Oops. She was sure the thought hadn’t been loud or deliberately sent, and no one else seemed to have picked up on it, but the Ancestor she was riding rolled a rather challenging eye back in her direction, and snorted.
The Ancestor’s attendant noticed the eye rolling. He stepped away from his charge for a pace, stroked the Ancestor’s nose, and cast a reproachful glance at Acorna.
By that time their party arrived at the first structures in the Linyaari settlement. She supposed, since the spaceport was nearby and they were being taken to see the viizaar, this place must be the main city on the planet, but it was not of any great size.
The circus-tent-like buildings of the city were clustered around an even larger central circus tent, where each section sprouted another tent-like tower from its center. Actually, these dwellings were not so much like tents as like the pavilions she had seen depicted in films of ancient Earth medieval encampments. Each was, like the attendants’ and Ancestors’ costumes, decorated in a different gaudy hue, and liberally trimmed with loops, swirls, swags, fringe, and tassels of contrasting metal or fabric or rope.
These pavilions had no windows of the sort Acorna was used to, but each section of each tent had a large arched doorway open to the outdoors and several had whole wall sections removed.
“Behold Kubiilikhan, our principal city, honored lady,” the attendant said.
“It’s—very colorful,” Acorna said politely. And tried to think the same thing, though the attendant frowned a bit so some of her concerns were clearly leaking through her guard. “But you must suffer greatly from the dampness during the rains.”
Maati, who had fallen back from her trot at the head of the procession, laughed. “No, wait till you dismount. Excuse me, Great-grandmother, but she’s got to see this!” the girl said with an affectionate but not particularly reverent pat on the nose to the unicorn. The Ancestor snorted, but rather fondly, Acorna thought, very much in the same way a tolerant grand-parent might act toward a well-loved but rambunctious child.
Acorna dismounted with a horn dip to the unicorn, who ignored her. She followed Maati, who was now stroking the silken-appearing wall of the large purple pavilion. “Feel!” Maati commanded.
Acorna reached out and touched the fabric. Surprisingly, she found it hard and unyielding. Rapping on it with the backs of her fingers, she heard a metallic ting. “It’s solid?” she asked.
“Yes, and you can open the pores so the air comes through nicely—but not the wet.”
“And you don’t get chilly during the cold season—you do have a cold season?”
“Oh, sure, outdoors when we’re grazing. But then we can just go inside, close the flaps, and adjust the pores so that they heat the air as it comes inside. Very scientific,” she said, as if she hoped that it being scientific would please Acorna.
“It certainly is,” Acorna agreed.
Neeva beckoned her into the tent. “Come along, Khornya. Liriili is not a particularly patient person.”
Acorna followed her, with Melireenya and Khaari close behind. Maati scrambled to get ahead of Neeva and while Acorna’s eyes were still adjusting to the dimmer light inside, she heard Maati say, “Grand Viizaar Liriili, presenting Visedhaanye Ferilii Neeva, the crew of the spacecraft Balakiire, and Khornya, sister-child to Visedhaanye Neeva and daughter to the late Vaanye and Feriila of honored memory.”
Viizaar Liriili was, Acorna saw, seated at a desk. Like the other space-farers, she was pale skinned and silver maned, and her eyes, when they met Acorna’s, were deep pewter-gray. Her golden horn was twined with glittering silver thread and she wore a gown cut to compliment her rather sturdy figure in a fabric that matched the thread. Her mane was cropped short around her face and neck and her face was a bit longer than that of any of the other Linyaari. In fact, she rather resembled the Ancestors.
Thariinye’s unguarded thought came to Acorna, (What a beauty!)
The Viizaar’s eyes twinkled as they rested upon the handsome young male for a moment, and then she turned her attention to business. “Visedhaanye Neeva, dear Melireenya, Khaari, my child, Thariinye, we are all so delighted at your return especially in view of the terrible dangers you faced to warn others. And most of all, Khornya, we are thrilled that you have finally rejoined us.”
“I am thrilled to be here,” Acorna assured her.
