Marianne glanced at Tatep. “What day is it now?” she asked. She knew enough about local time reckoning to know what answer he’d give.
“Why, today is Tememb Nap Chorr.”
She grinned at the faces around her. “By Rejoicer reckoning, the day changes when the sun sets-it’s been Christmas Day for an hour at least now. But stand back and let the kids find their presents first.”
There was a great clamor and rustle of wrapping paper and whoops of delight as the kids dived into the pile of presents.
As Marianne watched with rising joy, Tatep touched her arm. “More guests,” he said, and Marianne turned.
It was Chornian, his mate Chaylam, and their four children. Marianne’s jaw dropped at the sight of them. She had invited the six with no hope of a response and here they were. “And all dressed up for
Christmas!” she said aloud, though she knew Christmas was not the occasion. “You’re as glittery as the
Christmas tree itself,” she told Chornian, her eyes gleaming with the reflection of it.
Ruff and tail, each and every one of Chornian’s short-clipped quills was tipped by a brilliant red bead. “Glass?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Chornian. “Killim made them for us.”
“You look magnificent! Oh-how wonderful!” Chaylam’s clipped quills had been dipped in gold;
when she shifted shyly, her ruff and tail rippled with light. “You sparkle like sun on the water,”
Marianne told her. The children’s ruffs and tails had been tipped in gold and candy pink and vivid yellow and- the last but certainly not the least-in beads every color of the rainbow.
“A kid after my own heart,” said Marianne. “I think that would have been my choice too.” She gave a closer look. “No two alike, am I right? Come-join the party. I was afraid I’d have to drop your presents by your house tomorrow. Now I get to watch you open them, to see if I chose correctly.”
She escorted the four children to the tree and, thanking her lucky stars she’d had Tatep write their names on their packages, she left them to hunt for their presents. Those for their parents, she brought back with her.
“It was difficult,” Chornian said to Marianne. “It was difficult to walk through the streets with pride but-we did. And the children walked the proudest. They give us courage.”
Chaylam said, “If only on their behalf.”
“Yes,” agreed Chornian. “Tomorrow I shall walk in the sunlight. I shall go to the bazaar. My clipped quills will glitter, and I will not be ashamed that I have spoken the truth about Halemtat.”
That was all the Christmas gift Marianne needed, she thought to herself, and handed the wrapped package to Chornian. Tatep gave him a running commentary on the habits and rituals of the human
Awakening as he opened the package. Chornian’s eyes shaded and Tatep’s running commentary ceased abruptly as they peered together into the box.
“Did I get it right?” said Marianne, suddenly afraid she’d committed some awful faux pas. She’d scoured the bazaar for welspeth shoots and, finding none, she’d pulled enough strings with the ethnology team to get some imported.
Tatep was the one who spoke. “You got it right,” he said. “Chornian thanks you.” Chornian spoke rapid-fire Rejoicer for a long time; Marianne couldn’t follow the half of it. When he’d finished, Tatep said simply, “He regrets that he has no present to give you.”
“It’s not necessary. Seeing those kids all in spangles brightened up the party-that’s present enough for me!”
“Nevertheless,” said Tatep, speaking slowly so she wouldn’t miss a word. “Chornian and I make you this present.”
Marianne knew the present Tatep drew from his pouch was from Tatep alone, but she was happy enough to play along with the fiction if it made him happy. She hadn’t expected a present from Tatep and she could scarcely wait to see what it was he felt appropriate to the occasion.
Still, she gave it the proper treatment-shaking it, very gently, beside her ear. If there was anything to hear, it was drowned out by the robust singing of carols from the other side of the room. “I
can’t begin to guess, Tatep,” she told him happily.
“Then open it.”
She did. Inside the paper, she found a carving, the rich wine-red of burgundy-wood, bitter to the taste and therefore rarely carved but treasured because none of the kids would gnaw on it as they tested their teeth. The style of carving was so utterly Rejoicer that it took her a long moment to recognize the subject, but once she did, she knew she’d treasure the gift for lifetime.
