“A work of art, Sectuib. I’ll do my very best with it.”
“Be sure you get the lateral position exactly right. This will be the first cover we’ve ever used depicting a Sime-Sime transfer, and it must be technically accurate.”
“Do you think it wise, Sectuib,” asked Valleroy hesitantly, “to show such an act on the cover when the content of the catalog is so different?”
“Zeor’s brand of conservatism can be practiced by lesser Householdings, you know. People respect Imil as the leading fashion house, but they’ve learned to forget what we are. It’s time to remind them. And you are the artist to do it. Your work speaks on a deeper level than any mere photograph, a level deep enough to express our message as only a Companion could understand it.”
Valleroy swallowed hard. He was no Companion. But Nashmar didn’t give him a chance to temporize. “I don’t mean to insult you, Naztehr, but it is my duty to remind you that you are above mid-field with respect to Enam. Although Zinter is unusually adept, he is young and well beneath your level of accomplishment while Enam is struggling with disjunction. Of course, Enam could never injure a Companion....”
“Of course not,” agreed Valleroy weakly. “It’s just that you wouldn’t want me to disturb him unduly.”
“I knew you’d understand.” Nashmar laid a reassuring hand on Valleroy’s shoulder. “Zeor’s reputation is safe with you.”
Nashmar swept out of the room, his entourage trailing.
Seating himself at the drafting board, Valleroy found all his customary materials neatly laid out. The table was positioned to view the scene from the perfect angle. And, he had to admit that the two models had been well chosen. Not only were the classical, angular planes of their faces perfect for their costumes, but their body masses were balanced with a subtle line harmony that made Valleroy’s heart sing. The loose robes they wore had been arranged to accentuate that harmony.
The artist in Valleroy came to grips with the problem. It was the most stimulating challenge he’d been handed in Imil. It drew forth his need to express himself as had the portrait of Hrel and Klyd.
He positioned the figures on his page, carefully measuring and balancing the perspective; a touch of color here and a shadow there; a carefully placed highlight; a gossamer blurring at the edges gradually converging on an almost painfully sharp focus around those twined tentacles.
He drew the robes with photographic accuracy, emphasizing how they were designed for freedom while lending grace and a certain elegance to the act being performed. At last, he came to the detail work on the tentacles. Taking a sketch pad, he approached the pair for a closer view.
The empty tentacle sheaths formed striated lines from elbow to wrist. The loose skin of the empty sheaths revealed a slight bulge that appeared to be a gland about halfway down. From the wrist openings, the channel’s tentacles extended to meet the Sime’s. Valleroy noted carefully just how much smaller were the moist, pink-gray laterals compared to the strong, dry-skinned dorsals and ventrals.
In his mind, he could see the lines resolved into a force-diagram as delicately balanced as it was intricate. The dorsal and ventral handling tentacles gripped and immobilized, protecting the exposed laterals from sudden disengagement. Valleroy could appreciate how vulnerable a Sime must feel with those nerve-rich laterals unsheathed. He could see it in the almost imperceptible trembling of the soft pink flesh. And yet, these organs were the most deadly survival equipment possessed by any species on the face of the earth.
Therein lay a contrast that sent Valleroy back to his board in a fever of insight. The very source if the Sime’s strength was his greatest weakness. That was the message those twined tentacles had to convey!
He worked with a rising excitement. Every few moments, he rose to circle the models, peering, measuring, and studying. Heedless of the destruction he wrought, he clambered over the backdrop to get a new angle and rushed back to his board to add the precise nuance he’d discovered. He did this over and over again, unaware of the passage of time, oblivious to the fatigue of the models, unmindful of his own exhaustion.
At length, almost satisfied he’d achieved all that could be done, he climbed wearily over the tangled drapes to check those exposed laterals one last time.
Without warning, Klyd’s voice called from the studio door, “Hugh!”
Startled, Valleroy jerked erect. His foot caught in a fold of drapery tugging him off balance. He stumbled, arms flailing!