“You will of course be joining us at the reception this evening, Viizaar Liriili?” Neeva inquired.
Liriili smiled. “I will be there, certainly, Visedhaanye Neeva. You will be happy to know your instructions were all implemented and everything is in readiness. Unfortunately, neither you nor your core crew members with the exception of Thariinye will be there, I’m afraid. As you were disembarking, I received an urgent message from one of our trading missions. I must discuss this with you privately and then you must leave again, as soon as you have had time to refuel.”
“But my lifemate is expecting me!” Khaari cried.
“He is on that trading mission, Khaari,” Liriili told her. “That is one reason I wish the Balakiire to undertake this particular task.”
“But what about Khornya?” Neeva asked.
“Why, she will stay here, of course, and learn to know her people and attend the fete as you have planned. While she will sorely miss your guidance, we will try in your absence to make sure that she is not lonely and learns what is needful for her to know.”
“Excuse me, Viizaar Liriili—” Acorna interrupted as politely as possible. She did not much care for being discussed as if she were not there.
“Yes, Khornya?”
“It’s just that—well, even though I was very much looking forward to doing these social events with my aunt and friends, I really would rather not attend them by myself. Is it possible to postpone the reception so that I could accompany them on their mission?”
Liriili laughed. “My dear Khornya, you will hardly be by yourself! I shall be there, and Thariinye, and most of the cream of Kubiilikhan society including many young males most eager to make your acquaintance!”
“Yes, ma’am, but I’d rather be with my aunt. Perhaps I can be useful on the mission.”
“You’re very young and have a great deal to learn,” Liriili said as if that settled the matter.
“Khornya is a very capable young lady, Liriili,” Neeva told the viizaar, and projected images of some of Acorna’s adventures.
“I’m sure she is, Visedhaanye Neeva,” Liriili said, then turning to Acorna, repeated, “I’m sure you are, my dear, but you are not yet versed in our ways sufficiently to undertake a mission of the delicacy this one requires. And there will probably not be enough room for you on the return trip. Or for Thariinye, which is why we are not sending him. So you young ones may as well remain here and enjoy yourselves. The reception can hardly be postponed. Everyone has been working ever so hard preparing it and many, many people will be most disappointed if you are not there. Run along with Maati now. There’s a good girl.”
“Excuse my persistence, Viizaar, but what is this mission?” Acorna pressed her case. “Maybe I could help. I have good friends in many high places.”
The viizaar gave her an exaggeratedly patient look. “That may be so, Khornya. But whoever you know and whatever you have done before is irrelevant to this mission, which I cannot discuss with you because you are not fully conversant with thought transference, and I am reliably informed that during unguarded moments your every fleeting notion is broadcast to the whole of the planet; information could be disclosed that I have no wish to disseminate at this time. In your aunt’s absence, Thariinye can continue your tutoring in our communication forms and customs. Now do please go with Maati and freshen up. There is not much time before your shipmates must leave, and I must brief them. In private.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Acorna said, feeling more like a schoolgirl than she ever had done when she was of the age to have been one.
“Excuse me, Liriili,” Neeva said, dropping the title in her annoyance. “I would like to tak
e leave of my niece before we are sent back into space, if you can wait a few more moments before briefing us. I had to wait three and a half ghaanyi to find her and who knows how long it will be before I see her again?”
“Very well, but be brief, please. We have much to discuss,” Liriili said, and turned her attention to the others.
Leading Acorna outside the pavilion, Neeva touched horns with her and Acorna, impulsively, hugged her aunt as if she never wished to let her go, which indeed she did not.
Neeva’s eyes were full of tears when they stood at arm’s length again. “Oh, that insufferable woman!” she said. “This had better be a truly urgent mission or I am going to have her before the Council!”
“You think she’d send you out again without a good reason?” Acorna asked. “When you’ve been away so long?” She frowned. “I thought if everyone could read each other’s thoughts and feelings, they would be kinder.”
