“Many ways, but usually it is built from the remains of an earlier Family that was destroyed in war, or which was disbanded into Hearthless individuals. Sometimes, groups of the Hearthless can cohere long enough to establish a New Family, but that is rare.”
What a peaceful sounding bunch. “It sounds as though the Hkh’Rkh are constantly involved in—settling challenges.”
Yaargraukh looked at Caine directly. “What you wish to say is that we are always at war. You may speak your mind with me, Spokesmale Caine of the Family Riordan. I am your Advocate, and what is more, we have already shared truths that did not have to be uttered. We are on the path to more shared truths. Let us face them frankly.”
“Agreed, Yaargraukh. And you may simply call me Caine.”
Yaargraukh paused. “Among us, it is a blow to honor not to speak one’s Family and title. Or it is a sign of great familiarity, as among members of the same Family. I would not diminish what honor you might one day prove to have, Spokesmale Caine of the Family Riordan.”
“Among humans, to address each other by first names alone is to share the hope that one will share more and more truths.”
Yaargraukh considered. “When we are in private, or among humans, so shall we speak to each other, but among the Hkh’Rkh—particularly those of the Old Families—we must follow my ways: they will not understand your custom. And they would not approve of it if they did.”
“Very well. The Old Families seem less flexible than the New Families.”
“Like all generalities, that is an over-speaking, but yes: the Old Families feel that their ways are the only true ways. And that their bloodlines are the most worthy.”
“But if a New Family is often built from the survivors of an Old Family—”
“That matters not. An Old Family that falls is deemed to have grown weak: that it could be overthrown proves that its members no longer deserved to be an Old Family. And Old Families no longer fall very often; that is mostly a fate of New Families.”
“Are your Families always at war?”
“Understand, Caine. What we mean by ‘war’ is not what you mean. Only warriors are to fight in wars—and only warriors are to be killed in wars. Our planets—our homeworld included—are not blessed with the riches of yours. So our wars were not like yours. It was a breach of the honor-code—and madness, besides—to destroy cities and farmlands and great masses of the Unhonored.” He paused. “At least, it was thus for millennia. But now—” He looked up, but not at Caine: Yaargraukh was staring at his own delegation. Whether he was focused on First Voice or Graagkhruud, Caine could not tell.
Caine proposed the conclusion to his unfinished musing: “Now, things have changed.”
A single, slow pony-nod. “Things have changed—since we have factories. Since we have ground vehicles and air vehicles that range far and wide and swift. The honor-code is no longer law, but a tradition, a folkway: obeyed if convenient, ignored if it becomes too great an obstruction. And it is apparently becoming a greater obstruction with each passing year.”
“Given what you have said, I do not understand why the Old Families tolerate the growth of New Families, why they do not band together to eliminate them.”
Yaargraukh made a sound like a nickering snort. “You sound like an Old Family patriarch, Caine, though you do not mean to. The truth is that we are their pawns; the Old Families hold all power, almost all property, all authority. So the New Families do all of what you call the ‘dirty work.’ It is we who work mines, build structures under the seas, are granted leases and sometimes fiefdoms in deserts or polar wastes or on the marginal worlds we have found. And since I am your advocate, I may tell you—for you should know this—the Hkh’Rkh have only found marginal worlds.”
Caine blinked. “Yaargraukh, if you tell me such secrets, won’t you be—?”
“First, these are not secrets. We make the truth of us known at all times; you will see this in the self-reference, when you read it. Secondly, you must understand that I am indeed your advocate; it is part of my responsibility to ensure that you understand us so that your interactions with us are not marred by ignorance. And I say again: we have only found poor worlds. Even the best have only sparse vegetation and creatures that are so simple that one hesitates to call them animals at all. Most of the planets are too cold or too hot or too dry, and the New Families struggle to make them of value, so that we may survive—and so that the Old Families may prosper by our labor.”
Caine looked up at Yaargraukh. “I can’t believe they”—he looked at the other Hkh’Rkh—“would want you to be telling me that.”
