“Not necessarily.” All eyes turned in surprise to Changrit. De-me-Halmur waited warily for any suggestion his rival might make. Each had much respect for the other, so much so that they never employed assassins. Such methods they left to cruder Mai while they dueled with words and gestures.
“It is true that any journey far up the Skar is daunting, let alone one to the top of the world. One might undertake such an expedition only to perish within sight of one’s goal. It is more likely any travelers would end up staring at the inside of a Na’s belly instead of the City of the Dead.” Zanurals executed signs indicating anxiety.
“Or else they would find themselves deceived by the Tsla. We do not have the means for accomplishing such a journey, but there are those who do.”
“I don’t see them here,” another Zanural called. Laughter punctuated his observation.
Changrit gave him a withering look until the laughter had subsided. “A good merchant knows his responsibility to the Zanur, to his city-state. He knows also his own limitations. I am quite aware of mine as you must be of yours.
“But there is something new come recently to Tslamaina. I speak of the visitors from the sky.”
Uncertain mutterings were silenced by de-me-Halmur. “I’ve heard much of them. What is it you propose, Changrit?”
“I can propose nothing unless recent information I have received from my agents can be confirmed. Call for the ambassador to Losithi.”
There followed a long delay, made palatable by a regal midday meal, while Ror de-Kelwhoang, ambassador to Losithi, was summoned from his offices in the Ministry. He arrived in due course, breathless and puzzled.
“For what reason have I been summoned in such haste, honored Zanural?”
There was much respect among the members for the skills of the elderly Kelwhoang, just as there was in the Zanur of Losithi. Po Rabi’s main rival in trade and commerce, it lay several hundred legats to the southwest and controlled the western end of the Skatandah Delta, the great marshland formed by the emptying of the Skar River into the Groalamasan.
Midway between the two city-states but slightly nearer Losithi lay the station established by the strange visitors from the sky. Their science was much advanced and gain was to be made there for those who knew how to ferret it out. The visitors were carefully courted by diplomats from Losithi as well as Po Rabi.
“Tell the Zanur,” Changrit instructed the ambassador, “what you told me several weeks ago concerning the visitors from the sky. The new visitors.”
“New visitors?” De-me-Halmur frowned, as did several other Zanural. “You mean that more of the large bug-creatures have arrived on Tslamaina?”
Kelwhoang looked toward his sponsor Changrit uncertainly, but received a gesture of openness by way of reply.
“All are friends here today, Kelwhoang. Speak freely.”
The ambassador nodded. “There came upon us a day rainy and cold, which forced me to—”
De-me-Halmur interrupted him. “Our time is valuable, Kelwhoang. Spare us the poetry.”
“Forgive me, Moyt. I was taken aback by this sight.” He indicated the monstrous bar of sunit.
“Understandable. Your attention to potential profit marks you well in our sight. Still, make your tale concise.” Kelwhoang gestured in agreement. “Members of the Zanur. As you know, I make it my business during the long journey between our city and Losithi to take note of all of interest that transpires within the Delta. The visitors from the sky keep to their building-that-walks-the-water, but I have cultivated my acquaintance with them.
“Thus did I learn that five weeks ago allies from the sky arrived among them. I was astonished to learn that these newcomers look not like those who built the sky-station, but much like us.” That bit of news prompted gasps of astonishment from the Zanurals.
“You mean,” Guptinak asked, “that they are not as horrible to look upon as the large bug-things?”
“No,” said Kelwhoang, gratified by the reaction his revelation had produced. “They are much like Mai, only taller, taller even than a Tsla but not so large as a Na. They have more body hair and their features are sharper and more pronounced, rougher and not as beautiful. They suffer from our climate much as does a Tsla, unlike their bug-thing friends who are quite comfortable in the Delta. One male and one female, similar enough to us that at a distance one could almost think them Mai.
“I did not meet them myself, only saw them conversing with the Moyt of the station, the one called,” and he struggled with the difficult alien name, “Porlezmozmith. Later I was able to talk with her and she remarked on the similarity between us and the new visitors. Truly the resemblance is striking between us. These newcomers’ faces have smaller eyes, larger ears that are great curved winged things visible even at a distance. Oh yes, they have but five digits on their hands and feet instead of the normal six, even as the bug-things have but four, though they have that extra pair of arms and legs. It may be that these new visitors are more akin to us than the Tsla or the Na, with whom we share our world.”
“All fascinating,” de-me-Halmur said, “but how does this profit us?”
“Tell them what the bug-thing told you his new guests have planned,” Changrit prompted.
“Ah. I was told they brought with them a wondrous magical boat which walks upon the water more freely than the station the visitors first built. It does not depend on wind or muscle for power but carries its own energy inside it. I was told that it can travel at great speed Upriver, against the current of the Skar.”
More mutters of astonishment rose from the assembled members. “We’ve heard much of the wonders brought by the visitors from the sky,” de-me-Halmur said. “I sense your thought, Changrit, but surely they would not sell us this amazing craft?”
“Never,” the ambassador admitted. “I have been told many times by the Moyt Porlezmozmith that they can have only the briefest of contacts with us and that they are forbidden by their own laws to sell us any of the advanced tools and instruments they have brought with them.”
“No profit in that,” one of the Zanural grumbled. “Truly these visitors are alien.”
“These newcomers who are like us,” the ambassador continued, “are scholars, not merchants. They intend to make a study of the Barshajagad, the canyon which cradles our river Skar.”
“Now that makes sense,” de-me-Halmur commented. “There is always profit in good scholarship.” He made a sign to invoke the spirit of knowledge and insight, but finally had to ask, “What is in your mind, Changrit?”
“These visitors from the sky still know little of our world. Beyond the Delta they are ignorant, for all their knowledge. They know nothing of the ways of the Skar, or of the Hotiek or the Aurang or any of the lesser tributaries. They know nothing of the peoples who inhabit the canyon. They will need guides.”
“Ah!” De-me-Halmur’s expression was fed by enlightenment. “Friendly locals to show them the way.”
“Yes, to show them the way.”
“And good friends that we are, it behooves us as the rulers of Po Rabi to find volunteers to assist them?”
“Every chance we can find,” Changrit agreed firmly.
“How do we know that these strange creatures have any interest in traveling up the Skar farther than the town of Ibe?” a Zanural wondered aloud.
“We do not,” Changrit admitted. “How does one divine the intentions of aliens? Yet if they are as similar in appearance to us as Ambassador de-Kelwhoang says, who is to say that their motivations are different?” He looked away from the table. “You’ve no idea how far they intend to go Upriver, Kelwhoang?”
“No. The bug-Moyt was not too clear. He did say a long journey. Certainly farther than Ibe.”
