Wrot immediately stepped forward. "It is a superb proposal. Hemm supports it completely. So will all of Wathnak, I am sure." He reached up and stroked the bauta on his cheek. "Indeed, I will give up my bauta and seek adoption into this new taif myself."
He gave Aille a benign gaze. "This one is so impulsive he will need sage elders to advise him. Of course, he will have to release me from his service first. Unseemly, otherwise. How could anyone possibly be sure I was selecting his mates for their valuable qualities instead of"—he waggled ears and whiskers simultaneously, conveying a comically-exaggerated version of suspected-impropriety—"those petty matters of comeliness which matter so much to callow youngsters."
Most of the Naukra's members were elders themselves, familiar, as Aille was not, with the secretive workings of kochan-parents. Wrot's amusement was shared, for a moment, by many of them.
Aille himself had been too surprised by Caitlin's proposal to think clearly, much less appreciate the humor involved in Wrot's jest. He was still trying to grapple with the idea of being severed forever from Pluthrak, even though that outcome had been at least half-expected. He was in no position to start thinking about the needs of a newly formed taif. Any taif, much less one as peculiar as this would be.
Him? At his young age? Already a kochan-parent?
Absurd.
He pushed that personal matter aside, to concentrate on the proposal as a whole. It was . . .
Intriguing. That much, for a certainty. Aille could immediately see a multitude of problems, but he could also see an even greater multitude of possibilities.
His intrigue, Nikau immediately made clear, was not shared by the Narvo elder. Her posture, in fact, bordered on indignant-disbelief.
"It is a ridiculous idea!" she exclaimed. Then, catching herself, shifted quickly to a stance of skeptical-consideration.
"A new Jao taif . . . perhaps." She gave Aille a glance. Then, a much longer and considering look at Dau krinnu ava Pluthrak.
"Narvo would not object to that," she said abruptly, "as a way to avoid unnecessary humiliation of Pluthrak as well as Narvo. Whereas we would object—strongly—were Pluthrak to demand the removal of its scion's kroudh status and his return to Pluthrak. Narvo alone will not pay the price for resolving this crisis." Her eyes began to move toward Oppuk's corpse, but shied away. For a moment, even her fierce figure held a hint of grief. "The one we lost here was once namth camiti, whatever he became. Let Pluthrak balance that loss with one of its own."
Aille had already seen that advantage himself. So, obviously, had Dau—and Yaut, for that matter, judging from his stance. To restore Aille to Pluthrak at this point would be to place all blame upon Narvo. On Oppuk, at least. But even cast out and his life given, Oppuk still reflected on his kochan of origin. Whereas retaining kroudh status for Aille would satisfy Narvo that his personal rebellion was being adequately punished. No self-stated kroudh in Jao history had ever had that status removed by the Naukra, after all, for precisely that reason. It would have been too great an insult to the kochan who had been his or her opponents.
On the other hand, if a new and low-status taif chose to adopt him . . .
Who would care? Officially, at least, such would be beneath the notice of a great kochan. Taifs, after all, were often given to impulsive actions and behavior. Such foolishness reflected on no one, not even the kochan which had agreed to take them into affiliation. It was the very function of taif status, after all, to allow a kochan-in-formation the time to learn from its mistakes. Much as crechelings were not held to the same standards as adults.
Nikau continued, more forcefully. "But the idea of a human taif is simply ridiculous. Taif—kochan—these are Jao things. They would fit humans as well as—as—"
Unwillingly, her eyes were drawn to Oppuk's corpse.
"Did you not yourself," Wrot demanded, following her own obvious thoughts, "demand that a human take Oppuk's life? And was there any ground for complaint, after, at the manner in which he did so?"
"It was barbarous, the way he struck," she protested.
Wrot shrugged. "As barbarous as this human gesture? This awkward heaving of the shoulders which is their way of expressing acceptance-of-reality?"
Actually, Aille knew—Wrot knew even better—a human shrug could express a multitude of things. Their body language was crude as well as unformalized, as poorly shaped as any crecheling's. But this was not the time to dwell on that.
Nor did Wrot do so. "What does it matter, truly? If the strike was barbarous, it was also effective. Was it not? As quick—no, quicker!—and, in its own way, as effective as any Jao's."
