.”
“We’re doomed,” Aunt Kay murmured.
Rigi bit her cheek hard to keep from laughing or showing that she’d heard the comment, even though she’d thought the same thing. “Sir, is there a road or will we be walking?”
“Road part way, then walk the last kilometer. This is not, ahem, not a Crown Registered excavation, and so it lacks the amenities of a true xenoarchaeological site.” At Micah’s words Uncle Eb rolled his eyes and Cy snorted, then almost choked. “Sorry, young man.” Cy waved off the apology.
“What Dr. De Groet means is that the puff-lizard known as Szabor refused to consider that such a location might exist. Given the creature’s unwillingness to look beyond the end of her own muzzle, Dr. De Groet is doing this on his own,” Kor snarled. “She and the individual you call governor can both go,” Rigi clapped her hands over her ears. She waited for his mouth to stop moving before lowering them again.
“Although I am inclined toward your philosophy, Kor, I am unable to agree with your phrasing, for professional reasons,” Uncle Eb said. “Cyril, I’ll translate later. Lexi has delicate sensibilities and I do not care to subject him to such language twice.” Rigi risked a glance at Lexi, who was doing his best to look like as innocent as a new-hatched pouchling.
Uncle Eb looked to their host. “Now, Micah, has anything dangerous been seen near the camp? I mean everything larger than a tree-shrieker.”
“Not unless you count snakes. They are constrictors, oh, and that little brown thing with the nasty bite that goes septic in less than an hour.”
Cy’s eyes bulged as Rigi said calmly, “So no wandering around at night and shake out your shoes and clothes?”
Stamme: Shikari Book Three Page 16
