2014 Campbellian Anthology

by Various

  Ardam whistled three low pitches and one high one to officially start the meeting.

  “There is a chance that the seedlings survive. We must find out,” Ardam said. If they were dead, the Family would be doomed to end with last season’s generation. The ground held the memories and experiences of each batch of seedlings. It was those memories that guided the next generation to birth. Without the memories in the ground, no more seedlings could be born.

  No surprise that Raychit was the first to speak.

  “How could they survive that?” She pointed two of her right arms toward the town. She had eight arms total, two more than most Cranthers. The extra arms definitely gave her advantages in certain contests. Her seed contribution was showing up in every generation, making the Family stronger.

  Terron spoke next. His coloring was more green than brown though it rarely appeared in the children. Occasionally a child would be born green though and Terron took pride in that. “We set them deeper than any predator can dig and our Family’s husks have always been strong. My fear is that the ground has been poisoned. The stench they emanate is much like heated ruddleweed, and we all know how dangerous that is.”

  Ardam sniffed the air again; Terron was right. If the intruders did bear poison as a defense, then his next request of the caucus could be deadly.

  “These beings are organized. We should be able to reason with them. I will approach the town to try and learn more. Will you join me?”

  Hefkot spoke first. “We can’t go down there! What if they want to kill us?”

  Ezcar clasped his hands in agreement. “Maybe we should observe them for a few days.”

  “The Birthing Ritual is nearly upon us. There’s no time to observe,” Raychit said.

  “Shall I venture down alone?” Ardam asked. “It is my risk to take. I will not shirk my duty.”

  Kaliff stepped forward. “I will stand with you, Paramount.”

  Raychit and Terron stepped forward as well. Ardam focused his second and third eyes on Hefkot and Ezcar. It would not be right to present a partial caucus. Their reluctance melted under his gaze and they acquiesced. Despite having led the Family for only eight seasons, Ardam was well aware of the importance of protocol and diplomacy. His father had kept him abreast of inter-Family dealings from a young age and he had seen both the successes and failures of the diplomatic process.

  “Go tell your families the nature of our task and tell them to remain here,” Ardam said. He looked out on the five families that numbered over three hundred adult Cranthers. There were another thirty children that survived from last summer’s birthing. He had been the head of the largest Family when the old Paramount passed, and now they were all his Family. But being Paramount also set him apart.

  The advisors returned and the caucus made their way, single-file down the hillside. Halfway to the base, Ardam heard the sighing and wailing of his Family. He looked back to see them atop the ridge. They had not stayed where they were told, but with the safety of the next generation at stake he understood. After their initial shock, the Family started to descend, following the track the caucus had created.

  Ardam paused and huffed a warning, but the father in the lead was Raychit’s spouse and he refused to stop. Ardam realized this was not a challenge; it was proof of their unity. Ardam would have taken the risk alone if they had so chosen. Instead, they would all protect the seedlings. Having his Family stand with him calmed his hearts and settled his mind. He continued on.

  When he neared the town, Ardam stopped a tree’s length from its edge. While it still smelled bad, the aroma did not seem harmful. The Family fell into line on either side of him. Keeping the same distance, they spread out to cover half the perimeter of the town. The children stood behind their elders, creating a staggered second row with each Cranther touching the next. Except for Ardam. He stood alone.

  Up close, the town had even more peculiar features. In the structures there were holes covered by something as transparent as a kirwasps wings. It was incredible to see the effect that large. Kirwasps rarely got bigger than his hand.

  Through the holes, Ardam could see more two-legged beings. They were watching him. Even from up high they stared down at his Family, pointing and conversing. His Family also huffed and whistled in wonder at these strange beings and their strange town. Ardam let out a short, high whistle and they quieted themselves to a low chatter.

