WAS HE GOING to wake from this dream soon? Sheeawoon wondered. How could this have happened to him? Just this morning he’d been thinking that he was tired of the tedium of his daily life, that he wanted to do something that would make a difference in the world. But this! Being called upon to act as interpreter for aliens! And despite what the aliens had told him, it was hard not to think of them as demons.
*They are not demons,* he heard from a voice inside him, not for the first time. It was the voice of the things embedded in his chest. Knowing-stones, they called themselves. They felt like things of power. But . . . they had come from the one called Li-Jared—and both aliens seemed to have similar stones. So when the stones said Li-Jared was not a demon, how could he be sure they could be trusted? On the other hand, they had offered him tantalizing glimpses into vast areas of knowledge, visions flashing in his mind, visions of things far beyond his experience. He’d nearly fallen into a trance, just trying to absorb it—but there was nothing in the experience that felt hostile, evil, or demonic to him.
Now, as they stood between the two aircraft, with the squad-leader Laerwicky asking questions, he went back and forth between the strangers and Laerwicky, hard pressed to get the translations right, much less thinking through questions directed at him.
“Sheeawoon,” said Laerwicky. “That is your name?”
That was an easy one. He inclined his head to indicate that it was.
“And you’re one of the fisherfolk, here in the village?”
Same answer.
Laerwicky dug at his neck with one thumb. “All right, then. You can understand their language. You know why we have to depend on you. Do you also know why we can’t trust you?”
Sheeawoon flinched at that. He was one of them. Why wouldn’t they? “What do you mean?”
“Do I really have to explain?” Laerwicky asked.
Sheeawoon put a hand to his chest. Probably it was just his imagination, but was that heat coming from the stones? No, he was imagining it.
“Exactly,” Laerwicky said. “You have those things.”
“Knowing-stones,” Sheeawoon said. Why did his voice sound so thin?
Laerwicky glanced at the newcomers. “Alien stones. Some people might believe you were consorting with demons, allowing those things to stay in your body, controlling you.”
That was a lie, and Sheeawoon bristled. “I don’t know what you mean by consorting”—he knew exactly what Laerwicky meant—“but they don’t control me. They talk to me. And they let me talk to—” He turned and pronounced the names of the aliens with great care: “Li-Jared, the Karellian. And John Bandicut, the human.”
“Yes, well—” Laerwicky stabbed a finger at Sheeawoon’s chest. “I am not so sure we shouldn’t just cut those things out of you.”
Sheeawoon slapped a hand to his chest in alarm. Even as he did so, he sensed a quiet voice within, telling him he did not have to worry. No one would be allowed to cut anything out of him. Did these things have the power to protect themselves, then? Was his body going to be a battleground? That was almost more alarming.
Laerwicky made a rapid clicking sound. “See, you want to protect them. Anyone loyal to Uduon would want them out, don’t you think?”
Sheeawoon was silent. The two visitors were watching the conversation; he could not tell if they understood it or not. Right now he wasn’t sure just whose understanding mattered here.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Laerwicky asked. He surveyed the visitors and their craft, and scowled at the strange little creature that was now walking among the guards, peering about in evident curiosity. Gokat. It had disarmed all of them, without apparent effort. That hadn’t improved the collective disposition of the patrol squad.
Sheeawoon decided finally that he didn’t need Laerwicky’s approval; but he did need his cooperation. Rocking forward on the pads of his feet, he answered awkwardly. “What you say might be true. I don’t know. I’m just a fisher. But whatever you think, I am loyal to Uduon. I believe I have been asked to help, by communicating with the visitors. Because I have these stones. Don’t you think . . . the authorities . . . would want me to do that?”
Laerwicky flicked his fingers dismissively, probably the closest thing to approval that Sheeawoon was likely to see. “We will accompany the visitors to the city headquarters, where the priests, or perhaps even the Watcher, will question them. You can defend your stones to them, and we will see where this communication of yours gets us.” Looking back up at the visitors, he addressed the one called Li-Jared. “You—you look Uduon. Where are you from? Have you come in Uduon form to fool the weak-minded?”
