home.”
There were gasps and soft
exclamations at his rebuke. He ignored them as he walked stiffly to the
transport, hiding his embarrassment, not letting it show in his glyph. Besides
the Bustani , personal dramas were always a main source of entertainment.
There were not many seats
left on the transport, when he got to it. Ro-Becilo’Ran was in the back,
talking and laughing with another of their friends. Evidently, they had not
been able to hold a seat for him. He took one of the more forward ones and sat
beside a young woman he did not know, turned his face to the window membrane as
Gotra Pelani’Dun got on after a couple of other people. She intentionally
bumped his leg, and made a complaining sound, as if he had somehow hurt her. He
moved his leg, glad that he was ahead of her on the transport – he could get
off first, and not have to deal with her again, at least not for this turn.
Whorl Eighteen
Much as he did not want to
admit it, Gotra Pelani’Dun’s words bothered him. But he did not feel he could
come right out and ask his parents the significance of their lineage – it was
an obvious question, blunt. Uncouth. They disapproved of such things from being
associated for many orbises with the Solidarim, where subtlety and nuance were
like shouts, and obviousness was looked down upon as vulgar.
Karaci’Tiv, perhaps? he
thought, getting up from his study-station and going to his sister’s suite. She
was in, rather than being away at Tertius, and she invited him in.
“Kara,” he said, entering
her suite. She smiled at the familiar address and gestured, beckoning him over.
“What’s going, Krece?” she
said, as he walked over to take a seat by her.
He did not answer right
away, brooding on how to frame the question. She was in training to go into the
Solidarim, also. Would she find a straightforward question too gauche?
She glanced at him, and he
could feel her gaze as she stopped what she was doing, and turned her attention
fully to him. “What is it you want to ask?” she prodded, a chuckle in her voice
and a glyph of amusement projecting clearly from her.
“I’m trying to figure out
how to ask it,” he replied.
She gestured negation. “Just
ask. I’m not a stickler for subtlety, yet!”
“You remember Gotra
Pelani’Dun?” he said slowly, not letting the irritation he felt at mentioning
her show.
“The little one who had you
so twisted up last term?” she asked, indelicately.
He grimaced. Vespa
Karaci’Tiv could be blunt to the point of crassness, sometimes. That would not
go over well in the Solidarim.
“That’s the one,” he
confirmed. “She said – she said that I was snubbing her because our famiya
predates even – even the Malkia-mothers, and because Father sits on the Second
Tier of the Solidarim. What – what is the significance of that?”
Vespa Karaci’Tiv sat back,
her vuu’erio twitching.
“Your ex-Geni’vhes has done
some very personal and very extensive research into our famiya,” she said
slowly, “or someone close to her has. We never make it well known that either
of those things are true.” She blew out a breath, and her wing-nets, having
burst through the elytra-pace when she had reached full maturity, showed for a
moment. “The significance of our famiya lineage – having an unbroken line for
that long, and not being a deviate Genus from another, existing line – means
that our Nil’Gu’ua ability has been advancing and augmented for all those
generations, and we have a high probability of being in the higher ability-levels.
It also has weight in the Solidarim, since one of the determining factors of –
of placement in the Solidarim Tiers is not only ability level but – other
things.” She flicked one of her right vuu’erio at him significantly.
“So – Mother’s line is
There were gasps and soft
exclamations at his rebuke. He ignored them as he walked stiffly to the
transport, hiding his embarrassment, not letting it show in his glyph. Besides
the Bustani , personal dramas were always a main source of entertainment.
There were not many seats
left on the transport, when he got to it. Ro-Becilo’Ran was in the back,
talking and laughing with another of their friends. Evidently, they had not
been able to hold a seat for him. He took one of the more forward ones and sat
beside a young woman he did not know, turned his face to the window membrane as
Gotra Pelani’Dun got on after a couple of other people. She intentionally
bumped his leg, and made a complaining sound, as if he had somehow hurt her. He
moved his leg, glad that he was ahead of her on the transport – he could get
off first, and not have to deal with her again, at least not for this turn.
Whorl Eighteen
Much as he did not want to
admit it, Gotra Pelani’Dun’s words bothered him. But he did not feel he could
come right out and ask his parents the significance of their lineage – it was
an obvious question, blunt. Uncouth. They disapproved of such things from being
associated for many orbises with the Solidarim, where subtlety and nuance were
like shouts, and obviousness was looked down upon as vulgar.
Karaci’Tiv, perhaps? he
thought, getting up from his study-station and going to his sister’s suite. She
was in, rather than being away at Tertius, and she invited him in.
“Kara,” he said, entering
her suite. She smiled at the familiar address and gestured, beckoning him over.
“What’s going, Krece?” she
said, as he walked over to take a seat by her.
He did not answer right
away, brooding on how to frame the question. She was in training to go into the
Solidarim, also. Would she find a straightforward question too gauche?
She glanced at him, and he
could feel her gaze as she stopped what she was doing, and turned her attention
fully to him. “What is it you want to ask?” she prodded, a chuckle in her voice
and a glyph of amusement projecting clearly from her.
“I’m trying to figure out
how to ask it,” he replied.
She gestured negation. “Just
ask. I’m not a stickler for subtlety, yet!”
“You remember Gotra
Pelani’Dun?” he said slowly, not letting the irritation he felt at mentioning
her show.
“The little one who had you
so twisted up last term?” she asked, indelicately.
He grimaced. Vespa
Karaci’Tiv could be blunt to the point of crassness, sometimes. That would not
go over well in the Solidarim.
“That’s the one,” he
confirmed. “She said – she said that I was snubbing her because our famiya
predates even – even the Malkia-mothers, and because Father sits on the Second
Tier of the Solidarim. What – what is the significance of that?”
Vespa Karaci’Tiv sat back,
her vuu’erio twitching.
“Your ex-Geni’vhes has done
some very personal and very extensive research into our famiya,” she said
slowly, “or someone close to her has. We never make it well known that either
of those things are true.” She blew out a breath, and her wing-nets, having
burst through the elytra-pace when she had reached full maturity, showed for a
moment. “The significance of our famiya lineage – having an unbroken line for
that long, and not being a deviate Genus from another, existing line – means
that our Nil’Gu’ua ability has been advancing and augmented for all those
generations, and we have a high probability of being in the higher ability-levels.
It also has weight in the Solidarim, since one of the determining factors of –
of placement in the Solidarim Tiers is not only ability level but – other
things.” She flicked one of her right vuu’erio at him significantly.
“So – Mother’s line is
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