With surrealistic slowness, he plowed into the model. A moist lateral grazed his face leaving a tingling trail across his forehead. Then his head struck the edge of the contoured couch. He blacked out momentarily. When his vision cleared, he was lying on his back, Zinter’s legs were sailing over his head, and Enam’s face was zooming toward him twisted by a feral grimace!
Sime tentacles lashed about his wrists, steely bands biting deep into his flesh with a peculiar intensity he’d never felt before. The moist laterals slithered around his arms, sensitizing his skin in hot streaks. Just as he realized this was the attack of a killer, another pair of Sime arms intervened!
The attacker was lifted away bodily. Valleroy shook his throbbing head once more to clear his vision. It was Klyd who had rescued him. Zinter lay in a dazed heap as if thrown there by Enam. Now, Klyd stood facing Enam, engaging his tentacles in a secure, protective hold. “I will serve you gladly, Enam, but I must reserve my Companion to myself. Without him, I cannot function.”
Struggling feebly against the channel’s hold, Enam gritted, “Without the kill, I cannot function! I cannot live!”
“You can’t kill a Companion. Surely you know that by now.”
“Let me at him. I’ll show you....”
“I can’t do that.”
Sullen resentment burned out of dark eyes. “You keep all the Gens to yourselves! Without them, I’d rather be dead!”
“If Zelerod is correct, we all will be dead very soon.”
“I must kill.” Enam had surrendered to a deeper instinct, one that could not be repressed.
“You must not. Believe me, Enam, you would obtain little more satisfaction from attacking a trained Companion than from attacking me. A Companion doesn’t panic in transfer; you can’t harm him; and such a transfer can’t give you the egobliss of the Choice Kill.”
“I had him, Sectuib. I know it!”
“Fantasy, Naztehr,” Klyd asserted firmly. “Pure...wish-fulfillment fantasy.”
“Better than nothing.”
“You’re not in need. But you are high-intil. It will probably break before your next transfer. Wait another three weeks and then come tell me that.”
“You won’t be here.”
“Sectuib Nashmar will be able to provide as complete a satisfaction as you will ever require. If that is not so, Enam, come to Zeor.”
“You really believe....”
“It will be so. For you as for all the rest. Make that final decision to disjunct. Afterwards, if you still want to, you can always leave. But don’t attempt a kill within these walls. You owe us that much.”
Zinter was on his feet now, rubbing the growing lump on the back of his head. “Enam, I’d be glad to escort you...if you want to go to the infirmary. We have tranquilizers and other methods of helping you get through the worst of it.”
Fists clenched, head bent, Enam followed the young channel out while Klyd helped Valleroy to his feet. “Hugh,” whispered the channel while examining Valleroy’s injuries, “a message just came from Zeor...from Hrel. Andle’s agent in Imil is Enam. Hrel thinks he’s been ordered to get you. If he’d killed you, or even just injured....”
“They’d know I wasn’t a trained Companion...but Zeor knows that already.”
“Zeor believes you are talented enough to become a Companion. Otherwise, I’d have had no excuse to give you this,” he said, fingering the Zeor crest ring that Valleroy wore.
“But I’m not talented....”
“I had to vouch for you before Zeor in
order to bring you here. I’ve placed my reputation in jeopardy for your mission. It’s a matter of public record that you and I have achieved selur nager. What possible motive, other than collaboration, could I have to lie about that?”
“I see.”
“Your incompetence under Enam’s attack could have given Andle all the evidence he requires to expose me.”
“You’ve placed too much faith in me. Enam might have succeeded.”
“But he didn’t when he had all the time he required. That proves I’m right about you.”
At that moment, Nashmar burst into the room. “Klyd, what’s going on...?” His eye fell on the sketch Valleroy had just finished. He froze, gaping. “Naztehr, this is...is...there are no words. It is pure glory. It is truth.”
Klyd moved down to see what so affected the Sectuib of Imil. Immediately, he was caught in the same spell. When he shook himself free of it, he said, “What did I tell you, Nashmar?”