Li-Jared listened, as Sheeawoon passed on the question. Then he spoke, and Sheeawoon listened, before telling Laerwicky, “He says he comes from a world beyond our sun. He also says he is in his natural form, and he does not need to take a shape to fool the weak-minded. He says the weak-minded take care of that for themselves.”
Laerwicky’s eyes flashed a little at that. “They do, do they?” He pointed to the Bandicut. “And what is that one? It does not look Uduon at all!”
Sheeawoon answered, “He says he is called a human, and he is from a world called ‘Erth,’ which is very far away.”
That elicited another set of derisive clicks. But Laerwicky dropped the subject and announced, “The strangers will come with us, then.”
When Sheeawoon passed that on, the human shook his head from side to side. Li-Jared didn’t do that, but he stood straighter and said, “Thank you, but we will fly in our own vessel. Please wait, while I inquire about our readiness for flight.”
Sheeawoon passed that on and, when he saw Laerwicky’s obvious annoyance, quickly held up his spread fingers, requesting patience. Li-Jared was speaking under his breath to no one visible, and obviously getting some kind of answer. Was he talking to someone inside the craft? Until this moment, Sheeawoon had not even thought about what, or who, might be inside the visitors’ craft.
“Enough!” Laerwicky roared. “Tell them they must follow my command!”
Before Sheeawoon could translate, Li-Jared turned and said, “Our craft is ready to fly. Would you care to come along with us, as our guide?”
Sheeawoon froze, shocked by the suggestion, and terrified. It was one thing to translate for the aliens. But fly with them? He had never in his life set foot in an aircraft of any kind, much less a craft from another world. Laerwicky was waiting for an answer to his command to come with him. “I—” he started to say to Li-Jared, but could not find the words.
Laerwicky had no such problem. “What did the alien say?”
Sheeawoon swung toward the officer. “Sir,” he began. “The visitors say they cannot—” His words suddenly got tangled up; he took a breath and started again. “They say they will travel in their own craft. And they—”
“They will do as I tell them,” Laerwicky said. “What else?”
“They travel—asked me to travel with them.” In response to Laerwicky’s glare, he continued, “It might—could—be an opportunity to learn more about them. And to observe the workings of their vessel.” He added a little extra emphasis to that last. To be sure, he doubted the Uduon could force the visitors to do anything they didn’t want to do.
Perhaps Laerwicky had already figured that out. His eyes narrowed to accentuate the fine, electric-blue slits across their middles. Sheeawoon waited for him to demand, ever more forcefully, that the visitors go with him. To Sheeawoon’s surprise, though, Laerwicky turned to Li-Jared and Bandicut. Speaking in a slow, measured cadence, he said, “You do not wish to travel in our conveyance? All right. I will assign my own representative to travel with you, in your craft. I assign this one known as Sheeawoon.”
Conveying the message, Sheeawoon noted what seemed like amusement on the part of the visitors. However, all Li-Jared said was, “Sheeawoon will do well. We have just enough room for him.” For a moment no one moved. Then Bandicut said, “We will follow you, of course. I presume you will take us to your decision makers. Your leaders.”
Laerwicky grunted, flicked his fingertips in agreement. Maybe it didn’t actually matter to him how the visitors were brought in as long as they were brought in. But Sheeawoon suddenly realized what this meant for him. Was he going to be held responsible for the visitors’ arrival and good conduct? He? Sheeawoon? A fisher, who had never in his life even spoken to a public authority of any kind?
The voice suddenly whispered in his head:
*Be brave. You were chosen because you have the ability you need.*
He gulped. Be brave?
The stones spoke again. *You will learn things that may seem alarming. But you will perform a great service to your people if you bring to their attention important facts that may save them.*
Bandicut and Li-Jared started toward their craft and gestured to him to join them. /What facts?/ Sheeawoon asked.
