me, “They want know what we want. I said we can only explain in our common language, so they have to learn that first.”
Chi’ursemisa said, in poor Karst One, “Beyond that?”
“We need to learn about you and you about us,” I said.
“Jailers,” she said in Wrengu.
“You jailed the Wrengee,” I told her.
She put her hands back over her eyes and didn’t answer, then asked, “Touch I you?”
Marianne said, “The Quara might be nervous.”
“Touch, no hurt,” Hrif said from his comer.
Marianne and I looked at each other, nervous about who should get touched. Marianne moved her legs around to a kneeling position and sidled up to Chi’ursemisa. Chi’ursemisa’s fingertips swelled as she raised her hands and put them on the top of Marianne’s head. The fingers rotated slightly as Chi’ursemisa brought her hands down the side of Marianne’s face. They stopped at the ears, then the index fingers circled in Marianne’s ear canal while the thumbs and other fingers felt around her outer ears.
Marianne giggled slightly, as if Chi’ursemisa tickled her. Chi’ursemisa pulled her fingers away from Marianne’s ears and began to feel her mouth.
I asked, “Do you need to do this?”
“Curious,” Chi’ursemisa said.
“No hurt,” Hrif said. He rolled so that his hind feet were under his belly, forepaws in front. He raised his head when Chi’ursemisa opened Marianne’s mouth and ran a finger over her teeth, then he dropped his head to his forelegs when Chi’ursemisa pulled her fingers out.
Hurdai asked something. Marianne, now that Chi’ursemisa was feeling her neck, said, “He wants to feel you.”
Thridai spoke Sharwanisa to Hurdai, then said to me, “Be careful.”
Hrif said, “Only one,” and rose to his feet. Chi’ursemisa moved away from Marianne. I said to Hrif, “Now this me.” Hurdai quickly felt my head, his fingers moist against my skin. He bent his fingers and caught my beard stubble with his nails. Then Hurdai began probing my joints, testing for tendon insertions when he could.
“Whoa,” I said, remembering a Barcon examination that determined my physical exercises. Hurdai looked at me; Hrif growled. Thridai spoke Sharwanisa again, and Hurdai made the thrummed rubber hand sound in his throat. Then his fingertips shrank, leaving slight wrinkles behind. The wrinkles seemed firm, their equivalent of our fingerprints, a biological friction grip.
Thridai said, in Karst One, “Hurdai wanted to see how your body might fight.”
“Yes, I knew.” I wondered if we ought to stop this. They began talking in yet another language. That upset Thridai. He tried to interrupt them in Sharwanisa, but they talked even faster.
Then Chi’ursemisa asked me in Wrengu, “Joints different. Same species?”
“Yes,” I said. “Different sex.”
They made the rubber band sounds again. Hrif said, “Stop,” He stretched, back arched, front claws digging into the floor, tail bent forward over his back, then came up to Marianne and butted her with his head. “Touch me.”
Marianne began rubbing him around his ears. I saw Chi’ursemisa’s fingers swell, then wrinkle again. Thridai began picking up the dinner dishes and taking them over to the sink.
I felt weird, as if I’d been sexually handled, not just measured for range of motion, tendon insertions, and general muscle strength. Those tumescent fingertips. And I realized that before this night, I hadn’t seen the Sharwani as themselves, but rather as more human than they were, more dangerous than alien. Marianne looked at me—sexual eyeballing—and smiled slightly. She said in English, “ I hadn’t really seen them well earlier .”
I asked back in the same language, “ When do we get to the point where we don’t carry human templates around in our heads? ” I remembered Mica, the Gwyng I dragged out of a fire and saved for a while, drawing me with human features exaggerated toward the Gwyng norm.
Marianne said, again in
Chi’ursemisa said, in poor Karst One, “Beyond that?”
“We need to learn about you and you about us,” I said.
“Jailers,” she said in Wrengu.
“You jailed the Wrengee,” I told her.
She put her hands back over her eyes and didn’t answer, then asked, “Touch I you?”
Marianne said, “The Quara might be nervous.”
“Touch, no hurt,” Hrif said from his comer.
Marianne and I looked at each other, nervous about who should get touched. Marianne moved her legs around to a kneeling position and sidled up to Chi’ursemisa. Chi’ursemisa’s fingertips swelled as she raised her hands and put them on the top of Marianne’s head. The fingers rotated slightly as Chi’ursemisa brought her hands down the side of Marianne’s face. They stopped at the ears, then the index fingers circled in Marianne’s ear canal while the thumbs and other fingers felt around her outer ears.
Marianne giggled slightly, as if Chi’ursemisa tickled her. Chi’ursemisa pulled her fingers away from Marianne’s ears and began to feel her mouth.
I asked, “Do you need to do this?”
“Curious,” Chi’ursemisa said.
“No hurt,” Hrif said. He rolled so that his hind feet were under his belly, forepaws in front. He raised his head when Chi’ursemisa opened Marianne’s mouth and ran a finger over her teeth, then he dropped his head to his forelegs when Chi’ursemisa pulled her fingers out.
Hurdai asked something. Marianne, now that Chi’ursemisa was feeling her neck, said, “He wants to feel you.”
Thridai spoke Sharwanisa to Hurdai, then said to me, “Be careful.”
Hrif said, “Only one,” and rose to his feet. Chi’ursemisa moved away from Marianne. I said to Hrif, “Now this me.” Hurdai quickly felt my head, his fingers moist against my skin. He bent his fingers and caught my beard stubble with his nails. Then Hurdai began probing my joints, testing for tendon insertions when he could.
“Whoa,” I said, remembering a Barcon examination that determined my physical exercises. Hurdai looked at me; Hrif growled. Thridai spoke Sharwanisa again, and Hurdai made the thrummed rubber hand sound in his throat. Then his fingertips shrank, leaving slight wrinkles behind. The wrinkles seemed firm, their equivalent of our fingerprints, a biological friction grip.
Thridai said, in Karst One, “Hurdai wanted to see how your body might fight.”
“Yes, I knew.” I wondered if we ought to stop this. They began talking in yet another language. That upset Thridai. He tried to interrupt them in Sharwanisa, but they talked even faster.
Then Chi’ursemisa asked me in Wrengu, “Joints different. Same species?”
“Yes,” I said. “Different sex.”
They made the rubber band sounds again. Hrif said, “Stop,” He stretched, back arched, front claws digging into the floor, tail bent forward over his back, then came up to Marianne and butted her with his head. “Touch me.”
Marianne began rubbing him around his ears. I saw Chi’ursemisa’s fingers swell, then wrinkle again. Thridai began picking up the dinner dishes and taking them over to the sink.
I felt weird, as if I’d been sexually handled, not just measured for range of motion, tendon insertions, and general muscle strength. Those tumescent fingertips. And I realized that before this night, I hadn’t seen the Sharwani as themselves, but rather as more human than they were, more dangerous than alien. Marianne looked at me—sexual eyeballing—and smiled slightly. She said in English, “ I hadn’t really seen them well earlier .”
I asked back in the same language, “ When do we get to the point where we don’t carry human templates around in our heads? ” I remembered Mica, the Gwyng I dragged out of a fire and saved for a while, drawing me with human features exaggerated toward the Gwyng norm.
Marianne said, again in
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