  Unlike the beings in the structures, the ones on the ground fled deeper into the town. Their wails and calls were of a squealing nature, like newborns or wounded animals. From here, Ardam could see their skin ran in different shades of brown. Their bodies were covered by colorful fabric like the Fenri of the east wore, but what he could see of their skin was smooth. There were no layers and little texture. He wondered if they could derive pleasure from bonding with such simple bodies.

  Ardam hissed and whistled, telling his Family to let him advance alone. With a final growl, it became a command. On this he would not compromise.

  He stepped forward until he came to the edge of the black dirt. It looked solid, like rock. Kneeling, he touched it and found it very warm and smooth. The black surface sat atop the breeding ground like a woven sleeping mat, but three times thicker. Ardam moved his hand to touch the real ground, the dirt under which their seedlings lay. Closing his eyes he stilled himself and listened. He felt heartbeats, hundreds of tiny heartbeats pattering in syncopated rhythm.

  Pure joy—the seedlings were alive! He let out a long, high pitched whistle. The Family whistled back in frenetic celebration.

  From ahead, a group of the two-legged beings approached. There were three of them, half a caucus. Was this a slight, or did they not have enough high-ranking members to constitute a full caucus? Ardam stood and gave a short huff. His advisors advanced to line up behind him. The two-legs slowed and then stopped an arm’s length away.

  The darkest brown and tallest of the three stood in front; Ardam assumed he was the Paramount. He was a full head taller than Ardam. The other two flanked him and stayed a step behind. They both held something in their hands. One, the lightest skinned of the three, had a black branch with straight edges. It reminded Ardam of the hard edges of the false dirt. It did not look like an effective club but he did not know what else it might be. The other had dark fur on his face and something round and red, like a bessa fruit, in his hand.

  Their Paramount tried looking around Ardam, as if he were evaluating his line of advisors. He brought his attention back just before the digression became insulting. The two-leg focused his gaze on Ardam and started speaking. His voice was soft but resonant, not unpleasant, but like the rest of their appearance, very smooth. He supposed the lack of layers and textures did not lend itself to more complex forms of communication.

  When the two-leg finished there was silence. Ardam let twenty-one respectful heartbeats pass before beginning his own speech. He was under no illusion that they would understand him. Their sounds were incomprehensible to his ears. If in his tone, he could gain their trust so they would allow for a Barter of Body, then they would be able to communicate.

  “I am Ardam, Paramount of my Cranther Family. We are both pleased and dismayed at your arrival. Usually we are happy to meet new races and look forward to favorable relations. But you have settled upon our breeding ground and are endangering the lives of a whole generation of our offspring and the future of my Family. I must insist that you relocate.”

  The two-legs moved their faces around in patterns Ardam didn’t understand. The one with the red fruit tilted his head, first to one side, then the other. There was discussion within their half-caucus. Ardam would not consult his advisors; they were only present out of courtesy to the two-legs.

  When they quieted, the fur-faced one stepped forward, and offered the red fruit. Ardam watched. Their Paramount did not seem offended at the breach in protocol. Ardam was not sure whether to accept a gift from the usurper. Would it be offensive? If so, wouldn’t the Paramount have stoppe
d him?

  Out of respect for the Paramount, Ardam did not accept the gift. He looked over at the light-skinned two-leg. He had kept his place and said little. Proper. Ardam liked that. The fur-faced one stepped back.

  There was more discussion between them. Now the light-skinned one was more animated, raising his voice which was gruffer than the rest, and moving his arms. The Paramount tried to stop his advisor’s limbs from flailing. The movements reminded him of Raychit when she felt passionate about something.

  They resettled in their original formation, but this time the Paramount stepped forward. He extended his hand toward Ardam and bared his teeth again. Ardam looked carefully at the opposing gestures. One was the offer for the Barter of Body, the other a threat. These two-legs were so different from any race he’d met. Did either gesture mean what Ardam thought?

  Regardless, the Barter would help end the confusion. Ardam reached out his largest hand, easily grasping the two-leg’s smooth skin. His long, light brown fingers wrapped around the lower part of the dark one’s arm in a web of contrast. It was time for the exchange.

