Law of Survival by Kristine Smith

bag, on the shelf of my closet.”
    â€œIn a bag. On a shelf in your closet. Perhaps I should ask you to keep your concern there, as well.”
    â€œNìRau—!”
    â€œOur Hansen died wearing his.”
    â€œHis ring fit him out of the box. You didn’t have his ring made too small so he’d have to shrink into it. The fact that he wore his didn’t signify that he had become point man for a new race!”
    â€œPoint man…out of the box…” Tsecha patted his pockets and wished for his handheld. “You confuse me with your words as no other.”
    Jani strode away from him, flexing her arms as a youngish bird. “If you’re so easily confused, maybe you shouldn’t talk so much.”
    â€œI did not risk my life and soul to come to this damned cold place so that I could remain silent!” Tsecha rounded his shoulders in irritation. Jani’s constant twisting made his own muscles ache. He closed in on her, his back hunched in anger. “All I hear from you is censure! Lecture as to how I should act. Why? There are no wasps. They cannot threaten to kill me anymore.”
    Jani slouched in response, so quickly and smoothly that Tsecha straightened in surprise. “Don’t be so sure.” She slipped into Low Vynshàrau, her muted gestures hard and swift. “If I told you it was as Rauta Shèràa, I would not be far from wrong.”
    Tsecha looked up at the sky, its clear blue broken only by the swoop of seabirds. “As Rauta Shèràa, is it? Then where are the demiskimmers, nìa? Where are the bombs?”
    â€œExplosives aren’t the only things that can blow up inyour face.” Jani must have sensed his abating temper, since she drew up straighter as well. “Will you behave until I tell you it is safe?”
    Tsecha twitched his shoulder as he had seen her do so many times, when she wanted to seem to answer without actually telling him anything. He had gotten quite good at it, in his opinion. “No more disputation with Anais?”
    Jani smiled. “On the veranda, or in your rooms, fine. But not during public meetings.”
    â€œNo more musical gatherings with Colonel Derringer?”
    â€œGood God, no.”
    â€œYou worry after me.”
    â€œConstantly.”
    They regarded one another. Tsecha sensed fondness in Jani’s relaxing posture, which he always knew to be there. He sensed exasperation, as well, which he had grown to accept. He turned to walk back to the embassy, beckoning her to walk ahead of him, as was seemly. If he needed to behave, now would be a good time to start. “You are well, nìa? I notice that you seem pained.”
    Jani looked him in the eye. The afternoon sun struck her full-face, lightening her green irises to the color of new leaves. But the bright light overwhelmed the diffusing ability of the filming—her pale green sclera showed beneath the hydropolymer the way a dark shirt showed beneath a pale overrobe. “I’m all right. Just a little achy.” Then the shadow of a tree branch played across her face, sharpening bone and darkening skin to gold-brown. She lifted and cupped her right hand in a gesture of resignation, the movements as smooth as though performed beneath water.
    Tsecha watched her move as no human could, and felt the clench in his soul. You are as Rauta Haárin now, and truly. She had become as he always knew she would, as he always wished she would. Why then did he feel sadness? Why then did he feel fear? “Winter comes,” he said, because he could think of nothing else to say.
    â€œYes, nìRau. I can feel it in my bones.” Jani’s voice sounded as dead. As she turned her back to him, a wasp swooped near her face. She reached out and caught it in her animandroid left hand, then with a single swift movementopened her hand and smashed her palm against the grid of the pestzap installed alongside the entry. The wasp shot