Meeting someone even more alien
The feast seemed to be of the opinion that it was going well. And Toda was beginning to respect its opinion, though she didn't yet count herself experienced enough to have an opinion of her own on that topic. The opinions that she did have were less ambitious: that the food was excellent and that she had met several interesting people. And there seemed to be eight times as many left to meet.
Just now word of her foreignness seemed to be travelling faster than she could manage to process and remember names. So far she'd tried to deal with the onslaught by exchanging niceties and then pointedly requesting to be permitted to meet only one or two persons at a time. Gradually she noticed that the whole party (and the seating for it) was arranged into neighbouring rings surrounded by concentric belts. It took her only a bit longer confirm her mental map of the intensity of the loudness of voices of the partiers and realize that whoever had prepared for the feast had anticipated four foci: food, fighting, dancing, and illusion casting. The seating had been arranged accordingly, like ripples in a pond.
The performers and dancers would be at the areas cleared for their use. And circling out from them would be their audiences. But the fighting was would be last if any even happened tonight. And the illusion casting was only just starting. So the crowd was not evenly spread around the four foci, but the conversations that were happening seemed to already match the contour intended for it.
She opened her travelsight and brushed the courtyard as lightly as possible. A few of the most sensitive looked up but she was among friends and neither pried nor was suspected of doing so. The self sorting that people had done became apparent. The people who liked the loud frivolous conversations were closer to the center. The people who preferred the quieter, more intense conversations were at the fringes, where they could hear and be heard without needing to shout over the louder conversations at the center.
There were two minds that didn't fit the pattern.
A loud somewhat chatty one who sat alone at the far side of the circle watching for the illusion casting to start in earnest. And Chairman of Phrinth, the feast's host, currently stood near the center of the buffet checking on level of supplies laid out and instructing a cook's helper what more was to be made available. He was one of the sensitives who had looked up earlier, and he looked up again.
"Miss Toda, do you wish assistance?" his voice carried to her through her link and she presumed that he would not ask such a question before he'd established his own link in the other direction, though she could not sense his link.
"I apologise, I had not meant to interrupt," she said.
"That is not what I asked," a gentle rebuke for wasting his time with an apology for wasting his time. Or a joke.
"I was just answering frivolous a question I had about how the seating was arranged," she said, "but I did have a technical question about Ethenoin dress."
"You do realize that a third of the guests are foreigners by birth and no one should be offended should you proclaim both ignorance and an intent to learn."
"Yes, I realize," she said, "but the nature of the question ..."
"Say no more, you can recognize my wife?" he sent her an image anyway.
"Yes, Chairman Phrinth."
"Join her," he said, "I'll return shortly. Though you're welcome to request her instruction instead. You can trust her discretion as long as you bother to request such."
"Thank you, Chairman."
She found the Reader of Phrinth and went to her.
"Good evening, Miss Toda was it?"
"It is," said Toda, Courier of Phrinth, though she was the first true courier in the three nations, so no one was permitted to know her function, "The Chairman suggested that you or he would be able to answer my question without broadcasting to everyone how ignorant I am."
"Oh, quite," said the Reader, "I'd be happy to help, assuming I myself know the answer."
Toda sighed, "In my country, excuse me, in my native country, children below a certain age wear slave necklaces indicating who is responsible for their upkeep, and their small crimes, and where to bring them back should they travel alone and become lost."
The Reader looked thunderstruck. "How barbaric!" she mouthed, but at the last syllable she seemed to reconsider, "I see," said the Reader, and glanced around, there were no children present, except for one cook's assistant who had a child in a sling across his front.
"Children above a certain age have their ears pierced, and silver wire strung through the way I wear mine."
The Reader glanced at her ears and back to her face, "and you're about to tell me the significance?"
"When my people marry the wire is bent into a circle instead, indicating a closed link, no connection sought."
"Off the market," said the Reader, "I understand."
"In neighboring countries things are done differently. The barbarians to the south will weld the circle closed. In the supercorporation to our northeast, officers to a corporation are owned by it just as much as its slaves, therefore the mother and father also wear slave necklaces exactly the same as their children. In both countries the most time consuming step in dissolving a corporation is distributing the corporation's property and responsibilities among the corporation's owners."