*Just pay attention,* the stones said, and after that were silent.
***
The inside of the visitors’ craft was like nothing Sheeawoon had ever imagined. There were seats, and some instruments that appeared only when Bandicut and Li-Jared powered up the craft. Images sprang into the air, and flat, featureless surfaces swam with pictures and language. Surely it was impossible to follow any of that at the speed that it appeared. In the middle of the instruments and the visions, Sheeawoon glimpsed the head of the creature the others called Bria. It seemed to be sticking its head out of the panel. Then it was gone again. He’d never actually seen the Bria creature come through the hatch into the craft. So how did it get inside?
The question fled from his mind when Bandicut called out to a Jeev-something. It was the size of Bandicut, but was made of metal, and it floated in the air. Sheeawoon jumped out of the seat he had just lowered himself into. Was this a thing or a person?
“Don’t be alarmed,” it said. “Welcome to our little craft.”
“What are you?” Sheeawoon asked, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. Robot, he suddenly understood it to be—though he had no idea what a robot was.
The thing—he was pretty sure now that it was a thing—bobbed slightly. It didn’t seem to have eyes. But little lights moved around the top of its head, and Sheeawoon wondered if those were its eyes. “My name is Jeaves,” it said. “I am an artificial being, and I work with John Bandicut and Li-Jared.”
“Are you a . . . servant?” Sheeawoon asked.
“I was originally built to be that, yes,” Jeaves answered. “However, I have been an autonomous being for many years.”
Sheeawoon didn’t know what to say. He had heard of certain bio-machines in the capitol that were grown and cultured to act on their own. But this didn’t look anything like a bio-machine. It was all metal.
“Please be comfortable in your seat,” the thing said. “We must get airborne, to follow your people.” Jeaves gestured toward the front of the cabin, where a wide window gave a clear view of the area around the vessel. On the right, Laerwicky’s ship was rising on a billow of dust.
“Sit tight in your chair,” Bandicut called over his shoulder. “You’ll feel restraints holding you in. That’s for your protection while we’re maneuvering.”
Sheeawoon took a breath and sat back. An instant later he was pressed into his seat. Outside, the ground dropped away. He didn’t see any cloud of dust, but did see a dizzying expanse of air beneath them.
***
“There’s our central city, Gethanton,” Sheeawoon said, pointing past Bandicut’s shoulder, to the left and down. He tried to still the excitement in his voice. He had only been to Gethanton a few times in his life. The view from the air was riveting. The city was grown on a hill, around which the Welting Stream coiled, glinting in the sun. The spiraled layers of the city looked like hard-shelled sea-growths bonded to the hillside, which was pretty nearly what they were.
Bandicut called back, “Your city looks grown, not built. Is this how all your cities are made?”
Well, of course they were, as far as he knew. Sheeawoon thought a moment, and finally said, “I have only been to this city and one other. But I believe they all are like this. How else would they be made?”
Before anyone could answer, the robot called out that two more aircraft had pulled alongside, and they were rocking their wings to indicate a change in course. Bandicut adjusted, and four aircraft banked and dropped toward the edge of the city. Following Laerwicky’s lead, Bandicut landed his ship on a paved airfield just outside the settled area. Perhaps twenty aircraft of one kind or another were parked on one side of the field; they parked on the opposite side. That made sense, Sheeawoon supposed. They would stay away from the rest of the craft, and at more of a remove from the population. The two escort craft continued circling in the air. “I think we can get out now,” Sheeawoon offered tentatively.
Bandicut and Li-Jared didn’t respond at once; they were talking with another voice that came out of empty air. That was Ruall, they had explained earlier—another member of their party, who was not present on the planet at all, but in their other ship, somewhere in space. Space. They were talking about what they would do next. “I think, after you have stepped out of the lander, I will introduce myself to your escorts,” said the disembodied voice. Sheeawoon tried to envision that. He could only close his eyes and tremble.