The Advocate’s tongue extended, did a quick side-to-side wag, disappeared again: “No. Probably not. But you must know that our hopes—to find green worlds such as yours—have been unrewarded thus far.”
“Yaargraukh, I appreciate your candor, but why do you feel that these particular truths are so important for me to know?”
The lidless, pupilless black eyes looked at him. “Because, Caine, the Hkh’Rkh are restless. The Old Families had thought the stars would bring them new worlds upon which they would plant new seeds of their power. The New Families longed for worlds where they could claim good, rich land for their own posterity. The worlds we have found have not merely disappointed these dreams; they have made mockeries of them.”
“So why not press on further? You’re bound to find—”
“We cannot do so. We do not have the shift range. It may be many years before we achieve it.”
“But one of the member states might provide you with the technical information you need in order to—”
“Caine, you do not yet understand the pride of my people, particularly of the Old Families. Their assertion of superiority does not allow them to admit the need for assistance. Besides, they see this as fate calling them to a great adventure.”
“What great adventure is that?”
Yaargraukh looked at Caine for a long time. “Conquest.”
“Conquest? Of us?”
“I cannot say. I do not think First Voice or his counselors have made any choices, but they believe they have exhausted all options for exploration.”
“Is our space near yours?”
“Somewhat, but it is not easily reached. We are closest to the Arat Kur—but I cannot say more than that.”
Closest to the Arat Kur? But then why aren’t the Arat Kur objecting to the Hkh’Rkh candidacy instead of humanity’s? What the hell is—?
“Advocate Yaargraukh: there you are.” They turned. Elena was holding a plate of various meats in one hand, a glass of foaming stout in the other. “I thought you might enjoy these foods—the ones in which you expressed the greatest interest.”
Yaargraukh hesitated, then looked her in the eye. “I thank you, female.”
Caine smiled, hoped his correction would not insult the Hkh’Rkh: “In my culture, Advocate, when one addresses women, it is proper to—”
But Elena was moving. Stepping between Caine and Yaargraukh, she snatched up a length of carpaccio on a fork and proffered it handle first—eyes downcast—to Yaargraukh. “We shall make our guests welcome by observing their ways.”
Yaargraukh was utterly still. Then he raised a hand and delicately, carefully, removed the fork from Elena’s fingers. “I am shown much honor. In truth, it is frustrating that your ideas of honor and ours are not more similar: it is this which most keeps us from understanding humans.”
“In truth, there are those among us here tonight who possess great honor.” Her semantic emphasis matched Yaargraukh’s; Christ, she’s a quick study.
“I presume you refer to your brother? He is indeed—”
“No, esteemed Advocate: I refer to your present companion, Spokesperson Caine of the Family Riordan.”
Yaargraukh and Caine both looked at her as though a second head had suddenly sprouted from her shoulders.
“Indeed?” said Yaargraukh.
“What?” said Caine.
“
I speak truth, Advocate. Since he does not have the label of warrior among our people, you might presume that Spokesperson Caine of the Family Riordan has not challenged or met challenge. But this would be incorrect. I list his deeds for you to judge: on Delta Pavonis Three, he defeated a great consortium of criminals with his cunning, and killed a Pavonosaur—a swift predator with ten times your mass. Shortly thereafter, he defeated two different groups of assassins. In the past three months alone, he has learned a special warrior art called karate, which teaches him how to defeat armed opponents with his bare hands, and equipped only with that knowledge, a knife, and his wits, he killed another elite assassin who sought to ambush him in his own home.” Elena turned and answered Caine’s speechless stare with a dazzling smile.
Yaargraukh’s held breath now came out as a long, almost inaudible hoot. “So you are a warrior. I apologize for not having asked—or intuited—this, Caine.”
Elena’s eyes opened wide when Yaargraukh called Caine by his first name, but she said nothing.
Caine waved a dismissive hand. “I have had to fight, but I am not a soldier.”
“This is a terminological distinction that we find difficult to understand. How is a fighter not a warrior, and a warrior not a soldier?”
