"It's called Checkers. This is the checkerboard. It's supposed to be made with black and red squares, but we have to make do with what we have."

J'Qhir nodded, hanging onto her every word.

Leith pointed to the stones. "These are checkers."

"I thought you sssaid the game isss called Checkersss."

"Yes, but each playing piece is called a checker. The brown ones are yours and the white ones are mine. You move the pieces in a certain way, diagonally forward only. The object of the game is to move your pieces across to the other side while capturing as many of your opponent's as you can." Leith took one of her stones and placed it upside down on the far side to demonstrate. "When a piece gets to the last row, it's considered a king and can now be moved forward or backward, but still only diagonally."

She then prepared a simple jump position and demonstrated how to capture.

"I'l go first," she said as she replaced the stones in their original positions. "There is little action during the first few moves, but it gets better."

Leith thought they would be evenly matched because of her familiarity with the game and his quick grasp of strategy, but she was wrong. He obviously planned out moves far in advance, and she didn't stand a chance. As the game came to a close, she had never even reached the edge row on his side. He had kings all over the board and a pile of white pebbles beside him.

"I concede," she said rather than give up her lone piece.

"A very interesssting game," J'Qhir said as he gathered up all twenty-four stones.

"Well, yes, you would think so." Leith wiped out the board in one stroke and sifted out the bark chips. "Since you won."

"You are angry."

"No." She shrugged. "I never cared for the game anyway."

"You sssound angry that I have won your game."

"I'm tired, that's all. I'm going to bed. Good night, J'Qhir."

"Good night, Leith."

"No games tonight," Leith announced when they'd finished tidying up after dinner the next evening. She sat cross-legged on her solar film pallet, and J'Qhir did likewise on his beast blanket. They had taken the skin to the pool and scrubbed it clean of vermin and matted mud and blood. It had finally dried out enough to use. J'Qhir wanted her to use it since it was her kill, but she explained that he would feel warmer next to the fur. In truth, she had no desire to have it as a trophy. "Tonight we sing."

J'Qhir seemed to brighten. Leith knew she had lost patience with him the past few nights. She had chosen elemental games to pa.s.s the time, but they were too simple for J'Qhir's a.n.a.lytical mind. He was too good at them. What she planned for this evening was a child's song, but she didn't know what else to do. She couldn't face many more evenings of having nothing to exercise her mind.

"I like musssic. My mother could play the ohsiroh exquisssitely."

"I don't play any musical instruments and I'm not much of a singer, but this is an easy song." Leith taught him the words to "Row, Row, Row Your Boat", then the melody. J'Qhir's voice was rich and deep, and he picked up the tune and carried it easily. Leith joined in and their voices blended well, her higher pitch a nice contrast to his baritone.

Leith urged him to sing alone one more time. In the cla.s.sic rendition, Leith started in with "Row, row, row your boat" as J'Qhir began the "Merrily" line. J'Qhir stopped abruptly.

"You ssstarted too late."

"I was supposed to. It's the way the song is sung."

"You ssshould have told me."

"I wanted to sssurprissse you," Leith said then clamped her lips together. She hoped he hadn't noticed. It was too easy to mimic his long, drawn-out s's. She caught herself doing it from time to time. She was afraid he might think she mocked him and take offense. "Shall we try again?"

J'Qhir nodded and started the song. Leith joined in at the appropriate time. They went through the ditty several times and finally Leith flubbed it. Suddenly, she found herself singing along with J'Qhir, word for word. He cut off in mid-sentence, and his crest furrowed.

"But now you are sssinging the sssame wordsss with me."

"That's the point. To see how long we can keep it going before someone loses their concentration and makes a mistake." Leith sighed. "It's usually sung by a group around a campfire. Maybe we just don 't have enough people to make it fun."

J'Qhir shook his head. "The wordsss do not make sssenssse to me. Perhapsss if the sssong had meaning it would be ea.s.ssier to sssing."

Leith stood and straightened her blanket. "Some songs aren't meant to make sense. They're sung for the way the words flow together. Do all Zi songs make sense?"

"Yesss. They tell ssstoriesss and confirm truthsss about the nature of our people."

