Bear, Elizabeth - Undertow by Bear Elizabeth

Author:Bear, Elizabeth [Bear, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-10-30T15:43:10+00:00

“Far-swimmer?” He shaped words carefully.

Gourami’s fingers rippled, one of them lumpy and swollen. Whether this was agreement or irritation, André was too human to tell. He turned to Tetra; it was fussing with Gourami’s leaf plate as easily as if nothing had happened. It reached out without looking up and brushed the side of its hand against André’s. He was already coming to recognize that gesture, the request for attention, like catching someone’s eye if one were human.

You couldn’t catch another frog’s gaze through muddy water, though, could you? It made sense, if you thought about it.

Tetra held out its hand, making a pincher movement. Its webs expanded, as if sucking something that might wriggle away into its grasp. The fingers pointed down; the overall effect was rather like the grab of a crane.

Bemused, André lifted the salted plum paste into the creature’s grasp. Startlingly swift and deft, Tetra unscrewed the top and began investigating the contents just as any chef would.

“I’m not sure that’s safe,” André said, but all three ranids ignored him. He turned back to Gourami and its damaged hand. Its fingers writhed on the slate, as if it was trying to frame a comment. When André reached out to touch, the ranid did not withdraw its hand though it leaned its whole body aside.

André touched gently, stroking tacky, coated skin. There was no heat in the injured flesh, which was odd, because he could feel the sponginess of retained fluid, cushioning the twisted joint. “That needs to be put right,” he said, enunciating carefully as Gourami watched his mouth. “It will slow us.”

Of course, Tetra wouldn’t understand his words—could barely hear his voice. And even if it could lipread, it wasn’t watching André. But the noises he was making must have drawn its attention, because it sealed the tube of plum paste and shuffled over. André scootched back, not wishing to make the mistake of standing again.

Even if his butt was getting soaked.

Tetra reached past him and took Gourami’s hand, disentangling the sticky fingers from the case of the slate. Gourami shuddered, eyes staring off at an obtuse angle from each other. André had the bizarre impression that it was staring at its knees. Tetra must have said something, because Gourami flinched dramatically. And Tetra did something sudden and uncomplicated with its hands. A slight nauseating pop followed, and Gourami made a sound André felt more than heard.

These conversations would be easier on the headset, he thought. But who’d let a ranid uplink to their wetware through a slate?

But then it was done, and Tetra went back to fixing Gourami’s dinner. It handed the plate to Gourami without ceremony, though Gourami made a little dance of receiving it. It dabbed at the smears of plum paste decorating the minced fish doubtfully.

Tuna tartare, André told himself resolutely, watching Gourami scoop the pasty substance into its mouth between sidelong glances at Tetra. The taller ranid crouched over its own dinner in apparent oblivion.

Some sort of courtship ritual? Gourami seemed flustered enough.

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