Stamme: Shikari Book Three

by Alma T. C. Boykin

  She liked the place. Once she got over her first scare, she could see the differences, beginning with the fields. The Indria village had sat much closer to the river, and had more brush and other cover between the outer wall and the stream. She shivered a little as she recalled the enormous thing, like a hunter-lizard but at least four meters long, that had tried to break through the wall and into the section of the village reserved for pregnant females, those with pouchlings, and hoplings. That would not happen here without far more warning, Rigi decided. The breeze played with a few loose curls under her hat’s brim and she wrinkled her nose. Her hair would not behave no matter what she did. As she took in the scene, she wondered what Dr. Szabor would say. No, she could guess what the xenoarchaeologist would say, and she didn’t want to hear that sort of talk, not here. Rigi liked the Staré too much to consider letting them be so insulted. She waved away some gnats, waved away more, and decided that she’d finished her sketch. She closed the book and patted Martinus, then climbed down, watching her footing so she didn’t go head over boot-toes into the plants below.

  “There you are!” Aunt Kay called as Rigi returned to the trench area. “I’m done for the day. So is Ebenezer. You youngsters can keep working if you want to, but I’m taking him back to camp.” Uncle Eb tried to look as if he were going to protest, but wasn’t entirely convincing. Lexi brushed off his forefeet and pretended he’d neither heard nor seen anything, or so Rigi guessed. She giggled behind her sketchbook, and then coughed as a gnat went the wrong way. Gnats did not taste anything like poultry.

  “I need to enter the data we’ve collected, and start refining the map of the city.” Micah did not sound reluctant to leave, and Rigi wondered if he were as sore as Uncle Eb and Cy looked. They’d been working on a second trench location, probably a test pit, and Cy appeared rather droopy. Rigi glanced at his trouser legs and wished she hadn’t. Their mother would fuss terribly when she saw his formerly-black work pants. Oh Cy, you’re as bad as Paul, Rigi moaned. How would she get that out of the material?

  Kor didn’t voice a protest one way or the other, and Rigi needed a new sketchbook. This one had been three-quarters full already. Lexi appeared quite pleased to stop for the day. He wasn’t a day-digger, after all, and Rigi wondered if Staré muscles got as sore as human muscles did. But she’d never seen a fat Staré, and she’d seen a number of humans in need of more activity, or less treats. No, the Staré stored it differently, that’s right, now she remembered—they could get overweight. Although… She gave Lexi a side glance as she walked to where her aunt stood. No, not overweight, just urban.

  However, Rigi noticed a group of people coming toward them. “Ah, Dr. De Groet, I believe someone wishes to speak with you.”

  He twisted his head, saw the half-dozen Staré approaching, and turned all the way around. Without thinking about it, Rigi moved to stand behind Aunt Kay and Uncle Eb, beside Lexi. Cy ducked around to Dr. De Groet’s other side, and Kor stood on Cy’s outside, a meter or so away, watching. That puzzled Rigi. Had they done something wrong, that Kor stayed apart? Or was he making a token gesture toward Stamm purity?

  Thorna stopped as the others came closer. Rigi saw white ear tips on two of the Staré, and pale hairs on their muzzles and tail-tips. Lexi and Kor bowed to them, and the humans hand-bowed as the Elders returned the gesture. Dr. De Groet enunciated carefully in Staré, “I thank you for allowing us to brief-stop your work.”

  “How many days more, TeKrooht?” the greyest Elder, a male upper second Stamm, demanded.

  “Two, honored Elder.”

  The male and a younger female twitched as if surprised. “No more, only two?”

  “Only two, honored Elder. Tomorrow we bring measure sticks and, ah, machine dirt tasters and test dirt. Next day look at second and third hole, then no more half-in-pouch.” Rigi blinked. His Staré was much, much better than it had been. He knew the idioms now, like half-in-pouch for under foot, even if his pronunciation needed practice. Who had he been working with? Rigi happened to glance at Thorna and saw her leaning forward a little, following intently. Ah, she must be using only Staré when she showed him sites. That explained it. He had to learn if he didn’t want to fall into a hole or get eaten. Rigi waved away some gnats and hoped they’d talk quickly.

