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She changed the subject. "I know it's premature, but do you have an opinion of
the situation so far?"
He shrugged. "If this Jorana is a typical big person, then I don't foresee any
further extensive delays. They're stubborn, but they seem to enjoy debate. Any
creature that will talk with me is one I can eventually persuade to see
reason.
I sense exploitable openings already. Conclu-sion? It will take more time than
I'd hoped but less than I'd feared."
She shoved a branch out of her way. It promptly ex-uded a cloud of perfumed
dust. Since she walked right through it, Pulickel saw no harm in doing
likewise.
For a delightful moment, the world smelled of sandalwood and myrrh.
"Jorana's right, of course. If the Parramati give their consent to a full
treaty, much of their traditional kusum will eventually be overwhelmed."
"I know that." He stumbled awkwardly down a slight slope. "But the alternative
is for them to fall under the in-fluence of the AAnn. Better the Commonwealth
than the Empire."
"Certainly. Unless they choose the third option and elect to remain unallied
with either side."
He moved up alongside her and gazed flatly into her face. "There is no third
option, Fawn. Not for primitive aliens. I'm not sure there ever was."
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Chapter Six
"Why do I have the feeling?" he asked as they prepared to reboard the skimmer,
"that there's a lot more to the Parramati and their kusum than you're telling
me? You keep insisting that they're different. Of course they're different;
they're aboriginal aliens."
Both hands on the ladder built into the vehicle's flank, she paused. "I've
told you, Pulickel. I can't quite put my finger on it. Sure their society is
unique among organized seni groups, but it's more than that. There's an
assurance, a contentment that you can't find among the Eoluro or the Semisant,
or even the
Ophhlians. It's easy to see but hard to quantify." Effortlessly, she boarded
the skimmer.
He followed and settled himself into the passenger seat. "I think you may be
making too much of them, Fawn. The Parramati may be different from other
social groupings on Senisran, but they don't strike me as par-ticularly
unique.
Reactionary, yes, but not unique."
"I expect you're right." She powered up the skimmer's engine. In response to
the rising whine, something with a tail three times the length of its body
went screeching off through the trees. With wings that were feathered in front
and membranous in the rear, it had the appearance of a marvelous kite whose
string was being given random jerks and pulls by a mischievous child.
The skimmer rose and pivoted to face the water. Fawn spoke without looking up
from the console. "One thing I am sure of: we're never going to convince the
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Parramati to sign a treaty with us as opposed to the AAnn unless we can find a
way to convince them that our road is the bet-ter one."
He blinked at her. "Our `road'?"
The skimmer slid out over the calm water of the inlet. Small
silver‑sided cephalopods leaped into the air ahead of them, strips of
mirror flashing in the sun.
"According to the Parramati belief system, everything in the
universe‑every person, every place, every dust mote‑is connected
by roads. These roads are fixed and immutable. Many are irrelevant to the
scheme of things, but many others link places of importance and power. The
location of these important roads are marked by special stones."
He turned thoughtful. "And each stone possesses cer-tain qualities, powers, or
mystic ascriptions?" She nod-ded. "A fairly basic and straightforward
mythology, not especially remarkable. I could list a dozen analogies off the
top of my head, others after doing a little research. Cultural specifics of
primitive sentients often overlap, re-gardless of species."
They were out over the main lagoon now, accelerating as Fawn turned southward.
"From my conversations with the Parramati, I've been able to make a short list
of these stones. There are stones for healing, stones for fertility, for
warding off disease or confounding enemies, and for forecasting the weather.
There are stones that help in the steering of outriggers and stones for
communicating with the spirits of dead ancestors.
"Control of the stones is strictly hierarchical. The pa-triarch of a family
charged with the keeping of a planting stone wouldn't try to swap rocks with
the matriarch of a clan holding a fishing stone. Stone magic is handed down
through family lines and helps to keep the peace among the Parramati. You
can't fight with your neighbors be-cause you might want the assistance of
their stones some day."
"Very convenient and ingenious, but I still see nothing that could be
considered remarkable." Pulickel shifted in his seat, watching the clear water
race past several meters below them.
As always, they found the station undisturbed. At their approach a gaggle of
polutans‑short, two‑legged crea-tures with mournful dark eyes and
incredibly ornate feath-ery crowns‑went loping away from the trash pile
like a flurry of midget extras from the last act of a Puccini opera.
"Cute little suckers, aren't they?"
Pulickel eyed the dark patch of vegetation where the creatures had vanished.
"Very pretty. What are they, some kind of flightless bird?" Tired, he forbore
from pointing out that she had once again neglected to activate the sta-tion's
defensive perimeter prior to their departure.
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"I'm not sure. I let the computer handle most of the taxonomic classifying,
but it can't do anything unless I feed it information, and I've been pretty
much preoccu-pied with the Parramati."
"I thought it was with improving your tan."
She gave him a sour look. "No, that's only my third priority. So you do have a
sense of humor."
"I'm told that it's buried pretty deep, but occasionally it surfaces in spite
of myself."
"Frankly, I'm surprised you'd noticed my tan. What's your opinion?" Seated,
she still managed to strike a pose.
Thus invited, he allowed himself a long lingering look. "That you've been more
successful with it than with the Parramati."
She snorted softly. "You're telling me." Using her feet, she drove the skimmer
farther south.
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