The Unicorn Girl

by Anne McCaffrey

  A path of deep blue stepping-stones wound among flowering shrubs. As Gill stepped on the first stone, a clear pure middle C sounded in the air. The next two steps produced an E and a G; the sounds lingered on the air and blended in a perfect chord.

  “You like my walkway?” Hafiz asked with a satisfied smile. “Perhaps you have not before encountered the singing stones of Skarrness.”

  “But I thought they were—” Gill choked down the rest of the sentence. The once-famous singing stones of Skarrness were virtually gone now, having fallen prey to unscrupulous collectors, who removed so many of the stones that the remaining ones could not maintain their population. But Rafik had said Hafiz was a collector of rarities and had implied that he was not overburdened with scruples. It would probably not be tactful to complete his thought.

  “Quite rare, yes,” Hafiz said. “It was my great good fortune to obtain a perfectly tuned set in C major, and an even rarer set in the Lydian mode. Very few complete sets, alas, are available now.”

  Thanks to jerks like you, Gill thought, but he managed to keep his thought to himself and his face composed.

  The walkway led them musically to a high wall of dark stone which Hafiz identified casually as Farinese marble. A double gate of lacy, hand-wrought metal work opened into a second garden, this one surrounded on three sides by a roofed gallery with columns of the same Farinese marble. Through the columns Gill could glimpse openings into a shadowy interior of polished floors, carved wooden screens, and silk hangings.

  Hafiz clapped his hands and several robed servants appeared, two carrying cushions of jewel-colored silk, another with a tall crystal pitcher, and a fourth behind him with a crystal bowl and a stack of towels so richly embroidered in gold thread that only a small silken square was visible in the center of each.

  “We have, of course, completely modern facilities within,” Hafiz said apologetically, “but it delights me to keep to the old customs of offering guests water with my own hands, and food and drink in my own garden, as soon as they have arrived.” He took the pitcher and poured a thin stream of cold water over Rafik’s outstretched hands. Gill copied Rafik’s motions and took one of the embroidered towels to dry his hands. Hafiz handed the pitcher to Rafik with a bow. “Perhaps you would prefer to offer water to your wives yourself. I should not like to insult your new beliefs.”

  Rafik bowed acknowledgment and held out the pitcher for Calum and Acorna to wash their hands, casually moving as he did so that his body blocked any view Hafiz might have had of Acorna’s oddly shaped digits and Calum’s masculine fingers.

  Hafiz indicated that they should all seat themselves on the silken cushions, mentioned casually that the pitcher and bowl had each been carved from a single piece of Merastikama crystal, and told the servants to take back the washing implements and bring refreshment for his guests. The placement of brass trays on three-legged wooden stands, the handing round of minute glasses full of fiery liquor and delicate bowls of fruit-flavored sorbet, took what seemed to Gill an inordinately long time while Hafiz and Rafik chatted of trivialities. Rafik made a show of refusing the liquor, in keeping with his pretense of conversion to the strict Neo-Hadithian sect, which had revived all the prohibitions of the First Prophet and then some. Gill at first felt glad to be an official unbeliever and free to enjoy the drinks; then, after one burning swallow, he began considering the possibility of announcing an instant conversion to Rafik’s tenets. He was relieved to see that Acorna managed to take a dish of sorbet under her veil; he’d been afraid that eating and drinking would tax her disguise too much. But it seemed the Neo-Hadithians had designed their women’s costumes so that the veils need not be removed for anything. Gill wondered sourly whether they removed them in bed.

  Finally, as a casual afterthought to a lengthy discussion of the problems of interstellar trade, Rafik mentioned that he and his partner had encountered a small technical difficulty with which Uncle Hafiz might be able to help them out—for a consideration, of course.

  “Ah, these minor technicalities.” Hafiz sighed sympathetically. “How they plague us, these petty bureaucrats with their accounting details! What seems to be the difficulty, son of my best beloved sister?”

