uplift4.brightnessreef-第30章

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most　segment；　waving　clumsy　tentacles　from　its　stubby　top　ring。　The　noor　sniffed　suspiciously；　then　settled　back　with　a　satisfied　trill。
　　Thus　Huphu　was　first　to　wele　Ziz…newest　member　of　our　band。
　　Now　if　only　we　had　a　human　kid；　we'd　be　a　true　six。
　　Omens　can　be　good　things；　as　any　sailor　knows。　Luck　is　uttergloss。　Fickle；　but　a　damn　sight　better　than　the　alternative。
　　I　had　a　feeling　we　were　going　to　need　all　of　Ifni's　help　we　could　get。
　　
　　X。　THE　BOOK　OF　THE　SLOPE
　　Legends
　　Among　qheuens　it　is　said　that　fleeing　to　Jijo　was　not　as　much　a　matter　of　survival　as　of　culture。
　　There　is　dispute　among　the　legends　that　have　been　passed　down　by　the　armored　ones；　since　their　landing　on　Jijo　over　a　thousand　years　ago。　Grays；　blues；　and　reds　each　tell　their　own　versions　of　events　before　and　after　their　sneakship　came。
　　Where　they　agree　is　that　it　all　began　in　Galaxy　One　where　the　sept　found　itselt　in　trouble　with　its　own　alliance。
　　According　to　our　surviving　copy　of　Basic　Galactic　Socio…Politics；　by　Smelt；　most　starfaring　races　are　members　of　clans…a　relationship　based　on　the　great　chain　of　uplift。　For　example；　Earthclan　is　among　the　smallest　and　simplest；　consisting　of　humans　and　their　two　clients…neo…chimps　and　neo…dolphins。　If　the　patrons　who　supposedly　raised　up　Homo　sapiens　are　ever　found；　it　could　link　Earthlings　to　a　vast　family　stretching　back　ages；　possibly　even　as　far　back　as　the　Progenitors；　who　began　the　uplift　cycle　a　billion　years　ago。
　　With　membership　in　such　a　clan；　Earthlings　might　bee　much　stronger。
　　They　might　also　bee　liable　for　countless　ancient　debts　and　obligations。　Another；　quite　separate　network　of　allegiance　seems　to　be　based　on　philosophy。　Any　of　the　bitter　feuds　and　ornate　wars…of…honor　dividing　Galactic　culture　arose　out　of　disputes　no　member　of　the　Six　can　now　recall　or　prehend。　Great　alliances　fought　over　arcane　differences　in　theology；　such　as　the　nature　of　the　long…vanished　Progenitors。
　　It　is　said　that　when　qheuens　dwelled　among　the　stars；　they　were　members　of　the　Awaiters　Alliance…a　fealty　they　inherited　from　their　Zhosh　patrons；　who　found　and　adopted　primitive　qheuens　from　sea…cliff　hives；　dominated　by　fierce　gray　queens。
　　Things　might　have　been　simpler　had　the　Zhosh　only　uplifted　the　grays；　but　they　gave　the　same　expansion　of　wit　and　mind　to　the　servant　castes　as　well。　Nor　was　this　the　end；　for　according　to　lore；　the　Awaiter　philosophy　is　egalitarian　and　pragmatic。　The　alliance　saw　useful　talents　in　the　reds　and　blues。　Rulings　were　made；　insisting　that　the　bonds　of　obeisance　to　the　grays　be　loosened。
　　Certain　qheuens　fled　this　meddling；　seeking　a　place　to　preserve　their　natural　way　in　peace。
　　That；　in　brief；　is　why　they　came　here。
　　On　Jijo；　the　three　types　disagree　to　this　day　over　who　first　betrayed　whom。　Grays　claim　their　colony　began　in　harmony；　discipline；　and　love。　All　went　well　until　urs　and　then　humans　stirred　up　blue　discontent。　Other　historians；　such　as　River…Knife　and　Cuts…Coral；　forcefully　dissent　from　this　view。
　　Whatever　the　cause；　all　agree　that　Jijo's　qheuenish　culture　is　now　even　more　untraditional　than　the　one　their　ancestors　fled。
　　Such　are　the　ironies　when　children　ignore　their　parents'　wishes　and　start　thinking　for　themselves。
　　…Collected　Fables　of　Jijo's　Seven。
　　Third　Edition。　Department　of　Folklore　and
　　Language；　Biblos。　Year　1867　of　Exile。
　　
　　Asx
　　SUDDENLY；　THEIR　QUESTIONS　TAKE　A　NEW　TURN。　An　edge　of　tension…not　quite　fear；　but　a　cousin　to　that　universal　passion…abruptly　colors　the　invaders'　speech。
　　Then；　in　a　single　night；　their　apprehension　takes　hasty　physical　form。
　　They　have　buried　their　black　station！
