Dragon's Teeth (33 page)

He sighed. Too late to do anything about it now.

“ . . . and you can see the carvings adorn every flat surface,” Vena Ferducci, the small, dark-haired woman who was the Terran Consul, said, waving her hand gracefully at the walls. Dick wanted to stand and gawk; this was
incredible!

The Fence was actually an opaque forcefield, and only
one
of the reasons the companies wanted to trade with the Lacu’un.Though they did not have spaceflight, there were certain applications of forcefield technologies they
did
have that seemed to be beyond the Terran’s abilities. On the other side of the Fence was literally another world.

These people built to last, in limestone, alabaster, and marble, in the wealthy district, and in cast stone in the outer city. The streets were carefully poured sections of concrete, cleverly given stress-joints to avoid temperature-cracking, and kept clean enough to eat from by a small army of street-sweepers. No animals were allowed on the streets themselves, except for housetrained pets. The only vehicles permitted were single- or double-being electric carts, that could move no faster than a man could walk. The Lacu’un dressed either in filmy, silken robes, or in more practical, shorter versions of the same garments. They were a handsome race, upright bipeds, skin tones in varying shades of browns and dark golds, faces vaguely avian, with a frill like an iguana’s running from the base of the neck to a point between and just above the eyes.

As Vena had pointed out, every wall within sight was heavily carved, the carvings all having to do with the Lacu’un religion.

Most of the carvings were depictions of various processions or ceremonies, and no two were exactly alike.

“That’s the Harvest-Gladness,” Vena said, pointing, as they walked, to one elaborate wall that ran for yards. “It’s particularly appropriate for Kla’dera; he made all his money in agriculture. Most Lacu’un try to have something carved that reflects on their gratitude for ‘favors granted.’”

“I think I can guess that one,” the Captain, Reginald Singh, said with a smile that showed startlingly white teeth in his dark face. The carving he nodded to was a series of panels; first a celebration involving a veritable kindergarten full of children, then those children—now sex-differentiated and seen to be all female—worshiping at the alter of a very fecund-looking Lacu’un female, and finally the now-maidens looking sweet and demure, each holding various religious objects.

Vena laughed, her brown eyes sparkling with amusement. “No, that one isn’t hard. There’s a saying, ‘as fertile as Gel’vadera’s wife.’ Every child was a female, too, that made it even better. Between the bride-prices he got for the ones that wanted to wed, and the officer’s price he got for the ones that went into the armed services, Gel’vadera was a rich man. His First Daughter owns the house now.”

“Ah—that brings up a question,” Captain Singh replied. “Would you explain exactly who and what we’ll be meeting? I read the briefing, but I still don’t quite understand who fits in where with the government.”

“It will help if you think of it as a kind of unholy mating of the British Parliamentary system and the medieval Japanese Shogunates,” Vena replied. “You’ll be meeting with the ‘king’—that’s the Lacu’ara—his consort, who has equal powers and represents the priesthood—that’s the Lacu’teveras—and his three advisors, who are elected. The advisors represent the military, the bureaucracy, and the economic sector. The military advisor is always female; all officers in the military are female, because the Lacu’un believe that females will not seek glory for themselves, and so will not issue reckless orders. The other two can be either sex. ‘Advisor’ is not altogether an accurate term to use for them; the Lacu’ara and Lacu’teveras rarely act counter to their advice.”

Dick was paying scant attention to this monologue; he’d already picked all this up from the faxes he’d called out of the local library after he’d read the briefing. He was more interested in the carvings, for there was something about them that puzzled him.

All of them featured strange little six-legged creatures scampering about under the feet of the carved Lacu’un. They were about the size of a large mouse, and seemed to Dick to be wearing very smug expressions . . . though of course, he was surely misinterpreting.

“Excuse me Consul,” he said, when Vena had finished explaining the intricacies of Lacu’un government to Captain Singh’s satisfaction. “I can’t help wondering what those little lizardlike things are.”

“Kreshta,” she said. “
I
would call them pests; you don’t see them out on the streets much, but they are the reason the streets are kept so clean. You’ll see them soon enough once we get inside. They’re like mice, only worse; fast as lightning—they’ll steal food right off your plate. The Lacu’un either can’t or won’t get rid of them, I can’t tell you which. When I asked about them once, my host just rolled his eyes heavenward and said what translates to ‘it’s the will of the gods.’”