"Yes, of course," said the Reader, "I believe I understand enough of the picture. What is your question?"
"Are there similar indicators of corporate status here and how are they worn?"
"We have slave bracelets, as you know."
Toda nodded.
"And we have the Houses, and the liveries to advertise them for those of us who are employed by them."
"Right," Toda agreed.
"And hat pins to advertise membership, for those who are proud of, or especially in need of the protection of theirs."
"Right," Toda agreed.
"And we have local jurisdictions," said the Reader, "here in your own House's capitol the two are one and you don't have to worry about it as much. If you were in a foreign House's capitol it would be the same for you as if you were in any other village, except the speed at which you could be apprehended and charged with ... House crimes instead of or in addition to village crimes."
"Understandable," said Toda even though she didn't really understand the difference yet. On the other hand, she couldn't really be apprehended, though she didn't want to go advertising that fact too widely.
"Beyond that I don't think we have corporations," said the Reader, "in fact I think the closest thing we have is estates and the slaves and/or executors of such."
"Oh, dear," said Toda, and rubbed her head. And knocked off her headband, white with green stripes. Normal headbands were white with red stripes and had idealised icons of the sense organs the wearer could borrow or share with others. A few had green slashes crossing out a few of the red icons. Which seemed to mean, 'I'm this much stronger at borrowing when I'm trying / concentrating hard enough,'
Toda had been given three headbands. One with nothing but green stripes. One normal one with red stripes and three each of every red icon, but every single icon had a green slash, because unlike the local mind readers, if she didn't try, she didn't borrow any senses. And last a headband with green stripes and the same icons but in green. If she ever had to get it re-done she intended to have the icons done in Phrinth olive and the slashes done in Phrinth green. She thought it would be an amusing profession of loyalty, no House liveries used headband red or white. Though a few villages used one or the other.
Toda straightened her headband and looked up, "so, how is marriageability and such things signalled?"
The Reader shrugged, "The House doesn't concern itself with such things. Acknowledged children of House members may choose to between their parents Houses when they come of age. Or apply for membership of any other House for that matter."
"Alright but how do the local governments-"
"Local jurisdictions," corrected the Reader when Toda paused to look for vocabulary to translate the words she wanted, "I don't think we have these governments you seem to expect."
"How do local jurisdictions, keep track of marriage?"
"They don't," said the Reader, "The people themselves keep track, if they wish. Most villages are small enough that they can remember all that and more about their members. And besides the local jurisdiction just as House doesn't care who you buy or sell, lend or rent, give or receive or share, your property to. As long as you and they are in agreement the House has no interest. If you do disagree but have no contract to refer back to. What can the House do? No, only the large villages and rich families need contracts to keep track of their business."
"Hmm," said Toda.
"Show me why you're asking such things, I imagine ..."
Toda did her best.
"You're concerned with accidentally making offers of, (what do you call it?) adultery," The reader snorted, "make any offer you want or request anything you want, it is the person with contracts to the contrary who holds the responsibility to tell you they are not available, they are the ones under contract not you."
"Certainly," said Toda, "but... perhaps someday I will be the one under contract."
"And do you imagine that you won't love the chance to point across the room and say, I'm sorry to disappoint you, that one is mine!"
Toda giggled. And realized that the Reader had in fact pointed across the courtyard to the Chairman making his way toward them. Then she didn't know whether to laugh harder or bow in respect to a point made.
The point was well made in either case. And it hinted at another aspect of the situation. That Senior Speaker of Phrintha had hinted at earlier. That Toda herself was a rare catch, a very rare catch in deed. Her rare talent and the true meaning of her green headband would be a closely guarded secret for as many generations as could be managed.
It also meant that she and her descendants wouldn't be permitted to breed outside the House for several generations. So long as she had anything to say about it, the talent would never serve House Thriss, no, maybe not never, maybe twelve generations and until it made a formal apology to her estate. Should she manage to be wealthy enough to create an estate that could last that long, or even enforce anything like that. Maybe six generations was a better match for the crime. Of not knowing what the heck she was her first day here.
