A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(28)

‘Whatever you say, friend,’ the Aeluon said. She shrugged at Sidra. ‘I don’t speak much Reskitkish, do you?’

Sidra paused. Humans who spoke Reskitkish were rare, and revealing that she was indeed fluent might invite questions she couldn’t safely answer. There was no way around this one, though. ‘I do,’ she said, ‘but I couldn’t understand her.’

‘Well, unless she said, “Please stop using yellow,” I’m going to assume everything’s fine.’ She pointed at her subject’s scales. ‘You know anything about scale dyeing?’

‘No.’ Sidra had no references on that custom, but she was very interested. An inky spiral pattern was emerging, blossoming outward in a sort of mandala.

The Aeluon continued working and smoking, speaking easily as she went. ‘Species with softer skin, like you and me, we can retain ink down in the dermis indefinitely. But Aandrisks are a whole different deal.’

‘Because they shed?’

‘That, and – I mean, look at this.’ She tapped one of the scales. ‘The stuff their scales are made of isn’t terribly different from this.’ She took one of the kit’s hands, and rubbed the thumbnail. ‘You can’t get an ink gun down into keratin, not easily. So this’ – she gestured with the dyeing implement – ‘is just a glorified paintbrush. Gives her scales a nice, quick, even coating.’

‘How long does it last?’

‘About six tendays. Or less than that, if she’s due to shed. Not so long that she’ll mind if she sobers up and hates it.’ She popped an empty cartridge out of the implement, slipped in a silver one, and continued. ‘I’m Tak, by the way,’ she said.

‘Sidra.’

Tak gave her an Aeluon smile. Tallflower smoke drifted up around her face. She pressed the tool against a clean scale, inundating it with dye. It caught the light of the nearby globulbs.

‘How many different techniques do you know?’ Sidra asked, thinking of the sign out front.

‘My specialty’s modern Aeluon style, but I also know how to do bots and temporary stuff like this.’ She nodded at the Aandrisk. ‘Most of my business comes from people who want bot art, actually. It’s pretty popular, especially for spacers. Everybody wants to say they got ink on Coriol. Apparently that means something out there. I dunno. I’ve never lived anywhere else, except for university.’

Sidra considered. ‘You don’t use bots on yourself.’

‘Not like you mean. I don’t have any moving art on me, true. But there are bots here,’ she said, trailing a finger down one of the stylised trees branching across her flat, bare chest. ‘They just don’t move.’

‘Then why have bots at all?’

‘They help maintain the integrity of the linework when my skin grows or shrinks. Keeps the edges from blurring.’

‘Why don’t you use moving ones?’

Tak made a face. ‘Because they drive us nuts. Aeluons, I mean. I don’t mind bots on other species. I can talk to a Human who’s swirling from head to toe, no problem. But on an Aeluon, that’d be a nightmare. Keep in mind—’ She pointed at one of her cheeks.

‘Oh,’ Sidra said. ‘Of course.’ A colour-changing tattoo during a colour-changing conversation would be an enormous distraction. ‘I’d imagine that’d be annoying.’

‘Confusing, mostly. And honestly, when I first started inking, it took me a while to get used to it with other species. I did a gorgeous nebula across this Human’s back once. All these rich purples and deep deep blues, swirling real slow. Art-wise, it looked fantastic, but combined with skin, I kept feeling like his back was pissed at me. Purple means angry, see.’ Tak’s cheeks rippled. She looked amused. ‘What about you? Got any ink?’

‘No.’

‘Just not your thing?’

‘No, I—’ Sidra paused, not wanting to insult this woman’s profession. ‘I don’t quite understand it.’

‘You mean, why people do it?’

‘I suppose so.’

Tak rocked her head in thought, adjusting her pipe. ‘Depends on the person. I mean, just about every species mods themselves somehow. Quelin brand their shells. Harmagians shove jewellery through their tendrils. My species and yours have both been tattooing for millennia. If you’re interested in different cultural practices, there’s a great collection of essays called Through The Surface on body art traditions by species. It’s by Kirish Tekshereket – have you read any of her work?’

Sidra added a note to her list. ‘I haven’t, no.’

‘Oh, she’s fantastic. Highly recommend it. But back to your question: why do people do it. I’ve always thought of it as a way to get a little more in touch with your body.’

The kit leaned forward. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Your mind and your body. Two separate things, right?’

Sidra directed all her processing power to the conversation at hand. ‘Right.’

‘Except not. Your mind comes from your body. It’s born out of it. And yet, it’s a wholly independent thing. Even though the two are linked, there’s a disconnect. Your body does stuff without asking your mind about it, and your mind wants stuff that your body can’t always do. You know what I mean?’