Elena leaned in. “On Earth, a soldier is summoned to fight, but does not live for the challenge. He serves his nation’s honor, not his own.”
“Must he not be honorable in the fighting of the war? Is not his honor one and the same with the nation’s?”
“In principle, it might be: in practice, it is not strictly enforced. The war’s challenge is not his—nor is the honor that is won or lost. His personal honor lies in performing his duty, not the conflict it entails. This is a soldier.”
“Very well.”
“Whereas, to human perception, the Hkh’Rkh are warriors, first and foremost. Your wars are but greatly amplified versions of your personal challenges: the same forms of declaration and resolution exist. Is this not so?”
Yaargraukh’s facial contortions were identifiable as grimaces. “Up to three hundred of your years ago, this was true. Now, our wars are quickly becoming more akin to yours.” He paused. “Holding such opinions makes my current position with the scions of Old Families—unusually challenging.”
“How so?”
“They wanted only Old Family scions on this delegation, but none were willing to work as your Advocate.”
Elena’s smile was slow. “Why? Because when a Hkh’Rkh represents the Unhonored, he begins to be associated with them? Our status as lesser beings rubs off on you?”
Yaargraukh nodded. “It is as you say.”
“That is also how a human woman feels when she is treated as though she does not exist—as simply being a ‘female.’”
Caine held his breath. Yaargraukh looked at Elena, who kept smiling at him without the slightest hint of impatience or displeasure. She had managed to offer a correction without also making it a remonstration. “That is exactly how it feels for us,” she emphasized.
“Yet—you served me.”
“Among you, to be served has a particular meaning, and I was happy to make you comfortable. Among humans—” and she turned toward Caine, with a forkful of carpaccio heading quickly towards his mouth—“it means something else.” Caine had just enough time to get his lips and teeth out of the way. But the fork didn’t jab in; the wafer-thin shaving of raw meat seemed to land on his tongue like a butterfly. He opened his eyes, found hers less than a foot away. The fork left his mouth slowly; her eyes stayed on his.
“So what does it mean among you, for one to serve another?” Yaargraukh sounded puzzled. “I do not understand; how is that not serving him? He who has met challenges and acquired honor?”
Caine knew, looking at Elena’s earnest face, and Yaargraukh’s stance—of patient futility?—that a careful delineation of nuances was not going to make the point. He reached over, took the plate gently but firmly out of Elena’s hand. Caine made a quick pass with the fork, and then he was tapping her upper lip with a sliver of proffered asiago. Eyes surprised, she opened her lips: as had she, he inserted the utensil carefully, let the slight friction against her tongue drag the cheese off the tines.
Yaargraukh reared back. “Caine, this is—I do not understand.”
“Your eyes told you no lies: I served her.”
His head seemed to quiver. “So you are showing me that, if you choose, you can be less than she is?”
“No.”
“Then why serve her?”
“To show you that I am no less than she is, but I am also not more. Human women have no less honor than males.”
Yaargraukh’s spine fur rose slightly. “This is what I find most alien in your race. As your Advocate, I worry how the Hkh’Rkh—particularly the Old Families—will assess you, were I to push them to believe this.”
Caine smiled. “Yaargraukh: you are our Advocate. We leave it for you to decide what to tell them: we trust your judgment. But we needed to tell you this.”
“Why?”
“Because sharing truths—particularly the dangerous ones—is how we will build a bridge of honor between us, and perhaps, a pathway of understanding between our peoples.”
Yaargraukh’s eyes disappeared for a moment, then bulged forth again. “Yes. This shall be how we make the bridge between us. We shall build it not merely by finding our easy similarities, but also by sharing—and accepting—our difficult differences. And I foresee that this could be a costly promise—for both of us.”
Elena lowered her head slightly. “‘Promises, like honor, are not washed away, but strengthened, by blood.’”
He stared at her. “You have already read the poet-sages.”
Her nod was almost a shrug. “I encountered a few of their writings when reading your self-reference.”
