He laughed again. “Bring your Grandmother back and let me see if her insults are better than yours. You seem to have the skill of my three-year-old great-nephew, and I don’t like children.”
“A great flaw in you, but then you have so many perhaps it doesn’t affect you to admit one more.” Munson started for the arch. Clearly the negotiations had ended without a deal, but both men appeared happy enough with the outcome.
“Go on. Get out,” Tsang shouted.
“Happily,” Munson called as he threaded his way carefully through the crowded front room. Haru followed.
As they reached the street, Haru said, “I apologize for any insult Tsang offered.”
Munson laughed. “Rownt love insults. That’s how we tell each other that we have faith the other person is strong enough to take it and dish it out. I would be offended if he had treated me with kid gloves.” Munson was a strange, tangled knot of English idioms and alien ideas.
Haru led them back toward the car. Earlier, he had wondered if Rownt were fellow travelers on the eight-fold path toward enlightenment. If they were, it would make sense that the Rownt souls, like the souls of humans, could transcend death. If so, it was possible Tsang had met the Rownt or even been Rownt. Haru could believe it, although that was a theory he did not plan to share with his superiors.
However, if Munson appreciated a good insult, Haru could take a chance on some honesty. “I’m fairly sure you both require therapy,” he said.
Munson gave him a huge grin. “Probably. So, let’s go back and discuss what you have to trade for osmium. No doubt it’s not enough, but I’m in a rare generous mood. No doubt your lack of competence has affected my willingness to take advantage of your inferior position.”
Haru shook his head in amusement. “No doubt,” he agreed, and ignoring all his own training in diplomacy, he didn’t even try to make his words sound believable. Perhaps it was time to add more honesty and a few insults to his diplomatic repertoire.
Kensho Part Four
The Grandmother lumbereddown the ramp into a misty rain. She had been on ship far too long because she found the rain irritated her eyes. Earth smelled like Verockt with the heavy metal refining processors belching out toxins into the misted air. The Rownt there used salt water to capture the heavy byproducts and pull it back to the ground where it could be repurposed.
“I can escort you,” Liam offered.
The Grandmother tightened her eyes. Liam had the soul of a palteia, but his concern for her still confused her. Any creature who could earn the attention of a palteia had to feel joy, and she was no exception. But every time he returned to Ondry with undisguised delight, she was left with an emptiness in her life.
She honored Zach and recognized that his loyalties turned to her more with each day, but Liam was so Rownt in his thoughts that he roused her emotions in ways Zach could not. She wondered what the next fifty or hundred years would bring with Zach. It was possible that he would travel the same path Liam had. In that case, she mourned that she would die before him and leave him to suffer as only a palteia could. It was equally possible that Liam was unique and that in fifty years Zach would still long for his home and she would lose him. She worried that her fears would prevent her from committing herself to her palteia as was proper.
Until all the Grandmothers had decided the extent of Rownt and human compatibility, she would cherish Zach and hope that they had a future as secure as the one she saw for Liam and Ondry.
“Your chilta deserves your attention. You have provided the introduction.” The Grandmother said no more. Trade matters with humans were delicate, and Liam was far too insightful to allow him to witness too much. She did not know how humans would react when they realized how Rownt processed small amounts of metals and had few to trade. And Liam did not deserve the burden of carrying that secret. However, as long as humans produced palteia and the depth of the connection between their species was unknown and untested, Rownt would trade with humans, even if they did not wish to.
Liam continued at her side. “I would not want to make you walk alone.”
Liam’s Rownt was far better than Zach’s, but sometimes the Grandmother still struggled to parse the nuance. He could not force her to walk, so his statement was more about his preference. However she was too polite to ask whether he intended to imply he wished to go with her or whether he considered her an obligation.