He pointed at Tully. "Learn to think, all of you. Unless we leave Terra altogether—which no one now proposes, not even humans—we will have to learn to—to—"
He broke off, groping for the words. Then, barked a laugh. "Ha! Human postures are pathetic, I admit, for all but a few like Caitlin Stockwell. But their sayings contain endless wisdom. Here is one, which they apply to marriage—the males to the females, and in reverse: 'you can't live with them, and you can't live without them.' "
All the Jao in the crowd, for a moment, looked almost what humans would call "cross-eyed," trying to follow the jagged logic. But there was something . . .
Wrot barked another laugh. "Yes, intriguing, is it not? So hard to make sense of it, but there's always something . . ."
His posture, though reflecting more than a trace of amusement, settled into benign-acceptance. In the blunt Wathnak version, to be sure. But, given the moment, Aille thought that bluntness was perhaps appropriate.
"Learn to live with it," the old bauta stated. "Caitlin Stockwell's proposal is indeed peculiar—even barbarous, if you will—but it will work. And nothing else will, of that I can assure you."
Now, Wrot pointed to Kralik. "That human is the commander of the Terran jinau. I assure you—and if you don't want to accept my words alone, ask any veteran of Terran service—you do not want him in rebellion. In his own way, and a much larger way, he will be as frightening as Tully."
He stepped back, almost but not quite merging into the crowd. "I have spoken enough. As humans say, 'you can lead a horse to water—a horse being a useful but dumb beast—but you can't make him drink.' So with a Naukra."
The statement verged on insult, but not even the Narvo representatives seemed inclined to take it so. They, perhaps, less than any.
Suddenly, decisively, Nikau krinnu vau Narvo spoke again. "Narvo removes itself from this discussion. We have stated our reservations, but we will not object if the Bond chooses to accept."
A Hij representative stepped forward. "Yet that is what concerns me the most. Never in our history has the Bond been affiliated with any kochan. Is it wise to change that?" He glanced, somewhat apologetically, at the Harriers. "The dangers are obvious."
"Obvious, indeed," echoed the Preceptor immediately. "Yet I have studied human history myself, and believe that the subtleties of the human female's proposal are being misunderstood." He turned to Caitlin. "Correct me if I am mistaken, but I believe your proposal is really for the Bond to assume what you would call 'protectorate status' over these new taifs. As opposed to what you would call 'colonial status.' "
She nodded, wide-eyed. Caitlin was obviously even more surprised than Aille at the Preceptor's knowledge of the details of human history.
The Preceptor turned back to address the Naukra. "The distinction, in human custom, is clear. The Bond's status would be temporary, not permanent. Once the kochan was formed—judged so, by the Naukra—the Bond's status would end. There would be no continuing affiliation, which might lead the Bond to become overly strong and develop particular interests unsuited to its function."
The Hij representative's posture slipped into puzzlement. "How can an affiliation not be permanent? I can see that, to be sure, with the human taif, since no bloodline connection is possible. But with the Jao taif being proposed—ah."
In the corner of his eye, Aille saw Yaut struggling not to adopt the same posture Aille was struggling not to adopt. Incredulity-at-blatant-stupidity was a most impolite stance to take at any gathering, much less that of the Naukra.
The Hij, clearly enough, had just realized what was obvious. And the Preceptor, though neither his stance nor his tone indicated anything beyond neutrality, put it into words.
"The Bond is not a kochan. We do not breed. Therefore the normal bloodline ties which would develop between a taif and its kochan are impossible."
His next words were spoken even more decisively than Nikau's.
"Only the Bond can make this decision. We will, of course, consult with kochan representatives." His eyes went quickly from Dau to Nikau and back again. "I will specifically want Pluthrak and Narvo involved in the negotiations."
Nikau began to stiffen, but the Preceptor's gaze upon her was now hard, not neutral. "I understand that Narvo has removed itself from this discussion. But there are other matters which will need to be discussed."
"Such as?" she demanded, half-angrily.
"Let us begin with the fact that this planet has suffered immense damage—and then neglect." Tactfully, he did not name names. "If the Bond is to assume this burden, it will expect the greatest of the kochan to assist in the necessary reconstruction. Our own resources are primarily devoted to the war against the Ekhat."
