Phaethon frowned and turned to look at Rhadamanthus.
Rhadamanthus said, 'I cannot do a Noetic reading without the express consent of the subject.'
Daphne said, 'I do not know why this was done to you, or what is in the box. I swear it.'
Rhadamanthus said, 'Her words accurately reflect her thoughts. She is not lying. What she intends to say next is also not a lie.'
She said, 'Part of the agreement must have been for me to forget also. Whatever it is you did, I am not laughing at you behind your back, or fooling you, or leading you around by the nose. I do not know what it was.'
'Then how did you know to?'
Without a word she drew a memory casket of her own from the pocket of her long coat. It was small and silver, the size of a thimble-box. Letters written in her spidery, flowing, hand-script read:
' 'This file contains material concerning the one you call your husband, which you and he have mutually agreed to forget.
' 'I. If you are reading these words, it means Phaethon has taken steps to recover his forbidden memories. If he should do so, he will leave the Golden Oecumene, perhaps forever.
' 2. Phaethon is penniless, and lives at Rhadamanthus House only at Helion's behest, and only for so long as he should not recover his lost memories.
' '3. He has done nothing criminal, but the shame and anxiety springing from his plans were more than you or he could bear. You well know why you agree with the reasons for the amnesia, and the benefit you enjoy.
' '4. Your amnesia is contingent on his. If he should ever read the forbidden file, this file will automatically open.
' '5. You are not allowed, otherwise, to open this file. Honest relations with Phaethon require that you not keep secrets from him.' '
Phaethon handed the casket back. Perhaps he was ashamed of his suspicions. She returned the casket to her pocket.
'By why did you?'
She interrupted, 'Can we go somewhere else and talk? I find this chamber oppressive.' Daphne hugged herself, staring at the floor, and shivered.
Phaethon put his casket down where he had found it. He removed the key and tossed it with a casual gesture to where Rhadamanthus stood in the doorway.
Turning his back to the casket, he put one arm around his wife and led her down the stairs.
They ordered Rhadamanthus to serve them tea in the garden. Phaethon changed to period costume; a stiff collar, a long black frock coat. Daphne wore an Edwardian tea dress of burgundy, which flattered her complexion, and a narrow-brimmed straw skimmer with a complex bow dangling down the back. Phaethon forgave the mild anachronism, to see how fine she looked.
They sipped from cups of eggshell china; they nibbled cakes from silver trays. Phaethon secretly suspected that the simulated taste of tea and scones were better than the originals tasted.
Daphne said, 'I think everyone has forgotten whatever your shame is. That's the way these things have to go. You would not have agreed to forget unless everyone else, likewise, put the unpleasantness from their minds. Notice how enraged you were at just the thought that I might be hiding the truth from you. Is there any other way we could all live together, undying, forever, unless everyone could put old conflicts utterly and finally behind us?'
'Define 'everyone.' '
She shrugged. 'The more civilized sections of society, of course.'
'Meaning, not including Primitivist Schools who do not indulge in brain redactions or any neurotechnology. Not Atkins the soldier, who has to keep his brain free from all contaminants. Not including the Neptunians, who are outcasts and scoundrels. And not including one other fellow I saw at
the ecoperformance. He was dressed like me. Only his helmet was different.'
'Who was he?'
'I don't know. He was in masquerade.'
'What was his costume?'
'He was disguised as part of the Bellipotent Composition, end of the Fourth Era.'
'I know who is behind that. The Bellipotent costume was put together by the Black Mansion School. They're all anarchists and disrupters and shock-artists. They're trying to offend Ao Aoen and the other nonstandard neuroforms.'
'And offend me? Their costume equated me with Caine, the character from Byron's play who invents murder, and with the Bellipotent Composition, who reinvented war.'
She shook her head. 'I cannot guess what it means. No other polite person will get his joke either; we've all forgotten whatever it was. The Hortators should not have let him get near you.'
Phaethon's mind leaped to another thought. 'Meaning that the Hortators are monitoring my actions. I'm not surprised. But, during the masquerade, with the location and identification circuits disenabled, I got lost in the crowds, and saw things I wasn't supposed to see.'
'Well! So there's your explanation. The mystery is solved!' exclaimed Daphne brightly. 'Can we talk about something more pleasant now?'
