“He didn’t know,” she said. “I haven’t had time to tell them about the babies.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to; she remembered having her babies before in the hospital, where some of the staff handled them as if they were dolls or animals. She thought that was how Kira Stavi would handle these babies; she was sure the woman had never borne children.
“Nnot know uhoo click-kaw-keerrr?” Bluecloak asked.
“Not know,” Ofelia repeated. “He did not know.”
Bluecloak said something to the other two, and they slid their long knives back into their belts. Ofelia still couldn’t understand them when they talked so fast, but she did catch the word click-kaw-keerrr in the midst of the utterance.
“Gurgle-click-cough?” she asked. “And the little ones?”
Bluecloak let out one grunt, and its eyelids sagged shut. Sleeping, was she? Natural, after a birth. Ofelia wondered if she nursed the babies, or if they ate other food. And if so, who brought it?
“Is that their leader?” asked Vasil from behind her. “Is that why it’s wearing that blue thing?”
Ofelia turned, trying not to wince visibly as her ribs and leg twinged. “This is Bluecloak,” she said. “I call it that because of the cloak; I can’t say its real name.” She turned back to Bluecloak. “This is Ser Vasil Likisi,” she said. “He’s the leader.” The others were in the doorway now; as they came out, Ofelia said their names: Kira, Ori, Bilong. Bluecloak said nothing, only standing there in the hot sunlight, head slightly tilted.
“You were talking to it,” the young woman said. “I heard you—can you make it say something?”
Ofelia said to Bluecloak. “This is the linguist, who will study how you talk.” From the glint in his eye, she thought he had been understanding more of this than he let on.
Bluecloak looked past her at Bilong. “Uhoo Pihlog.” Ofelia could have laughed at the expression on the girl’s face.
“It said my
Bluecloak rattled off a long sequence of squawks, grunts, clicks, and other sounds which seemed to delight Bilong; Ofelia suspected it was something as meaningless as the alphabet.
“Are you all right?” the other woman asked. She looked truly concerned.
“My head hurts,” Ofelia said.
“No wonder. I was so shocked I couldn’t move—I’m sorry, but I just froze—”
“It’s all right,” Ofelia said. The woman must be really ashamed, to say so much. Perhaps she had some proper feelings.
“Uhoo Kirrahhh,” Bluecloak said. It extended a hand, which the other woman took warily.
“Four fingers . . .” she breathed.
“And toes,” Ofelia said.
“Bi-sexed?” the woman asked, as if Bluecloak had not just shown that he could understand much of what was said.
“I haven’t looked,” Ofelia said primly. She wasn’t going to admit she still couldn’t tell. It was quite true that she hadn’t looked; it would have been rude.
“Of course, it’s not your field,” the woman said, as if Ofelia were an idiot for not knowing. Ofelia’s momentary sympathy for her vanished.
The whole team clustered around now, the four civilians staring, pointing, talking among themselves, as if the creatures were statues in an art gallery, or animals in a zoo. The two armed men stood stiffly by the house, glaring at them. It was stupid, out here in the hot sun. Ofelia’s head throbbed; she wanted to be in the shade. Her house didn’t have enough seats for all these, but the center did.
“You could come into the center, out of the sun,” Ofelia said. “There are plenty of chairs in the center.”
“That’s very kind of you,” the stocky man said, looking around. Of course, they wouldn’t know where it was.
“It’s over there,” said the older woman, the one who had known Ofelia’s house by the family name. She started that way, and Ofelia repressed a desire to hit her. She should have let Ofelia lead her there; it was not
Bluecloak touched her shoulder. “Kuh?” Yes, she thought, cold is exactly what I want. Cold ice on my head, cold drink in my throat. Bluecloak walked beside her, the others still chattering, and Kira Stavi in the lead. Then Kira stopped short. In the doorway of the center, three more of the creatures, standing stiffly and looking at the group with those intense eyes. Ofelia felt the wicked giggle in her throat, and her hand rose to cover her mouth.
“Explain to them,” the tall man said. “Explain that it’s all right for us to go inside.”
Ofelia walked past Kira and the others with Bluecloak. The creatures in the door stepped back, and Ofelia waved the others inside.
“You really shouldn’t—” she heard from behind her. The two armed men, she supposed, didn’t want their charges to be out of sight and surrounded by alien killers. She didn’t want the humans there either, but she had no better idea.
“It’s all right,” the tall man called back. “If they haven’t hurt the old woman, they won’t hurt us.”