She smirked. She wasn't generally the vindictive sort, but ... she had the feeling Thriss was the only House out there who ought to have either believed her or requested permission to probe whether she believed herself. They had done neither, they had asked her to leave. And for as long as she could enforce it, that request would be honoured. The couriers of Phrintha would never carry message or material for Thriss until they recognized their mistake and repented and begged. Maybe until they weakened and ceased to be a House? Or ... or unless they swore a fealty alliance of some sort to House Phrintha.
She cut off the thought. She didn't really expect to have the power to control all of her own children, let alone her decendants for six generations.
Not having the services of couriers wouldn't bring Thriss or any other House to their knees, there was after all the emoi networks. And several Houses were known to have a way to safely encrypt messages before sending them on such.
No, her fantasies were just that, and they probably didn't even match how House politics were likely to play out or even how they were capable of playing out.
"Does house Phrintha have especial enemies I ought to be alert for?" said Toda.
"Not especially," said the Reader.
"What in Our Drainage Basin have you been discussing?" said the Chairman.
"Clothing and accessories and status," said the Reader and turned back to Toda, "are you worried about whether adding a house pin might make you a target?"
"No," said Toda, and contemplated hiding her thoughts, she would be somewhat unsurprised to learn that the Chairman had been listening to her thoughts since they'd first spoken across the room earlier.
"The speaker of Thriss managed to annoyed me in an unusually short period of time," she said, "I'm fighting the urge to maintain a grudge. Sometimes I have trouble not assuming his whole House might be as bad."
"I don't know Thriss myself," said the Chairman, "But our Speaker has many times mentioned that he is remarkably sane and easy to work with. What exactly did he do to annoy you?"
Toda opened her mouth, then realized what she was about to say and bit her lip, then changed her mind said it anyway. "Unlike the others, he listened to me," she said, "long enough to get my hopes up."
"Dear me," said the Reader, "how rude."
Toda was sure that they were laughing at her. And that they were right. And that they were somehow able to block her from observing the fact through her sight.
"Sorry to bother you," she said and stalked off.
She was unsurprised to find herself seated on the remote side of the circle set aside for the illusion casters, right next to the other person who seemed to want to be alone.
"Good evening," he said.
"It is a pretty evening," she agreed, "and the food was good."
He snorted.
She looked at him. His clothes were ... a bit worse for the wear but they seemed to be heavy duty livery and he seemed to be of the same mold.
"What brings you here?" she said.
"An invitation from our illustrious Chairman?" he said.
"Me too," she smirked, "I know why my duties demand that I attend, but it would help if I knew a bit more about the culture."
"Then you're asking the correct person," he said, "what do you need to know."
"Is there an easy way to know who's married and who isn't?"
"Ask? Watch?" he said, "what kind of question is that?"
"In some countries I've been to they wear earrings in two different forms, or make slave tags from jewellery metals or wore jewellery at all."
"Dear me," he said, "what's wrong with just asking?"
"It could get tedious, going around and asking everyone at the whole party?"
"No doubt," he said, "is that why ... your eyes always dart to the side and look at people's ears and necks when they first try to talk to you?"
"Probably," she said.
"You know it makes you look furtive to these people?"
"No," she said, "I just knew that they think I seem that way. It makes me feel furtive somehow. Which is annoying, I'd never been furtive before."
"Before what?"
"Wrongful conviction, wrongful enslavement, and escape."
"And you doubt that you might be a little furtive after that, and with good reason?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"So don't," he agreed and stretched.
"Are you always so furtive?"
"I'm not furtive," he said and recrossed his arms, "I'm standoffish."
She laughed, "I suppose," when she'd first arrived she'd thought this language was the same as home. But after several months here she would classify it as eerily similar. There was no word for 'standoffish,' in her native land. The closest might be 'travelprone,' which was closer to shy than to ...
"Why standoffish, and not sitoffish?" she asked.