“Hey there, are you okay?” Bandicut was peering at him.
“I—yes—okay,” he stammered.
“We don’t mean to scare you.” Bandicut pinched his lip between thumb and forefinger. He seemed to be thinking. “You know, I still haven’t managed to pronounce your name right. It’s Shee-aa—”
“Sheeawoon.” He carefully articulated the reverberating dissonance in the last two syllables, which the human seemed to have trouble pronouncing.
Bandicut squinted, then shook his head. “My voice isn’t made for that. Would you mind if I just called you Sheeawn? We could say it’s a nickname I’ve given you.”
“Uhr—sure.”
“In fact, it would be a nickname. Sheeawn.” Bandicut nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sheeawn.”
Sheeawoon didn’t know what to say, so he rumbled an affirmative sound. Sheeawn, then.
“Good. Let’s go see your leaders.”
When they stepped out onto the airfield, Laerwicky and a group of soldiers were waiting. It was bright and cloudless here, and hot. Sheeawn put up a hand to shade his eyes from the sun.
Laerwicky was once again holding a hand weapon, though he had it pointed at the ground. He brusquely ordered the visitors—and Sheeawn—to line up next to the aircraft. Spacecraft, Sheeawn thought. “We must inspect you for weapons,” Laerwicky said. “Then we’ll get a ride into the city. Our leaders are expecting you, but you must come unarmed.”
Something bright and metallic blinked into view in the air, directly in front of the visitors. “Good! This is good,” said the voice of the Ruall, sounding much louder and more forceful than it had inside the craft. It was a bizarre-looking figure, quite flat, almost like a circular disk of highly polished sheet metal. It turned this way and that, at certain angles disappearing from sight altogether. Though it was quite different, it made Sheeawn think of Bria the gokat. Which made him wonder where the gokat had gotten to.
Laerwicky stepped back, startled. “What is that?” he demanded of Sheeawn.
“Um.” Sheeawn tried to think how to explain. “Its name is Ruall. It’s not really here. It’s up in their spaceship.” He pointed into the sky.
“Well, what did it say?”
Sheeawn had to replay the Ruall thing’s words in his mind. “It said, ‘That is good.’”
Laerwicky looked annoyed. “Meaning what?” He was maybe a little scared, too. Suddenly he yelped, “Hey!” His weapon was gone from his hand. So were the weapons carried by the others. Sheeawn had glimpsed a blur that he was pretty sure was Bria. Laerwicky’s eyes burned with indignation as he looked at the shiny thing floating before him.
“You have no need of weapons,” said the Ruall thing. “We are not carrying weapons, either. We are here to talk. To exchange information.”
Sheeawn translated, and then without waiting for Laerwicky to speak, said back to Ruall, “I am sure they want to know who you are. And I guess, where you are, and what you intend.”
“I am Ruall. I am Tintangle. I am in space, orbiting your world. I intend polite conversation—and to assure the safety of my friends here.”
Sheeawn closed his eyes and translated.
***
Bandicut’s reaction to all of this was amazement, and amusement. Granted, things were a little tense for a few minutes. But eventually they all agreed that Bria would stop taking the Uduon’s weapons if they would stop bringing them out. In return, he and Li-Jared would keep their mirror-suits turned off, so the Uduon could see them as they really were.
They were to be taken to meet someone called a Watcher, apparently a kind of priest or priestess. He assumed this was just the first step up the Uduon leadership chain, but it was a start.
A surface vehicle pulled up. It looked like an elongated snail, with wheels nearly hidden beneath the shell. Bandicut, peering into the dark hatch, felt instant claustrophobia. No way could he fit in this bus. “Listen,” he said, pulling his head out, “I think I’ll walk, if that’s okay. I need the exercise, anyway.” Li-Jared, who probably could have fit inside just fine, echoed Bandicut’s sentiment. He pointed toward the city, which loomed over the nearby buildings.
