uplift4.brightnessreef-第74部分

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　　It　fits　our　notion　that　these　humans　do　not　e　from　the　main　branch　of　the　race！　They　aren't　representatives　of　Earth；　in　other　words；　but　e　instead　from　an　offshoot　that's　bound　in　loyalty　to　the　Rothen；　a　race　claiming　to　be　the　long…lost　patrons　of　humankind。
　　Recall　how　Mother　used　to　have　us　debate　the　Origins　Question？　One　of　us　arguing　the　Danikenite　side　and　the　other　supporting　the　Darwinists？　At　the　time　it　seemed　interesting　but　pretty　pointless；　since　all　our　facts　were　out　of　texts　three　hundred　years　old。　Who　would　think　we'd　live　to　see　an　answer　proclaimed　on　Jijo；　before　our　eyes？
　　As　to　the　validity　of　the　Rothen　claim；　I　can't　add　anything　to　the　report　except　that　Ling　and　the　others　seem　passionately　to　believe。
　　Lark　took　a　sip　from　an　earthenware　cup　of　springwater。　He　dipped　the　pen　again。
　　Now　for　the　big　news　everyone's　excited　about。　It　seems　we're　about　to　get　our　first　glimpse　of　one　of　these　mysterious　beings！　Within　hours；　one　or　more　Rothen　are　scheduled　to　emerge　from　their　buried　station　and　join　a　pilgrimage　to　the　reawakening　Egg！　All　this　time；　we　never　guessed　their　starship　had　left　any　of　them　behind　with　Rann　and　the　others。
　　The　mons　is　tense　as　a　violus　that's　been　strung　too　tight。　You　could　cut　the　anxiety　here　with　an　overused　metaphor。
　　I'd　better　wrap　this　up　if　I'm　to　slip　it　in　the　mail　packet。
　　Let's　see。　You　also　asked　about　〃neural　taps。〃　Do　the　aliens　use　such　things　to　municate　directly　with　puters　and　other　devices？
　　I　was　going　to　answer　yes。　Ling　and　the　rest　do　carry　tiny　devices　that　bring　them　voice　and　data　information；　arriving　as　if　by　magic　from　afar。
　　Then　I　reread　your　account　of　the　Stranger's　injury　and　reconsidered。　The　forayers　mand　their　machines　by　voice　and　gesture。　I　never　saw　anything　like　a　brain…direct　puter　link；　or　the　sort　of　〃instant　man…machine　rapport〃　Ariana　spoke　of。
　　Now　that　I　think　about　it
　　Lark　dipped　the　pen　again；　poised　to　continue；　then　stopped。
　　Footsteps　clattered　on　the　gravel　path　beyond　his　tent。　He　recognized　the　heavy；　scrape…ratchet　of　a　gray　qheuen。　Nor　was　it　the　casual；　unpretentious　rhythm　of　Uthen。　This　was　a　stately　twist…and…swivel　cadence；　using　a　plex　ripple　of　alternating　feet…a　difficult　aristocratic　step；　taught　by　chitinous　matriarchs　who　sometimes　styled　themselves　royal　queens。
　　Lark　laid　down　his　pen　and　closed　the　portfolio。　A　low；　wide　silhouette　loomed　against　the　tent　flap。　Harullen's　voice　was　acpanied　by　fluting　sighs　from　three　speech　vents；　each　singing　a　different　note　in　a　high　qheuenish　dialect　of　Galactic　Six。
　　〃Friend　Lark；　are　you　within？　Please　greet　me。　I　e　bearing　precious　gifts。〃
　　Lark　lifted　the　flap；　shading　his　eyes　as　he　emerged　from　dimness　to　face　the　lowering　sun；　poking　sharp　rays　between　rows　of　forest　giants。　〃I　greet　you；　Harullen；　faith…rade；〃　he　replied　in　the　same　language。