The same could be said of Narvo's, of course—or Pluthrak's, or the resources of any of the great kochan. But, with only a moment's hesitation, Nikau indicated her assent. With the barest possible posture, true, but assent nonetheless. She might not like it—did not like it—but she realized she could not evade the matter. Narvo had escaped open humiliation, but they would still pay a price for their neglect in overseeing Oppuk. Still, a price in resources could be paid, easily enough, by a kochan as great as Narvo, since there was no insult implied to the kochan's honor.
Dau krinnu vau Pluthrak had already assumed the posture of agreement-assent. The Preceptor glanced at him, then his eyes moved over the assembled Naukra.
"It is settled, then. Unless there is open opposition, I propose this Naukra has ended."
He waited, politely, to see if any opposition would emerge. None did, of course. With the Bond taking such a firm stance, and with both Narvo and Pluthrak assenting, no kochan would be foolish enough to object.
Besides, Aille thought, for the most part they were all simply relieved. They might think privately that the proposal was preposterous. But it was no longer any of their concern, after all—let the Bond deal with the human maniacs. The matter which had truly concerned them, and caused every Jao kochan and most taifs to send representatives to this Naukra, was now settled.
Narvo and Pluthrak were no longer on the verge of open conflict. Indeed, the first possibility of association seemed even to have emerged. The Human Problem remained, to be sure. But that was the Bond's problem, henceforth. The Terran Crisis was over.
Suddenly, the sense of completed flow was overwhelming. Moving as if with a single will, the Naukra dispersed, each kochan moving toward its own ships.
"That is still purely creepy to me," Aille heard Tully mutter. "How do they do that, anyway?"
But Tully's savage grin was back also. "Not that I wouldn't mind it if humans could learn the trick. After watching Rob Wiley's headaches trying to get a damn Resistance meeting to end. Or start on time."
Kralik bent low over Caitlin's white face and smoothed a stray golden tendril back. She was lying on a cot, now, back in the tent, after having gotten some medical attention.
He desperately wanted to kiss her but was afraid of hurting her face. The bruise was spreading.
"It's a pain, isn't it?" Caitlin asked softly, chuckling. "Maybe the Jao will finally stop beating on me long enough that we can—you know, Ed. Get laid, dammit."
Kralik smiled. He'd been thinking exactly the same thing. When Caitlin had first proposed to him—okay, suggested that he propose to her—he'd agreed instantly because of his general attraction to the woman. But, once the situation settled into his mind, the more profane aspects of their new relationship had surged to the fore. To his loins, to be precise. Caitlin was gorgeous on top of everything else, even with her arm in a cast and her face bruised.
It had been . . . frustrating, to say the least. And still was.
But there was no point dwelling on the problem. It would be happily resolved, and soon, once Caitlin healed enough. Caitlin might be inexperienced, and therefore a little nervous about sex, but she'd made perfectly clear she was not reluctant. Quite the opposite, in fact.
"Something to look forward to," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "But now that the dust seems to be settling, sweetheart, how about explaining this little bombshell you just dropped on everybody. What the hell is a taif, anyway? Exactly, I mean. In general, I understand it's something like a junior kochan."
Dr. Kinsey's voice interjected. "A probationary kochan, would be more accurate. Or, better yet, a trainee-kochan."
Kralik hadn't seen him coming. The professor waved his hands apologetically. "I don't mean to intrude though, if this is a private moment."
Caitlin smiled up at him. "Private moment? In a tent jammed full of soldiers? Please, Doctor Kinsey. I'm not a prude, but—still!"
Kinsey chuckled. So did Kralik. She nodded toward a nearby stool, and raised her voice. "Have a seat. And I imagine everyone here would like to hear what you have say."
Kinsey perched himself on a stool and waited until the people in the tent had gathered around.
"The origin of the institution of taif goes all the way back, in Jao history. It's something of a necessity, if you think about it. There are still isolated groups of Jao slaves to this day, in Ekhat captivity. There were far more, in the time after the Jao rebellion began. So, from the start, the Jao were faced with the problem of what to do with newly freed slaves. In some cases, so far as I can determine—especially when the number of freed slaves was small—they were simply adopted into whatever kochan freed them. But marriage-groups are deeply innate in the Jao, and were so even among slaves. Personally, I suspect the Ekhat bred that into them, in order to keep their numbers under control."