That caused another round of consternation, since Laerwicky and his troops had expected to ride. But soon they were all trooping up the road in a small parade. The road was dirt and gravel, and their footsteps kicked dust up in a cloud that marked their progress for anyone watching from the city. Bandicut gnawed on the fact that they were to be seen first by a priest. To evaluate us as demons? Or do priests wield the political power here? They knew nothing yet about the power structure on this world. Was it all local authorities? Was there anything resembling a planetary government?
Gradually he became aware that Li-Jared was trying to elicit some of that information from Sheeawn as they walked. The poor fellow was looking pretty stressed. He probably wondered if it was okay to be answering questions about the Uduon governance. “So your priests really are the ones we need to talk to?” Li-Jared asked.
“Of course,” said Sheeawn. “Who else would you talk to?”
“Uh—” Li-Jared said.
Bandicut jumped into the silence. “How long have your people been going into space, Sheeawn?”
The Uduon looked thoughtful. He said something to Laerwicky, who twitched his fingers in the air. Sheeawn mirrored the gesture, and said to Bandicut, “More years than I have been alive. I believe we first reached out during my—” the stones rasped as they searched for the word “—grandfather’s days.” He hesitated. “And your people? How long have they been reaching to the sky?”
That left Bandicut and Li-Jared both at a loss for a moment. Bandicut wondered what year it was now, back on Earth. “A very long time,” he said finally. “Many, many lifetimes.”
Sheeawn’s eyes brightened a little at that. Li-Jared added, “It is one thing to reach to the skies.” He held his hand aloft. “But quite another to reach beyond the skies.” He made a flinging upward gesture. “To travel beyond your own sun. How long have your people had that ability?”
That caused Sheeawn to pause in his stride and look at Li-Jared with a narrowed gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Li-Jared’s gaze darkened. He drummed his fingertips on his chest and said, “You do not know of your people’s reach beyond this world? Do you know that there are other suns beyond this one? That there are many other suns beyond this one?”
Sheeawn seemed uncertain. “Other suns? I have heard of such things. But the fire in the sky makes it hard . . .” His voice trailed off, and he shook off the rest of the question.
Sheeawn had no idea what was beyond the Heart of Fire nebula, Bandicut thought.
Li-Jared took a different tack. “Tell me something. What do you do with your time when you’re not busy meeting alien visitors like us?”
Sheeawn whistled a nervous chuckle. “I am a fisher. I set nets each day and gather floaters from the sea—” rasp “—lake. I take them to market.”
“Floaters?” Bandicut asked. “Seafood? You gather food from the sea? Lake, I mean?”
“They are used for many things,” said Sheeawn. “Some are used for food, others for medicine. Some are kept in tanks, and their—” rasp “—patterns—” rasp “—essential ingredients—” rasp rasp “—genetic material is used to grow things we need. Machines, and so on.”
Bio-nanotech? That could explain the lack of visible industry. “I would like to see some of these floaters,” Bandicut said. “It sounds as if they are versatile.”
“There are many kinds,” Sheeawn said.
The road narrowed at that point, and their procession jostled and squeezed together, making conversation difficult. Bandicut reflected on what they had learned, and murmured a brief report into his comm for Jeaves to pass on to Ruall.
***
The city consisted of a series of ridges, or terraces, encircling the hill. There was a rounded, barnacle-like shape to all the construction. As they hiked toward the top, they had to do a fair amount of switching back and forth. While the city was not exactly a fortress, there was an element of self-defense built into its structure—at least against enemies on foot. Bandicut asked Sheeawn what enemies they were defending against. The Uduon gave him a strange look, and did not answer. Demons? Bandicut wondered.
“Do you have enemies among the Uduon?” Li-Jared asked. “Wars among yourselves?”