  “And you pay fee?”

  The human men all stiffened, even Cy. “What has that,” Aunt Kay caught herself. “That creature started this time?”

  De Groet ignored her comment. “Yes. Half has been paid, and half when we finish, as agreed. Human credit to the village account at place the council specified.” He didn’t sound upset, actually if anything a little sad and disappointed, as if he were hurt that they’d ask.

  Kor spoke, releasing the stout musk Rigi thought of as //declaratory statement/challenge//. “De Groet and Trent are true humans, not stinkpigs with speech. Their speech is true and their councils are with us, not with the one of whom you have heard.”

  “Not with Sahbo?” The other older Staré sounded pleased, and Rigi smelled //satisfaction//. “Hunter speaks truth.”

  “Yes, I do, honored Elder.” Thorna’s tone told Rigi that this was an ongoing and sore subject. Maybe she was lower Stamm than she looked? Or had an ancestor dropped in Stamm or in trust? Thorna’s body language didn’t give Rigi any hints.

  “Then you may continue working,” the first Elder announced. The Elders turned and walked back toward the village gate. One of them, in the middle of the group, a second Stamm female with reddish brown fur and a young pouchling, stepped out of the line and came back.

  “It is said one with you has the Wise Eye?” She looked from Kor to Lexi and back. Rigi wanted to hide in the trench as both Staré pointed to her with their forefeet and ears as her aunt and uncle moved out of the way. “A human?”

  “Yes, honored Elder,” Lexi confirmed. Rigi hand-bowed.

  “Show me. Such a thing cannot be.”

  Should she? If she didn’t, things might not go well, Rigi guessed, so she opened her sketchbook to the last image, the landscape, and offered it to Lexi. He’d pulled on a pair of forefoot covers that he kept in a pocket of his vest, in case he had to handle human things around other Staré, and he took the notebook and showed it to the Elder. The female looked from the picture to Rigi and back. “Where is this?”

  “Honored Eldress, it is here, as seen from the little hill in the fields.”

  “Show me more.” At Rigi’s nod of permission, Lexi turned pages back to the ruined city. He moved, one, then another, and— “Stop!” She bent close, looking at the image. Which one was it? Rigi couldn’t see from this angle and distance. Rigi smelled strong //awe and honor//. “You do have the Wise Eye. Truly, the world is changing.” She departed and Lexi returned the sketchbook.

  Uncle Eb peered at the image, then took it from Lexi’s forefoot. “Who is this? And where did you see her?”

  Cy and Micah came over to see what inspired the fuss, and Micah De Groet’s jaw dropped. “She’s beautiful!” Rigi smelled //curiosity// and sensed someone behind her straining to see over her shoulder. Thorna had joined the cluster. “Who is she?”

  “I don’t know, sir. She’s an image on the floor of one of the rooms in the city. Lexi saw something and excavated her face, called for me, and then cleared more dirt out of the way. We need to document and preserve her as soon as possible, sir.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Mistress Trent called her ‘the Madonna of the Staré’, if that means anything,” Kor said, still well clear of the others.

  “There was a kind of painting or statue of a woman with a small child that people used to help them worship, on Home.” Rigi added, “They called that type of painting a Madonna and Child picture. The woman is always beautiful and young.”

  “I will see this for myself tomorrow,” Thorna stated, and Rigi fought off a sneeze at the strong declaratory emphasis. She for one was not going to argue with the huntress.

  As they rode back to the camp, Rigi
happened to look up. “Aunt Kay, what kind of bird is that? I’ve seen several recently, here and near NovMerv, and I can’t seem to find it in my identification files.”

  Kay took off her hat and poked her head out the window as Lexi slowed the transport. “I don’t know, Rigi. I tend not to work much with carrion eaters. They are not colorful enough for people to want images of them.” She pulled her head back in and raised the clear metal window a little. “Apparently paintings of bald birds eating rotting meat off an animal carcass are not in style at the moment.” She winked.