By now, he'd adopted his favorite professorial stance in the absence of a proper desk—hands clasped in his lap, when not gesturing with them right and left.
"You can see the difficulty. Breaking up a Jao marriage-group is even more traumatic for them than divorce is for us. So, the taif was created to resolve the problem."
He paused, looking professorially alarmed. "You all understand, of course, that I'm simplifying grossly. No doubt the taif-institution was never 'created,' in the sense that one creates a machine. Rather, it would have evolved—"
"Cut to the chase, Professor," Tully grumbled. "We're not scholars. We'll all forgive you any lapses into imprecision. Personally, I'd appreciate them. I'm a simple-minded grunt."
Kinsey looked a bit startled, but recovered quickly. "Well, then. So long as it's understood—" He hurried on, since Tully was starting to glare.
"The point being that Caitlin's proposal fits us rather neatly into an already existing Jao custom. The only unusual aspect of it, in fact—other than the obvious one of applying the institution to a species other than Jao—is her proposal to have the Bond serve as the overseeing kochan. The 'trainer kochan,' if you will."
Tully rolled his eyes. "Oh, great. Wrem-fa on a planetary scale." But he didn't really seem aggrieved.
"It's the best possible solution," Kinsey insisted, "if the Bond agrees. For humans, certainly. We'll have roughly—very roughly—a status equivalent to one of the old United Nations trusteeships or protectorates. Except, with the Bond, I don't think we'll have to worry that the supposedly benign colonial power is really using its protectorate status to maintain what amounts to permanent colonial rule. Maybe, we'll see. But as problems go, that one's in the future and nothing like the problem of being under direct Narvo rule—or the direct rule of any kochan. The Bond, of course, would oversee us, and would effectively control matters of defense and 'foreign relations.' But they'd leave our own internal affairs to us. The truth is, since 'defense' and 'foreign affairs' now refers to the Ekhat war, we're in no worse shape than we were before the conquest when we didn't know about any of that anyway. Except—ha!—give the Jao this much, they got rid of all those damn endlessly bickering nation-states. I, for one, won't miss that at all."
His clasped hands were now waving back and forth. "The best part, though, is Caitlin's proposal of a double taif, because that will . . ."
Kinsey's voice trailed off, his eyes now riveted on something in the direction of the tent's entrance.
Kralik swiveled his head and saw that Aille had entered the tent, with Yaut and Wrot preceding him. When he looked back down at Caitlin, he saw that her face was paler than ever.
"He's going to beat me to a pulp," she predicted. "Sorry, Ed. You'll be horny a while longer. If Yaut starts in on me, at least a year."
But there was no anger in Aille's posture, as he gazed down at her. Caitlin couldn't quite tell what there was, since Aille's body was flowing from one posture to the next, never settling on any. As though he, too, hardly knew what to think.
"A fascinating idea," he said. "Why did you not propose it to me before?"
"I—" Caitlin blinked. "I only thought of it myself as we walked out to the circle." She smiled wanly. "There only seemed two alternatives. The Bond would find either for Narvo or Pluthrak, neither of which I thought would be good. But I was remembering that my father says there is always a third way, if you look hard enough."
Tully grunted, smiling strangely.
"Will the Bond agree?" Kralik asked.
"They already have," announced Wrot. "No sooner than the Naukra were safely back on their ships, all except Narvo and Pluthrak, whom the Preceptor had instructed to remain behind. I think the Narvo was most aggrieved."
His ears waggled sheer glee. "And Dau krinnu ava Pluthrak even more so. Ha! Enjoyable, that was. To see a subtle Pluthrak elder realized he'd been out-maneuvered by someone. Of course," he added, in an ameliorating tone, "it was the Bond's Strategy Circle."
Aille's own posture flickered, for a moment, into an odd combination of chagrin and . . . yes, amusement also.