Sheeawn twitched a shrug and didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Afraid of betraying a weakness? They were now passing other Uduon in the streets, many of whom stared at them with evident curiosity. Sheeawn bobbed his head in clear self-consciousness; he probably didn’t even want to be seen talking to these aliens.
Save it for the priest, Bandicut thought. Save it for the priest.
***
Finally they swung into a wide, stone courtyard in the middle of a U-shaped edifice. Some kind of palace? Bandicut wondered. “Do you suppose they grow everything here?” he murmured to Li-Jared. “All their machines and buildings?” It reminded him of the world of the Neri, except that the Neri had lived entirely underwater. He had seen few operating machines beyond the aircraft and a few land vehicles. This did not look like a culture capable of supporting even a rudimentary space program, much less one that could hurl asteroids across a fraction of a light-year. Unless . . . they grew their space infrastructure, too.
Coming toward them now was a contingent of folk dressed in various styles of robes and tunics—some blue with violet trim, others green with silver panels down the front, still others black with red piping. Laerwicky exchanged words with them, then appeared to wash his hands of the matter, as the prisoners, or guests, passed into the custody of these officials. They gazed curiously at Bandicut and Li-Jared, but once they realized that Sheeawn was the interpreter, they crowded around him. He answered their questions with energetic gestures, bobbing his head and gesturing to the two off-worlders.
Finally Sheeawn got a moment to speak to Bandicut and Li-Jared. “These are the Watcher’s guards and aides, and lower priests. We will meet the Watcher herself soon, but first they ask that you join them in dinner, as guests of the priesthood.” Sheeawn gestured in the direction they were to walk, and they passed from the courtyard into a kind of lobby with iridescent walls, where a table of polished stone had been laid out with baskets and bowls of food. The offerings included fruits, nuts, small green cubes of something that looked like cheese except for the color, a bowl of a creamy yellow liquid with a ladle and small cups for service, and a kind of pebbly pizza.
Bandicut stood silently contemplating all of this food, imagining all the allergic reactions and intolerances that could be triggered by one meal. /What’s the word, stones? Am I normalized to this stuff?/ He felt a tingling sensation that started in his fingertips, then spread through his body to his head and toes. It was like touching an electrified fence, but in slow motion, and milder.
The stones spoke a single word to him. *Clear.*
/Thank you./ Bandicut spoke to Li-Jared, who probably had felt a similar sensation. “Did you just get normalized? I would eat cautiously, regardless.” Li-Jared tapped his thumb and fingers together in acknowledgment.
Sheeawn said, “Will you accept the food offering?”
“Before we do,” Li-Jared said, “is there any special significance in this meal? Is there a correct way to do this, so we do not offend?”
Sheeawn looked thoughtful. He spoke to one of the priests, who gestured broadly and shook his fingertips toward the table. “No,” Sheeawn said. “Nothing formal. They want to share their food, that is all. It is an old tradition.”
Bandicut and Li-Jared bowed thanks to the priests and stepped up to the table. Soon they were seated on terraced steps, holding large, shallow bowls in their laps. Compared to their Uduon hosts, they had served themselves very small portions. Bandicut felt as though all the eyes in the open room were focused on them. Was this a test, to see if they were brave enough to eat the local food?
Or perhaps to see if they were superior beings who could shrug off poison?
Bandicut sighed. He had trusted the stones before about food normalization, and he hadn’t been poisoned yet. Perhaps he shouldn’t start doubting them now.
He lifted the green cheese to his mouth and sniffed it. It smelled like algae. Cautiously, he took a bite. It tasted like moldy yogurt cream—mild, creamy, but with a furry texture and a bitter aftertaste. He continued chewing. With an effort, he smiled to Sheeawn and nodded to the nearest priest. He swallowed.
All of the priests and aides watched him with rapt attention. So did Li-Jared, who had not yet tried anything.
