Tal looked at her. She said defensively, “Odd though it may seem, I think he’s a man of honor in his own way.”
“Would he think it necessary to keep his word to a demon? Anyway, considering that he wanted to kill me before for solely philosophical reasons, I don’t think his feelings can make much difference.”
She said seriously, “Purified hatred always makes a difference.” Then she laughed. “Here I am being critical. I don’t mean to complain that you got me out. Thanks.”
“Well, why shouldn’t I? I still have two hundred and forty days left on your contract.”
Her smile vanished. “Two hundred and twenty-seven days.”
“We’ll argue it later.”
But she said, “Tal, you do understand that you don’t need to protect yourself against the ending of the contract? I told you, the secrets of past contract-holders are privileged. I don’t suddenly become unreliable.”
He said nothing.
She spoke more loudly, “You believe that, don’t you?”
“I understand it.”
She looked at him sharply. Was Graykey truth catching? Out of nowhere she said, “Tal, what’s the Sawyer Crown?”
“The what?”
“Your pardon,” interrupted Tommy O’Malley, coming over to them. “All’s well, sister-cousin. There’s a ship in three hours’ time, and the Fixed Star is in port at the Station waiting for us.” He said to Tal, “That’s one of ours, kept on ice to return any prodigals. My sister-cousin could have taken it, in an emergency.”
She grinned a twisted grin. “If I thought they’d let me set foot on Home before the seven years were up. Good journeying, my love.”
They hugged. Tal said, “That’s an unusual name for a ship.”
“Ah, well,” said Tommy. “It’s a reference to our vision of what life is all about—namely, to discover the truth and live by it, no matter what the cost. It’s meant to be funny.”
“Oh? Graykey humor sometimes escapes me.”
“It’s from a very old song,” explained Tommy, “before the Age of Exploration. ‘Castles are sacked in war, chieftains are scattered far; truth is a fixed star, Eileen Aroon.’ ” Tal still did not look enlightened. “But there are no fixed stars,” he said reasonably.
“I know,” said Tommy, and he smiled as though at the joke of it.
Chapter 33
Or from Browning some “Pomegranate, which, if cut deep down the middle,
Shows a heart within blood-tinctured of a veined humanity.
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
It was to be a June wedding. The date, the sixteenth, was chosen by an Oracle on Pearl for luck. Iolanthe’s headaches increased as the joyful day approached.
Adrian was so hatefully good to her—she couldn’t possibly hide from the knowledge that when she was angry at him, it was her own temper and not his fault. She occasionally thought that it would do wonders for their relationship if some things would be his fault.
She’d been prepared for living among enemies, but this half-and-half state was unendurable. He was a heretic … he seemed honorable enough. He was rumored to be the murderer of Saul Veritie … he was always gentle with her. He kept a pet demon … well, there was no way around that one. Iolanthe joined the private and lonely club of those who never got a good night’s sleep— pity we can’t wear badges to identify each other, she thought; we could commiserate, at least. She thought she spied occasional marks of membership in Will Stockton.
One morning she called Will in and asked him to sit with her at breakfast. You could do that, she thought defiantly, on the Diamond; so why not do it? Anyway, he was a bodyguard, he was supposed to be at her disposal. She gave him coffee and date-bread and they regarded each other through tired eyes.
She sighed. At last she said, “You know how to reach Hartley Quince.”
“When I have to,” said Will warily.
“I need to talk to you about some things. I need to make them clear so you can pass them on without any misunderstanding.”
Will’s glance passed over the room and returned to her. Here? it said.
“I don’t care,” she said, answering the gesture.
He pushed his plate away. “Talk,” he said.
She smiled a wry smile. Will Stockton, ever the courtier. “I’m getting married in two days.”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t my idea, you know. I came here because other people wanted me to. But now that I’m here, I think I should live up to what’s expected of me. As best I can.”
“I’m not sure I—”
“Will, I’m going to be Adrian Mercati’s wife. Do you think it’s honorable for Adrian’s wife to report back on him to the Lord Cardinal? Even if it was the Lord Cardinal’s idea?”
Will blinked. This was not a question he was in any position to discuss truthfully. Not to mention the complication that Will’s truths on this subject tended to veer from the official version. He said, “My lady …”
She put a hand on his. “Never mind ‘my lady.’ I shouldn’t have asked you. But let me put it this way: I’m not sure that it’s an honorable thing to do.”
“I see.” Very neutral.
“That’s what I want you to tell Hartley Quince. Not to expect anything from me. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel. I’ve already—I’ve done enough. And I don’t want him calling the Lord Cardinal over to talk to me. From now on I’m seeing the hierophant with our delegation—and if he gives me a hard time, I’ll go to one of the Diamond heretics.”
He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. This was the little girl he’d thought might run back down the ramp when they left the Opal. “Well, my lady,” he said, “you’re a grown woman, and you have to do as you think best.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me?”
“I would never do that.” He picked up the hand that still covered his and kissed it as he’d done when they first met. “I’ll pass your message along.” He rose from
