A World of Difference by Harry Turtledove

burden.
    “It’s Biyal,” Numar said.
    “How sad,” Lamra echoed. But she did not sound full of grief, no more than if she were speaking of a broken pot or, at most, a dead animal she did not care much about one way or the other. She was too young to grasp that Biyal’s fate awaited her as well. As if to underscore that, she said, “Feel me, Reatur. I think I’m going to bud.”
    Reatur ran fingers along her body. Sure enough, the barest beginnings of bulges were there. “I think you are, too, Lamra,” he said, as gently as he could.
    “Good,” Lamra said. No, Reatur thought, she did not understand the connection between buds and death that so abridged mates’ lives. Sadness pressed on him. Lamra was a mate he cared for more than he had for any in years. She was more uniquely herself than most mates ever got to be in their limited spans. He would miss her when her time came. Maybe, he thought, a minstrel would be visiting the domain then, and he could pay the fellow for a song by which to remember her.
    While he was musing, Numar was getting bored and annoyedthat no one was paying attention to her anymore. She poked Lamra with three arms at once, then raced off down the hall. Letting out a squawk loud enough to wake half the mates who were sleeping, Lamra dashed after her.
    Reatur got Biyal out of the mates’ quarters and barred the door behind him. He was taking the corpse to the fields when he almost ran into Enoph, who was on his way back from the humans’ flying house. More questions, Reatur supposed; the humans asked more questions and poked their eyes—even without eyestalks—into more places than any people the domain-master had ever known. If they had not been so spectacularly strange-looking, he would have suspected them of being Skarmer spies.
    Enoph peered through the gloom. When he recognized what Reatur was dragging after him, he asked, “Would you like me to take care of that for you, clanfather?”
    “Eh? No, thank you, Enoph. Mates get all too little in life; I try to give them what I can, and to honor them as I can after they die, as well.”
    Enoph opened and closed a hand in agreement. “Yes, I think you act rightly, clanfather. I have two mates in my booth, and treat them as well as I can. For one thing, they’re more fun to be with that way than when you don’t try to train them and just leave them like animals.”
    “I certainly think so,” Reatur said.
    “Are the budlings well?” Enoph asked.
    “The male is large, and seems sturdy. So do the five mates, come to that.” Reatur let air sigh through his breathing-pores. “Time will tell.” So many budlings died young. If a male lasted five years, he might well live a long life … if. Many mate budlings never lived to receive buds themselves. And those who did, no matter how strong and healthy they were, had only Biyal’s fate to look forward to.
    “How many males is it for you now?” Enoph asked.
    Reatur had to count on his fingers and was not quite sure even when he had finished. “I think this puts me within three of filling my fourth eighteen,” he said at last.
    “A goodly sum,” Enoph said. In the gathering darkness, Reatur could hardly see the younger male’s eyestalks. “I’ve had four myself, only one still alive. The mates budded with them have not done well, either.”
    It was Reatur’s turn to open and close his hand. “Few who aren’t domain-masters have the food to spare to keep many matesalive even to budding age,” he said sympathetically. “I daresay we’d run short of them if they didn’t come five to our one.”
    “Something to that.” Enoph widened himself. “I’ve kept you long enough from what you came out here for, clanfather. I’ll leave you to it now.” He started back toward the castle’s out-walls.
    Reatur let him go, though he had been glad enough of the interruption. Saying farewell to a mate was not a task he approached eagerly. He dragged Biyal’s corpse to a part of the