  Rafik gave Hafiz a severely edited account of their difficulties with Amalgamated, leaving out any mention of Acorna and stressing the basic illegality of Amalgamated’s claim to own the Khedive.

  “If their claim is entirely without foundation,” Hafiz asked, as though motivated by idle curiosity, “why do you not take your case to the courts of the Federation?”

  “It is written in the Book of the Second Prophet,” said Rafik, “‘Trust kin before countrymen, countrymen before outlanders, and all before unbelievers.’”

  “And yet your partner is an unbeliever,” Hafiz pointed out.

  “Our partnership is of long standing,” Rafik said. “Besides, there is a minor complication in the matter of money advanced by MME—the company with which we had previously contracted—for mining equipment and supplies. The dogs of unbelievers at Amalgamated claim our ship as security against the advance, though if they had credited us with the metals sent back by drone over the last three years, the debt would have been paid three times over. However, we left the Amalgamated base in some haste and the matter was not resolved.”

  “It is also written,” said Hafiz, “‘Be not in such haste to collect the silver that ye let the gold fall by the wayside.’”

  “A most excellent precept, O Revered Uncle,” said Rafik politely, “but one which I found myself unable to honor under the circumstances.” He lowered his voice as if to make sure that the veiled figures on the other side of the brass tray should not hear. “It was a matter of a woman—you understand?”

  Hafiz smiled broadly. “I begin to see why you have joined the Neo-Hadithians, my son! It is their revival of polygamy which appeals to you. So, two wives were not enough. You had to get yourself in trouble with some unbeliever on the Amalgamated base?”

  “In confidence,” Rafik said, “the taller of my two wives is so ugly one might imagine her a man, and I have no use for her as a woman; while the smaller one is too young yet to be taken to my bed. Both marriages were made to strengthen my claims to kinship within the Neo-Hadithians and not for carnal desire.”

  Calum choked under his veil. Gill reached under the table and pinched some part of his anatomy through the billowing white layers of polysilk, hard enough to distract Calum from whatever he might have been tempted to say.

  Hafiz laughed merrily at Rafik’s account of his marital troubles, and seemed more disposed to help them out if he could get the satisfaction of teasing his nephew for the bad bargain he had made in joining the Neo-Hadithian sect. Transferring registration of their new beacon into their name, he warned, was a complicated task and would require facilitation payments to a number of individuals, not all of them so liberal in their thinking as he was. He would, however, be happy to arrange the entire matter, if Rafik could see his way to putting sufficient credit at his disposal.

  “That brings up another minor point,” said Rafik, and showed Hafiz the share certificates from Amalgamated.

  “These can, of course, be converted into Federation credits,” Hafiz said, thumbing rapidly through the certificates, “although at a substantial discount.”

  “The discount on shares from such a galactically recognized company, all but certain to rise in value, should be only nominal,” Rafik protested.

  Hafiz smiled. “Is it not written in the Book of the Third Prophet, ‘Count not the light from a distant star among your assets, for that star may have been long dead by the time its light reaches thine eyes’?” He glanced at Acorna, who had begun wriggling under her veils in a way that was causing Calum and Gill grave anxiety. “But your younger wife is restless. Perhaps your wives would care to retire to the rooms which have been made ready for them while we settle the minor matter of the discount on these shares and the payments necessary to facilitate reregistration of
the new beacon? Or would they like to stroll in the outer garden? I can call one of my women to attend them.”

  “That will not be necessary,” said Gill, rising to his feet. “I should be honored to escort the ladies.”

  Rafik smiled seraphically. “I repose complete trust in my partner,” he assured Hafiz. “As he trusts me to complete the negotiations, so can I trust him with my honor and that of my women.”

  “Particularly,” Hafiz needled him as the others left, “since one is, by your own account, too ugly to bed and the other too young.”

  “Just so,” said Rafik cheerfully. “Now, about this discount…”

  As soon as they were concealed among the flowering shrubs of the outer garden, Calum shoved back his multilayered veil and took a deep breath. “I am going to kill Rafik,” he said.