He snorted again, "because they didn't consult me when they made the language," he said.
He made it sound like it was one of the bigger insults anyone had payed him lately. She laughed again, "do you have any more recent grudges?"
He snorted, then he laughed, too. "Oh, I don't know," he temporised, "there have been some petty annoyances here and there, very few as big as that."
"Alright," she said.
"How about you?" he said.
She recounted her recent conversation with the Reader.
He had the decency to laugh aloud.
"So what is this thing he didn't listen about?"
"I'm not supposed to talk about it," she said, "secret House business, the chairman or the speaker can tell you about it if they think they should."
"Fair enough," he said.
"What about you?" she said, "What do you do for our house?"
"I'm the resident foreigner." He said.
"There seem to be a lot of those," she said, "Which seems odd to me, I though this was supposed to be the ruling council, representatives of important House families, business ventures, and a few foreign guests. It seems like a third or more of the guests are foreign."
"I'm not certain you know what a House is," he said, "but no matter, what are you trying to say?"
"I was just trying to say, I imagine I am the most foreign person here, and you don't even look foreign."
"Ah," he said, "in what way are you the most foreign?"
"Umm," she said, "I am the farthest from where I was born." What else could I mean?
"Ah," he said, "but you at least are human?"
"I assume so," she said, "are there those here who are not?"
"I sit before you," he said, "and though I am human, my mind is more used to forming thoughts after the mode of the esquirrenrenoi."
"The what?"
He turned to stare at her, "a small forest creature," he said, he held out his hands at various distances to indicate a creature the size of her thigh. "Omnivorous, Arboreal, a small percentage of their population appear to be emoi, after their own fashion."
"Do they make a noise like," and she tried to give a call that she only half remembered.
He chuckled, "you do that very well, yes that was two common calls. One of friendship and hmm one of claiming property and warning away others."
His face was red.
She looked away and saw that many others were staring at them and muttering.
"What did I just do?"
"You just screamed to the council of the third most powerful House, that they'd better stay away from your new treasure. Enough of them are emoi that they've been tracked down by pet esquirrenren in the past. It's one of their most common calls. So common in fact that the creatures are named after the call."
Toda glanced around again. This time her face was red.
"I just called myself selfish not in human speech but with the call of a creature that is renowned for it's selfishness?"
"Basically," he said.
"Dear me," she sighed.
"A more interesting question," he said, "where did you hear the first call?"
"I startled and was startled by one on my first trip alone through the woods."
"And it or you brushed minds?" he said.
"Yes," she said.
"How long ago?" he said.
"About two months,"
"And you don't still have it with you?" he said.
"I managed to let go of it," she said.
"Impressive," he said, "They usually don't let go until the next rut season."
"Hmm," she said.
"They tend to hold onto things until they've eaten them or found something more interesting to hold onto. When the thing in question is a mind bigger than their own, well, they hold on until it's time to use that sense to search out a compatible mate instead of an interesting conversation partner ... for whatever value they might have for what they consider conversation."
"And you deal with them all the time?" she said.
"Yes," he said.
"And you're terse sometimes because you're used to keeping things simple for them?"
"That's part of it," he agreed.
"And the rest of it?"
"Keeping things simple enough for humans is a different exercise," he said, "but no less trouble."
Translating not between multiple languages but between multiple thought patterns... brain patterns.
"Alright," she said.
"You're not insulted?" he said.
"I know four languages," she said, "five if you count both dialects that I know of this language."
"But you don't count them as two languages?"
"The thought patterns behind the differences are bigger than the differences in the language itself."
"Ah," he said, "and what bearing does that have?"
"I've translated between two languages before, I understand that some things can be communicated in multiple languages but must be stated in such a way that if you tried to compare you wouldn't say that the two statements were translations of each other but two completely separate texts that both attempted to teach the same thing."
"Hmm," he said, "yes something like that."
"Anyway," she said. He stiffened. She looked up. The Reader was approaching.
"So who do I congratulate?" she smirked.
"Oh, nothing like that," he said, "she was verifying she knew which animal I was referring to."
