Iolanthe was feeling very responsible for calling these two ranking males from their duties, and she began to wonder if anything she had to say could possibly be worth it. The sound of their bootheels crunching on the gravel path became progressively more unendurable. She said quietly, “I’m sorry to have disturbed your schedule, Officer Quince, but I—”
Hartley Quince put a pale hand on her wrist in a perfectly friendly way that nevertheless said—although she could not have said how—not now. He smiled. “It’s always a pleasure to have an excuse to take a day off. The zoo was a delightful idea, and I’m only glad to know you haven’t forgotten me, my lady.”
Io looked at his smile and the words above reproach came to her. She definitely preferred Will. It was reassuring to think that, whatever the problem was, Hartley Quince would handle it; but what if the problem were her? Talking to Quince was like entering a fencing contest armed with a paring knife. I wonder if he’s slept with my mother, she thought.
They walked up the path to the habitats. “Earth animals first, then mixtures, then alien species,” said Quince, reading from a plaque, he looked up. “Alien species aren’t mentioned on my map.”
“They’re new,” said Will. “Adrian’s been bringing them in for the last few years. He’s starting a collection.”
“You do keep on top of things, don’t you, Willie?” Quince spoke with good humor. “I’m sure the lady is glad you were assigned to her.” He glanced at Io.
She spoke up loyally. “Oh, yes! That is, Sergeant Stockton has been handling things wonderfully.”
“He always does,” said Quince, watching Will’s face darken slightly.
“This is the elephant house,” said Will. “Would you like to see it, my lady, or should we keep walking?”
“I’ve never seen elephants.”
“Then we can stop on the way back,” said Quince. “I believe you had something to say to me, my lady, and this would be an excellent time.”
There was no one on the path ahead or behind. Io ducked her head, feeling very uncomfortable. “I … Adrian said … when I was sick I …” She stopped and sat down on a bench.
Quince sat down beside her, all polite attention.
She pursed her lips. Getting these words out was like bringing up stones. At last she whispered, “I think I’d like to see a confessor.” It came out barely audibly, shaming her further.
Quince said, in a voice of normal friendliness, “I take it my lady means outside of her regular confession-time, which is probably not till next Saturday.”
“Yes. I’d like to see someone right away. I’m having a …” She balked at the words, then said, “spiritual crisis.” The words were almost too pompous to pronounce, but all the holy books agreed that anyone having a spiritual crisis could gain access to a confessor right away. Perhaps the hierophant who’d accompanied the Opal envoys could speak with her; he had a kind voice, and God knew she needed to tell someone.
Quince said, “Lord Cardinal Amo will be on the Diamond the day after tomorrow. I’m sure he would make time to see you.”
Io looked swiftly away. Arno would have her for breakfast and wash it down with coffee after. As a sick person knows what they crave for a cure, she could feel in her bones what she needed—to talk and think, with someone she could trust—not have someone else’s thinking forced on her.
Will Stockton spoke up. “Hierophant Bell is with the Opal delegation already. If my lady doesn’t want to wait.” Io looked up at him. “He’s a very good man, I use him myself.”
“Yes, I—”
“What a pity he’s leaving today,” cut in Hartley Quince. He glanced at his timepiece. “Probably already on his way. That’s why the Lord Cardinal is coming: to see to our needs until a new hierophant is assigned.”
Will looked at Hartley. This had lie written all over it, but there was nothing he could do about it.
“So it will have to wait for the Lord Cardinal, I’m afraid,” said Quince, when Io did not respond.
She nodded tiredly.
“Was there anything else? I’m here to serve you, my lady.”
“I’d like to see the elephants,” she said. And not looking at him, she gave her hand to Will.
Hartley knew a cold shoulder when it was presented to him, and he extended himself to be nice to Iolanthe. They visited the monkeys, the tropical birds, the bears, and the seals. He offered her ices when she looked thirsty and benches when she looked tired. But he was only partly attending; the greater part of his mind was elsewhere. If his efforts had no effect, it really didn’t matter—her liking for the sergeant was plain, so he could always approach her through Will.
“Panthers,” said Will, as they came upon an enormous, many-leveled cage. “A mix. Asian leopards from Earth and tree cats from Osiris.” He bent over the plaque. “They’re called marble panthers.”
One could see where the name came from. The panthers seemed almost black, but closer observation showed the pelts to be a dark, rippling green—like looking into a deep and shadowed pool. Or a smooth piece of marble.
“Adrian’s famous panthers,” said Hartley. “I’ve heard he likes to semitranquilize them and give them the free run of the Hall of Audience, upon occasion.”
Iolanthe’s eyes grew round. “I can’t believe that,” she said, and her tone added, even of Adrian. Hartley grinned.
“I heard it, too,” said Will, “but I thought it was just a story. They say he throws out
