Shadow World by A. C. Crispin, Jannean Elliot Page A
Authors: A. C. Crispin, Jannean Elliot
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The golden eyes were troubled. "Hin will speak no more of death. It is time to go for lessons."
Mark blinked rapidly and took several deep, steadying breaths. Dammit, Kenner, get hold of yourself! This is no way to relate to a nonhuman culture, by creating taboo subjects!
"No, it's all right," he said as soon as he could trust his voice, "I should have realized about your parents when you told me about your lifecycle the other night. And anytime you want to talk about the Mortenwol, or the Elseewas, or anything
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else in your culture, you go right ahead. We've got to learn about each other, that's what you're here for, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, your ways are what work for you, and if every Elpind knows hin's going to see hin's parents die ... well, if dancing helps you prepare for that, then dancing is the thing to do. If I could have prepared for my mother's death"--Mark's voice trembled--"it would have helped me, I know."
Animation came back into Eerin's eyes. "Mark Kenner will be a great interrelator," hin announced firmly.
The Elpind turned away and headed down the corridor with hin's customary skips and hops without seeing Mark shake his head soberly. The human followed, wondering whether he should tell Eerin of his plan to leave StarBridge once this project was over.
It would be too hard to explain, Mark decided. And it really didn't matter anyway. Negatives, Mark was discovering, had little claim on Eerin.
Three days later, once again in the observation dome and once again after the Mortenwol, the subject of life and death on Elseemar resurfaced ... but this time it was Cara Hendricks asking the questions, during her formal interview with the Elpind.
She's really good, Mark thought, watching her work. Overhead the stars provided a stunning backdrop, and since the transparent plas-steel dome went all the way to ground level, he could look out across the asteroid's rock-strewn, desolate surface, lit only by the starlight. He turned away from the disturbingly close horizon, bounded by the mountain peaks of the Lamont Cliffs, to look down at his friends as they sat together on the floor, cross-legged.
Cara's camera hovered over her shoulder, but she seemed oblivious to it; her whole attention was focused on Eerin. As a result, the Elpind had also forgotten the camera. Cara is the most fascinated listener hin has encountered here, the young man realized, amused. And Eerin is loving it!
Mark was relieved to find himself more relaxed than he'd thought he might be. He'd dreaded the idea of losing his composure again, especially in front of Cara, when the inevitable
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discussion of Elspind and their death rituals surfaced. At first he'd planned to absent himself.
But his interest in alien cultures that had given him the dream of being an interrelator in the first place had won out over his unease, and now Mark was glad. It helped to be nothing more than an observer--it wasn't the same as discussing the painful topic firsthand. He was learning a lot about the Elspind that he hadn't known.
"What is your home like, Eerin?" had been the young journalist's first question.
Eagerly the Elpind had described Lalcipind, "Beautiful Gathering Place of the People" in the foothills of a great mountain range: the simple homes nestled beneath the tall trees on the hillsides, the clear, swift-flowing rivers that ran down into the lush valley below where the crops were grown. Eight walks-under-the-sun-and-under-the-moons away lay the sea. Eerin had made the journey once to gaze upon its endless expanse from the top of a steep cliff that dropped straight down to the rocks and the heaving water.
There were deserts on Elseemar, too, the Elpind told them. These vast stretches formed a wide girdle of hot, arid land that bordered the mountain ranges on the central continents.
"Tell us about your people's First Contact with the CLS" was Cara's next request.
Mark knew the story from the CLS's viewpoint, but was fascinated now to hear
Mark blinked rapidly and took several deep, steadying breaths. Dammit, Kenner, get hold of yourself! This is no way to relate to a nonhuman culture, by creating taboo subjects!
"No, it's all right," he said as soon as he could trust his voice, "I should have realized about your parents when you told me about your lifecycle the other night. And anytime you want to talk about the Mortenwol, or the Elseewas, or anything
72
else in your culture, you go right ahead. We've got to learn about each other, that's what you're here for, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, your ways are what work for you, and if every Elpind knows hin's going to see hin's parents die ... well, if dancing helps you prepare for that, then dancing is the thing to do. If I could have prepared for my mother's death"--Mark's voice trembled--"it would have helped me, I know."
Animation came back into Eerin's eyes. "Mark Kenner will be a great interrelator," hin announced firmly.
The Elpind turned away and headed down the corridor with hin's customary skips and hops without seeing Mark shake his head soberly. The human followed, wondering whether he should tell Eerin of his plan to leave StarBridge once this project was over.
It would be too hard to explain, Mark decided. And it really didn't matter anyway. Negatives, Mark was discovering, had little claim on Eerin.
Three days later, once again in the observation dome and once again after the Mortenwol, the subject of life and death on Elseemar resurfaced ... but this time it was Cara Hendricks asking the questions, during her formal interview with the Elpind.
She's really good, Mark thought, watching her work. Overhead the stars provided a stunning backdrop, and since the transparent plas-steel dome went all the way to ground level, he could look out across the asteroid's rock-strewn, desolate surface, lit only by the starlight. He turned away from the disturbingly close horizon, bounded by the mountain peaks of the Lamont Cliffs, to look down at his friends as they sat together on the floor, cross-legged.
Cara's camera hovered over her shoulder, but she seemed oblivious to it; her whole attention was focused on Eerin. As a result, the Elpind had also forgotten the camera. Cara is the most fascinated listener hin has encountered here, the young man realized, amused. And Eerin is loving it!
Mark was relieved to find himself more relaxed than he'd thought he might be. He'd dreaded the idea of losing his composure again, especially in front of Cara, when the inevitable
73
discussion of Elspind and their death rituals surfaced. At first he'd planned to absent himself.
But his interest in alien cultures that had given him the dream of being an interrelator in the first place had won out over his unease, and now Mark was glad. It helped to be nothing more than an observer--it wasn't the same as discussing the painful topic firsthand. He was learning a lot about the Elspind that he hadn't known.
"What is your home like, Eerin?" had been the young journalist's first question.
Eagerly the Elpind had described Lalcipind, "Beautiful Gathering Place of the People" in the foothills of a great mountain range: the simple homes nestled beneath the tall trees on the hillsides, the clear, swift-flowing rivers that ran down into the lush valley below where the crops were grown. Eight walks-under-the-sun-and-under-the-moons away lay the sea. Eerin had made the journey once to gaze upon its endless expanse from the top of a steep cliff that dropped straight down to the rocks and the heaving water.
There were deserts on Elseemar, too, the Elpind told them. These vast stretches formed a wide girdle of hot, arid land that bordered the mountain ranges on the central continents.
"Tell us about your people's First Contact with the CLS" was Cara's next request.
Mark knew the story from the CLS's viewpoint, but was fascinated now to hear
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