The cheese was sticking halfway down. Bandicut sipped from the small cup of yellow liquid, clearing his throat discreetly, and then took a larger swallow. It had a buttery taste, with an herbal overtone. He liked it. He drank half the cup, then cradled the cup in his hands, while he smiled and waited to see if something in the liquid would bite him. To his surprise, it soothed his throat and refreshed him. He turned to Li-Jared to see how the Karellian was doing. Li-Jared twanged softly, and Bandicut laughed. “Coward. Go ahead, it doesn’t hurt.” He frowned. “Isn’t this stuff more like your food, anyway?”
Li-Jared picked at the fruit. “Not really. However . . .” He raised something that looked like a banana in the shape of a thick discus. Taking a bite, he chewed thoughtfully. “Doesn’t seem like it will kill me,” he remarked.
That brought a low protest from Sheeawn. “Do you think—do you believe the food is intended to harm you?”
“No, no. But we aren’t used to this food. We prefer to be cautious,” Li-Jared said. “How is the holy group receiving us?”
Sheeawn sketched an arc with his hand to include all of those who were hosting them. “They said they were eager for you to receive this welcome from Watcher Akura.” He hesitated and lowered his voice. “I think they are trying really hard not to act excited. We’ve never had visitors from another world before.”
“That’s understandable,” Bandicut said. “But we are impatient to meet with this Watcher. We have urgent matters to discuss.”
Sheeawn had barely translated when a small voice spoke up from the back of the gathering. Bandicut could not understand the words, but even before Sheeawn interpreted, he somehow knew their meaning: “Then let us discuss them now.”
From the shadows in the back of the room, a slight figure came forward. The other Uduon parted, bowing, to allow passage. A child? Bandicut wondered. Or a small female, perhaps? He glanced at Li-Jared, who had stiffened slightly. As the diminutive Uduon stepped into view, Bandicut glimpsed bright green eyes peering out from under a wide, flattened hood atop a dull gray cloak.
Sheeawn looked uncertain; he waited until someone spoke, and followed their lead. “This,” he said at last, “is Watcher Akura. She is—” he hesitated as the other speaker provided the information “—our ranking—our highest—priest overseer in this city.” More words. “She has rank to speak for—that is, to speak as one of our—” rasp rasp “—world leaders.” Sheeawn looked a little awestruck as he said that, and in fact, he bowed from the waist as Watcher Akura drew up before them.
She. Female leader, then. Bandicut wondered what, if anything, that might tell him about the power structure here. He also wondered at the exact meaning of the term world, which the stones seemed to have had trouble translating. Planet-wide? Continent-wide? Province-wide? Facing the Watcher, he considered whether to bow from the waist and decided instead on a respectful bow of the head. They were not here as supplicants, but as emissaries of a superior power—or so they hoped. He held out his open hands. See? No weapons. Beside him, Li-Jared seemed to have a similar instinct. He held his hands apart in front of his breast and extended his fingers outward and upward, which Bandicut thought signified respect, but not overt deference.
Several of the guards—including Laerwicky, who was still present at the edge of the gathering—rustled a bit. Were they taking displeasure in that lack of subservience? Watcher Akura gave no sign of being troubled, however. She said simply, as translated by Sheeawn, “My name is Akura. I greet you as Watcher for this part of Uduon.”
Bandicut nodded again. “Watcher Akura. Is that how we should address you?”
Sheeawn looked unsure, but relaxed as he conveyed, “Yes, that is an acceptable form of address.”
With that settled, Watcher Akura raised slender-fingered hands and pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing a mahogany face that was narrow, with a sharp nose, and a fine covering of gray and silver fur. Her eyes were bright—not quite emerald, but a shade that made Bandicut think of evergreen woods. They had the almond shape of a cat’s pupils, with a brighter green in the fine band across the middle of both eyes. When Akura spoke, her voice had an almost feline mellifluousness as she spoke words that somehow sounded so familiar that he felt he ought to understand them.
Sheeawn supplied the meaning. “The Watcher says she would like to hear where you are from, and the reason for your visit. Shall we go to a more private place to speak?”