　　Do　you　recall　the　surprise；　my　rings？　At　dusk　there　it　was；　serene；　arrogantly　uncaring　of　the　open　sky。　A　cubic　shape；　blatant　in　its　artificiality。
　　When　we　returned　at　dawn；　a　great　heap　of　dirt　lay　there　instead。　From　the　size　of　the　mound；　Lester　surmised　the　station　must　have　scooped　a　hole；　dropped　itself　inside；　and　piled　the　detritus　on　top；　like　a　borer…beetle　fleeing　a　digbat。
　　Lester's　guess　is　proven　right　when　Rann；　Kunn；　and　Besh　emerge　from　below；　ascending　a　smooth；　dark　tunnel　to　resume　discussions　under　the　canopy…of…negotiation。　This　time　they　choose　to　focus　on　machines。　Specifically…what　devices　remain　from　Buyur　days？　They　want　to　know　if　ancient　relics　still　throb　with　vital　force。
　　This　happens　on　some　fallow　worlds；　they　say。　Sloppy　races　leave　countless　servant　drones　behind　when　they　depart；　laying　their　worlds　down　for　an　aeon　of　rest。　Near…perfect　and　self…repairing；　the　abandoned　mechanisms　can　last　a　long　time；　wandering　masterless　across　a　terrain　void　of　living　voices。
　　They　ask…have　we　seen　any　mechanical　orphans？
　　We　try　to　explain　that　the　Buyur　were　meticulous。　That　their　cities　were　dutifully　scraped　away；　or　crushed　and　seeded　with　deconstructors。　Their　machine　servants　were　infected　with　meme…pulsions；　driving　those　still　mobile　to　seek　nests　in　the　deep　trench　we　call　the　Midden。　All　this　we　believe；　yet　the　sky…humans　seem　to　doubt　our　word。
　　They　ask　（again！）　about　visitations。　What　clues　have　we　seen　of　other　ships　ing　stealthfully；　for　purposes　vaguely　hinted　at　but　never　said　aloud？
　　As　planned；　we　dissemble。　In　old　human　tales　and　books；　it　is　a　technique　oft　used　by　the　weak　when　confronted　by　the　strong。
　　Act　stupid；　the　lore　suggests。　Meanwhile；　watch　and　listen　closely。
　　Ah；　but　how　much　longer　can　we　get　away　with　it？　Already　Besh　questions　those　who　e　for　healing。　In　their　gratitude；　some　will　surely　forget　our　injunctions。
　　The　next　stage　will　start　soon；　while　our　preparations　are　barely　begun。
　　The　fourth　human　forayer；　Ling；　returns　from　her　research　trip。　Did。she　not　leave　with　the　young　heretic；　Lark？　Yet　she　es　back　alone。
　　No；　we　tell　her。　We　have　not　seen　him。　He　did　not　e　this　way。　Can　you　tell　us　why　he　abandoned　you？　Why　he　left　you　in　the　forest；　his　assigned　task　undone？
　　We　promise　her　another　guide。　The　qheuen　naturalist；　Uthen。　Meanwhile；　we　placate。
　　If　only　our　rewq　had　not　abandoned　us！　When　i/we　ask　Lester　about　the　woman's　mood…what　he　can　read　from　her　demeanor…he　only　shudders　and　says　he　cannot　say。
　　
　　Sara
　　A　CONCERT　WAS　ARRANGED　BY　AN　IMPROMPTU　group　of　passengers　and　crew；　on　the　fantail　of　the　Hauph…woa；　to　wele　the　Stranger　back　among　the　living。
　　Ulgor　would　play　the　violus；　a　stringed　instrument　based　on　the　Earthling　violin；　modified　to　suit　deft　urrish　fingers。　While　Ulgor　tuned；　Blade　squatted　his　blue…green　carapace　over　a　mirliton…drum；　stroking　its　taut　membrane　with　his　massive；　plex　tongue；　causing　it　to　rumble　and　growl。　Meanwhile；　all　five　legs　held　jugs　filled　to　varied　levels　with　water。　Tentative　puffs　from　his　speech　vents　blew　notes　across　each　opening。
　　Pzora；　the　traeki　pharmacist；　modestly　renounced　any　claim　to　musical　talent　but　agreed　to　take　up　some　metal　and　ceramic　chimes。　The　hoonish　helmsman　would　sing；　while　the　professional　scriven…dancer　honored　the　makeshift　group　by　agreeing　to　acpany　them　in　the　g'Kek　manner；　with　graceful　motions　of　his　eyestalks　and　those　famous　dancing　arms；　calling　to　mind　the　swaying　of　trees；　or　wind…driven　rain；　or　birds　in　flight。