  “I can’t see why not, Ma’am,” Lexi opined. “Human food preparation areas seem terribly devoid of art.”

  Rigi prided herself on eating what appeared on her plate, but imagining one of her aunt’s nature paintings with a scavenger bird on it hanging in the dinner room dampened her appetite considerably. Cyril made a faint choking noise. Aunt Kay just smiled. “Humans believe that decorating the space reserved for food preparation or for eating can lead to technical difficulties, Lexi.”

  Large amounts of wasted food was what Rigi would have called it, assuming Shona kept cooking tempting things because he didn’t understand why the family wasn’t eating as much. No, carrion eaters in art had no place around human food preparation or serving rooms.

  Rigi didn’t see Tomás until after she’d cleaned up and put Martinus on the fast-pad to charge. He was down to just over half power, and she wondered what had drained his battery so quickly. Had it been all the walking around? She had not brought the diagnostic kit with her, so she just made a note on the back of the landscape sketch to run a full check on him when they got home. Task done, she walked to the food tent. The door opened and her distant cousin gave her a theatrical bow complete with arm swirls and near over-balancing. He’d never be a temple dancer, Rigi giggled. But then she wasn’t, not really.

  “What news, Capt. Prananda,” Uncle Eb called from behind her. Rigi scooted inside to get out of the way.

  “Inspections are the Army’s way of ruining my leave, lieutenants might possibly be more dangerous than a group of corporals with an idea, and we’ve found the source of the signal from outside the star system.”

  Rigi spun around to face Tomás. Uncle Eb froze. “Where?” He demanded, all predator.

  “Still a light-year out and slowing down. But their observation pods have been here for several months.”

  Lexi and Rigi exclaimed, “The birds!”

  12

  Danger in the Stars

  “The what?”

  Rigi took a calming breath. “The strange, really large birds. The one I saw during the flight from Sogdia to NovMerv didn’t look quite right. The feathers were brown, with an odd metallic sort of look.”

  “And the carving on the wall in the city, of the birds destroying the city,” Lexi added with vehement //anxious/upset/fear//.

  Tomás shook his head as the others came into the elaborate tent. “No, at least not the ones I’ve been briefed on. These are still in orbit, or were as of last week. The Navy released sweeper satellites. You know the kind they use for debris catches?” The men nodded. “Those to gobble up a few and see if we can determine where they came from and who sent them.”

  “That explains why I got a short-notice call-up alert,” Cyril said, coming in on the end of the conversation. “I’m still in the time window for emergency crew duty.”

  “I have not been called,” Uncle Eb stated, eyes still hard.

  “Because if whatever it is gets here, you’re already here, dear, and will be doing what needs to be done,” a tired voice from behind him reminded them all. “And I smell supper.” Aunt Kay eased around her spouse, nodded to Rigi, and said, “Good evening, Tomás. I trust your journey was uneventful?” as she extended her right hand.

  He bowed and kissed her hand. “Yes, ma’am. Quiet and calm, for which I give deepest thanks.”

  “Good! I’m certain Kor will tell you all you need to know.”

  “And a little more, I suspect.” He looked to the black Staré, who twitched his ears and snorted like a human might. “More, ma’am.”

  “And unlike certain members of your species, you will listen,” Kor stated. Did he mean that Tomás paid attention, or that Kor would make him pay attention, Rigi wondered? Probably both, given Kor’s knowledge of hunting and tracking, and apparently of other things. “And I am hungry.” He said that last phrase in Staré, and as Rigi watched, a pair of fifth Stamm set four covered platters down on two smaller tables equipped with Staré seats, removed the covers, bowed, and departed. The dishes looked quite good to Rigi, who blushed a little as her stomach growled.