It was unmistakably Nick-but Nick as seen from Tatep’s point of view, hence the unfamiliar perspective. It was Looking Up At Nick.
“Oh, Tatep!” And then she remembered just in time and added, “Oh, Chornian! Thank you both so very much. I can’t wait to show it to Nick when he gets back. Whatever made you think of doing Nick?”
Tatep said, “He’s your best human friend. I know you miss him. You have no pictures; I thought you would feel better with a likeness.”
She hugged the sculpture to her. “Oh, I do. Thank you, both of you.” Then she motioned, eyes shining. “Wait. Wait right here, Tatep. Don’t go away.”
She darted to the tree and, pushing aside wads of rustling paper, she found the gift she’d made for Tatep. Back she darted to where the Rejoicers were waiting.
“I waited,” Tatep said solemnly.
She handed him the package. “I hope this is worth the wait.”
Tatep shook the package. “I can’t begin to guess,” he said.
“Then open it. I can’t stand the wait!”
He ripped away the paper as flamboyantly as Nick had-to expose the brightly colored nutcracker and a woven bags of nuts.
Marianne held her breath. The problem had been, of course, to adapt the nutcracker to a recognizable Rejoicer version. She’d made the Emperor Halemtat sit back on his haunches, which meant for less adaptation of the cracking mechanism. Overly plump, she’d made him, and spiky. In his right hand, he carried an oversized pair of scissors-of the sort his underlings used for clipping quills. In his right, he carried a sprig of talemtat, that unfortunate rhyme for his name.
Chornian’s eyes widened. Again, he rattled off a spate of Rejoicer too fast for Marianne to follow...except that Chornian seemed anxious.
Only then did Marianne realize what she’d done. “Oh, my God, Tatep! He wouldn’t clip your quills for having that, would he?”
Tatep’s quills rattled and rattled. He put one of the nuts between Halemtat’s jaws and cracked with a vengeance. The nutmeat he offered to Marianne, his quills still rattling. “If he does, Marianne, you’ll come to Killim’s to help me chose a good color for my glass beading!”
He cracked another nut and handed the meat to Chornian. The next thing Marianne knew, the two of them were rattling at each other-Chornian’s glass beads adding a splendid tinkling to the merriment.
Much relieved, Marianne laughed with them. A few minutes later, Esperanza dashed out to buy more nuts-so Chornian’s children could each take a turn at the cracking.
Marianne looked down at the image of Nick cradled in her arm. “I’m sorry you missed this,”
she told it, “but I promise I’ll write everything down for you before I go to bed tonight. I’ll try to remember every last bit of it for you.”
###
Christmas with Tatep and Chornian and, for that matter, whoever wanted to join in the festivities. To hear Clarence tell it, I’ve sent Rejoicing to hell in a handbasket.
“You see, it does Halemtat no good to clip quills these days. There are some seventy-five Rejoicers walking around town clipped and beaded-as gaudy and as shameless as you please. I even saw one newly male (teenager) with beads on the ends of his unclipped spines!
“Killim says thanks for the dyes, by the way. They’re just what she had in mind. She’d so busy, she’s taken on two apprentices to help her. She makes ‘Christmas ornaments’ and half the art galleries in the known universe are after her for more and more. The apprentices make glass beads. One of them-one of Chornian’s kids, by the way-hit upon the bright idea of making simple sets of beads that can be stuck on the ends of quills cold. Saves time and trouble over the hot glass method.
“What’s more-
“Well, yesterday I stopped by to say ‘hi’ to Killim, when who should turn up but Koppen-you remember him? he’s one of Halemtat’s advisors? You’ll never guess what he wanted: a set of quill tipping beads.
“No, he hadn’t had his quills clipped. Nor was he buying them for a friend. He was planning,
Page 10
he told Killim, to tell Halemtat a thing or two-I missed the details because he went too fast-and he expected he’d be clipped for it, so he was planning ahead. Very expensive blue beads for him, if you please, Killim!
“I find myself unprofessionally pleased. There’s a thing or two Halemtat ought to be told....
“Meanwhile, Chornian has gone into the business of making nutcrackers. -All right, so sue me, I showed him how to make the actual cracker work. It was that or risk his taking Tatep’s present apart to find out for himself.
