“Lady …” The woman spoke from behind them. “Are you going out?”
“I had thought it would be pleasant,” Lutha replied in careful dialect. “Should I not do so?”
“If you go to enjoy the air, do not leave the porch. Stay behind the grille. Such is the proper pattern of dusk behavior.”
Lutha bowed, thanking her, then murmured a translation for Trompe’s benefit.
“This time I was paying attention. Her emotion had something to do with safety,” he mused, when they were outside, looking through the grille into the clearing and past it to the thorn forest. “Or a taboo of some kind. One of those negative commandments you were talking about?”
“I have no idea. Suppose we sit awhile in these comfortable-looking chairs and enjoy the evening. I’m weary, but not sleepy yet.”
“Can I take the boy? He looks very heavy.”
“Leave him. He’s all right, aren’t you, Leely-baby? Of course he is, all snuggled down on Mommy’s shoulder. Sit, Trompe. As the girl says, enjoy the air. One thing we will have to say about Dinadh; it has wonderful air.”
They sat, breathing the resinous fragrance of day-warmed trees, the cool water-scented wind that came up from the canyons. The sky was pure lapis, not yet black, with several large planets pulsing in the last glow at the horizon. Empty planets, Lutha told herself. With a few abandoned mines. And beyond this single system, everything else wiped clean by the Ularians.
“Dana,” whispered Leely, pointing with one chubby hand. “Danana.”
“What is it?” whispered Trompe.
Lutha shook her head. She couldn’t tell what it was. Something emerging from the forest: flowing draperies, melting mists. A wraith? A ghost? A creature oozing from among the trees into the clearing, seeming almost to glow in the dusk. Soon it was joined by others, half a dozen, ten, beings that lifted on their wings, circling.
Ethereally slender, androgynous in form, fairylike in effect. As Lutha’s eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see more clearly the delicate arms, the twig-thin fingers, the pearly membrane of the wings. They danced at the edge of the forest, arms beckoning.
“Tempting to get a closer look,” murmured Trompe. “If we hadn’t been warned off.”
The young woman who had warned them stood in the window, watching as they were watching.
“What are they?” Lutha asked.
The girl replied softly. “Kachis. Sim’midi-as-yah.”
“Them, the beautiful people,” Lutha translated in a whisper as the girl turned abruptly and went back into the building. “Which doesn’t tell us much.”
“Which tells us a good deal,” said Trompe soberly. “Her voice didn’t betray it, but her feelings did. She’s …awestruck. And … hopeful. And … afraid.”
“Frightened?” Lutha asked. “Surely not.”
“I’m a Fastigat, lady. Remember?”
Lutha regarded the slowly circling forms, pale against the shadows of the forest. Their eyes were large, seeming almost to glow, though it was more likely they simply reflected ambient light as did the eyes of many nocturnal creatures. The forms were almost human, the faces those of smiling children, though they all seemed to be male, if the long, semierect organs paralleled earthian forms. They called and beckoned, their delicate feet prancing upon the grasses. Ridiculous to be afraid of these, Lutha thought.
“Perhaps she was afraid of something else.”
Trompe shook his head. No, the girl had not been frightened of anything else. Whatever that strange mix of feelings meant, it had been occasioned by these, these beautiful people.
“Well then,” said Lutha, intensely matter-of-fact. “She is awestruck because they are taboo. That is why she told us to stay upon the porch, behind the rail. To prevent our contravening some local custom.”
Trompe nodded soberly. “If she prevents our contravening something, it’s something more than mere custom.”
Chur Durwen of Collis, who had without the least concern dipped deep into the King of Kamir’s coin to pay for a hundred-year sanctuary leasehold on Dinadh, now considered whether he might not have been cheated on the deal. After three days’ travel, he seemed no closer to his goal than he had been in Tasimi-na-Dinadh. Now they were stopped at yet another hostel, and Chur Durwen carried his belongings into the place in sullen silence.
“How much longer?” he demanded of the guide when he returned to the vehicle for another load.
The guide shrugged. “It depends how much sun on the car. It depends how fast we go. It depends whether all the bridges are passable.”
Chur Durwen turned to Mitigan and made an angry face, hiding it from their guide. “They ought to homo-norm this world!”
“Have you noticed that the herds are almost the only animals on Dinadh. I’d swear this place has already been homo-normed, despite the denials of every Dinadhi I’ve asked. What hasn’t been done will no doubt be done, in time.”
“In time! Everything’s in time! Forever time!”
“There, there,” soothed the man from Asenagi as he removed his belongings from the vehicle. “We’ll get there when we get there, colleague.”
The other snorted. “When we get there, we won’t be any closer to where we want to be than we are now!”
“Patience! Eventually, we’ll learn where Bernesohn Famber had his leasehold, which could be where Leelson Famber is or was, if the Haughneeps haven’t killed him elsewhere already. That place will probably be where Famber’s child or children are.”
“We should have picked up some rememberer and shaken the information out of him.”
Mitigan shook his head with an amused smile. “How would we know which one to pick up, which one had the ‘files’ we’re interested in? Ah? They don’t all remember everything, obviously.”
“Surely the ones who remember were there in the port, where we arrived. I mean, Famber had to come through there, just as we did.”
“I have no idea. We’re not sure Leelson ever came here! Our informant at Alliance Prime said Leelson’s family was coming here, but we’re not sure when. We’re sure Bernesohn Famber came, but that was a hundred years ago. One pleasant thing about this rememberer system of theirs
