Honor - Kevin Killiany [23]
“Anyone who must rely on a mediator is failing to take responsibility for their own judgment,” Solal said tersely. “A challenge can be a comparison of data. Or a duel. Important challenges, challenges to honor or to leadership of the community, can be battles to the death.”
Apparently excited by his topic, Solal leapt to his feet, leaving the debris of his lunch where it fell. Pulling a cleaning cart, a lamp, and another chair into the clear area near Pattie’s cage, he marked out a rectangle about five meters by three.
“Actually, it’s a square,” he said, adjusting the position of his lunch chair, “but then I’d have to move the racks—of poles this high.” He indicated something just above his head—about two meters, Pattie estimated. “The one issuing the challenge stands here, in the center, and points to the one he challenges, then to the ground in front of him.” Solal pointed at an imaginary adversary somewhere to Pattie’s right, then to his feet. “The one being challenged selects the weapons, if any, and they fight.”
Solal leapt about the rectangle, evidently miming some form of martial art. The awkwardness of his movements caused Pattie to suspect he wasn’t very good at it.
“To the death?” she asked.
“Rarely,” Solal said, ending his bout in an apparent draw. “Sometimes points, sometimes first blood, usually when one admits defeat.”
“So, Solal,” came a woman’s voice from among the racks and shelves at the far side of the warehouse. “Who have you defeated?”
Pattie dropped to all eights, resisting the temptation to roll into a defensive ball.
“Uh, no one, Slilila,” Solal stammered, clumsy in confusion. “I was just—”
“Imagining great victories,” the woman finished for him as she stepped into the open area. “We all do it. Just most of us take more care not to be overheard. Or do you plan on challenging Sonandal over the eradication?”
“No!” Solal uttered his protest emphatically, apparently missing the teasing tone that even Pattie could discern. “The tree dog infestation is a danger that must be addressed thoroughly and directly.”
“You quote well.” Slilila chuckled. “Which is as directly and thoroughly as a youth exempted use of weapons can take responsibility for the solution.”
When the Smaunif spoke, Nasat tinkled from Pattie’s combadge, lying with its rag among Solal’s lunch trash. Fortunately, it was close enough to the cage that the sounds could seem to be coming from Pattie. She tried to help the illusion by waving her antennae every time the combadge repeated the Smaunifs’ words.
Solal belatedly realized what was happening. He hurriedly scooped up the combadge, bundling it tightly in the trash and rag, then stuffed the lot into the waste can on the cleaning cart. He had the wit to park the cart next to Pattie in case any further sounds emerged.
Solal left with Slilila, apparently already late for some shared chore, leaving Pattie with her combadge less than a meter away but completely inaccessible.
Chapter
11
The devastation covered several thousand acres.
A dense carpet of what looked like saplings, though Corsi realized they were trees built along a more normal scale, washed up around the base of the giant banyans. The abrupt demarcation between rain forest and what looked like conifers must have indicated something about the soil, but Corsi didn’t know what.
From her vantage point beside Copper on a low branch of one of the giant banyans, Corsi could see a giant rectangle of the conifers about a kilometer distant had been clear-cut. There were several low buildings of wood and metal near the center of the cleared area. Just beyond them was what looked like a broad straight road to nowhere. A landing strip, she decided, for something very large or something that needed as much margin of error as they could give it. To the right of the buildings a shallow basin, perhaps a hundred meters across, had been dug in the soil and lined with metal. The thin metal tower