"We have those too. We have an entire industry devoted to music, its creation and performance. There are individuals and groups who make a very good living with their music." Leith lay down, curled on her side, an arm beneath her head. "Not from songs like 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat', but longer, more complicated pieces. We have more sophisticated games than the ones I've shown you. These things are mostly children's games, just to pa.s.s the time."

"I sssee. It isss ssso with usss alssso." He was quiet a few moments. "Life isss not a dream."

"Oh, I agree considering our lives have turned into a nightmare." Leith closed her eyes. "Tomorrow night is your turn. Good night, J'Qhir."

"Good night, Leith."

J'Qhir used the checkers Leith had made and set the white stones in a pile in front of her, keeping the brown ones for himself. He had drawn three concentric semi-circles in the dirt, the ends connecting to the wall of the cave. With his forefinger, he marked a dot in the middle of the center s.p.a.ce. At two meters he had drawn another semi-circle. At four meters, a straight line which they crouched behind.

"We take turnsss tosssing a ssstone againssst the wall." He demonstrated. The stone banked off the wall and landed in the second band, but very close to the innermost line. "Now, it isss your turn. The object isss to land your ssstone a.s.ss clossse to the center mark a.s.ss posssible."

Leith had never played pitching pennies, so she had no idea how hard to throw the stone. She tried to gauge the distance and the heft and let it go. The stone careened off the wall and sailed several centimeters past the outer band.

J'Qhir said nothing, but moved to the two-meter arc. Leith knelt beside him.

"Now, you choossse whether to try to move your ssstone clossser or an opponent'sss farther away by propelling another ssstone and trying to hit whichever you choossse."

He positioned his hand so that the bent knuckle of his index finger rested close to the line. The stone nestled in the crook of his finger, his thumb pressed hard against the underside of his finger ready to release and shoot the stone. Like playing marbles, Leith realized, although she had only played a few times during childhood. At first she was amazed that his people and hers had developed the same shooting technique, but then she realized it wasn't too remarkable. There were only so many ways to manipulate a humanoid hand.

J'Qhir let go and the stone shot toward his, pushing it closer to the center. He sat back on his heels.

"My turn?" Leith asked, picking up a stone, and J'Qhir nodded. Leith positioned herself, fixed the stone in her hand and shot. The stone arced up and over J'Qhir's and landed past the other side of the third ring.

She could have sworn she heard a snort from J'Qhir. He made some barely audible sound, but whether it was suppressed amus.e.m.e.nt or disapproval, she didn't know.

"This is very similar to a game called marbles. It's been ages since I've played," she defended herself. "More than fifteen years."

"The la.s.sst time I played thisss game was the sssea.s.sson my mother died. That wa.s.ss...ninety-eight yearsss ago."

"In Zi years," Leith guessed. "Do we continue playing or do you get my stones now?"

"We clear the playing field now." J'Qhir reached for his stones. "I alwaysss ussse Terran Ssstandard. Othersss ssseem to have trouble making the conversssion."

As he spoke, Leith leaned over to pick up her widely distributed stones, but froze as his words sank in. Ninety-eight Terran Standard years- "Leith, ssstop!" J'Qhir shouted.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand back and looked the floor over, expecting to see a snake or bug or something, but she didn't see anything. "What's wrong?"

"You lossst the ssstonesss, and they are not yoursss anymore."

"I wasn't going to keep them," she snapped.

"A Zi doesss not touch what isss not hisss-or hersss."

She was tired of playing games and tired of his rules. And she was stunned to find she was desperately attracted to and maybe falling in love with someone over a hundred years old. She dreamed of him when she slept and daydreamed of him when awake. If it was as simple as her body finally awakening to its s.e.xual needs, why did she dream of J'Qhir? Wouldn't her subconscious conjure an image from the men she'd dated or found attractive or the latest vid stars? Why J'Qhir, unless it was he she truly desired?

Leith asked as calmly as she could, "How old are you?"

"One hundred, eight." The grammatical correctness of his response only served to emphasize the antiquity of the number.

"I'm twenty-one."

"A youngling," he said softly, and she could almost hear the amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice.

"I'm not a youngling. I'm an adult!" The p.r.o.nouncement only made her sound more childish. "What I mean is, it may seem very young to you, but I've reached maturity."

