Scrimshaw had come aboard the ship with live food, a tall chrome-and-white barrel of something oily and slithering that smelled of soured milk. None of the crew had observed xin eating, as xe did not make use of the galley. In the absence of knowledge, their imaginations ran wild as to the preparation of xist meals. Talis intended to broach the subject eventually, when she learned to better gauge xist personality.
The alien had been keen to begin language lessons with Talis and anyone else who would join them. Sophie volunteered with enthusiasm, but both men declined. Tisker proclaimed that he hadn’t spent a day in school in his entire life and he didn’t intend to start now. Dug stayed quiet and kept his reasons to himself. Their choice. Talis didn’t see the point of the lessons in the long term either, but it made for a good distraction while they sailed, and she admitted she was almost as curious about the aliens as Sophie was. The more cultural differences that emerged through conversation, the more intrigued Talis became.
The first lesson covered a dizzying number of pronoun groupings the aliens used in Yu’keem, their language. What Talis had originally taken for a gender indicator, Scrimshaw explained was related to class, not anatomy. ‘Xe,’ and its fifty—dear gods, fifty—variations, were of the ‘respectful non-class’ pronoun category. Scrimshaw informed them, when Talis complained of the length of that list, it was only one of nine pronoun categories. There were honorary, noncommittal, and dismissive pronouns for Yu’Nyun premier, artisan, and drone classes, plus something Scrimshaw referred to as ‘transitional.’
Talis had a knack for picking up languages, but she’d never learned one in a classroom setting. She was learning new words in her own language, as Scrimshaw threw terms around like ‘prepositional object possessive indefinite’ and made her head spin. She was relieved that Scrimshaw thought they could get by with just the respectful non-class category, despite xist concern that offering too much respect to the wrong subordinate would be seen as a weakness.
Sophie absorbed it all, however. She was a fast study in any subject that piqued her curiosity, and to say that included the aliens was an understatement. She hungrily ate up any morsels of information the alien would offer. Talis was almost certain Sophie had already memorized at least the singular pronouns which would come up in their conversations with and about their guest. For Talis, however, Yu’keem was demanding more of her patience than any native Peridot language ever had. It was a small grace that Peridot had several equivalent pronouns, mostly plurals, which Scrimshaw said would suffice.
While Scrimshaw did seem driven to teach them to speak Yu’keem, xe had not been as eager to discuss any topic that delved into the nature of Yu’Nyun society. Anything xe admitted seemed to be filtered through extreme trepidation and, when xe did answer a direct question, xist eyes darted side to side as though xe feared being overheard. Talis couldn’t figure it. Sophie’s questions were about simple things, cultural and physiological stuff. The answers to which, whatever they were, could hardly be sensitive enough to keep secret. But their alien passenger was obviously bothered by the risk, so Talis went at the issue sideways, always trying to ask Scrimshaw about xist-self rather than asking general questions about the Yu’Nyun. From that, she built the clues up into a rough profile.
Class was everything, and appearance an integral part of that. Scrimshaw admitted as much when they needed xin to explain an idiom about textiles which had no local equivalent. The social class of an individual dictated the clothing and accessories they wore. An elitist tendency that, it seemed to Talis, must span the universe. But the aliens’ system was far more formalized than that of Cutter folk. All citizens, according to Scrimshaw, adhered to the strict class-based conventions. There were no variations allowed for special occasions or casual situations. No dressing up for, or attending, an opulent gathering if you were someone’s housekeeper. No dressing down if you were an aristocrat. There were harsh penalties, from what Talis could gather, for those who tried to bend the boundaries of propriety.
Scrimshaw followed, xe explained, the permitted style of a skilled artisan. Xist chin lifted and xe squared xist shoulders as xe explained that all language was poetry. To xin, words were as carefully selected as the fabric of xist drapes and bands, or the designs that had been cut into xist body.
But that was all xe would say on the topic of the aliens’ strange body engraving.
The previous night, Sophie spent hours sitting on Talis’s bunk and wondering aloud about all the new questions raised in her mind by the first lesson. Having none of the answers to sate her curiosity, Talis eventually kicked the young woman out of her cabin as kindly as she could—though it eventually took a captain’s order—so she could get some sleep.
From the persistent yawning Talis had observed throughout the day, she knew Sophie hadn’t slept at all. But her mood had lifted, and the barely contained enthusiasm was preferable to the arguments Talis knew hovered just beyond the edges of their conversations. She wished the unspoken ceasefire could last.
Sophie reappeared after making a circuit of the railing, apparently having failed to spot a mermaid. She’d finally put on her coat, though her teeth chattered beneath the stiff hood.
“Want me to invite xin up top, Captain?”
Talis tried to imagine the alien in their foul weather gear, with xist long limbs hanging out of the sleeves and the extended oblong shape of xist head rendering the hood useless.
“Feel free to try,” she said with a shrug, though she had to yell to be heard.
Sophie scurried off.