  Gill snickered. “Remember to take tiny little ladylike steps,” he teased. “And better keep the veil down. Even with Rafik’s warning that you’re as ugly as a man, Hafiz might get suspicious if he saw that you need a shave.”

  “I just hope they finish dickering so we can get back to the ship,” Calum said sourly, but he flipped the veiling back over his face. “I’m tired of fancy dress.”

  Acorna tugged at Gill’s sleeve and pointed at the grass that grew around each of the blue singing stones. “What? Oh, sure, sweetie, go ahead and nibble if you like. You’ve been a good girl. Just remember to cover your head if we hear anybody coming. The singing stones ought to give us plenty of warning,” Gill said rather defensively to Calum.

  “You didn’t let me unveil.”

  “Modesty, modesty.” Gill chuckled. “You don’t need a snack. Acorna’s metabolism needs more than the occasional dish of sorbet, you know. And if Hafiz expects us to stay for a meal, it’ll probably be mostly meat dishes and she can’t eat those.”

  Acorna, ignoring the argument, had quietly knelt down within her billowing veils and pushed the face veils back so that she could see to pluck the tender tops of the sweet grasses. “Good girl, good,” Gill encouraged her. “Don’t make any divots, now.”

  “Is rude to make holes in grass,” Acorna said. “Is a no.”

  “A very big no, in somebody else’s garden,” Gill agreed. “But the stuff has to be mowed, I assume, so it’ll do no harm if you take an inch or two off the top.”

  Five notes in a wailing pentatonic scale sounded in quick succession. Acorna tried to jump up, but the swathes of filmy fabric impeded her movements and she would have fallen if Gill hadn’t grabbed her hand and pulled her upright by main force. She was still fumbling for her veil when Hafiz and Rafik came into view.

  Hafiz’s eyebrows shot up and he came forward rapidly. “By the earlocks of the Third Prophet!” he exclaimed. “A rarity indeed! Rafik, beloved nephew, I do believe we can come to a mutually agreeable arrangement at a considerably less discount than I had anticipated.”

  “Uncle,” Rafik said in reproving tones, “I beg of you, do not insult the modesty of my wives and the honor of my family.” But he was too late; Hafiz was already stroking the short horn that protruded from Acorna’s forehead. She stood quite still, only the narrowing of her pupils showing her distress and confusion.

  “You were complaining that this one was too young to be of any use,” Hafiz said without looking away from Acorna. “How fortunate that your new religious friends hold to the old traditions in the matter of divorce as well as of polygamy and hijab. Nothing could be easier than a quiet family divorce, at once freeing you of an undesired entanglement and allowing me the acquisition of a new rarity.”

  “Unthinkable,” Rafik protested. “Her family have entrusted her to me; she is my sacred responsibility.”

  “Then they will no doubt be delighted to hear that she will henceforth grace the home of such a distinguished and benevolent collector as myself,” Hafiz said happily. “I am willing to undertake to respect all the religious prohibitions of your sect. She can have the rooms which I had set aside for you and your wives tonight; I will establish them as secluded women’s quarters for her and her servants alone, so that the Neo-Hadithian scruples need not be outraged. You will be able to tell her family that she is kept in every possible luxury.”

  “I am sorry,” Rafik said firmly. “I do not sell my women. Uncle Hafiz, this touches on my honor!”

  Hafiz waved the objections away with an airy hand. “Ah, you young people are so impetuous! I would not be doing my duty as your uncle, my boy, if I permitted you to refuse in haste what will upon reflection appear to you as a most advantageous solution to all your difficulties. No, family feeling dictates that I make sure you have time to reflect upon the situation at leisure. You will remain as my guests until you have had sufficient time to perceive the wisdom of this course.”

  “We cannot impose upon you,” Rafik said. “We will return to our ship tonight and there discuss the matter among ourselves.”

  “No, no, dear boy, I could not hear of it! My household would be dishonored forever should I fail to offer you appropriate hospitality. You will be my guests tonight. I simply insist,” Hafiz said, raising his voice slightly.