“We are, but there are still jealousies and insecurities and all of the other baggage that goes with being sentient. And Liriili has more than her share of those emotions. She isn’t really a bad person, and she can only do just so much without the say-so of the Council, but she has no love for our family. While I doubt she’d try to actively harm you, don’t count on her for help either. Just stay out of her way until we return, if you can.”
“I’ll do my best, Neeva. But return soon, please?”
Neeva ran her fingers down her niece’s face and smiled. “We’ll do our best, youngling. You know we will. Now, you go with Maati to my pavilion and get ready for the party tonight. I’ve ordered some things sent over for you to try on. I wish I could be there to see the faces of the young males when they set eyes on you!”
“Farewell, mother’s-sister, safe journey and quick return.”
“Farewell, sister-child, till we meet again.”
“Let’s go through the courtyard,” Maati said, taking Acorna’s hand and pulling her away from the pavilion. “I always go that way when I can.”
“Why—oh, I see,” Acorna said, as the child stepped onto the path paved with several sets of the Singing Stones of Skarrness, similar to the ones Uncle Hafiz had at his compound on Laboue.
“Yeah, look,” Maati commanded her, and proceeded to play hopscotch—and a little tune—across the courtyard.
Acorna smiled, applauded, and followed suit with one of the tunes she used to hopscotch on Uncle Hafiz’s stones. She found it as hard now as she had then to stay unhappy when the stones sang.
Maati led the way to a pavilion at the far side of the town. “This is the visedhaanye’s home. Oooooh, look at the dresses!”
Walking into the pavilion was like walking into a particularly well stocked closet. Gowns of every color, cut, and description lay and hung on every possible surface and protuberance. Also in abundance were gleaming gemstones and little pointy objects, like hats, the size and shape of her horn. These were decorated variously with gems, with flowers, with pom-poms, with ribbons, and gilt threads.
“Pom-poms?” Acorna asked.
Maati giggled. “They’re all the rage at the moment especially among the girls of color who are entering society.” She stuck one on her own slightly smaller horn. The effect, with her dark skin and mottled hair, of the yellow and pink pom-poms, was certainly festive and not quite as clown-like as Acorna had supposed.
“Why do people decorate their horns?”
“Well, it’s not just decoration. The covers also mute telepathy to some extent,” Maati said. “It’s for flirting, too. I mean, this way if a girl likes a boy, she doesn’t have to show it right away and neither does he. Before anybody can read anybody else’s mind, they can kind of see how the person they like is acting first, or if there’s anybody else interesting.”
“I see,” Acorna said. “When is the party?”
Maati shrugged. “It starts at moonrise, in about three hours.”
“I’d better get busy then,” Acorna said. All of the gowns were far too elaborately decorated for her taste, with layers and layers of different colored skirts, and frills, lace, ruffles, bows, and flowers completely covering whole bodices or skirts. Fortunately, life in a society where women were normally much shorter than she, and the occasional necessity of disguising her horn with an elaborate costume, had taught Acorna to be an excellent seamstress herself. She narrowed her eyes to blur the bewildering details of the gowns so that she could get some idea of their background color. Turning slowly, she spotted a lovely soft mauve-rose brocade fabric and reached for it. It was the undergown of a dress with a rainbow assortment of skirts that stuck out like tutus from the hipline to the ankle.
Without the tutus the rosy underdress was slightly too sheer so she looked around again until she saw that one of the flowing veil-like overskirts of another gown was a beautiful lilac color that complemented both her own complexion and the color of the undergown. That would do.
When she had bathed and dried her hair, she slipped into the rose-mauve dress and pulled the length of lilac fabric under one arm and joined it at the opposite shoulder, pinning it, after some deliberation, with a stunning brooch of pale amethysts and rhodolite garnets set in silver. The brooch had earrings that matched.
She was able to locate lilac slippers in the mass of shoes that was spread everywhere dresses and jewels were not.
“Horn?” Maati reminded her.
“Oh, yes,” Acorna said, picking up the lilac horn cover that matched the outer skirt. “This means no one else can read my thoughts, then?”
