Yulour looked over the heads of his companions, at the two humans. “They are very nice, Learned One, though they have so little fur. And when they talk among themselves it is strange talk, neither like ours nor the Mai’s. But they are nice.”
“Yes, they are. Thank thee for thy opinion, Yulour.” The porter made a movement with his trunk.
Tyl rejoined the objects of his interest. “Your curiosity induced me to chat with Yulour, Etienne. I put to him a question simple enough for a cub to answer, and he could not. It was beyond his simple powers of reason. Yet it struck me that he may be happier than we. While he is free of intelligence, he is also free of the pains and travails higher thought brings. Ignorance, frustration, envy: he is subject to none of these.”
“You make him out to be a perfect saint.”
“Sometimes I wonder. He is so content, and still there are times I do not understand him.”
“We have a saying among our people, Tyl.” Etienne struggled to translate it into Tsla. “Better a lucky idiot than an unlucky genius.”
“Ah, this strange concept of ‘luck’ again. Lyra mentioned it to me. We have no such concept. You must explain it to me further.” Etienne made an attempt to do so as they plodded steadily downhill toward the ever widening streak of silver that was the Skar.
Days passed and the heat intensified, rising past ninety degrees. As it did so the Tsla began shedding their clothing, capes and togas vanishing into packs, not to be used again until the climate of the far north was encountered.
It was the first time Etienne had seen a Tsla without the familiar cape-and-toga attire. They appeared quite comfortable without it, as if clothing was employed for protection against the elements and possibly to signify social standing, but not because of some primitive nudity taboo.
Not that they were naked in the human sense, since soft brown fur covered everything except forearms and forelegs. The only surprise was the unexpected presence of a tail, a short stub five to six centimeters in length. It made them look animalistic, though several intelligent races retained tails. The AAnn, for example, considered the retention of a tail as a sign of intelligence, not vice versa.
In other respects the Tsla were very human, if one discounted the six-fingered hands, six-fingered toes, and myrmecophagous face. There was one other aspect of their anatomy that interested him. He fully intended to question Lyra about it as soon as he could be sure she wouldn’t misinterpret his curiosity. Undoubtedly she would have found his uncertainty amusing.
By the time the temperature touched one hundred degrees the Mai were shedding their cold-climate attire, able for the first time in weeks to luxuriate in the stifling heat and humidity.
They reached the bank of the Skar and turned toward Aib. Etienne was looking forward to a cool shower on board the hydrofoil. As soon as they’d cleaned themselves up they’d hand over the second half of the agreed-upon payment to the local Oyt and make preparations for resuming their journey Upriver.
That evening they were confronted by the leader of their Mai porters. So rapidly did he talk that even Lyra had trouble following his words. It was left for Homat to interpret.
“It has something to do with the season of sowing,” he explained. “They are all late to help and are anxious to be on their way. There is also talk of local taxes. They come not from Aib itself but from the outlying farming district.”
Lyra nodded knowingly. “I understand. They want to skip with their payment before the local authorities can demand a cut. Perfectly Mai.”
The porters organized a hasty ceremony of departure, took their payment, and left in a rush. Only slightly discomfited by the heat, the Tsla assumed the second half of the divided burdens. Larger and stronger than the Mai, they had no difficulty with the full loads.
Two days later they were nearing the outskirts of Aib when Etienne’s eyebrows drew together. “That’s funny.”
“What is funny, Etienne?” Tyl asked uncertainly.
Etienne ignored the question. Impolite, but he was concerned with something besides alien concepts of courtesy.
“I don’t see the boat, Lyra.”
She strained her eyes. “Neither do I. Your eyesight’s better than mine, Etienne, but you’re right. I don’t see it. Surely that’s the dock where we left it moored?”
“Has to be,” he muttered. “See, there’s the basaltic outcrop the local ruler used for a dais.”
“Something is wrong?” Tyl asked. “I feared as much. These Mai,” he said evenly, not caring whether Homat overheard him or not, “will steal anything left unguarded for half an anat and consider it moral.”
“We made an arrangement,” Etienne explained even as his pace quickened, “with the head of this town to watch our boat for us. We paid him half the set fee prior to our departure.”
Forbearing to say, “I told you so,” Homat instead chose to put the best possible light on the situation. “Perhaps the people of Aib are not responsible for the disappearance of the spirit boat.”
“You rationalize hopefully, Homat. What do you really think?”
The Mai’s gaze shifted rapidly from one alien to the other. It was a look Etienne had become familiar with and he hastened to reassure their guide.
“You have nothing to fear from us, Homat. We are your friends.”
“You recall, de-Etienne, how I warned you against this possibility?”
“All too clearly.” They were almost running now. The dock was an empty gesture protruding into the river.
“I cannot see, de-Etienne, how the spirit boat could have vanished without the Aibites knowing. If they did not take it themselves, they surely did little to prevent its being taken. I thought you said that it could not be stolen, that it would protect itself.”
“That’s what we thought,” Etienne replied grimly. “It looks like we were wrong.” He looked toward the town. “Let’s pay our good friend Gwattwe a visit, shall we?”
The modest residence of the Oyt of Aib was guarded by a brace of well-armed but obviously nervous warriors. The Oyt, one of them explained, was not at home.
“Then you’ve no objection to our entering to lay tribute at his table?” Lyra replied.
“I was told to admit no visitors.” The soldier looked very unhappy.
Tyl spoke. “This refusal gains your master no grace, to flagrantly flout the laws of hospitality concerning weary travelers.”
“In addition to which if you don’t let us inside, we’ll call on our otherworldly spirits to blow the place down.” This was more bluff than promise, since an asynapt wouldn’t do more than scorch the stone wall before them, but the guard didn’t know that.
The guard looked askance at the pistol riding Etienne’s hip, having already assumed it was some sort of weapon. He had no desire to personally discover its capabilities. “I will find out what best be done.” He turned and vanished into the domicile, reappearing after a lapse of a few minutes. A curious, hesitant crowd had emerged from other nearby structures. They milled about well clear of the travelers, staring at the pair of aliens and the five Tsla.
“You are to be admitted,” the guard informed them, “but only if you leave your spirit callers outside.”