“I’m sending holos-including a holo of the one I made-because you’ve got to see the transformation Chornian’s worked on mine. The difference between a human-carved nutcracker and a
Rejoicer-carved nutcracker is as unmistakeable as the difference between Looking Up at Nick and...well, looking up at Nick.
“I still miss you, even if you do think fireworks are appropriate at Christmas.
“See you soon-if Clarence doesn’t boil me in my own pudding and bury me with a stake of holly through my heart.”
Marianne sat with her light pen poised over the screen for a long moment, then she added,
“Love, Marianne,” and saved it to the next out-going Dirt-bound mail.
###
Midsummer’s Eve
(Rejoicer reckoning)
Dear Nick-
This time it’s not my fault. This time it’s Esperanza’s doing. Esperanza decided, for her contribution to the our round of holidays, to celebrate Martin Luther King Day. (All right-if I’d known about Martin Luther King I’d probably have suggested a celebration myself-but I didn’t.
Look him up;
you’ll like him.) And she invited a handful of the Rejoicers to attend as well.
Now, the final part of the celebration is that each person in turn “has a dream.” This is not like wishes, Nick. This is more on the order of setting yourself a goal, even one that looks to all intents and purposes to be unattainable, but one you will strive to attain. Even Clarence got so into the occasion that he had a dream that he would stop thinking of the Rejoicers as
“Pincushions” so he could start thinking of them as Rejoicers. Esperanza said later Clarence didn’t quite get the point but for him she supposed that was a step in the right direction.
Well, after that, Tatep asked Esperanza, in his very polite fashion, if it would be proper for him to have a dream as well. There was some consultation over the proper phrasing-Esperanza says her report will tell you all about that-and then Tatep rose and said, “I have a dream.... I have a dream that someday no-one will get his quills clipped for speaking the truth.”
(You’ll see it on the tape. Everybody agreed that this was a good dream, indeed.) After which, Esperanza had her dream “for human rights for all.”
Following which, of course, we all took turns trying to explain the concept of “human rights” to a half-dozen Rejoicers. Esperanza ended up translating five different constitutions for them-and an entire book of speeches by Martin Luther King.
Oh, god. I just realized...maybe it is my fault. I’d forgotten till just now. Oh. You judge, Nick.
About a week later Tatep and I were out gathering wood for some carving he plans to do-for Christmas, he says, but he wanted to get a good start on it-and he stopped gnawing long enough to ask me, “Marianne, what’s ‘human’?”
“How do you mean?”
“I think when Clarence says ‘human,’ he means something different than you do.”
“That’s entirely possible. Humans use words pretty loosely at the best of times-there, I just did it
myself.”
“What do you mean when you say ‘human’?”
“Sometimes I mean the species homo sapiens. When I say, Humans use words pretty loosely, I do. Rejoicers seem to be more particular about their speech, as a general rule.”
“And when you say ‘human rights,’ what do you mean?”
“When I say ‘human rights,’ I mean Homo sapiens and Rejoicing sapiens. I mean any sapiens, in that context. I wouldn’t guarantee that Clarence uses the word the same way in the same context.”
“You think I’m human?”
“I know you’re human. We’re friends, aren’t we? I couldn’t be friends with-oh, a notrabbit-now, could I?”
He made that wonderful rattly sound he does when he’s amused. “No, I can’t imagine it. Then, if I’m human, I ought to have human rights.”
“Yes,” I said, “You bloody well ought to.”
Maybe it is all my fault. Esperanza will tell you the rest-she’s had Rejoicers all over her house for the past two weeks-they’re watching every scrap of film she’s got on Martin Luther King.
I don’t know how this will all end up, but I wish to hell you were here to watch.
Love, Marianne
###
“Hello,” she said, stooping to meet the child’s eyes. “What a pretty toy! Will you show me how it works?”
Rattling all the while, the child showed her, step by step. Then he (or she-it wasn’t polite to ask before puberty) said, “Isn’t it funny? It makes Mama laugh and laugh and laugh.”