Anvil of Stars

“Slick them at their own game,” Joe said. Hakim caught on but suddenly frowned.

“They know we were at Wormwood,” he said. “They know—”

“They may not know anything,” Martin said, energized by his own idea, and Hans’ elaboration. “They could easily assume Wormwood killed us in the trap. They’re more vulnerable, but for that reason, they can’t afford to throw off their disguise—if it is a disguise—”

“Because traveling merchants might tattle on them, or be expected somewhere else, and missed if they don’t show,” Hans said. “And they have a reputation in the neighborhood to maintain. They let the Red Tree Runners go… Martin, my faith in you has paid off. Anything after this is bonus.”

“It is not a bad idea,” Hakim agreed, smiling at Martin.

“But it needs development,” Hans said. “I want a full proposal, with details, before we talk with the Brothers.”

Giacomo and Jennifer picked up quickly around their compartment, embarrassed that Martin had come to visit unexpectedly. Clothing, scrap paper waiting to be run through the ship’s recycling, sporting equipment for joint human-Brother games, were quickly stacked into piles and shoved aside. “This would be a real mess if we were coasting,” Jennifer said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Martin said, waving his hand. “I’m just dropping by on my own initiative. Hans hasn’t asked for a report on the translations, but I thought I’d inquire…”

“We’re working with two of the Brothers now, Many Smells and Dry Skin,” Jennifer said.

“Those are complimentary names,” Giacomo said, smiling.

“Dry Skin has even chosen a human name. He wants to be called Norman. Sometimes Eye on Sky helps.”

“So what do we have?” Martin asked. “Are their libraries better than ours?”

“They’re certainly different,” Giacomo said. “We’ve barely begun to translate the really technical stuff, but the snake mothers seem more open with their facts, more trusting. There’s less fear of influencing the Brothers, I think—that is, taking away their freedom to choose by overawing them. The Brothers are pretty solid, psychologically.”

“Can we learn anything more from their libraries?”

Jennifer looked at Giacomo. “Possibly, if they help us translate.”

“Shouldn’t you know one way or the other by now?”

“If their libraries stored key concepts in words, yes,” Jennifer said. “I’m sure we’d know. But the reason we had to call on Many Smells and Dry Skin/Norman is because we were having such a tough time dealing with the synesthesia—with translating smells and music into human language. Their math is disintegrated, literally—no integers. They deal with everything in probabilistic terms. Numbers are smears of probability. They don’t see things separated from each other, only in relations. No arithmetic, only algebras. How many planets around Leviathan? It’s expressed in terms of Leviathan’s history, the shape of its planet-forming cloud ages past… Only after a Brother understands everything there is to know, will he have an idea how many planets there are. Even their most simple calculations are mind-wrecking, to us—parallel processing of cords in each braid. It’s math for much more powerful minds than ours.”

“We talked about that already,” Giacomo said. “But the definite article is also missing from their languages. They have three languages, auditory, olfactory, and written—but writing is supplementary to the rest. All we’ve gotten access to is the written, so far. Norman is trying to convert olfactory into written, but he says it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done.”

“What do the annotations tell us?” Martin asked.

“They’re intriguing,” Jennifer said, leaning forward, eyes narrowing with enthusiasm. “The snake mothers trust the Brothers—”

“Like we said,” Giacomo interrupted.

“The snake mothers seem to think there’s no chance the Brothers could ever turn into planet killers.”

“But they’re not so certain about us,” Giacomo said.

“The Brothers were littoral, beach grazers—at least, in their earliest forms,” Jennifer said. “Almost all their cities were located along coastlines. They made artificial beaches inland to feed the growing populations—that was the beginning of civilization for them. They seem embarrassed by their past, as if hunters and gatherers—us—might think beachcombers are inferior.”

“I think their world had little or no axial tilt,” Giacomo said. “No seasons, but with two moons—”

“We haven’t heard any of this!” Martin said, astonished. “Why didn’t you tell us about this sooner?”

“We were waiting to be absolutely sure,” Jennifer said.

“Couldn’t you just ask Norman or Many Smells?”

“Not nearly so simple,” Jennifer said, looking away, fiddling with the overalls at her knees. “The snake mothers may have told them to be careful about telling us too much.”

Martin let his breath out with a low moan. “Why?”

“Because while we’ve been exploring their libraries, they’ve been going through ours, and they’re a lot better equipped to understand them.”

“They’re awed by our capacity for violence,” Giacomo said ruefully. “They became really interested after Rex attacked Sand Filer.”

“Our history is so different,” Jennifer said. “Many Smells watched some of our movies. We tried to interpret for him.”

“The Longest Day,” Giacomo said. “Ben-Hur. Patton. He was particularly confused by The Godfather and Star Wars. Jennifer tried to explain The Forever War. He was pretty quiet afterward, and he didn’t smell like much of anything.”

Martin shook his head, puzzled.

“They don’t release scents when they feel threatened and want to hide,” Jennifer explained. “Sand Filer stunk things up because he was injured. That was his distress call.”

Martin shook his head. “Why weren’t you a little more… selective about what he watched?”

Jennifer blinked owlishly. “I don’t see how we can expect them to be open with their libraries, if we aren’t open with our own. We tried to find some movies we thought they might appreciate more,” she added. “Domestic comedies. Family films. He watched Arsenic and Old Lace. We couldn’t erase first impressions, and after Rex’s attack, who would blame them?”

Martin let out his breath and closed his eyes. “All right.”

“I think they’re having a hard time accepting anything made-up,” Giacomo said. “We had to explain the movies were not about real events. Except the history films—and even those were reenactments, fictionalized.”

“What about literature?”

“They’re just getting into some now. No reaction yet.”

Martin felt a sudden rush of shame: collective, human shame. He rubbed his nose and shook his head. “We may be allies, but not trusted companions.”

“Exactly,” Giacomo said.

“We didn’t want to tell Hans until we were sure. We thought he might take it badly.”

“With him in charge, I don’t wonder the Brothers are worried about us,” Jennifer said.

“He’s under a lot of pressure,” Martin said.

“Hans has gotten us through some tough times,” Giacomo said. “But he’s fragile. Who knows what will happen when things get tough again?”

“Don’t blinker yourself,” Jennifer said.

Martin looked down at the floor, hands clasped. “Tell me more about the annotations, about whatever you think you’ve learned.”

“Their information on other worlds is extensive. The snake mothers have told them more about types of civilizations, levels of technology, past encounters with different civilizations that went killer. We’re still trying to work out the implications.”

“Is it possible,” Martin began, face brightening, “that the Benefactors simply built the snake mothers and the Brothers’ ship after they built ours? Maybe things loosened up. Maybe the Benefactors became less concerned