“Insh’allah?” Captain Singh asked.

“Very like that, yes. I can’t tell if they tolerate the pests because it is the gods’ will that they must, or if they tolerate them because the gods favor the little monsters. Inside the Fence we have to close the government buildings down once a month, seal them up, and fumigate. We’re just lucky they don’t breed very fast.”

:Hunt?:
SKitty asked hopefully from her perch on Dick’s shoulders.

No!
Dick replied hastily.
Just look, don’t hunt!

The cat was gaining startled—and Dick thought, appreciatively—looks from passersby.

“Just what is the status value of a totemic animal?” Erica asked curiously.

“It’s the fact that the animal can be tamed at all. Aside from a handful of domestic herbivores, most animal life on Lacu’un has never been tamed. To be able to take a carnivore and train it to the hand implies that the gods are with you in a very powerful way.” Vena dimpled. “I’ll let you in on a big secret; frankly, Lan and I preferred the record of the
Brightwing
over the other two ships; you seemed to be more sympathetic to the Lacu’un. That’s why we told you about the totemic animals, and why we left you until last.”

“It wouldn’t have worked without Dick,” Captain Singh told her. “SKitty has really bonded to him in a remarkable way; I don’t think this presentation would come off half so impressively if he had to keep her on a lead.”

“It wouldn’t,” Vena replied, directing them around a corner. At the end of a short street was a fifteen-foot wall—carved, of course—pierced by an arching entranceway.

“The Palace,” she said, rather needlessly.

Vena had been right. The kreshta were
everywhere.

Dick could feel SKitty trembling with the eagerness to hunt, but she was managing to keep herself under control. Only the lashing of her tail betrayed her agitation.

He waited at parade rest, trying not to give in to the temptation to stare, as the Captain and the Negotiator, Grace Vixen, were presented to the five rulers of the Lacu’un in an elaborate ceremony that resembled a stately dance. Behind the low platform holding the five dignitaries in their iridescent robes were five soberly clad retainers, each with one of the “totemic animals.” Dick could see now what Vena had meant; the handlers had their creatures under control, but only barely. There was something like a bird; something resembling a small crocodile; something like a snake, but with six very tiny legs; a creature vaguely catlike, but with a feathery coat, and a beast resembling a teddybear with scales. None of the handlers was actually holding his beast, except the bird-handler. All of the animals were on short chains, and all of them punctuated the ceremony with soft growls and hisses.

So SKitty, perched freely on Dick’s shoulders, had drawn no few murmurs of awe from the crowd of Lacu’un in the Audience Hall.

The presentation glided to a conclusion, and the Lacu’teveras whispered something to Vena behind her fan.

“With your permission, Captain, the Lacu’teveras would like to know if your totemic beast is actually as tame as she appears?”

“She is,” the Captain replied, speaking directly to the consort, and bowing, exhibiting a charm that had crossed species barriers many times before this.

It worked its magic again. The Lacu’teveras fluttered her fan and trilled something else at Vena. The audience of courtiers gasped.

“Would it be possible, she asks, for her to touch it?”

SKitty?
Dick asked quickly, knowing that she was getting the sense of what was going on from his thoughts.

:Nice,:
the cat replied, her attention momentarily distracted from the scurrying hints of movement that were all that could be seen of the kreshta.
:Nice lady. Feels good in head, like Dick.:

Feels good in head?
he thought, startled.

“I don’t think that there will be any problem, Captain,” Dirk murmured to Singh, deciding that he could worry about it later. “SKitty seems to like the Lacu’un. Maybe they smell right.”

SKitty flowed down off his shoulder and into his arms as he stepped forward to present the cat to the Lacu’teveras. He showed the Lacu’un the cat’s favorite spot to be scratched, under the chin. The long talons sported by all Lacu’un were admirably suited to the job of cat-scratching.

