Honor of the Clan: Prologue

    The room was ornate in a way that put rococo to shame. On the walls, many of the sub-details in the gilded reliefs incorporated fractals, so that one could have examined the gilded scenes and abstract curlicues with a microscope and not run out of exquisite detail. The base for the gilding was a white substance similar to ivory, but with an opalescent sheen that no elephant tusk could ever boast.

    All in all, the effect would have given a Himmit a heart attack, had one of those worthies tried to rest on that surface, and had it had a heart. The other surfaces were similarly ornate, reducing the Himmit on the carpet to a body surface of merely gothic levels of detail, that shifted quiveringly. Every hour or so, the Himmit placed a forelimb against its head, as if it was in pain.

    In the center of the room, a large table held piles of cushions, upon which a tall, hooded figure sat, cross-legged. A museum curator from Earth would have identified the item as an enlarged reproduction of a Louis XV-era table. The top was Vermont marble, the carved wood a close equivalent of the original giltwood. It was the plainest thing in the room. It lifted the seated Darhel so that his head was slightly higher than when he stood, placing him in a dominant position over any being that might enter his office, though it left his body servants little choice but to use little wheeled step-stools whenever their duties required actual contact.

    The Indowy standing in front of him now had no such need. The little green creature showed no apparent discomfort from craning its neck to look at a spot somewhere near the base of the throat of the hooded Darhel. It was used to it.

    While the Darhel's hooded, gray cloak concealed all but his basic shape, the Indowy wore no clothes. It would have interfered with the photosynthetic, green filaments all over its surface. Bipedal and straight-spined, height somewhat less than a meter, its body and face had a vaguely ursine quality.

    The Darhel's voice had a melodious, liquid quality as he addressed the lower being in front of him. “This situation disrupts the entire plan. It is grossly unacceptable. Curse the Epetar group for clag food! What were the rest of you thinking? Progress be damned, I'll be hard pressed to salvage something other than outright war over this,” he fumed.

    “Abject apologies, your Ghi--” The Indowy got no farther.

    “Don't bother. You, yourself, didn't do it, so your apologies are hardly sincere for all that you speak for others. Shut up and let me think.”

    This Darhel was very forthright, and the Indowy shivered as it stood. A blunt Darhel was a dangerous Darhel. It meant he was prone to act abruptly, with the indirection necessary for his own survival, but with a decisiveness absent the normal subtle maneuverings—action that gave no time to get one's clan clear of the damage. The Indowy did as it was told; not because of the immediate danger but again, because it was used to it.

    After an interminable length of time, the Darhel turned his head slightly towards his AID. “AID. Make me an appointment with Phxtkl. Tell him I find I'm craving a game of Aethal and I would appreciate it if he can fit me into his schedule.”

    The Indowy decided that it was more likely than not to be in the interests of his clan to volunteer some information. “Your Ghin, I have news that the O'Neal is traveling to Barwhon to approach the Tchpht on something of a...diplomatic mission,” it said.

    The Darhel were not known for their sense of humor. Indeed, so seldom was their humor triggered that its existence was largely regarded as mythical. The Indowy before him and the Himmit in the corner were, therefore, shocked senseless when the Darhel on the table collapsed backwards in paroxysms of laughter. At first they thought he had gone into lintatai. So sure were they that the Indowy was halfway out the door and the Himmit prying frantically to enlarge the small crack in the ceiling through which it had entered. They were frightened as much by the hacking rasp, so different from the normal, carefully cultivated Darhel voice.

    “Stop...stop...” he rasped. “I'm not...it's just...O'Neal...diplo...too funny.” The rasping crept into its voice. Since Darhel entering lintatai almost never spoke, the two other creatures had to wonder if, underneath all that control, this was the Darhel's real voice. It took very little time for him to regain control of himself.

    “Yes, not being stupid, we Darhel are not blind to irony. That's the best news I've heard all day. You're dismissed. Both of you.”

    If the Himmit was affronted, neither of the other species had the experience with its expressions to discern it. The crack at the edge where the ceiling met the wall widened around the body of the Himmit as it exited, sealing back to invisibility behind it. The Darhel had mused aloud several times about getting the rift fixed, but decided that the mutual inconvenience to himself and the Himmit was pointless. After all, he would then have to weaken a seam on another wall, the Himmit would have to make another incision, there might be a gap where he couldn't communicate with them without the indignity of asking for an actual meeting. Pointless. A complete waste of his valuable time.