  There was a rustle among the bushes, and suddenly two robed and silent servants stood behind each one of them.

  “The singing stones, although a great curiosity, are sometimes inconvenient,” Hafiz said cheerfully. “There are other ways through the garden for those who serve me.”

  Rafik caught Gill’s eye and gave a slight despairing shrug. “We shall be delighted to accept your hospitality tonight, Uncle. You are too generous.”

  Hafiz’s generosity extended to the provision of separate quarters for them, one set of rooms for Rafik and his “wives,” and another room, on the far side of the sprawling mansion, for Gill. “You would naturally wish your women to be housed in seclusion and far from any man’s sleeping place,” he explained smoothly.

  “And that makes it even harder to get away,” Calum growled as soon as Hafiz had left them on their own. “How are we going to find Gill and get to our skimmer?”

  “Peace,” said Rafik absently.

  “You’re not thinking of giving in to him!”

  “I played in this house as a boy,” Rafik said. “I know every inch of the grounds, perhaps better than my uncle; it has been some years since he had the figure to wriggle along the low paths under the shrubbery, or to swing from cornice to pipe along the upper stories. But we will temporize for a day or two, Calum.”

  “Why?”

  “We do,” said Rafik sweetly, “want to give Uncle Hafiz time to fix the registration of our new ship’s beacon, don’t we? Let him think we’re cooperating until that is done; then it will be time enough to get away.”

  “And how do you think you’re going to get him to switch the registration and launder our shares without handing over Acorna?”

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” Rafik said. “I’m a master negotiator. I learned from an expert.”

  “I know,” said Calum. “We’re negotiating with the expert in question, remember?”

  Four

  Acorna woke to the dawn-chirping of birds in the sweet-scented flowering vines outside the window. The night had been still and hot and she had pushed all the covers off her bed; now it was cool, almost chilly. She wrapped the clinging layers of white polysilk around herself. The robes were enough to keep her warm, but she was unable to recreate the drapery of hood and robe and face veils that Rafik had arranged about her the previous day. She looked doubtfully at the sleeping Rafik and Calum. Would it be a big “no” to leave the room like this, without the veils over her head? She hated the veils anyway; they clung to her mouth and nose and chafed her forehead where the growing horn was still tender. It would probably be an even bigger “no” to wake Calum and Rafik and ask them to dress her, wouldn’t it?

  The pressure in her bladder settled the question. Tiptoeing so as not to wake the miners, Acorna quietly slid the carved wooden door open just enough to let her squeeze out. She remembered t
he washing-place they had been shown last night, a wonderland of blue tiles and jets of hot and cold water and minty steam rising up through wooden slats. But this morning there was no one to make the hot water come out for her, and after relieving herself she abandoned the washing-place and tiptoed down two flights of stairs to where she could see the garden through an open archway.

  The blue stones sang when she stepped on them, just as they had last night. Entranced by the sweet pure tones, Acorna dropped her clinging draperies and danced back and forth, improvising a tune by leaping from one stone to another and accompanying the music of the stones with her own singing. She did not realize how loud she was getting until a discordant note interrupted her melody. She whirled and saw Uncle Hafiz standing at the beginning of the blue stone path.

  Acorna’s song broke off and the sudden stillness of the garden shocked her into realizing how boisterous she had been.

  “Too loud?” she asked, penitent. “If I make too much noise, that is a big no?”

  “Not in the least, my dear child,” Uncle Hafiz said. “Your singing was a delightful interruption to a boring task. No, no—” he forestalled her as she belatedly tried to wind the robes around herself again, “there’s no need to trouble yourself with those things, not among family.”

  “I must be covered. Rafik said.”

  “On the streets, perhaps,” Uncle Hafiz agreed, “but among your own relatives it is different.”

  Acorna thought this over. “You are rel-tive?”

  “And I hope soon to be a very close relation indeed.”

  “You are rel-tive to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I am rel-tive to Rafik and Gill and Calum. So you are rel-tive to Gill?”