  Ardam extended the two barbs from under his wrist, digging them into their Paramount’s skin. The two-leg yelled. One barb accepted fluid from his body while the other offered a part of himself. It was not a pleasant sensation, but for their Paramount to show such an expressive reaction diminished his strength. Then Ardam realized that their Paramount had not responded with his own exchange method. All of the races he had met in his travels had some form of body exchange. Did these two-legs not? They must be from truly far away.

  The Paramount yanked his arm back, cradling it. Ardam’s white blood and the two-leg’s red dribbled from the wounds. The light-skinned one stepped forward, yelling and pointing the black stick at him. Ardam remained perfectly still, trying not to look dangerous. He realized now that they saw the Barter as an attack.

  The Paramount yelled something and they backed off, pulling away from Ardam. The one with the stick walked backwards, eyes scanning the Cranthers. They disappeared into one of the buildings. Ardam had made a mistake.

  Looking after the two-legs, he worried whether the Barter would work. Usually he felt the effects immediately. But then, the partner in the trade usually stayed in the area where he could feel his heartbeat. Did he need to be near the two-leg for his donation to have the desired effect?

  The answer came when his hearts suddenly slowed down. He bent over in shock. Six beats each at the pace of the donor before he was released. He took a long, slow breath and let it waffle out through his throat pouch. Ardam knew then that the two-leg had only one large heart and that it had to beat hard to do its job.

  The exchange into his mind would be next. Thoughts swirled, creeping in, slowly coalescing into intelligible segments. The patterns were straightforward and not difficult to decipher. With such simple bodies it was no surprise, they had fewer complexities to deal with. Their patterns came in twos, much like the Cranthers came in sixes. He had Bartered with enough races to know that it was not the number of limbs that generally decided numerical structures in the mind, but the number required to mate.

  Looking at the town, he was impressed that they were able to accomplish so much when they only carried material from two individuals of their species. Of course, he could be wrong about their breeding habits. These two-legs were proving to be very different from anything he’d encountered before.

  Finally, the last part would come when he met the Paramount once again. The question still remained whether he would be able to read his energy. Understanding the patterns and comprehending the words were two different things. The patterns gave him the ability to learn their language, but it would take time and study. With the seedlings so close to birth, time was one thing he didn’t have. Reading his energy and using the patterns simultaneously would allow him to understand much of what was said. And once he comprehended that, he should be able to speak with any of the two-legs.

  Bartering always distracted him from his surroundings while he adjusted to the new information. Ardam looked up now to see the two-legs overflowing the large building their Paramount had retreated into. It was a raucous gathering. No doubt they were discussing what just happened. To have the whole town participate seemed ridiculous. How would they ever decide anything? Ardam knew what he must do. He signaled for his advisors to follow. He had made an error in dealing with the two-legs and he would not fail to show them respect.

  The black trail was smooth under his feet and it felt dead. There was no connection with the soil. Its rigidity made it unpleasant to walk upon and it was assembled in pieces, like the tiled walls of Menderey. While everything about the two-legs seemed different, he found similarities as well. Ardam realized his mind was simply trying to understand based on things he knew.

  As they approached the unruly crowd, silence rippled through it. So many of their bodies so close made the air smell dank and salty. Ardam paused and a walkway opened up in the crowd while they backed away. A small two-leg, a child, ran up to him and touched his second right knee. It was amusing. He reached down to touch the little one’s head. Someone screamed and ran over, snatching the child away. Ardam studied their faces. It seemed likely they were scared. It would be good to understand what that looked like. Fear could be both a dangerous emotion or a helpful one.

  Until he and the caucus arrived, the two-legs had all been facing one direction. Ardam walked in that direction until he came to their Paramount. Not wanting to appear aggressive, he stopped a full body-length away. From this distance he could still feel enough of the Paramount’s energy for the Barter to take effect. Even now, their whispers were filtering through and some words were making sense.

