The Sirens of Space Read Online Free PDF Page B

amused.
     
    “Khu’ukh ,” mumbled the
ambassador, struggling with the pronunciation and feeling quite
ignored as Munshi and the Terran chatted unintelligibly.
    “ You know what it means, do you not?”
asked Munshi. Her laughing eyes told Zatar that he could ignore the
question without loss, but curiosity triumphed over his sense of
dignity.
    He exhaled loudly, frustrated that his
reputation among the High Council offered no immunity from teasing
by his own kind. As with most men, his curiosity never failed to
provide amusement for the mischievous females around him, who
seemed to delight in showing their casual irreverence toward any of
his accomplishments.
    “ I hope the cold has not stripped your
sense of irony,” she continued wryly. “For the word
‘ khu’ukh ’ denotes the Terran
equivalent of an apprentice Crutchtan chef.”
    Zatar laughed loudly, soon joined by Munshi.
Neither noticed the look of concern that clouded the Terran’s face,
for neither could tell that their good spirits sounded to him as if
they were choking. But as the moments passed their visitor relaxed,
sensing that his new friends were in no real danger. Soon his eyes
resumed wandering impatiently around the room.
    “ A propitious omen for our Crutchtan
friends,” Zatar said at last. “But I suppose if we tell them, they
will celebrate their good fortune until the stars grow
horns.”
    They both shared another long laugh, until
they were interrupted by the Terran. Zatar tried to follow the
conversation, but quickly lost its gist—something about returning
to school when they were pensioners, he thought. It hardly
surprised him when Munshi’s translation came out differently.
    “ Khu’ukh of
Waashkho suggests proceeding to the library, where we
can talk in more relaxed surroundings,” Munshi related. “He can
stay only briefly today, but promises to return if we invite him.
He thinks that quiet conversation may do more to further
understanding than all manner of diplomatic yammering.”
    “ Your friend is very wise,” said
Zatar, bowing solemnly to both in turn. “Tell the kitchen to
prepare their finest refreshments. Our guest should feel welcome,
and you may tell him that we wish him to stay as long as he wishes
and look forward to his return with eager anticipation.”
    As the three made their way toward the next
room, Zatar noticed the rest of the staff peeking from behind every
available wall, like children who have forgotten their manners.
Women chuckled at the curiosity of their men, he thought, but they
were every bit as bad. Still, he realized that he could not keep
them from intruding, and hoped that the prying did not offend their
guest.
    Walking beside the Terran, he found his eyes
drawn, as always, to the exquisitely pointed Terran snout. It was
the most striking feature on the otherwise fathomless Terran face.
Why any intelligent creature needed such extended nostrils baffled
scientists in all corners of the Grand Alliance. Asking its
function would be impolite, of course, but Zatar recalled reading
that most biologists back home thought it showed a transitional
phase in Terran evolution: when the early Terran ancestors first
left the trees, they theorized, they needed long snouts to dig for
roots and grubs. Their omnivore’s mouth supported this theory, but
Zatar wondered why the earliest Terrans would use their nose
instead of their hands. He agreed with the dissenters: obviously,
it had something to do with mating.
    As they arrived in the study, Munshi told
the Terran that, in his honor, they would be serving one of the few
Terran delicacies that refined palates throughout the Grand
Alliance found irresistible. Terran Ambrosia, they called it. Soon
three large pitchers arrived from the kitchen, and the three new
friends sat on soft, satin pillows on the floor to toast each other
and exchange insights and impressions about themselves and their
cultures.
    Khu’ukh of Waashkho smiled and told his hosts that he