Nashmar nodded, speechless.
Klyd looked directly into Valleroy’s eyes with a double significance. “A very rare, very special, very...precious talent.”
“Thank you, Sectuib Farris. Thank you, Sectuib Nashmar.” He’d learned recently that “Sectuib” had no plural.
“Nashmar,” said Klyd briskly, “we would like a word with you in your office...privately.”
“Certainly.” He motioned to one of the men who had crowded into the room behind him. “Take this sketch down to Amran’s shop...and be careful with it.” Then he led the procession out of the salon and through the halls of Imil.
Valleroy was a little shocked to find the Sectuib’s office windows black with night. The studio had no outside windows. Time had ceased to exist while he worked. It was the very thing Stacy had warned him not to allow on this assignment, but this was the third lapse he’d suffered while his assignment stagnated.
Klyd settled into Nashmar’s desk chair and turned to face the Head of the Householding. “What do you know of Enam?”
“He’s an enthusiastic young man, perhaps a bit overly fond of the women, but the juncted are often like that you know. He has many redeeming qualities. Why?”
“He attacked my Companion.”
Valleroy saw the lean channel of Imil tense as if attacked himself. Nashmar whispered, “When?”
“Just before you got there. I intervened in time to talk him into the infirmary. He’s high-intil.”
“A bit early. He’s only been with us....”
“Figures. I had the same trouble with Hrel.”
“Hrel?”
“He had an incredibly long, agonizing time of it. But he made it.”
“I don’t understand.”
So Klyd told him the whole story, leaving out only Valleroy’s part and the exact reason Feleho had been investigating the Choice Auction. He ended, “So you see, Andle is up to something in Iburan. I think it is justifiable to assume that whatever he’s doing, it means disaster for the Tecton.”
“You think he knows you are following Feleho’s trail personally?”
“I’m certain of it. His agent was waiting for us at Halfway House, but Hugh’s quick thinking prevented him from making trouble.”
Blankly, Valleroy said, “It did?”
“Certainly. You knocked all the fight out of those people by quoting the law at them. Otherwise that drummer with the sample cases would have started a riot. He’s one of Andle’s chief rabble-rousers.”
Valleroy gulped, suddenly dry-mouthed.
A little quirk of a smile tilted Nashmar’s cheeks. “A Gen reading the law at a crowd of juncts! I wish I’d seen that!”
“I didn’t see it either, but it was something to hear.”
“And then,” said Nashmar, suddenly thoughtful, “Lutrel turns up at the auction with a swarm of Andle’s retainers.”
“Followed by Enam. Granted, Hugh actually stumbled and fell on him after teasing him unmercifully for God only knows how long....”
“Teasing...!” sputtered Valleroy indignantly.
“I know,” placated Klyd, “how you get when you work, and I don’t blame you for it. But you must admit you weren’t considering what your field-gradient looked like from Enam’s point of view....”
Valleroy had to concede that. He wouldn’t have known how to consider it even if he’d thought of it.
“And neither were you calculating the selyur on Zinter.”
“True. I wasn’t calculating.”
“So in many ways, it was your fault—”
“Klyd,” Nashmar interrupted, “don’t. The masterpiece he created would have been worth making a spy start the disjunct sequence over.”
A little stiffly, Klyd chuckled. “Yes, put that way, it doesn’t sound so bad.”
“And the Zeor genius saved the day, as usual. What have you learned of Andle’s newest scheme?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? An awful risk you’ve been taking coming out here for nothing.”
“A man can’t live in confinement all his life.”
“But a channel....”
Squirming uncomfortably, Klyd said, “Please, Nashmar, I have to listen to enough of that from Grandfather.”
“Well, at least let me provide you with an escort home.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“The East Thodian Road is far more dangerous than the way you came...Runzi Raiders in the hills, and unlicensed bands in the valley!”
“I’m fully aware of that. We’ll ride alone.”