"It is true, I suspect," Aille admitted. "I think now this entire affair, from the very beginning, was—was—"
" 'Engineered,' would be the human term," Wrot advanced, not perhaps helpfully. "Or better still, 'orchestrated.' "
"That is not helpful," growled Yaut. "Wisely has it been said—by Jao!—that old bautas are often a curse."
Caitlin frowned. "Surely the Bond didn't . . . I mean, they certainly have never had any contact with me."
Yaut shrugged, the gesture coming to him now as easily and smoothly as it would to a human. "Their strategists do not think in human terms, Caitlin. When you think of 'strategy,' your thoughts are like those of you who play that silly game I have seen. Called 'chess,' I believe. Angular, if you will, this move leading to that. Such is not the Bond's way. They think like Jao, in terms of flow. Create a situation and let it unfold."
He gave Wrot a none-too-friendly sidelong look. "So. Whether he is right or not, I do not know. What I do know is that dealing with this old one will be difficult, in the years ahead. He is too smug."
Wrot looked smug. "Especially since I am, so far, the eldest of the new elders of the new taif. Though I won't be, if that Binnat makes up her mind. Ha! Binnat has always been prone to indecisiveness. But she is also very shrewd, that one. She would make an excellent elder."
"You've already decided upon elders?"
Yaut and Wrot stared at her, as if she were a cretin. "Of course," Yaut snorted. "How is this difficult? Who else would there be, beyond me and Wrot and Hami? And, as he says, the one Binnat, if she agrees."
He glanced at Aille. "The others—this one especially—are obviously too young and impulsive and immature. Though, I admit, the breeding stock looks splendid."
Caitlin shook her head, trying to catch up. "That's not what I meant. How many Jao have agreed to leave their existing kochan and join the new taif? I would have thought . . . that would take a long time, for a Jao to decide. It can't have been more than two hours since the Naukra dispersed."
The answer was obvious, even before they spoke. All of Aille's personal service, of course. And . . .
"How many?" she whispered, already knowing she had become part of a new legend.
"Hundreds, girl," Yaut said softly, "here at Pascagoula alone. Thousands—tens of thousands—once the news spreads across the planet. Aille's name will draw them like a magnet. He has become almost as popular among Jao here as among humans. And why not? Has he not rescued them from what seemed an eternity of endless confrontation with humans?"
For a moment, Yaut looked uncomfortable. "Besides . . . There are many veterans on Terra who like it here, if the conflicts would cease. It is a stimulating world, whatever else. And—being honest—it is not always easy, for those who are of low-status in low-status kochan. With a new taif, their lives will be more open, their possibilities for association greatly expanded."
Wrot's snout wrinkled. "That—coming from a Pluthrak fraghta! I could tell you tales . . . But, it is not needed."
He drew himself up into a flamboyantly self-righteous posture: "I will not be the first to dredge up ancient grievances! Not Wrot! Once Wrot krinnu Hemm vau Wathnak—and now, Wrot krinnu Aille vau Terra."
He was looking smug again. "We already chose the name. Me and Yaut and Hami—even consulted with the dilly-dallying Binnat—as the new elders. Took no time at all. Jao do not squabble like humans. The name was obvious, once we settled with the Preceptor that it would be unseemly to name the Bond as the root clan."
Krinnu Aille . . .
Living in a legend, indeed. Caitlin knew that the names of Jao clans derived from that of their most illustrious founding member. Sometimes male, sometimes female—but, always, not one of the elders but one of the founding parents.
She realized, suddenly, why Aille's posture—normally so controlled and elegant—was wavering all over the place. And could not stop herself from bursting into laughter.
Whatever else he was, however impressive in so many ways, Aille shared one characteristic in common with Caitlin herself. He was a virgin, too—and, unlike her, knew almost nothing about sex, even intellectually.
Just to make things worse, clearly enough the new taif elders were not about to waste any time. A bride—okay, groom, what's the difference when you're that naïve?—on the eve of his wedding!
Wrot confirmed her guess. Smugly.
"We will begin pouring the new kochan-house tomorrow. On the Oregon coast. With a big mating pool, of course. This will be a vigorous taif, ha! We will gain kochan status in no time!"
He and Yaut both bestowed looks of firm resolve upon Aille.
"And this one will make himself of use," Yaut stated.