  The Paramount stared at him but did not back away. Ardam could feel his nerves and his heartbeat. Despite crying out earlier, he was stoic now. Good. He was strong. His arm was wrapped in a white cloth, but there was a splotch of red oozing through. From the left, the one with the black stick stepped between Ardam and the Paramount. The Paramount said a few words and the two-leg stepped back, but not as far as he had been. Fortunately, the language was starting to come to him through not only the Paramount’s energy, but the energy of all the bodies in the room.

  Ardam used his singing tone, it seemed to best approximate their voices. “I am sorry,” he paused, looking for the words, “to hurt you.”

  The crowd muttered energetically in response to his words. Had he said them right? The Paramount held a hand up and the crowd quieted. Then he took one step forward.

  “Hello. My name is Toumani Shaw and I am the Mayor of this town. I think we started off poorly,” he said, his speech slow. That was good; it gave Ardam a better chance to evaluate the patterns. Toumani Shaw turned his arm to show more of the blood. It was puffy and swollen. “Was this a greeting to you?”

  “Yes.” Ardam said, speaking slower than the Paramount, choosing his words carefully. “I thought you… offered a Barter of the Body.”

  The Mayor bared his teeth again, but his energy was not threatening. In fact, it was more relaxed. Ardam corrected his interpretation of the expression. The Mayor spoke and still managed to keep his teeth showing. “There are bound to be misunderstandings when we meet new people. May I ask your name?”

  Moments passed while he figured out the translation. Of course, the most basic of exchanges. “Ardam.” He slipped into his guttural pronunciation, then corrected and repeated it in the singing tone. Remembering his speech from earlier, he tried to translate it and addressed the two-legs. “I am Ardam, Paramount of my Cranther Family. We are both pleased and troubled at your arrival. Often we are happy to meet new races and look ahead to good works. But you have built upon our breeding ground and are endangering the lives of a whole generation of our children and the future of my Family. I must insist that you move your town.”

  The expression on the Mayor’s face changed. His brow creased and he squinted slightly. The sides of his mouth turned down. His heartbeat sped up
as well and he shook his head. From his energy, Ardam noted this as a bad expression.

  “Ardam, we need this home. We are refugees from our planet, Earth. This…”

  He interrupted. “I do not understand, ref-u-gees.” He didn’t quite understand planet either but it did not feel so important of a word.

  Toumani Shaw paused, then restated. “We are outcasts because we do not agree with our world’s government. They have forced us to leave and exiled us here. We have no means of transport and nowhere else to call home.”

  After figuring out the translation, this didn’t make sense to Ardam. Why would their leaders allow them to do this? They could multiply and come back to make war. Ah, but what if they were of the Family and the leaders did not have the heart to kill their own? He looked at the crowd. Their faces were so different. It didn’t seem like they could all be from one Family. But maybe that was a consequence of a two-mate system.

  “So your own Family sees you as dangerous?” Ardam asked.

  The Mayor paused. The line over his eyes angled down but it was a subtle expression. Even with the Barter, Ardam could not interpret what it meant.

  “Dangerous to their oppressive ideas. We had different reasons for speaking out, but any who protested were rounded up and sent away. We are not the only exiles, just the only ones to be stranded here.”

  Ardam definitely did not understand the two-leg Family’s reasoning.

  “And how did you become leader of these… refugees?”

  “They chose me. At home I was a spiritual leader. For us, that invokes a certain amount of trust.”

  Ardam studied the power flow surrounding the words spiritual leader. They seemed important. While the meaning felt similar to a mystic or sage, the Mayor’s energy was much calmer than any mystic Ardam had ever met.

  “What kind of leader are you now?”

  The Mayor showed his teeth again and huffed slightly. Ardam braced himself anticipating a physical attack. None came, nor did the feel of a threat through the Barter.