　　They　had　asked　Sara　to　round　out　a　six；　but　she　declined。　The　only　instrument　she　played　was　her　father's　piano；　back　in　Nelo's　house　by　the　great　dam；　and　even　at　that　her　proficiency　was　unremarkable。　So　much　for　the　supposed　correlation　between　music　and　mathematics；　she　thought　ironically。　Anyway；　she　wanted　to　keep　an　eye　on　the　Stranger；　in　case　events　threw　him　into　another　hysterical　fit。　He　seemed　calm　so　far；　watching　through　dark　eyes　that　seemed　pleasantly　surprised　by　nearly　everything。
　　Was　this　a　symptom？　Head　injuries　sometimes　caused　loss　of　memory…or　even　ability　to　make　memories…so　everything　was　forever　new。
　　At　least　he　can　feel　some　joy；　she　thought。　Take　the　way　he　beamed；　every　time　she　approached。　It　felt　strange　and　sweet　for　someone　to　be　so　reliably　happy　to　see　her。　Perhaps　if　she　were　prettier；　it　wouldn't　be　so　befuddling。　But　the　handsome　dark　outlander　was　a　sick　man；　she　recalled。　Out　of　his　proper　mind。
　　And　yet；　she　pondered　further；　what　is　the　past　but　a　fiction；　invented　by　a　mind　in　order　to　go　on　functioning？　She　had　spent　a　year　fleeing　memory；　for　reasons　that　had　seemed　important　then。
　　Now　it　just　doesn't　amount　to　much。
　　She　worried　about　what　was　going　on　up　in　the　Rimmers。　Her　brothers　stayed　close　to　her　thoughts。
　　If　you'd　accepted　Taine's　original　proposal　of　marriage；　you　might　have　had　little　ones　by　now；　and　their　future　to　fret　about；　as　well。
　　Refusing　the　august　gray…headed　sage　had　caused　a　stir。　How　many　other　offers　would　there　be　for　the　hand　of　a　shy　papermaker's　daughter　without　much　figure；　a　young　woman　with　more　passion　for　symbols　on　a　page　than　dancing　or　the　other　arts　of　dalliance？　Soon　after　turning　Taine　down；　Joshu's　attentions　had　seemed　to　ratify　her　decision；　till　she　realized　the　young　bookbinder　might　only　be　using　her　as　a　diversion　during　his　journeyman　year　in　Biblos；　nothing　more。
　　Ironic；　isn't　it？　Lark　could　have　his　pick　of　young　women　on　the　Slope；　yet　his　philosophy　makes　him　choose　celibacy。　My　conclusions　about　Jijo　and　the　Six　are　the　opposite　to　his。　Yet　I'm　alone　too。
　　Different　highways；　arriving　at　the　same　solitary　dead　end。
　　And　now　e　gods　from　space；　diverting　us　all　onto　a　road　whose　markings　we　can't　see。
　　They　still　lacked　a　sixth　for　the　concert。　Despite　having　introduced　string　instruments　to　Jijo；　humans　traditionally　played　flute　in　a　mixed　sextet。　Jop　was　an　adept；　but　the　farmer　declined；　preferring　to　pore　over　his　book　of　scrolls。　Finally；　young　Jomah　agreed　to　sit　in　for　luck；　equipped　with　a　pair　of　spoons。
　　So　much　for　the　vaunted　contribution　of　Earthlings　to　musical　life　on　Jijo。
　　Hidden　under　Blade's　heavy　shell；　the　mirliton　groaned　a　low；　rumbling　note；　soon　joined　by　a　mournful　sigh　from　one　of　the　jugs　under　Blade's　left…front　leg。　The　qheuen's　seeing…band　winked　at　Ulgor；　and　the　urs　took　her　cue　to　lift　the　violus；　laying　the　double　bow　across　the　strings；　drawing　twin　wavering　notes；　embellishing　the　mirliton's　basso　moan。　A　multilevel　chord　was　struck。　It　held。。。。
　　The　moment　of　duet　harmony　seemed　to　stretch　on　and　on。　Sara　stopped　breathing；　lest　any　other　sound　break　the　extraordinary　consonance。　Even　Fakoon　rolled　forward；　visibly　moved。
　　If　the　rest　is　anything　like　this。。。
　　Pzora　chose　the　next　instant　to　pile　in；　disrupting　the　aching　sweetness　with　an　eager　clangor　of　bells　and　cymbals。　The　Dolo　pharmacist　seemed　zealously　unaware　of　what　er　had　shattered；　rushing　ahead　of　the　beat；　halting；　then　pushing　on　again。　After　a　stunned　instant；　members　of　the　hoonish　crew　roared　with　laughter。　Noor　on　the　masts　chittered　as　Ulgor　and　Blade　shared　looks　that　needed　no　rewq　to　interpret…equivalents　to　a　shrug　and　a　wink。　They　played　on；　incorporating　Pzora's　enthusiasm　in　a　catchy　four…part　rhythm。
　　Sara　recalled　being　taught　piano　by　her　mother；　from　music　that　was　actually　written　down；　now　a　nearly　forgotten　art。　Jijoan　sextets　weaved　their　i