Whose aplomb was still considerable—but Caine could see that he was working hard at it. “Caine, may I present our honored guests, including He Who Is First Voice of the First Family.” Downing’s eyes indicated the second largest of the Hkh’Rkh, whose spine-tufts were slightly blackened and thinner, even wispy, at the tips. He also had more irregularly pebbled—or was that wart-covered?—skin seamed by cicatrices so venerable that they had begun to determine how the faintly sagging flesh fell in flaps: old, but still tough. “First Voice of the First Family, my apologies that I do not know how to greet you in your own language, or with your own gestures, but we—”
First Voice made a sound that resembled someone clearing their nose into a pipe. “Your ignorance is best: unhonored, your attempt at a formal greeting would be an insult to any who possess honor. The more honor they possess, the greater the insult.” His tongue—a long, thin, black whip—sawed out of his nose and roiled about like a garter snake having a seizure. “And it is rumored that I possess some small measure of honor.” Four of the other Hkh’Rkh also let their tongues writhe about in response: was this laughter?
The last one—the smallest of the group—stepped in Caine’s direction; his tongue had darted out briefly and then away. What was that? A polite chuckle at the joke of a boor born of the blood royale?
“I am Yaargraukh, Advocate of the Unhonored,” he said. “We appreciate that you accepted our tradition of always bearing our family blades. We may not venture beyond our chambers without them.”
“We understand the tradition; there have been similar customs among our peoples. However, I do not understand your title; for whom are you an Advocate?”
Yaargraukh made a faint huffing noise. “I am the advocate of all the Unhonored. This is our term for what you would call ‘exosapients.’”
“But you represent—are the spokesperson for—the Hkh’Rkh, are you not?”
“This is how it would seem to you, for I am the one who speaks with you to express the will of the First Voice of the First Family.”
“So you are his advocate.”
“The First Voice of the First Family needs no advocate; he speaks for himself, and, as First Voice, all Hkh’Rkh.”
Ah. “I think I see; you are actually our Advocate—since exosapients are unhonored and therefore may not be heard by him.”
Yaargraukh’s nod—although it recalled a horse pitching its neck—was a surprisingly human gesture. “Now you perceive. I carry your words to his ears—and add my own to them.”
“So you are also a counselor to him?”
“No: I represent your interests, insofar as honor is concerned. The First Voice of the First Family needs no counsel. Allow me to finish the introductions—”
As Yaargraukh went round the rest of the small circle, Caine noted the honorifics: all war-boasts, reminiscent of Nordic deed-names such as Skull-splitter or Gut-render. Okay, it’s pretty clear they’re not pacifists. And judging from their haughty demeanor, not particularly tolerant, either. When introduced, they looked over Caine’s head. Well, that was simply consistent: since he had no honor, he was—quite literally—beneath notice. Yaargraukh was finishing the introductions.
“—and this is Graagkhruud Great-claws of the Family Hnenkh’hien, First Arm of the First Voice of the First Family and what you would call General-over-all-Generals.”
Graagkhruud did not even look toward Caine and Richard; he stared into the room as he was introduced. For him, we’re not just beneath notice—we’re nonentities. “And what is your honorific, Yaargraukh? I apologize if I missed your speaking of it.”
“You missed nothing. When working as Advocate, I am not allowed honorifics. ”
“Why is this?”
Again, the huffing sound. “I would stain a title if I claimed it while representing the Unhonored.”
Downing’s tone suggested that he had had enough of the indirect denigrations, had forgotten that here, he was a diplomat. “I see. It would be like bringing the title into contact with something unclean?”
Yaargraukh was evidently not the only one who heard the combative tone. First Voice leaned forward again. “This bothers you? Why? Have you acquired honor?” Snakes writhed out of each Hkh’Rkh’s larger, central nostril—except for Yaargraukh and Graagkhruud, who probably understood enough of the nuances to foresee that this joke could become deadly serious.
Downing leaned forward—gotta give him points for guts—toward the immense creature, his mouth open, no words coming out: self-respect and intelligence were at war, had stalemated his tongue into temporary stillness. But only temporary—