Read Online Chanur's Legacy by C. J. Cherryh - Free Book Online Page B

wave at her and to beckon her to come ahead. No’shto-shti-stlen wanted to see her, perhaps to hand the object into her keeping on the spot, for all she knew; and she was not eager to have the responsibility crossing the docks. An order to move the bank to action, on the other hand ...
    She had far rather the million on credit in her account, because there were cargo cans irrevocably destined for the Legacy’s empty hold; while the Hoas cans, already on their carriers, were scheduled for Notaiji, a very happy, very grateful Notaiji, who could not quite believe the good fortune that had landed in their laps, from ‘the good, the great hani captain.’
    So they had stepped over the brink. Figuratively speaking. As she walked into the audience hall.
    “We are exceedingly pleased,” said No’shto-shti-stlen as she seated herself.
    “We have concurred with your excellency. We are pleased at our agreement on the contract and look forward to continued association with your illustrious self.”
    “Your response is gracious. The elegance of your utterances and your circumspect behavior is a credit to your species.”
    Then why are you back to using kifish guards? occurred to her, but stsho had rather elegance than truth.
    “I am honored by your confidence,” she murmured instead; and bowed; No’shto-shti-stlen bowed, everybody bowed again, and No’shto-shti-stlen inquired whether she had time to take tea.
    Two teas was a monumental sign of favor.
    “Of course,” she said, with lading piled all about the legacy’s cargo bay, with transports in scarce supply, thanks to the Hoas load, with a mahendo’sat scoundrel and probable agent of some power swearing to her that the contract was a supremely bad deal, and offering, of course, his services.
    A tea in full formality, in the audience hall, in the bowl chairs, with stsho servants this time, and
    No’shto-shti-stlen reciting poetry:
    White on white.
    The distinctions thereof are infinite.
    Upon white snow the eyes dream in pink and gold and blue.
    Nothing is. Everything might be.
    Or something of the sort—in classical mode. Hilfy sipped tea and pricked up her ears and laid them flat in deference when it was done.
    “Extraordinary view of a delicate perception,” she said. “How extraordinary to be afforded such an honor. Are you the poet, excellency?”
    No’shto-shti-stlen positively glowed ... for a stsho. Painted lids fluttered over moonstone eyes and long fingers made wave patterns. “I have that small distinction.”
    “I am touched to the heart by such an honor. Would it be indelicate to ask your excellency for a copy?”
    “Not in the least!” Fingers ripped at the aide, who fluttered off in a cloud of gossamer drape and nodding plumes. “You inspire me to thought. And . , .”
    No’shto-shti-stlen produced the gift box from among gtst gossamer robes, and delicately lifted the lid, on a little item she had brought from Anuurn—from Haorai, a carved alabaster box, and within it a single carved ua stone ball. And within that—another ball and another and another.
    No’shto-shti-stlen opened it; and gtst crest flattened and lifted.
    “An oji of sorts. The ball and box have passed hand to hand for a hundred sixty-three years since it left the artist, of Tausa, in Haor, in Sfaura’s eastern sept, on Anuurn. There’s a small card that traces its provenance, if your excellency finds it of interest.”
    “Extraordinary!”
    “Each is unique. One bestows the stone on ceremonial occasions. This stone came into the hands of Chanur and thus into mine as clan head—a Sfaura clan object, as the design indicates. Luran Sfaura had it made for her fifteenth birthday celebration; and it passed at her decease to her daughter, and so down to the end of that line in Haor; thus to Sfaura’s western sept, part of the unsecured gifts—the explanation is on the card—which has gone back and forth between Sfaura and its tributaries at weddings, oh, a hundred years