SKitty

The Fence was actually an opaque forcefield, and only one of the reasons the Companies wanted to trade with the Lacu’un.Though they did not have spaceflight, there were certain applications of forcefield technologies they did have that seemed to be beyond the Terran’s abilities. On the other side of the Fence was literally another world.

These people built to last, in limestone, alabaster, and marble, in the wealthy district, and in cast stone in the outer city. The streets were carefully poured sections of concrete, cleverly given stress-joints to avoid tem­ perature-cracking, and kept clean enough to eat from by a small army of street-sweepers. No animals were allowed on the streets themselves, except for house­trained pets. The only vehicles permitted were single or double-being electric carts, that could move no faster than a man could walk. The Lacu’un dressed either in filmy, silken robes, or in more practical, shorter versions of the same garments. They were a handsome race, upright bipeds, skin tones in varying shades of browns and dark golds, faces vaguely avian, with a frill like an iguana’s running from the base of the neck to a point between and just above the eyes.

As Vena had pointed out, every wall within sight was heavily carved, the carvings all having to do with the Lacu’un religion.

Most of the carvings were depictions of various processions or ceremonies, and no two were exactly alike.

“That’s the Harvest-Gladness,” Vena said, pointing, as they walked, to one elaborate wall that ran for yards. “It’s particularly appropriate for Kla’dera; he made all his money in agriculture. Most Lacu’un try to have something carved that reflects on their gratitude for ‘favors granted.’ ”

“I think I can guess that one,” the Captain, Reginald Singh, said with a smile that showed startlingly white teeth in his dark face. The carving he nodded to was a series of panels; first a celebration involving a veritable kindergarten full of children, then those children—now sex-differentiated and seen to be all female—worshiping at the alter of a very fecund-looking Lacu’un female, and finally the now-maidens looking sweet and demure, each holding various religious objects.

Vena laughed, her brown eyes sparkling with amuse­ment. “No, that one isn’t hard. There’s a saying, ‘as fertile as Gel’vadera’s wife.’ Every child was a female, too, that made it even better. Between the bride-prices he got for the ones that wanted to wed, and the officer’s price he got for the ones that went into the armed services, Gel’vadera was a rich man. His First Daughter owns the house now.”

“Ah—that brings up a question,” Captain Singh replied. “Would you explain exactly who and what we’ll be meeting? I read the briefing, but I still don’t quite understand who fits in where with the government.”

“It will help if you think of it as a kind of unholy mating of the British Parliamentary system and the medieval Japanese Shogunates,” Vena replied. “You’ll be meeting with the ‘king’—that’s the Lacu’ara—his consort, who has equal powers and represents the priesthood—that’s the Lacu’teveras—and his three advisors, who are elected. The advisors represent the military, the bure­aucracy, and the economic sector. The military advisor is always female; all officers in the military are female, because the Lacu’un believe that females will not seek glory for themselves, and so will not issue reckless ­orders. The other two can be either sex. ‘Advisor’ is not altogether an accurate term to use for them; the Lacu’ara and Lacu’teveras rarely act counter to their advice.”

Dick was paying scant attention to this monologue; he’d already picked all this up from the faxes he’d called out of the local library after he’d read the briefing. He was more interested in the carvings, for there was something about them that puzzled him.

All of them featured strange little six-legged creatures scampering about under the feet of the carved Lacu’un. They were about the size of a large mouse, and seemed to Dick to be wearing very smug expressions . . . though of course, he was surely misinterpreting.

“Excuse me Consul,” he said, when Vena had finished explaining the intricacies of Lacu’un government to Captain Singh’s satisfaction. “I can’t help wondering what those little lizard-like things are.”

“Kreshta,” she said, “I would call them pests; you don’t see them out on the streets much, but they are the reason the streets are kept so clean. You’ll see them soon enough once we get inside. They’re like mice, only worse; fast as lightning—they’ll steal food right off your plate. The Lacu’un either can’t or won’t get rid of them, I can’t tell you which. When I asked about them once, my host just rolled his eyes heavenward and said what translates to ‘it’s the will of the gods.’ ”

“Insh’allah?” Captain Singh asked.

“Very like that, yes. I can’t tell if they tolerate the pests because it is the gods’ will that they must, or if they tolerate them because the gods favor the little monsters. Inside the Fence we have to close the govern­ment buildings down once a month, seal them up, and fumigate. We’re just lucky they don’t breed very fast.”

:Hunt?: SKitty asked hopefully from her perch on Dick’s shoulders.

No! Dick replied hastily. Just look, don’t hunt!

The cat was gaining startled—and Dick thought, appreciative—looks from passersby.

“Just what is the status value of a totemic animal?” Erica asked curiously.

“It’s the fact that the animal can be tamed at all. Aside from a handful of domestic herbivores, most animal life on Lacu’un has never been tamed. To be able to take a carnivore and train it to the hand implies that the gods are with you in a very powerful way.” Vena dimpled. “I’ll let you in on a big ­secret; frankly, Lan and I preferred the record of the Bright­wing over the other two ships; you seemed to be more sympathetic to the Lacu’un. That’s why we told you about the totemic animals, and why we left you ­until last.”

“It wouldn’t have worked without Dick,” Captain Singh told her. “SKitty has really bonded to him in a remarkable way; I don’t think this presentation would come off half so impressively if he had to keep her on a lead.”

“It wouldn’t,” Vena replied, directing them around a corner. At the end of a short street was a fifteen foot wall—carved, of course—pierced by an arching entrance­way.

“The palace,” she said, rather needlessly.

Vena had been right. The kreshta were everywhere.

Dick could feel SKitty trembling with the eagerness to hunt, but she was managing to keep herself under control. Only the lashing of her tail betrayed her agitation.

He waited at parade rest, trying not to give in to the temptation to stare, as the Captain and the Negotiator,