A tea in full formality, in the audience hall, in the bowl chairs, with stsho servants this time, and
No’shto-shti-stlen reciting poetry:
White on white.
The distinctions thereof are infinite.
Upon white snow the eyes dream in pink and gold and blue.
Nothing is. Everything might be.
Or something of the sort—in classical mode. Hilfy sipped tea and pricked up her ears and laid them flat in deference when it was done.
“Extraordinary view of a delicate perception,” she said. “How extraordinary to be afforded such an honor. Are you the poet, excellency?”
No’shto-shti-stlen positively glowed … for a stsho. Painted lids fluttered over moonstone eyes and long fingers made wave patterns. “I have that small distinction.”
“I am touched to the heart by such an honor. Would it be indelicate to ask your excellency for a copy?”
“Not in the least!” Fingers ripped at the aide, who fluttered off in a cloud of gossamer drape and nodding plumes. “You inspire me to thought. And . , .”
No’shto-shti-stlen produced the gift box from among gtst gossamer robes, and delicately lifted the lid, on a little item she had brought from Anuurn—from Haorai, a carved alabaster box, and within it a single carved ua stone ball. And within that—another ball and another and another.
No’shto-shti-stlen opened it; and gtst crest flattened and lifted.
“An oji of sorts. The ball and box have passed hand to hand for a hundred sixty-three years since it left the artist, of Tausa, in Haor, in Sfaura’s eastern sept, on Anuurn. There’s a small card that traces its provenance, if your excellency finds it of interest.”
“Extraordinary!”
“Each is unique. One bestows the stone on ceremonial occasions. This stone came into the hands of Chanur and thus into mine as clan head—a Sfaura clan object, as the design indicates. Luran Sfaura had it made for her fifteenth birthday celebration; and it passed at her decease to her daughter, and so down to the end of that line in Haor; thus to Sfaura’s western sept, part of the unsecured gifts—the explanation is on the card—which has gone back and forth between Sfaura and its tributaries at weddings, oh, a hundred years before it came to me, as a birthday gift from my prospective husband.” It was white and it had a history, which she had written up in florid and dramatic detail. It had last been her late husband’s, and such historical trinkets impressed the stsho.
Clearly No’shto-shti-stlen was pleased. The creature bowed numerous times where gtst sat. Hilfy felt constrained to bow.
And there was, necessarily, yet another round of tea, after which she bade farewell for the second time, and walked out with the kifish guards and out into the foyer and took the lift down to the docks.
Feeling rather pleased with herself, truth be known. She had scored with that gift. She knew the stsho, in a way most hani did not. The governor had given hersomething monetarily valuable and ceremonially valuable in the cases of tea. But she had given gtst something ceremonially and personally and historically valuable—so there, she thought, walking out onto the dockside. So there. Remember me, stsho, remember me and my crew.
She was in such a good mood she decided against taking the public transport. It wasn’t that far, down to the Legacy’s berth. She was still in a good mood when she threaded her way through the maze of loaders and cargo transports to reach the Legacy’s personnel access. She walked on up the rampway into the yellow, uncertain tube, with its coating of frost, and she walked into the Legacy’s lower decks and operations area in an expansive, happy mood, after what she had had to do. She had at least an assurance it was going to work.
Then she put her head into ops and saw Hallan Meras.
“What in hell is he doing here?”
“Captain,” Meras said, standing up at once.
“Not bad, actually,” Tiar said; and Chihin, managing the number two console, said, “Begging the captain’s pardon.”
“Get him back to his quarters!”
“Aye,” Tiar said. “But he is a licensed spacer. And we are short-handed.”
She was not in a mood for reason. Disasters were still possible. “He’s not been out on the docks, has he?”