brain. The notes which began as almost random settled into a musical succession and now everyone in the hall had gathered around Hiroko and Fallom, as Hiroko held the flute gently with thumb and forefinger at either end, and Fallom, eyes closed, directed the current of air and the movement of the keys.
“It’s the piece I played,” whispered Hiroko.
“I remember it,” said Fallom, nodding her head slightly, trying not to break her concentration.
“Thou didst not miss a note,” said Hiroko, when it was done.
“But it’s not right, Hiroko. You didn’t do it right.”
Bliss said, “Fallom! That’s not polite. You mustn’t—”
“Please,” said Hiroko peremptorily, “do not interfere. Why is it not right, child?”
“Because I would play it differently.”
“Show me, then.”
Again the flute played, but in more complicated fashion, for the forces that pushed the keys did so more quickly, in more rapid succession and in more elaborate combinations than before. The music was more complex, and infinitely more emotional and moving. Hiroko stood rigid and there was not a sound to be heard anywhere in the room.
Even after Fallom had finished playing, there was not a sound until Hiroko drew a deep breath and said, “Little one, hast thou ever played that before?”
“No,” said Fallom, “before this I could only use my fingers, and I can’t do my fingers like that.” Then, simply and with no trace of vaunting, “No one can.”
“Canst thou play anything else?”
“I can make something up.”
“Dost thou mean—improvise?”
Fallom frowned at the word and looked toward Bliss. Bliss nodded and Fallom said, “Yes.”
“Please do so, then,” said Hiroko.
Fallom paused and thought for a minute or two, then began slowly, in a very simple succession of notes, the whole being rather dreamy. The fluorescent lights dimmed and brightened as the amount of power exerted intensified and faded. No one seemed to notice, for it seemed to be the effect of the music rather than the cause, as though a ghostly electrical spirit were obeying the dictates of the sound waves.
The combination of notes then repeated itself a bit more loudly, then a bit more complexly, then in variations that, without ever losing the clearly heard basic combination, became more stirring and more exciting until it was almost impossible to breathe. And finally, it descended much more rapidly than it had ascended and did so with the effect of a swooping dive that brought the listeners to ground level even while they still retained the feeling that they were high in the air.
There followed sheer pandemonium that split the air, and even Trevize, who was used to a totally different kind of music, thought sadly, “And now I’ll never hear that again.”
When a most reluctant quiet had returned, Hiroko held out her flute. “Here, Fallom, this is thine!”
Fallom reached for it eagerly, but Bliss caught hold of the child’s outstretched arm and said, “We can’t take it, Hiroko. It’s a valuable instrument.”
“I have another, Bliss. Not quite as good, but that is how it should be. This instrument belongeth to the person who playeth it best. Never have I heard such music and it would be wrong for me to own an instrument I cannot use to full potential. Would that I knew how the instrument could be made to play without being touched.”
Fallom took the flute and, with an expression of deep content, held it tightly to her chest.
83.
Each of the two rooms of their quarters were lit by one flourescent light. The outhouse had a third. The lights were dim, and were uncomfortable to read by, but at least the rooms were no longer dark.
Yet they now lingered outside. The sky was full of stars, something that was always fascinating to a native of Terminus, where the night sky was all but starless and in which only the faint foreshortened cloud of the Galaxy was prominent.
Hiroko had accompanied them back to their chambers for fear they would get lost in the dark, or that they would stumble. All the way back, she held Fallom’s hand, and then, after lighting the flourescents for them, remained outside with them, still clutching at the youngster.
Bliss tried again, for it was clear to her that Hiroko was in a state of a difficult conflict of emotions. “Really, Hiroko, we cannot take your flute.”
“No, Fallom must have it.” But she seemed on edge just the same.
Trevize continued to look at the sky. The night was truly dark, a darkness that was scarcely affected by the trickle of light from their own chambers; and much less so by the tiny sparks of other houses farther off.
He said, “Hiroko, do you see that star that is so bright? What is it called?”
Hiroko looked up casually and said, with no great appearance of interest, “That’s the Companion.”
“Why is it called that?”
“It circleth our sun every eighty Standard Years. It is an evening star at this time of year. Thou canst see it in daytime, too, when it lieth above the horizon.”
Good, thought Trevize. She’s not totally ignorant of astronomy. He said, “Do you know that Alpha has another companion, a very small, dim one that’s much much farther away than that bright star. You can’t see it without a telescope.” (He hadn’t seen it himself, hadn’t bothered to search for it, but the ship’s computer had the information in its memory banks.)
She said indifferently, “We were told that in school.”
“But now what about that one? You see those six stars in a zigzag line?”
Hiroko said, “That is Cassiopeia.”
“Really?” said Trevize, startled. “Which star?”
“All of them. The whole zigzag. It is Cassiopeia.”
“Why is it called that?”
“I lack the knowledge. I know nothing of astronomy, respected Trevize.”
“Do you see the lowermost star in the zigzag, the one that’s brighter than the other stars? What is that?”
“It is a star. I know not its name.”
“But except for the two companion stars, it’s the closest of all the stars to Alpha. It is only a parsec away.”
Hiroko said, “Sayest thou so? I know that not.”
“Might it not be the star about which Earth revolves?”
Hiroko looked at the star with a faint flash of interest. “I know not. I have never heard any person say so.”
“Don’t you think it might be?”
“How can I say? None knoweth where Earth might be. I—I must leave thee, now. I will be taking my shift in the fields tomorrow morning before the beach festival. I’ll see you all there, right after lunch. Yes? Yes?”
“Certainly, Hiroko.”
She left suddenly, half-running in the dark. Trevize looked after her, then followed the others into the dimly lit cottage.
He said, “Can you tell whether she was lying about Earth, Bliss?”
Bliss shook her head. “I don’t think she was. She is under enormous tension, something I was not aware of until after the concert. It existed before you asked her about the stars.”
“Because she gave away her flute, then?”
“Perhaps. I can’t tell.” She turned to Fallom. “Now, Fallom, I want you to go into your room. When you’re ready for bed, go to the outhouse, use the potty, then wash your hands, your face, and your teeth.”
“I would like to play the flute, Bliss.”