Yaargraukh slowly took his eyes from Elena, looked at Caine and nodded. “Caine, you are lucky in your mate.”
A split second of incomprehension was followed by a rush of heat in his face. “No—no, she’s not my mate.” Caine resolved to avoid looking at her, to remain unaware of her reaction.
Yaargraukh looked surprised. “No?”
“No.”
Yaargraukh’s tongue darted out, wiggled.
“What causes you to—smile?”
“Your answer. I saw her feed you, and you she: this was not merely honoring each other.”
“I assure you: she is not my mate.”
Yaargraukh’s tongue swished once. “Not yet, perhaps. I must go: I will share much of our conversation with my delegation. They will be—interested—I am sure. I believe they will also agree to reciprocate this feast, perhaps as early as tomorrow.”
Caine bowed. “They would do us much honor.”
“They would not mean to, not precisely. But it would be a start.” He turned to look for Elena; she was gone. “My words: did they—? Caine: I meant no insult to your fema—to the woman.”
“I’m sure none was taken. Elena is very busy this evening; look, she left your plate and your drink.”
Yaargraukh picked up the human dishware—like a child’s in his massive hands—and focused on something over Caine’s shoulder. “Another of your guests would speak with you. I shall withdraw. Until tomorrow.” Caine nodded in response, turned—
—and found himself face to face with a water heater on wheels.
Chapter Forty-Seven
ODYSSEUS
Caine stared at the Ktoran environmental tank. Wondered when they’d get around to chasing me down. But he said: “Greetings. I am sorry, but since your tanks are identical, I have no way of knowing who you—”
“Of course. It is I, Wise-Speech-of-Pseudopodia. I thank you for your invitation to this gathering, Spokesperson Riordan: it is quite pleasant. And my thanks go to you as well, Ambassador.”
Caine turned: Visser had approached from behind, with Wasserman and Durniak in tow. “Our pleasure, Wise-Speech-of-Pseudopodia. We are sorry t
hat we had no way of knowing what foodstuffs you might enjoy.”
“Do not be troubled. Ktoran biochemistry is radically different, so rather than share food this evening, we must take our pleasure in the sharing of ideas. And information.”
A baited hook, trailed in deep water. Caine nodded: “Those are, after all, the lifeblood of diplomacy.”
“Well put, Mr. Riordan. May I express my appreciation of your professionalism—all of you—during today’s rather trying proceedings. It was not what you were expecting, I am sure.”
Downing’s voice arose from the other side of Wise-Speech. “I’ll allow that it was a bit of a surprise.”
“Yes. We—the Ktor delegation—feared that this might arise. Particularly when we perused your dossier: the question of whether your World Confederation ensures universal representation provided the Arat Kur with a serviceable point of disputation.”
Visser folded her arms. “Apologies, Wise-Speech-of-Pseudopodia, but I was not under the impression that the Ktor were sympathetic to the objections of the Arat Kur.”
“Indeed, we are not. Please: do not misconstrue my comments as suggesting that you are without grounds for claiming authority over your worlds. As you will come to know, Ktor can hardly be called a state or polity at all. We despair of the homogeneity of intent and action that seems to be the legitimizing desideratum for other races. Yet this does not stop us from claiming a practical authority over those systems in which we exert primary influence.”
“I see—but then what is your point?”
“Merely this: when sovereign states insist upon deriving their authority from the consent of the governed, troubling inconsistencies inevitably arise. Indeed, the model of rulership through nation-states seems to be in disarray, and therefore in decline, everywhere—even on Earth.”
Wasserman slipped into the group. “Just what do you mean by that?”
“Consider the difficulty your Confederation has in claiming that it is adequately representative. Even if the challenges recently presented by Indonesia’s call for a sixth bloc are only half-hearted, other nations—particularly those of the Pan-Islamic sphere and Africa—have started entering into agreements that challenge the legal boundaries between national and corporate states. For instance, as we understand your laws, CoDevCo’s recent land purchases now allow it to claim nationhood.”
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