　　Harullen　wore　pilgrim's　robes　draped　across　his　pentagonal　carapace；　leaving　the　central　cupola　uncovered。　The　g'Kek…woven　finery　shimmered　under　glancing　sunshine。　It　took　a　moment　for　Lark's　adapting　eyes　to　spot　what　else　was　different…something　wound　around　the　qheuen's　ash…colored　cupola。
　　〃Aha；〃　he　mented；　slipping　into　a　more　relaxed　sevenish　dialect。　〃So　it's　true。　The　mask　renews　its　offer。〃
　　〃To　take　nourishment　of　our　bodies　in　exchange　for　revelation　of　the　soul。　Indeed。　The　mask　returns　among　us。　Caves　which　had　seemed　barren　now　swarm　with　labile　young　rewq；　even　as　the　Egg　resumes　its　patterning　song。　Are　these　not　good　omens？　Shall　we　rejoice？〃
　　With　a　snap　of　one　claw；　Harullen　signaled　to　a　lornik；　which　had　been　crouching　out　of　view　behind　its　master。　The　small　servant　creature　hurried　around　the　qheuen's　great　flank；　scuttling　and　twisting　in　a　four…legged　imitation　of　Harullen's　own　stately　walk。　With　small；　three…fingered　hands　it　bore　a　box　of　polished　wood；　showing　fluted　traces　of　personal　tooth…carving。
　　〃From　among　this　crop　of　cave　fledglings；　there　were　many　shaped　for　noble　human　brows；〃　Harullen　continued。　〃Please　accept　these　to　choose　from；　as　offerings　of　deep　esteem。〃
　　Lark　took　the　box　from　the　lornik；　knowing　better　than　to　thank　or　make　eye　contact　with　the　shy　creature。　Unlike　chimps　and　zookirs；　lorniks　seemed　able　to　bond　only　with　the　race　that　brought　their　ancestors　to　Jijo；　nearly　a　thousand　years　ago。
　　He　lifted　the　delicately　grooved　lid　of　the　gift　box；　which　by　qheuenish　tradition　had　been　gnawed　by　the　giver　and　could　never　be　used　again　for　any　other　purpose。　Inside；　resting　on　a　bed　of　garu　sawdust；　several　clusters　of　brown…speckled　tendrils　quivered；　coupled　by　colored　bands　of　translucent　film。
　　There's　been　so　little　time。　I've　had　so　many　duties。　This　really　is　a　fine　favor。。。。
　　Still；　all　told；　Lark　would　rather　have　gone　to　the　caves　and　picked　his　next　rewq　for　himself；　as　he　had　done　on　three　other　occasions　since　passing　puberty。　It　seemed　strange　to　choose　one　out　of　a　box。　What　was　he　to　do　with　the　others？
　　Several　tentacles　raised　tentatively；　reaching　toward　the　light；　then　twisting；　searching。　Only　one　pair　showed　no　indecision；　wafting　gently　in　Lark's　direction；　spreading　a　gossamer　web　between　them。
　　Well；　it's　a　humaniform　rewq；　all　right；　he　thought。　It　looks　new；　robust。
　　To　feel　diffident　was　only　natural。　A　person　usually　held　on　to　a　personal　rewq　for　many　years。　It　had　been　painful　to　watch　helplessly　as　the　last　one　wasted　in　its　moss…lined　pouch；　during　the　many　weeks　the　Egg　was　silent。　Nor　could　he　share　someone　else's　symbiont。　Among　humans；　one　was　more　likely　to　pass　around　a　toothbrush　than　a　rewq。
　　〃My　gratitude　is　manifest　in　acceptance　of　this　unexcelled　gift；〃　he　said。　Though　reluctant；　Lark　lifted　the　squirming　mass　to　his　brow。
　　His　former　rewq　had　been　like　a　pair　of　old　shoes…or　a　favorite　pair　of　urrish…made　sunglasses…fortable　and　easy　to　use。　This　one　twitched　and　wriggled　in　agitated　eagerness；　palpating　his　temples　in　avid　search　of　rich　surface　veins　where　it　might　feed。　The　gauzy　membrane　spread　taut　over　Lark's　eyes；　rippling　with　the　rewq's　own　excitement；　conveying　nothing　more　useful　than　a　wave　of　vertigo。　It　would　take　time　to　reach　an　understanding　with　the　new　creature。　Ideally　you　let　your　old　one　teach　the　new；　during　an　overlapping　time　before　the　elderly　rewq　died。