  “I will take that as a hint,” Micah chuckled, gesturing to the others. Uncle Eb took his wife’s arm, Tomás offered his to Rigi, who accepted, and they went to the table and sat. More covered dishes appeared, along with a large bowl. By the time Rigi sat and put her napkin in her lap, the Staré whisked away the covers, revealing meat in a sauce on watergrain, what appeared to be a form of vegetable casserole under a bread-like crust, and a meat-rich broth spiced with ginter. Steam rose from a mound of small buns, and Rigi’s mouth started watering even before her uncle finished the grace over meat. It was hard to wait for the adults to serve themselves—she wanted to leap up and pile a mountain of meat and grain onto her plate, she was so hungry. Even so, she waited, took a small serving of everything, and was too polite to refuse when Micah added a second ladle-full of broth to her bowl. It tasted as rich and warm as it looked, and she had no qualms about a second serving when offered.

  The meat wasn’t as good as it looked, and the grain could have been cooked longer, but otherwise she enjoyed another excellent meal. It was not Shona’s cooking, of course, but not bad. The casserole seemed bland. “This must be that new cassav-tater the agronomists bragged about,” Tomás said, nibbling the corner of a large chunk. “It needs a little more something.”

  “It needs more everything,” Aunt Kay stated. “The bulletin I read said that it takes up any flavor used on it, and I believe, having sampled the dish, that ‘takes up’ could be considered one of the greater understatements in agronomical writing since someone observed that heart-fruit goes bad quote ‘somewhat quickly’ end quote.”

  “Three hours, dear?”

  “Two and a half, at least the ones I saw.” No one seemed inclined to dispute her statement. They were too busy eating, and Rigi noticed, when Cy leaned to the side to pick up a dropped napkin and she could see around him, that the Staré ate as much as the humans. Their platters seemed almost bare. He straightened up and passed the shallow bowl with the buns. “Camp manners,” her aunt declared, and they happily used the buns to mop up the last bits of sauce on their plates. As senior lady, she set the table rules. Rigi approved. To waste food was to insult the cooks and an offense against the Creator and Creatrix.

  They didn’t have a sweet, but the tea served after the disappearance of the dishes tasted like candied orange-stem. “So, Tomás, what news from the east?” Micah passed the sweetener dish. Rigi handed it on. The tea didn’t really need it.

  “Inspections remain less than enjoyable, the Elders of Sogdia and Keralita have presented petitions of complaint to the governor, Eelahlo of the Third Stamm won the regional wrestling finals and will advance to take on whoever wins the northern title, my mother has informed me that large ladies hats are very popular, and by large she means with replicas of entire birds on them, and the vice-governor of WemWorld was found dead in his bath of unnatural causes.”

  “I take it no one expressed undue surprise at his passing?” Uncle Eb sounded… satisfied? No, but he did not sound upset. Had the vice-governor been that bad?

  “No, sir, and as of the last news packet, there were only eight primary suspects, including two wives, both of whom expressed surprise to learn that he was contracted with the other party as well.”

  Cy inhaled with a hiss, teeth bared. “Well, that answers the question of what scandal will dominate the gossip feeds fo
r the next six months.”

  “You overestimate the ability of the press to focus, but yes, that should cover up the latest folly from Home for a while.” Micah looked up at the ceiling. “Kay, how is it you ladies can wear hats with so much piled onto them without your necks getting sprained?”

  “I wouldn’t know. Four large fabric flowers and a meter of netting are the limit of my sartorial experiments.” Beside her, Uncle Eb lifted the hand that had been resting on the table, the one out of her line of sight, and waved five fingers. Five flowers, or five meters of netting? Rigi guessed flowers. She’d tried on one large hat once, when her mother had been distracted. She’d looked silly with so much piled on top of her head, and besides, the Tradition did not encourage that sort of display.

  Conversation shifted to the wrestling finals, and Lexi joined in with unusual vehemence. As the adults talked, Rigi wondered why no one had commented on the Staré Elders presenting complaints to the governor. She’d never heard of such a thing when the Company had been in charge of Shikhari. Or had the Company used a different system? She didn’t remember anything about it from when she’d been in school. What had he done to offend the Staré? Or was it Dr. Szabo? No, probably not, because the Staré just refused to help her and that was their right. She couldn’t compel them to work for her expedition. Rigi emptied her tea cup. As soon as it touched the drip-catcher, a pale forefoot reached past her, refilled it, and disappeared. “Thank you,” she said without thinking.