    Besides, his décor made the other creature completely visible. That it also gave the other a headache would not occur to the Ghin. Sympathy was not, after all, a Darhel emotion.

    To human eyes, the Ghin was an average-looking Darhel. To human eyes, Darhel fur looked metallic gold or metallic silver, with black traces threading through; the Galactic's eyes a vivid green in a white sclera, laced with purple veining.

    There were no humans in the office. The Tchpht who was present saw the Ghin in a rather different light. The eyes, so vivid to humans, were rather dull; but the fur glinted brightly, like the color play across anodized titanium.

    “I greet you, Phxtkl. Thank you for granting me the favor of a game,” the Ghin said.

    “It is always a pleasure to instruct, oh merely expert student of Aethal.” The Tchpht bounced rapidly upon its ten legs, tapping in a sequence that was either arhythmic or too complicated for the Darhel to decode. No one knew if the Tchpht meant to give offense or not when they used blunt descriptors in speaking to others. Since they were similarly descriptive with their own, more often than not, and still seemed to interact in a functional way, the other Galactics had decided that tact was absent from the Tchpht make-up.

    It didn't matter. Tact was no part of the Ghin's purpose today. He made no further commentary, but merely moved to the Aethal table in the center of the room. Pieces were positioned within a holographic display.

    “I wished to start from this position and play out the problem, if you would.”

    “You are placing me in a position of much advantage, although you are allowing yourself much opportunity. Are you sure you wish to choose this starting configuration?”

    “Yes. Very sure.”

    “This is quite likely to be in my critique at the end of the game.”

    “I understand. Perhaps better than you realize.”

    “Ah. So you have a purpose in your choice. You make the game interesting. And, of course, your problem draws from existing conditions, with much variation.”

    “Of course. Many problems and configurations may arise in the game,” the Ghin offered.

    “Within reason, oh erring and insufficiently experienced student,” the Tchpht said.

    Their play proceeded at a dignified rate, Phxtkl withholding commentary for most of the game, as was his custom. He would wait until major crises in a problem emerged before lecturing on errors and the alternate options which a lower ranked opponent might have selected.

    Merely rating high expert in the game, the Ghin was not ranked in the Galactic standings. Tchpht and Indowy masters played him on request out of deference to his position, but equally from what the humans would call the “waltzing bear” factor. Very few Darhel treated Aethal with anything other than tolerant contempt, as a meaningless distraction from the realities of power and commerce. Intangible relationships had power only so long as they were honored. Darhel only honored relationships as stipulated by contract, rendering the alliances and intricacies of Aethal meaningless from their point of view. Or, more accurately, irrelevant to their own lives.

    The game drew to a crisis, a positioning almost certain to weaken the Ghin's position enormously, and, by extension, grossly distort the interactions of Phxtkl's pieces in an unfavorable way.

    “Now it is time for my comment, oh arrogant slave to physical items.” The master highlighted a section of the display in a red haze. “Observe this section and how it is now cut off from the influence of your web, held by only the tiniest of threads, the minimum connection that never ends. It may seem an insignificant set of resources, but look at the potential.” The Tchpht pointed to various nexus pieces above the table. “Despite the loss of face here, here, and here, or the losses in several of your tertiary relationships, this was a critical play.”

    “I see that. I will set up an alternate problem for just a moment,” the Ghin said. He had no worry of losing the current game which was, of course, saved in his AID. If Phxtkl was surprised that the referenced alternate problem was already crafted and saved, he gave no sign, bouncing and tapping upon his low stool as always.

    “Here is a starting problem. You will see the relationship to a recent past current Galactic situation. Here is the current situation. You see, of course, the likely moves if no sacrifices are made to alter the web.”

    The alien creature was silent for a long few moments, looking at the three displays. “I disagree with a number of the particulars of the various patterns, but...your overall point is taken. Isolation is loss of influence. Avoiding that is worth much. Worth enough, in this case.” Phxtkl was still for a few seconds, in his species' equivalent of a deep, martyred sigh. “This is one of the least enjoyable games of Aethal I have ever played, oh intriguing schemer of much age. Today, I have been the student; unpleasantly so. I must make some necessary social sacrifices to continue the movement you have begun just now. I wish you success, oh annoying one, and I leave.”

    “Leave for Earth.” The Ghin was uncharacteristically blunt. “You have something to repair.”