“Well, not clearly anyway. You know, so if you think something—well, about reproduction, you know, the other person can’t—”
Acorna giggled at the younger girl’s attempt to sound adult while discussing the mating rituals of which she was not yet a part. “I think I get the idea. I will try not to broadcast so loudly I overpower the muting effect of the horn cover.” She looked at the cover again. “But this spiral of wisteria has to go.”
“Maybe just a few at the base of your horn?” Maati suggested, looking dismayed to see the pom-poms and wads of the purple lii flower Acorna called wisteria falling to the floor.
“Yes, that’s nice. Thanks.”
“The decorations are so pretty,” she said, sadly, picking up the culled flowers.
Acorna was firm. “Less is more,” she said.
Maati looked baffled by the idea.
No sooner had Acorna dressed than a great herd of seamstresses, jewelers, and cobblers descended upon the pavilion to carry the excess merchandise away.
“We’ll deliver daytime ensembles for your approval tomorrow morning, Khornya.”
“Oh, please don’t bother,” she said. “If Maati will show me where your workplaces are, I would love to see where you make these pretty things.”
She had the horn cover firmly in place then and could afford a diplomatic fib. The creators of the two dresses she had altered to make her gown tried to hide their frowns but a couple of the others were eyeing her with a speculative expression.
As the last of the clothiers departed with their wares, uncovering Neeva’s furnishings and returning the pavilion to some semblance of a dwelling, Thariinye arrived.
“I’m sorry, Khornya,” he apologized—with some effort—aloud. “I thought you would be dressed by now.”
“Oh, but I am dressed!” she said, twirling. “Like it?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then realized, with an expression of relief, that she was wearing her horn-hat, as she thought of the ornamental shields. He gave her a huge false grin and nodded so hard she thought he’d shake his own horn off. He was a budding diplomat, after all. In the mainstream of Linyaari culture there would be little opportunity to lie and he was unaccustomed to the practice. She supposed she should give him credit for knowing when a fib was called for.
He quickly donned a horn-hat that coordinated with his own ensemble. It had a three-dimensional stylized red fabric bird perched on the tip to match the birds qu
ilted, stuffed and embroidered on his flowing waistcoat, the cummerbund at his waist, and perched on each shoulder like epaulets, and delicately poised upon an oversize codpiece.
Acorna politely broke into a fit of coughing to disguise the portion of her reaction not softened by the horn-hat. Linyaari fashion was going to take some getting used to. Strange that in her travels around the galaxy she had never for a moment entertained an ethnocentric attitude, had never even considered that the clothing or customs of others might be ridiculous. She supposed she felt more strongly about the Linyaari customs because they were, after all, her customs and she was supposed to adhere to them. One of her disguises as a Didi would have fit right in but her own natural style definitely did not.
“I saw the crew off on the new mission,” Thariinye said. Acorna was glad his tone was grave. It helped her keep a straight face. She heard just a hint of censure in his tone, as if she should have been there to say good-bye, too. But surely he had heard her being ordered by the viizaar to ready herself for this occasion?
They did not speak as they crossed the Singing Stones again, enjoying the music instead, as it blended harmoniously with the Linyaari music emanating from a pavilion even larger than the one the viizaar occupied. This one had bundles of flowers decorating it on the outside, and streamers of ribbon added to the gold tassels. People were flocking into it—or perhaps a better expression was that bouquets of people were gathering themselves into the pavilion and onto the dance floor spreading all around it like a carousel containing only unicorn people.
Ridiculous as the dresses and men’s clothing looked individually, collectively they were rather breathtaking, like a field of multihued blossoms, studded with brilliant stones and even ribbon that looked amazingly like flowing water.
Several of the men wore bird costumes such as Thariinye’s, while others wore designs depicting other animals, or elements such as fire and water. One or two had embroidery resembling the fleet of starships. A few had celestial themes to their clothing. The total effect was far more attractive than Acorna would have imagined.
Acorna’s People Page 6