That sounded worse! Leith's face grew hot and she crawled toward the fire. She piled on more wood to keep her hands busy. With luck, he would think her rosy tint was a reflection of the flames.

J'Qhir walked around and carefully lowered himself onto his beast blanket. He tucked one leg underneath him, but kept the injured one at a more comfortable angle. He pulled out his weaving and squinted into the light "The average lifessspan of a Zi isss over two hundred, fifty Terran Ssstandard yearsss. A dissstant relative in my clan isss nearly three hundred. Yesss, twenty-one isss very young." He bent to his work.

"Tonight we tell jokes," Leith announced the next evening.

J'Qhir shook his head. "No, not tonight, Leith. We have much work to do."

"We can make our baskets while we talk. Jokes are easy. Have you ever heard a knock-knock joke?"

He shook his head again, his mouth pressed into a grim line. She couldn't imagine what he had against jokes.

"Don't the Zi do jokes?" she asked.

He nodded reluctantly and shrugged. "But I have no way with telling them."

"Then I will tell you jokes."

"That would be unfair." He would not meet her eyes. "Can we not have one peaceful evening?"

"I suppose..."

Leith tried to concentrate on making her basket, but jokes kept running through her mind.

"Just a few jokes, please. Then I'l be quiet. I promise."

J'Qhir closed his eyes and said wearily, "Very well, if you mussst."

It had occurred to her earlier that she had yet to see him smile. It was still on her agenda, one of the things she meant to accomplish before she died. She thought she might as well start now, and it looked like it was a good thing. She was going to have her work cut out for her.

"Knock-knock jokes are based on puns. I say, 'Knock, knock'," and you say, 'Who's there?'"

"Why would I a.s.ssk, 'Who isss there?' when I know you are the one sssaying 'knock, knock'?"

He still would not meet her eyes, keeping his gaze on his work. She had the feeling he was being purposefully obtuse this evening. Something was wrong, but she couldn't pinpoint the cause.

"Because I will answer with a name or word or phrase. Then you will repeat my answer and add ' who'. For example, I say, 'Knock, knock' and you say, 'Who's there?' Then I say, 'Isabel' and you'l -".

"Who isss thisss Isssabel?"

Still, he had not raised his eyes.

"If you let me finish, you'l find out. Then you say, 'Isabel who?' and I finish with the punch line, ' Isabel ringing'?"

Leith smiled although the joke wasn't particularly funny, especially since there was no bell ringing. It worked better in school when the bell sounded for a change of cla.s.ses. It actually worked best when one was about ten years old.

He didn't laugh, didn't smile, didn't raise his head.

"Knock, knock."

He waited a few moments, then said, "Who isss there?"

"Amos."

"Amosss who?"

"A mosquito bit me. Knock, knock."

She thought she heard him hiss under his breath, then, "Who isss there?"

"Andy."

"Andy who?"

"And he bit me again."

Leith smiled widely. Those two had been her favorite when she was very young.

He was silent a moment, then asked, "What isss a mosssquito?"

The smile dropped from her face. "A small flying insect, very annoying. They bite, suck blood, and leave an itchy b.u.mp behind."

"Ssss."

Leith slumped in dejection. She wracked her brain trying to remember at least one funny joke of the thousands she had heard in her life. As with games and songs, she couldn't recall any but the most basic. Rules wouldn't come, lyrics were only half-remembered... Then it came to her, a joke Steve had told her on the way to Arreis.

"Three starmen walk into a bar, a Danid, a Hykaisite, and a Peridot. Each orders a gla.s.s of Numerian brine. When the drinks are served, three flyworms buzz near and one lands in each gla.s.s. The Danid wrinkles his nose, pushes his drink aside and orders another. The Hykaisite tosses the flyworm away, and gulps down his drink. The Peridot picks up the flyworm and starts shaking it over his gla.s.s shouting, 'Spit it out, ya farking dorgian! Spit it out!'"

Leith held her breath. It was interstellar humor, something he should understand. If that one didn't make him at least smile, nothing would, and she might as well give up. She watched him closely. He blinked rapidly, more than once or twice, and his jaw muscles clenched tightly. Then...he smiled!