The Yillian Way | Page 3

latitude in the observances of protocol, but I confess...." He wagged his head.
The Yill interpreter spoke up.
"You now whill lhie on yourr intesstinss, and creep to fesstive board there." He pointed across the room.
"Intestines?" Ambassador Spradley looked about wildly.
"Mr. P'Toi means our stomachs, I wouldn't wonder," Magnan said. "He just wants us to lie down and crawl to our seats, Mr. Ambassador."
"What the devil are you grinning at, you idiot?" the ambassador snapped.
* * * * *
Magnan's face fell.
Spradley glanced down at the medals across his paunch.
"This is.... I've never...."
"Homage to godss," the interpreter said.
"Oh. Oh, religion," someone said.
"Well, if it's a matter of religious beliefs...." The ambassador looked dubiously around.
"Golly, it's only a couple of hundred feet," Magnan offered.
Retief stepped up to P'Toi.
"His Excellency the Terrestrial Ambassador will not crawl," he said clearly.
"Here, young man! I said nothing----"
"Not to crawl?" The interpreter wore an unreadable Yill expression.
"It is against our religion," Retief said.
"Againsst?"
"We are votaries of the Snake Goddess," Retief said. "It is a sacrilege to crawl." He brushed past the interpreter and marched toward the distant table.
The others followed.
Puffing, the ambassador came to Retief's side as they approached the dozen empty stools on the far side of the square opposite the brocaded position of the Admirable F'Kau-Kau-Kau.
"Mr. Retief, kindly see me after this affair," he hissed. "In the meantime, I hope you will restrain any further rash impulses. Let me remind you I am chief of mission here."
Magnan came up from behind.
"Let me add my congratulations, Retief," he said. "That was fast thinking----"
"Are you out of your mind, Magnan?" the ambassador barked. "I am extremely displeased!"
"Why," Magnan stuttered, "I was speaking sarcastically, of course, Mr. Ambassador. Didn't you notice the kind of shocked little gasp I gave when he did it?"
The Terrestrials took their places, Retief at the end. The table before them was of bare green wood, with an array of shallow pewter dishes.
Some of the Yill at the table were in plain gray, others in black. All eyed them silently. There was a constant stir among them as one or another rose and disappeared and others sat down. The pipes and reeds were shrilling furiously, and the susurration of Yillian conversation from the other tables rose ever higher in competition.
A tall Yill in black was at the ambassador's side now. The nearby Yill fell silent as he began ladling a whitish soup into the largest of the bowls before the Terrestrial envoy. The interpreter hovered, watching.
"That's quite enough," Ambassador Spradley said, as the bowl overflowed. The Yill servant rolled his eyes, dribbled more of the soup into the bowl.
"Kindly serve the other members of my staff," the ambassador said. The interpreter said something in a low voice. The servant moved hesitantly to the next stool and ladled more soup.
* * * * *
Retief watched, listening to the whispers around him. The Yill at the table were craning now to watch. The soup ladler was ladling rapidly, rolling his eyes sideways. He came to Retief, reached out with the full ladle for the bowl.
"No," Retief said.
The ladler hesitated.
"None for me," Retief said.
The interpreter came up and motioned to the servant, who reached again, ladle brimming.
"I ... DON'T ... LIKE ... IT!" Retief said, his voice distinct in the sudden hush. He stared at the interpreter, who stared back, then waved the servant away.
"Mr. Retief!" a voice hissed.
Retief looked down at the table. The ambassador was leaning forward, glaring at him, his face a mottled crimson.
"I'm warning you, Mr. Retief," he said hoarsely. "I've eaten sheep's eyes in the Sudan, ka swe in Burma, hundred-year cug on Mars and everything else that has been placed before me in the course of my diplomatic career. And, by the holy relics of Saint Ignatz, you'll do the same!" He snatched up a spoon-like utensil and dipped it into his bowl.
"Don't eat that, Mr. Ambassador," Retief said.
The ambassador stared, eyes wide. He opened his mouth, guided the spoon toward it----
Retief stood, gripped the table under its edge and heaved. The immense wooden slab rose and tilted, dishes sliding. It crashed to the floor with a ponderous slam.
Whitish soup splattered across the terrazzo. A couple of odd bowls rolled across the room. Cries rang out from the Yill, mingling with a strangled yell from Ambassador Spradley.
Retief walked past the wild-eyed members of the mission to the sputtering chief. "Mr. Ambassador," he said. "I'd like----"
"You'd like! I'll break you, you young hoodlum! Do you realize----"
"Pleass...." The interpreter stood at Retief's side.
"My apologies," Ambassador Spradley said, mopping his forehead. "My profound apologies."
"Be quiet," Retief said.
"Wha--what?"
"Don't apologize," Retief said. P'Toi was beckoning.
"Pleasse, arll come."
Retief turned and followed him.
The portion of the table they were ushered to was covered with an embroidered white cloth, set with thin porcelain dishes. The Yill already seated there rose, amid