　　Ifni's　miracles　often　have　ironic　timing。　We　had　to　face　the　aliens　for　so　long　without　the　help　rewq　might　have　offered。　Now；　at　a　critical　moment；　they　return　so　suddenly　that　they　may　only　prove　a　distracting　hindrance。
　　Still；　for　courtesy's　sake；　he　pretended　pleasure；　bowing　and　thanking　Harullen　for　the　fine　gift。　With　luck；　Harullen's　own　rewq　would　be　noisy　too；　and　not　convey　any　of　Lark's　own　mixed　feelings。
　　The　heretic　leader's　satisfaction　was　evident　in　a　mincing；　clattering　dance　of　feet　and　dangling　claws。　The　film　over　Lark's　eyes　added　a　blur　of　sparks　that　might　be　translated　qheuenish　emotions…or　else　just　static　from　the　excited；　untrained　rewq。
　　Then　Harullen　abruptly　changed　the　subject；　slipping　into　Anglic。
　　〃You　know　that　the　time　of　pilgrimage　is　almost　at　hand？〃
　　〃I　was　just　writing　a　letter。　I'll　don　my　robe　and　join　our　group　at　the　Wheel　Stone　in　a　midura。〃
　　Partly　because　Ling　requested　Lark's　presence；　the。　Sages　had　granted　the　heretical　faction　two　sixes　among　the　twelve　twelves　selected　to　make　the　first　climb；　setting　forth　to　greet　the　rousing　Egg。　Since　hearing　the　news；　Lark　had　felt　a　familiar　heat　ing　from　the　knob　of　stone　that　hung　by　a　thong　around　his　neck。　His　reminder　and　penance。　No　pilgrimage　was　ever　easy　wearing　that　amulet。
　　〃Very　well；　then；〃　Harullen　replied。　〃At　the　Wheel　Stone　we　shall　consider　the　zealots'　latest　entreaty　before　proceeding　to　join。。。〃
　　The　heretic's　voice　trailed　off；　muffling　as　he　crouched　down；　drawing　all　five　legs　into　his　carapace；　bringing　his　sensitive　tongue　into　contact　with　the　ground。　This　time；　Lark's　rewq　conveyed　a　vivid　image　of　emotions…a　halo　depicting　distaste　mixed　liberally　with　disapproval。
　　Harullen　resumed。　〃There　is　another　on　the　trail。　One　whose　stone…hard　lineage　is　belied　by　disorderly　foot…haste。〃
　　One　whose　what　is　what？　Lark　puzzled。　Sometimes　the　way　other　races　used　Anglic　left　him　confused。　Maybe　it　wasn't　such　a　good　thing　the　chaotic　human　language　had　bee　so　popular　on　Jijo。
　　Soon　he　also　felt　ground…tremors；　tickling　the　soles　of　his　feet。　A　five…beat　vibration　even　more　familiar　than　Harullen's　earlier　footsteps。　Similar　to　that　rhythmic　beat；　yet　simpler；　less　aristocratic；　a　pace　too　hurried　and　eager　to　waste　time　on　etiquette　or　show。
　　Another　armored　form　burst　into　view；　trailing　twigs　and　leaves。
　　Like　Harullen；　Uthen　the　Taxonomist　was　dressed　for　pilgrimage…in　a　carelessly　draped；　once…white　rag　that　flapped　behind　him　like　somebody's　old　bedsheet。　His　carapace　was　a　slightly　deeper　shade　of　slate　than　his　disdainful　cousin's。　Like　Harullen；　Uthen　wore　a　new　rewq；　which　might　explain　his　stumbling　progress；　twice　veering　off　the　path　as　if　distracted　by　swarms　of　buzzing　insects。　Lark　peeled　his　own　reluctant　symbiont　back　from　his　eyes。　He　needed　no　h