"We share a bond, an understanding, a feeling—" he stated quietly but with escalating passion, " — something deeper and more profound than ancient rules." It was his turn to lecture. "I want to be your companion. I want you to be my companion—for life—forever and always. I want you as my mate, not because I have ordered it so, and not because I am willing to take social responsibility for your children. I want you to be my mate because, and only because, you wish to be. If that is not the case, you may walk from me and not turn back. I will not invoke the social rules, and I would be disappointed in you if those were your reasons for submitting to my wish."
She gazed into his face as he lectured, and her demeanor fairly glowed with each word of admonishment. Dowornobb detected her love scent exploding in waves.
"Oh, I promise you!" she declared effusively, taking Dowornobb aback. "I promise you that my acceptance demonstrates my expression of free will. I am yours forever. I am yours because I want to be. You are my master."
"I am your mate," he said emphatically, their scents blending. She squeezed his hand, tears flowing freely down her beautiful face. "My mate, this promise is an undying flame. It will always be kindled and it cannot be extinguished," she said with a liquid fervor that made Dowornobb's emotional bubble nearly burst with boundless ecstasy.
Stemming his exhilaration, Dowornobb stared into her eyes and declared his love. "The promise is the marriage. The marriage is the promise. We are mated. I will file the necessary papers."
"We must keep them isolated," whistled Koop-the-facilitator. "They are boisterous and rude! They are unclean and they smell. We fear they may be evil!" The assembled body of elders and guild representatives listened to the harangues cataloging the questionable behavior of their guests. The cliff dwellers could not countenance the long-legs' voracious appetites, their rambunctiousness, their rudeness.
"With immense respect, my elder," Toon chirped from the visitors' gallery, standing without sanction and unrecognized. "May I speak?"
The facilitator looked down from the assembly podium, irritated with the impudent interruption. The assembly was occupied primarily by members of the dweller congress, the duly elected guild and hunter officials.
"Ah, supervisor Toon!" the facilitator acknowledged. "Thy reports art the basis of our findings. What is it thou wouldst say?"
"I humbly address the council," replied the steam user. "My reports have not served thee well, for while thy decision to continue the quarantine may be correct, thy logic for doing so is faulty."
The assemblage murmured at the steam user's blatant affront.
"The crude behavior of the long-legs should not be seen as evil or base," Toon continued hurriedly, desperately holding on to his courage. "The long-legs are different. We should reserve judgment until we have a better understanding. Arrogant and ill mannered yes, but they are not evil. They desire to be good, but they act as individuals, selfishly and without common purpose."
Murmurs grew louder. Toon raised his voice and continued.
"I humbly propose the long-legs be provided with labor, even if it means exposing them to our society. Gainful employment will exhaust their energies in worthwhile endeavor, and it will serve to give them value in our eyes."
The great hall was silent. The council of elders stared down at the lone engineer as if he were an insect. The silence lingered.
"Toon' s words have merit," interjected Braan, leader-of-thehunters. He stood erect, not apologizing for the parliamentary breach.
Koop glared down. Such disruptions reflected ill on his leadership.
"The hunter leader is recognized," warbled the facilitator with poorly concealed resignation.
"Permission to speak is humbly accepted," Braan whistled as he took the speaker's dock, talons clicking obnoxiously. "Hunters have billeted the long-legs for four cycles of the small moon and have observed them firsthand—not from rumor or from steam user Toon' s reports. The long-legs have good qualities—many good qualities. If they are evil, then we are equally so."
Remonstrative jeers whistled around the assembly. Braan turned and belligerently scanned the members, defiantly awaiting the disruption to attenuate. The floor was his.
"It is true they behave offensively," the hunter screeched over the din. "They gesture obscenely. They stare with fixed eye contact! They consume great amounts of precious food, only to convert it to malodorous waste! They seldom wash, and their bodies stink. They are loud. They respect not our customs. They even fight among themselves. All of this is true. Yes, it is true! But that does not provide reason to condemn. It illustrates only that they are different."
It was a long speech for a hunter; Braan concluded, "Listen to steam user Toon. His counsel is well measured." The hunter returned to his seat.
The assembly was silent. The facilitator recognized Toon.
The spacers waited nervously in the dark, damp cavern. Although they could not see the river, its muted roar required them to raise their voices to be heard. Steam was thick and warm around them, yet icicles dripped from the ceiling and along catwalk chain railings. Dim globes stretched out before them, a string of dingy yellow pearls disappearing in the distant curve of the cavern. Sixty meters below and on the other side of the channel, another necklace of spirit lamps ran parallel to the first, following the channel course at the cavern's bottom. Cliff dwellers worked in the dim light, splashing, scraping, and pounding in the wet channel bottom. Lurking in shadows behind them a mysterious guilder stood between lamps, watching them carefully.
"Who's that?" MacArthur asked.
"Lizard's boss," Hudson replied. "That's the guy we have to impress."
"He's not impressing me slinking in the shadows," O'Toole said.
"Stop staring," Shannon said. "It makes them nervous."
The spacers turned their attention to Buccari and Lizard Lips walking toward them. The beings from different worlds had been scouting the cavern, silently communicating, using sign language and writing.
"We're sediment cleaners," Buccari announced. The tall human males circled the twosome, compelling Lizard Lips to take an involuntary step backward. Buccari reached over, put an arm around the cliff dweller's back, and firmly pulled him into their huddle.
"Mr. Lip's been explaining accumulators to me," Buccari said, "and why they need to be cleaned. This cavern is one of four accumulator channels. They have closed and drained it so sediment-cleaning teams can clear away rocks, silt, and other debris that have deposited since the last cleaning. All four of the channels are behind schedule for cleaning. Last year's flow was one of the heaviest in their history, and it left behind tremendous amounts of sediment. We are to join one of the cleaning teams, and after we learn the job, we train the rest of our crew and form our own team. It's a big job."
"Sounds like forced labor to me," Petit said.
"We're working for food and shelter," Buccari said. "No one's forcing you to do anything. You can leave anytime you like, Petit."
"Eh, sorry, Lieutenant," Petit replied. "I didn't mean—"
"Yeah, that's okay," Buccari said. "This place gives me the creeps, too." Liquid scraping noises echoed through the dripping, musty cavern.
"We need the work," MacArthur said. "Let's get going."
"Okay, you know how important this is," Buccari said. "We earn our keep, and we have a chance to prove we're not worthless, which our friend tells me is the case right now. Anything beats sitting around on our fannies all winter."