The Lacu’teveras reached forward with one lilac-tipped finger, and hesitantly followed Dick’s example. The Audience Hall was utterly silent as she did so, as if the entire assemblage was holding its breath, waiting for disaster to strike. The courtiers gasped at her temerity when the cat stretched out her neck—then gasped again, this time with delight, as SKitty’s rumbling purr became audible.

SKitty’s eyes were almost completely closed in sensual delight; Dick glanced up to see that the Lacu’teveras’ amber, slit-pupiled eyes were widened with what he judged was an equal delight. She let her other six fingers join the first, tentative one beneath the cat’s chin.

“Such soft—” she said shyly, in musically accented Standard. “—such nice!”

“Thank you, High Lady,” Dick replied with a smile. “We think so.”

:Verrry nice,:
SKitty seconded.
:Not head-talk like Dick, but feel good in head, like Dick. Nice lady have kitten soon, too.:

The Lacu’teveras took her hand away with some reluctance, and signed that Dick should return to his place. SKitty slid back up onto his shoulders and started to settle herself.

It was then that everything fell apart.

The next stage in the ceremony called for the rulers to take their seats in their five thrones, and the Captain, Vena, and Grace to assume theirs on stools before the thrones so that each party could present what it wanted out of a possible relationship.

But the Lacu’teveras, her eyes still wistfully on SKitty, was not looking where she placed her hand. And on the armrest of the throne was a kreshta, frozen into an atypical immobility.

The Lacu’teveras put her hand—with all of her weight on it—right on top of the kreshta. The evil-looking thing squealed, squirmed, and bit her as hard as it could.

The Lacu’teveras cried out in pain—the courtiers gasped, the Advisors made warding gestures—and SKitty, roused to sudden and protective rage at this attack by
vermin
on the nice lady who was
with kitten
—leapt.

The kreshta saw her coming, and blurred with speed—but it was not fast enough to evade SKitty, gene-tailored product of one of BioTech’s finest labs. Before it could cover even half the distance between it and safety, SKitty had it. There was a crunch audible all over the Audience Chamber, and the ugly little thing was hanging limp from SKitty’s jaws.

Tail high, in a silence that could have been cut into bricks and used to build a wall, she carried her prize to the feet of the injured one Lacu’un and laid it there.

:Fix him!:
Dick heard in his mind.
:Not hurt nice-one-with-kitten!:

The Lacu’ara stepped forward, face rigid, every muscle tense.

Spirits of Space!
Dick thought, steeling himself for the worst.
That’s bloody well torn it—

But the Lacu’ara, instead of ordering the guards to seize the Terrans, went to one knee and picked up the broken-backed kreshta as if it were a fine jewel.

Then he brandished it over his head while the entire assemblage of Lacu’un burst into cheers—and the Terrans looked at one another in bewilderment.

SKitty preened, accepting the caresses of every Lacu’un that could reach her with the air of one to whom adulation is long due. Whenever an unfortunate kreshta happened to attempt to skitter by, she would turn into a bolt of black lightning, reenacting her kill to the redoubled applause of the Lacu’un.

Vena was translating as fast as she could, with the three Advisors all speaking at once. The Lacu’ara was tenderly bandaging the hand of his consort, but occasionally one or the other of them would put in a word too.

“Apparently they’ve never been able to exterminate the kreshta; the natural predators on them
can’t
be domesticated and generally take pieces out of anyone trying, traps and poisoned baits don’t work because the kreshta won’t take them. The only thing they’ve
ever
been able to do is what we were doing behind the Fence: close up the building and fumigate periodically. And even that has problems—the Lacu’teveras, for instance, is violently allergic to the residue left when the fumigation is done.”

Vena paused for breath.

“I take it they’d like to have SKitty around on a permanent basis?” the Captain said, with heavy irony.

“Spirits of Space, Captain—they think SKitty is a sign from the gods, incarnate! I’m not sure they’ll let her leave!”

Dick heard that with alarm—in a lot of ways, SKitty was the best friend he had—

To leave her—the thought wasn’t bearable!

SKitty whipped about with alarm when she picked up what he was thinking. With an anguished yowl, she scampered across the slippery stone floor and flung herself through the air to land on Dick’s shoulders. There she clung, howling her objections at the idea of being separated at top of her lungs.