The Braided World Read Online Free PDF Page A

birth. Neither this nor that. So people on board the ship were upset—the very crew she'd picked for their tolerance of possible contact with alien cultures. But the Dassa weren't aliens. They were badly altered humans, and more disturbing in some ways than any exotic being could be. As though you could choose the aliens you got!
    Dassa women passed her, sometimes with a child bundled on the back, peeking over the mother's shoulder. It seemed no one around here believed in day care; they took the infants with them everywhere, even though all mothers had slaves to assist them. Men were no use at all in helping to raise children since—given the nature of their “families”—men and women lived separately. And some women had many children, and sometimes several infants all at once. Although the variums were inefficient for reproduction, the Dassa did have the duty to swim every day. Babies resulted, and were welcomed by devoted mothers, aunts, grandmothers—and hoda.
    Shim was standing before her. She was the king's chief of staff, or whatever the Dassa word was. A
viven
, a noble, palace-raised.
    Shim had lovely reddish brown hair swept up into the most astonishing chignon. No hair out of place. Why the baby on her back didn't muss her hair was a question she really must ask one of these Dassa women.
    “Shim-rah, thank you,” Bailey said, using the standard pleasantry. Of course, one didn't shake hands, nor ever touch a Dassa's skin. Which was why they wore so many clothes in this hot climate—to prevent accidental touching. And not because they were so virtuous, either. Far from it. It was, in fact, a free-for-all, where the words for
sex
and
courtesy
were the same. It was just that their skin was considered highly sexual and an accidental touch might be more courtesy than you had in mind.
    Shim said, “Oh, Bailey, thankfully I have found you.”
    The baby looked about a year old, with big blue eyes taking in everything in big gulps.
    Bailey peeled off down a new walkway leading out under yet another arcade. “Walk with me, Shim-rah, I have work to do.”
    Shim cocked her head. “Work? Oh Bailey, I will send for a hoda.”
    “No, no. I'm having fun.”
    Shim scurried behind her, and Bailey slowed her pace out of consideration for the small woman carrying a heavy baby She was a noble, and the king's highest chancellor, or one of them. Bailey hadn't quite got the pecking order down. Nick had drawn all the ear ornaments—worn by both men and women—so one would know whether one was speaking to a very high pooh-bah, or a person of moderate standing, or someone lowly, and so forth. Shim wore the half-orb so typical of the king's court.
    “Captain Anton sends for you,” she said, mangling his name. “I can take you to him, thankfully.”
    “Oh yes,” Bailey said without breaking her stride. They pronounced his name
Andon
, struggling with hard consonants. Only Bailey's name came easily.
    They walked through an outside gallery that was several meters wide, with vendors on the pier and in boats in the water, selling food, textiles, animals in cages, and jewelry. She kept a lookout for an unoccupied skiff. A line of people waited for the “talk hut,” the room with their ten or so communication devices: little ceramic telephones that made few connections and poor ones. Really, they might as well go in person to talk. But it was a novelty
    Shim, who was tense to be dealing with one of the humans, especially one who wasn't following suggestions, repeated her request. “Shall we attend Captain Anton?”
    “Oh yes, but first…” Bailey noted that up ahead, where the inner pavilions gave way onto the big pond, many Dassa had gathered. “Let's see what's going on.”
    “Thankfully, that is just my point, Bailey. Anton and the king require your attendance for the ceremony.”
    Bailey approached the crowd milling on the pier. Surrounding the lake were the tiered compounds of the king, enclosing in this season what