Chanur’s Legacy by C.J. Cherryh

“Unthinkable!”

“I take it our refusals of this individual are wise.”

“Villainy, utter villainy. Avoid this person!”

“He thought he could lay hands on your excellency’s servant and extract information. The foresight of my crewwoman prevented him doing this. I therefore suspect he does not have the full cooperation of the directors of this station, or he could have laid hands on gtstisi. I think that he knew of gtstisi existence here, but not the exact whereabouts, nor could he discover it before we did … quite unexpectedly and by the forwardness of this juvenile person, and thanks in no part to the mahe in question.”

“Most impressive.” Tlisi-tlas-tin gave a slight glance aside to the servant. “Most desperate.”

“I understand from this mahe that stsho were murdered here, most recently. He implied this was connected to the disappearance of Atli-lyen-tlas.”

“Distressing. Most distressing. Is there other information which may be tastefully asked?”

“He implied that the sight or even information about the nature of the Preciousness might enable him to make a critical judgment of its meaning.”

Gtstcrest fluttered, lifted and lowered. “Unmitigated and unjustified arrogance!”

“I take it your excellency does not approve of his proposal.”

“I perform indignities upon his graceless proposal.”

“Is he possibly telling a falsehood?”

“In a most shameless fashion. This is a trading style well-known among mahendo’sat, this obtaining piece after piece of what one wants.”

“A mahe could not possibly understand the meaning hi the sending of the Preciousness.”

“You are far more tasteful than he and you do not comprehend.”

“Most certainly so, excellency.”

White fingers reached for the cup again, and turned it. The conversation was ended. “A symmetry of information has been reached,” gtst said. “Do you agree?”

There were a handful of questions she would ask that would not get answers—questions like: what part are the kif playing? Are they working for anyone but themselves?

The stsho might think they were. That was the trouble. Everything was the stsho’s estimate of what was going on … and the stsho had had their fingers burned before. The stsho might be the last to know what was going on. The stsho might be the last to know that they were understood by the mahen scientists who wrote treatises on their psyche.

Gtstexcellency said that no mahe could comprehend the nature of the Preciousness—but Haisi chased them from star to star trying to learn what it was?

One could conclude that a mahen Personage might not be the only player in this contest … that the information Haisi wanted might be going to someone who could interpret it.

“I have a thought, excellency.”

One did not break the symmetry of a conversation. Tlisi-tlas-tin’s brow knit and gtst mouth drew thin in displeasure.

“Would a stsho hire a mahe to ask us about the Preciousness?”

The frown deepened and lifted.

“Or enter into collusion with some mahe for that purpose?” Another frown settled on Tlisi-tlas-tin’s brow.

“These are disturbing questions,” gtst said.

“Are they wise questions, excellency?”

There was no immediate answer.

She cleared her throat. “Graceless as it might be, I might purvey him false information, and I would for your excellency’s protection do so, if it would not offend you. But I would not know what falsehood might be believed by whoever hired him.”

Tlisi-tlas-tin’s respiration increased markedly. “These are most distressing ideas. I must consider them.”

That the stsho would deceive … was well-established. But lying was not a word one tossed about carelessly, dealing with other species. Some species did. Some didn’t. Some would, individually. Some would, collectively. And what some called lying others called an answer for indecent curiosity. Meddling with reality or its perception was, at least among oxy-breathers thus far studied, what intercultural scientists called a potential flashpoint—a ticking bomb in any interspecies dealings: the more alien, the worse in potential.

“I take my leave of your excellency. I entrust matters to your wisdom and discretion. Should I fail in elegance, I trust that your grace and most excellent sense will advise me to a more proper course.”

“Most gracious.”

“Most excellent and enlightening.”

She hated bowing and backing. It wasn’t hani. And she didn’t do it all the way to the door, not quite.

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