Upon request, the Makah had already provided several hunting guides who had advised that this was not the best time of the year for whale hunting. They should all come back in the fall when the magnificent gray whales were migrating. The meat and blubber would be tender then, they had said. The Makah would be glad to lead the hunt and then later share their best recipes.
Of course, Oppuk would not wait two or three months. The hunt would go on as scheduled, even if the Jao had to send another ship to drive whales into the bay. She shuddered. It was barbaric, as though the Jao were determined to nourish the worst in her species, not its best.
But there was nothing she could do. At this point, any effort she made to stop the hunt would only make the situation worse. Since Oppuk had insisted she come, she must play the game; look attentive, but bored, and hope the hunt would at least be mercifully short.
A temporary building, called a hant, was going up in the background. It was a sort of a field tent, if you could compare something as big as a small villa to a tent. Jao-fashion, it was being poured from materials preconfigured to shape themselves to this pattern, rather than constructed, and would house the Governor and his guests until the whale hunt was over.
Most likely it wouldn’t have a pool, but she supposed the Jao would be able to make do with the Pacific Ocean as their playground. The water looked almost green today, choppy and white-topped out under the growing cloud cover. That wouldn’t bother them, she thought sourly. Less sun was always welcome among Jao.
“You are wanted,” Banle said from just behind her shoulder. As always, Banle avoided Caitlin’s name, as though using it would elevate her above the status of a performing monkey.
She turned and looked up into the striped face. “Yes?”
“The Governor summons you.” There was a muted air of disapproval about the Jao’s shoulders and in the line of her spine.
“Then I suppose I should go,” Caitlin said, irritated at losing her freedom so soon.
The Jao’s hand flashed out and cuffed her cheek, making her stagger back dangerously near the cliff’s edge. She clapped a hand to her face, aching, but not surprised. Her words—her stance even more so—had not been properly respectful. Banle had lived with Caitlin enough years to interpret the subtleties.
“You have come to his notice,” the Jao said, a fierce edge to her voice. “There are many who would be grateful!”
Like you, Caitlin thought. Her cheek throbbed and she knew she would have a bruise.
Curtly, Banle motioned her ahead. “Be quick.”
The hant, as they approached, was nearly complete, all curves and sleek lines. It probably had a great deal of “flow,” Caitlin thought, if you were a Jao. Try as she might, she had never been able to perceive the elusive quality herself. Sometimes she suspected Earth’s conquerors just made it up to baffle humans.
She presented herself at the entrance, was scanned by a pair of matched guards, then allowed through the doorfield, which was set at a level that rattled her teeth. Inside, she found herself in a broad open space surrounded by corridors. The air was filled with the acrid scent of smoldering tak, which, to the human nose, had all the charm of burning tires.
“Miss Stockwell.” Drinn, a principal member of the Governor’s service, motioned to her through the haze. “The Governor wishes to speak with you.”
Following his direction, she threaded a maze of fabric corridors to a back room, even larger than the reception area. Oppuk krinnu ava Narvo looked up from a holo of a Terran ship sailing on an ocean somewhere. “Move for me,” he said without preamble.
Startled, she stopped. “What?”
“I saw you at the reception,” he said. “You have mastered formal movement, at least at a rudimentary level. Move for me. I wish to see how proficient you truly are.”
Heart pounding, she found modest-surprise shaping her hands, her arms, setting the cant of her head. The ears were supposed to be involved in this posture, so it wasn’t an optimal choice, she suddenly realized. But Jao ears figured into so many postures, one couldn’t avoid movements that required them, or you would have no vocabulary at all.