“Continue on,” one of the Threck in front said. “We would all like to see you.”
“Yes, come forward Syons People!” An arm appeared and waved from the far side of the assembly. “So that I may introduce you to the rest of the leaders.”
Ah-hah. Good. At least we know which one is Fetz.
Tom stepped forward and felt Angela grasp his hand as she followed. There was no discernible area where visitors were meant to stand, and the space between each council member looked a bit awkward for the pair to ease into. If he moved into the space between two Threck, his shoulders would practically graze their cloaks. So then, were they intended to stand in the middle of this group, surrounded, spinning round to hear or address any particular individual?
Tom halted just outside the circle. “Peaceful greetings, wise leaders.”
A flurry of translations scrolled up Tom’s fone as the thin source frame bounced from person to person, linking individuals to their respective comments
“It’s true!”
“I still can’t see them.”
“Remarkable.”
“Where are these from?”
“Can’t see. Make them come into middle.”
“No, Packte!” Fetz shouted. “These are delightful guests, not savage prisoners to answer questions and be punished. Apologies, Syons People, the council does not by habit receive guests. The chamber is not exactly suited for more than the twelve.”
“As I mentioned, I have bathed with these people.” Tom realized the new speaker was Dowfwoss Amoss. “And it was beyond fulfilling. Shall we all descend to the tower bath?”
ANGELA: We bathe well with others.
TOM: Yeah. Any useful thoughts here? What do we do?
ANGELA: Don’t get snippy with me, mister. Just let them sort it out.
“There is plenty of space in here,” someone said, and Tom watched as this Threck’s apparently dangling legs curled backward, revealing some sort of thin stand beneath the hanging cloak, then she planted her knee-bends onto a connected block behind the stand, and lifted her body up and back. Once she’d stepped off the raised block, taking the cloak with her, Tom finally observed why they’d all appeared so talclass="underline" they were actually seated—or rather, draped over tall pedestals that supported their full weight, legs dangling just above the floor. None of this had been visible, of course, because their cloaks hung from “shoulder” height, all the way to the floor, presenting each council member as well over 2m tall.
“True Thinker,” Fetz quipped, as explained by Livetrans.
LIVETRANS: True Thinker. [Quip]
Fetz stood up from her seat, too, and the others followed. The group moved to a wide open area near the curved wall and spread out in a semicircle, leaving a large space by the room’s center pillar for Tom and Angela.
“Much better.”
“Let them say more.”
“I have many questions.”
“Silence, please,” Fetz said, waving an arm before her. “Allow me to express proper introduction… you still understand all we say, Tom and Angela?”
Tom took a deep breath, readying himself for what would surely amount to a Threck body language workout session for his weary body. “We do, yes. Peaceful greetings to all of you.”
Impressed, satisfied, confused, curious, and other reactions scrolled by in Livetrans.
Fetz introduced each council member by city group, along with sometimes interesting, often incomprehensible anecdotes, such as, “… And here stands Massoss Pakte, overseer of fish accumulation, storage, and dispersal, and patient tolerator of indecisive currents, insolent mains, and visitors both expected and not.”
There was Massoss Symee in charge of the Expansion group, Dowfwoss Towtzaw from the Nursery, Massoss this, Dowfwoss that (more Massosses than Dowfwosses, Tom observed), ending with the uniquely-adorned Dowfwoss ʔnkte, representing the Thinkers, whose cloak edges were embellished with purple-dyed trim around the head slit, sleeves, and bottom.
Fetz’s introduction of her was conspicuously brief, and ʔnkte (pronounced from deep down—an “unh” sound, as if one were just punched in the chest, followed by –nkte), said only “Hello” as her sleepy, half-open eyes gazed at Tom and Angela. Specially designed cloak aside, ʔnkte’s demeanor stood out among her peers, suggesting that Thinkers may literally think at a higher level than others. And ʔnkte was their leader.
Disgruntled by Livetrans’ use of the glottal stop symbol ʔ representing this sound, Tom made a quick replacement. “Unhkte” didn’t look much better, but he’d deal with it.
Next came the onslaught of questions, civilly from right to left, and, in the beginning, paired with extravagant compliments. Tom answered many of the same basic curiosities he’d provided back in the farmers’ domicile. Then came a new line of questioning.
“Having never experienced the pleasure of another wise creature,” Massoss Fact from Waters & Sanitation began, “I beg forgiveness for looking upon you with excessively enamored eyes. For my first question, I wish to know if, in Syons People land, with so few inhabitants, if sanitation is of primary concern.”
“Sanitation, as in keeping things clean?” Tom asked.
Fact elaborated. “As in disposal of excretions. We are aware that one of you excreted near the feshoosh orchards. It is not of concern—Setkee collected the droppings; I believe we now have them down in Sanitation—but we wonder if this is common practice for Syons People, and if so, has there been any hazards associated with large accumulations.”
Angela had stifled a choke and now stood holding her breath beside Tom.
Tom had the M sent to Angela before Fact even finished imparting the question.
TOM: When crapping one’s pants begins to sound like the preferable choice. You’re so going to pay.
Tom quickly but carefully composed his response, sending it as he wrote.
“I must apologize if this earlier action caused any offense. Syons People have equipment for such things, and are so disinclined to its appearance and scent, that droppings are sent away in an enclosed system which disposes of it without another person ever observing it. Away from our home, lacking this equipment, I was unsure how to appropriately excrete.”
“Fascinating,” Fact said. “This sounds similar to our system. I would very much like to speak with you further on this subject.”
“And it was not offense,” Amoss interjected. “You need not apologize for excreting in uninhabited brush.”
Tom could see Angela’s chest subtly quaking in his peripheral.
ANGELA: Dying… Literally. Dying. Inside.
“Can you describe other equipment Syons People utilize?” Massoss Artsh of the Makers group.
“This is one of the topics we wish to discuss with the council.” Tom used the opportunity to segue back into the mission. Minnie had outlined specific wording for this very moment, and Tom copy/pasted it into Livetrans—a temporarily relief of responsibility. “Our people have learned certain knowledge about living things, and have found unique methods for curing illnesses in people, animals, and grown foods.” Intrigue animated his audience. “We would like to work with the Threck to adapt these cures to your people and foods, improving health and longevity, and protecting food sources from often-devastating disease. This is what we wish to offer in exchange for one small, isolated plot of land to live out our lives.”
“In the northeast,” Amoss added. “Beyond Tensakoss.”