Trident's Forge by Patrick S Tomlinson Read Free Book Online

either the contrasting patterns that G’tel used during the daytime, or the waves of gentle blue light they used at night. In fact, the only change in the human’s skin Kexx had seen at all was a slight reddening, but that seemed to have more to do with too much time in the sun than trying to communicate anything. Instead, the visual cues for their language were hand gestures, shifts in the tone and volume of their childlike voices, and frustratingly subtle, rapid movements and changes to their strangely contoured faces.
    Right now, for example, Mei’s soft mouth was turned up at the corners, small creases had formed on zer cheeks, and zer eyes were half shut. Kexx had come to recognize this arrangement as either contentment and happiness, or squinting against a bright light. Which one was it now? Was it both? There was no way to know.
    Before the visitors arrived, it never occurred to Kexx to think of the spoken and visual parts of their language as separate components, but now it was foremost on zer mind. Mei was proving to be a fast learner, but even as ze mastered the words, they were flat, devoid of emotion, intentions, and all the tiny social and hierarchal nuances that Kexx had always taken for granted.
    Mei was equally aware of the problem and trying fast to come up with zer own solutions. Conversations with zer were held back by zer limited vocabulary, but that was changing with shocking speed as ze picked up new words by the handful daily, much faster than even the brightest G’tel child. But her progress with the visual part of G’tel language was just as slow and plodding as Kexx’s was with zers.
    Mei noticed Kexx staring and zer expression changed once more. Ze’d tried to explain to Kexx that among zer people, staring at someone was considered rude. But among G’tel, watching someone intently was polite. It meant you were paying attention to what they were thinking, saying, or feeling, clues to all of which were on the skin for everyone to see.
    â€œWhat, Kexx?” Mei said in zer mouth’s best approximation of the words. Then, she slowly ran three fingers widely spaced up her arm. Ze was trying to mimic the pattern of stripes G’tel would make to convey the emotion behind the question. Stripes radiating out from their chest and down their arms was a signal that the person was trying to push away defensively, or in annoyance. But stripes moving from their hands toward their core was an invitation to come closer out of curiosity or concern. Mei was trying to say she wasn’t offended and wanted to talk.
    Very clever, this one.
    â€œYou are happy?” Kexx asked.
    Mei exhaled fully, then laid back on the ground with one of zer strange, ridged arms tucked behind zer head and closed zer eyes.
    â€œYes. Many,” ze whispered. Kexx assumed ze’d meant to say “very” instead of “many,” but the distinction was a small one and zer meaning was conveyed regardless. It was a drastic change from the days after Mei and the rest of zer people had washed ashore. They were all on the verge of starvation and sick as uliks caught out in the sun. Six of them had already died by the time they arrived from… wherever they’d come from. It was nearly a full Varr before they recovered, and two more of them died in the process.
    Through the grace of Xis, all of the children had survived, including Mei’s own child, Sakiko. What had happened to the child’s other parent, or the bearer, ze hadn’t said. Maybe there was nothing to say, maybe it was too painful. Kexx couldn’t begin to imagine what the survivors had been through out on the open ocean for so long. There was a reason G’tel swam and fished in the shallows near the shore. The deep ocean held dangers colder and darker than anything living under the stars. To build their “boat” to float out among those dangers seemed like madness. But Mei was not mad, none of the