Nashmar shook his head in a way that told Valleroy that Klyd was playing it in character, so he held his peace. A real Companion of Zeor would support that brazen pride which seemed so much a part of the Farris Householding.
“All right, Klyd, it’s your neck and your Householding. But next month, when I send Zinter to you, it will be under heavy guard.”
“Fair enough. After he joins Zeor, he’ll learn to ride like a man.”
“Like a channel you mean. Don’t you dare send him out without a Companion!”
For answer, Klyd only gestured toward Valleroy.
“All right. Tell me, does Imil owe you selyn?”
“No. Enam didn’t draw. He wasn’t in hard need, and I think he just used that excuse to get at Hugh. Even high-intil, he could have used Zinter more effectively...if he’d wanted to.”
“It’s hard to see why he didn’t.”
“He might have been trying to discredit me by injuring Hugh—”
“Then he’s a fool! A Companion of Zeor?”
“Or he might have merely been instructed to put Hugh low-field out of phase with me.”
“Oh, Denrau could provide.”
“We’re not at Zeor yet. Besides, Hugh and I have a...commitment.”
“I see. But how could Enam...or Andle...have known that?”
“Hrel could have reported it.”
“But he’s changed sides now.”
“Only recently.”
“Think it will last?”
“Yes, I do. Nashmar, do you realize what this means? If you can pull Enam through...and bring him over to our side....”
“That we can absorb any spy Andle sends? It means we’ll win. But how can I bring Enam over without losing one of my own people like you did?”
Klyd leaned his elbows on the chair arms, twining tentacles thoughtfully. “I don’t think it will be that costly. Disjunction is its own end...once it is achieved. His own body’s new freedom will argue for us. His own mind’s new clarity will show him our side of it. I think Hrel marks the turning in this war, Nashmar. Victory beckons.”
“Now I know where Hugh gets his talent. Zeor has a poet for Sectuib! I wish I had your vision, Klyd.”
“I wish only to assure that my grandchildren will never know a junct, never witness the agony of disjuction, and never fear for their safety among Simes.”
Nashmar smiled. “I’ll second that.”
“Then on that happy note of agreement, let us part,�
�� said Klyd, rising.
“Just be sure to invite us to the birthday celebration.”
“The invitations are probably at the engravers already.”
“Designed by Naztehr Hugh, no doubt.”
“I wouldn’t know. My wife wouldn’t let me see them.”
“You mean,” said Nashmar, escorting Klyd to the door, “that you didn’t have time to look though she chased around after you all day. A woman in that condition. You ought to be ashamed.”
“Nonsense. Zeor is much better organized than your primitive steading.”
“Aha! What you mean is that you avoided her ambush!”
For a moment, Valleroy thought the two channels were serious...but then he saw the crinkle lines around their eyes and relaxed. He’d sleep well that night...his last night in Imil.
CHAPTER SEVEN
VISIONS
The next morning saw them on the trail for home enjoying the fragrant Indian summer breezes. The air seemed alive, renewed from summer’s dryness by the fall rains. Every intoxicating breath increased Valleroy’s languid content.
They rode at a steady but unhurried pace, sharing the desire to store this moment against the fast approaching winter. To their left, a ridge of mountains running parallel to their road seemed to stretch long fingers toward them like a giant claw gripping the earth. The valleys between the ridges seemed rocky, forbidding gullies. Here and there some scar of Ancient handiwork could be seen. But for the most part there was nothing but stark cracked rock softened only by a wisp of fog.
To their right the neat patchwork of farms on the rolling flatland was crossed obliquely by an occasional farm road. It was a morning to enjoy being alive and free, a morning that conjured the happiest memories of childhood and the wildest exhilarations of youth.
Despite his serene contentment and the richness of the feeling of going home, Valleroy remained acutely aware of how this morning must feel to Aisha...if she still lived. Imprisoned. She wasn’t the type to cower at the prospect of dying. But there were limits even to her courage.
Courage? Yes, Valleroy thought, he’d always admired her for that versatile courage she seemed unaware of having. He remembered the first time he’d seen it in action.
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