"That is the lamest excuse I can imagine," said the Reader, "No one would believe it."
"Alright," he said, "tell them she wanted translations for the calls she'd heard."
"Better," said the Reader, and her eyebrows twitched. She turned to Toda, "did he give you a translation?"
"He said the second one is their property claim call, and showed me that they are named after it. I hadn't noticed the similarities before that."
"And he didn't tell you what the first one means or what it means in combination with the other?"
"We were part way through that-" started Toda, and the pieces started coming together. Friendship? Property claim, warning, holding onto a mind link for more than a month? Rut season? And finally 'Are congratulations in order?'
"Oh dear," said Toda and covered her face.
He snorted, the Reader patted her shoulder, "never mind, dear. Just don't be surprised if people steer clear of the two of you for a month or two."
"Oh dear," said Toda, "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," he said, "I value my privacy."
But his mind was one of the chatty ones, not one of the quiet off-to-the-side ones. But ... perhaps he preferred to chat with his esquirrenrens and leave humans alone. Or perhaps he was being polite, softening the blow.
Or perhaps not, he had been a bit abrasive earlier. Was he generally abrasive or merely on first contact to keep people away when he was feeling ... standoffish.
The Reader snorted and wandered off.
"Good riddance," he muttered.
"Be nice," she said.
"Alright," he said, then muttered, "Thank Avanu."
She tisked but said nothing more.
"Are you going to be alright?" he said.
She shuddered.
"Miss, 'House secret,' are you alright?" he said.
"I have no idea," she said, "I'm a stranger here and I have no way to calculate my status or my reputation. Or whether either will survive my foolishness or ... did I just propose to you?"
"Yes," he said.
Toda moaned.
"After a fashion," he said, "not a proposal of marriage, more like a demand that we spend the next several months emoi-tethered and sharing life until we have to go our separate ways to marry for real with actually compatible mates."
"So there's a different call for breeding propositions?"
"Several score." He said, "I presume you don't wish me to begin teaching them to you in present company?"
"Dear me, no!" she said.
He was silent a moment and let her come to herself.
"Miss, House secret, do you have a real name? Mine is Elthanmoi."
"Toda," she said.
"Toda," he said, "or was that T®da?"
"The first," she said, "how did you say the second again?"
He repeated it.
"Does my accent make you want to say it that way?" she said.
"No," he said, "but after insisting that you're a foreigner, people will expect you mean from the north or north west. Either of those accents will be more likely to use the ® sound."
"Oh," she said.
Once the illusion casting was over he suggested they mix with the rest of the crowd in order to give the lie to her earlier faux pas. She agreed. When the conversations began to move quickly and surround them she used her travelsight to watch his mind cope with the onslaught. Which it did, after a fashion. At least he was relaxed, and believed himself to be fluent. Though he was less fluent than anyone else she'd connected to here.
He noticed her connection but did not rebuke her. In fact he seemed amused, perhaps even reassured.
She didn't know why until a week later when she met his charges. Their emoi range seemed to be only a score or two paces in diameter but he welcomed their connections and seemed to exert some sort of control over them.
And his mind could deal with all of them at once. And her connection as well.
Though when he was dealing with his esquirrenren he kept his thoughts shaped to theirs. After about three hours Toda believed that she understood most of their calls.
She took to spending her free time near him. He often could explain ethenoin culture to her much better than the Speaker or the Chairman could. And he so enjoyed ripping apart problems and showing her all the parts.
Sometimes she tried to propose better solutions, and he'd rip them apart with equal glee, generally proving that her outsider's view was providing her with answers that were both logical and perhaps more efficient in one way or another than the current system, but also that they didn't take into account some important part of human nature. Or they strayed too far outside some tradition or other, some of which he would dissect for her, though a few he refused to speak of.
He wasn't entirely free from social taboo.
After several months she found she could follow the deliberations of the Phrintha Council which she might or might not be invited to, but which she often had to sit within earshot of, so as to be instantly ready to carry messages to the Avatar of Phrintha.
{End Chapter 3}
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