It was that Chihin just didn’t expect to have anything, and people didn’t get close to her, because of her jokes, and if somebody told her back off now, she probably would.
And if she backed away, he couldn’t stand seeing her every day, and putting up with Fala, who’d have been … nice, if there wasn’t Chihin just out of reach.
It was going to take hours to do the fueling and all the coming and going, and he didn’t want to confront anybody about anything, and he didn’t want to be around Chihin, in case she was making a joke, and was going to make a bigger fool of him before she was done—she didn’t always know when to stop.
He wished they’d hurry and go talk to the kif, and he could go with them, and maybe—maybe just have a whole new set of worries besides this one. The kif might want him. If Chihin didn’t, maybe that was better than living here.
Maybe the captain would just say Fine, all right, good luck. Hoping he’d foul up with them, and cost them money.
“ NaHallan,” the captain said, “filter check, life-systems check, don’t drag your feet. We don’t know how much time we’ve got. We could have to go out of here at any minute. With no undock procedures.”
“No undock” got his attention. “Aye, captain,” he said, galvanized into movement; he went to do that, obscurely relieved that the captain found something useful for him to do besides slit his wrists.
He could be mad, if he really wanted to think about it. He could really be mad, and he didn’t even know who to aim it at, not Tarras, not Chihin, not Fala. Not the captain, who might be rough with him, but who’d given him chance after chance after he’d fouled up beyond all reasonable limits.
Certainly not Tiar, who had done nothing to him but good.
Maybe he was just mad at himself, for not being better, or smarter, or more able to handle things.
He hoped to redeem himself. He did. He tried to think of the best question he could ask the kif, since the kifish lord had said he would have at least one more chance.
But he had no inspiration, no understanding that would help him. And maybe after all, it wasn’t the real issue. Maybe it never had been. The kif had drawn the captain in by curiosity and used him, and maybe it was nothing but that same ploy again. The kif had the stsho, or the stsho was dead, and they were in a place surrounded by a very dangerous species.
He just hadn’t been much help to anyone.
“Your excellency?”
Silence.
“Your excellency?” They were alive inside. Hilfy signaled intent to enter the cabin, waited a moment for decency, and opened the door.
The sleeping-drape was still over the bowl-chair. Completely over the bowl-chair. There were two lumps under it, and they moved.
They weren’t sick. The tea service beside the pit that had not spattered itself into bits and pieces during dock proved someone had been up and about, undoubtedly Dlimas-lyi … was gtst excellency going to bestir gtstself to work? Not in her experience.
She cleared her throat. “Your excellency, I have the honor to report our safe arrival at Kefk. Does your excellency require anything? We will negotiate with the persons who may have the person of Atli-lyen-tlas as soon as fueling is complete.”
A muted squeal from beneath the cover. A white head popped above it, crest tousled, wide-eyed. “Your honor is very kind. Gtst excellency will wait.”
“Has—“ Gods rot the creature. “Has gtst excellency any influence at this port? Any contacts to pursue? Any knowledge of stsho personnel in this area? We are in a port foreign to us in which we have neither introduction nor credentials, and a kif named Vikktakkht an Nikkatu who has led us here with dubious promises now wishes to speak with a young male crewmember regarding gtst excellency Atli-lyen-tlas.”
A second head popped up, as disheveled. “With a male person? A juvenile male person? Could this possibly be the juvenile male person who assaulted our sensibilities in the corridor, the carrier of refuse, the unstable and aggressive individual? The same?”