In an ally, considerations of house, clan, planet, race are insignificant beside two prime questions, which are:
1. Can he shoot?
2. Will he aim at your enemy?
—Excerpted from Cantra yos'Phelium's Log Book
A LIGHT NUNCHEON had been called for, to be brought to the Small Parlor, to which they had repaired. Wine had been poured for each adult—Shan was given a small crystal cup half-filled with citrus punch—and tasted with all due ceremony.
Very shortly after, Er Thom excused himself to place a call to his parent, and left the room. Daav and Shan went to the window, where the man was apparently pointing out sections of shrubbery most likely to yield rabbits, if a boy were patient, and had sharp eyes.
Momentarily left to herself, Anne walked slowly around the room, sipping the slightly tart white wine and trying to absorb everything at once.
The rug—the rug was surely Kharsian wool, hand woven by a single family across several generations. She had seen a hologram of such a priceless treasure once and recognized the signature maroon and cobalt blue among the lesser colors, all skillfully blended to create a riotous garden of flowers, each bloom unique as a snowflake.
At one side of the room, the rug broke and flowed around a hearth of dark gray stone laid with white logs. The mantle that framed the fireplace was of a glossy reddish wood she could not identify, carved with a central medallion slightly larger than her fist. The design tantalized a moment before she named it—a Compass Rose, pure in the smooth red wood.
Turning from the fireplace, she nearly fell over the table and two comfortable-looking chairs. On top of the table was a board, margins painted with fanciful designs. The center of the board was marked into blue and brown squares, bounded by larger borders, like countries. There were twelve countries in all, Anne counted, each containing twelve small squares.
On the table outside the board were four twelve-sided ebony dice. Two shallow wooden bowls likewise sat to hand, each filled with oval pebbles. The pebbles in the right bowl were red; those in the left, yellow.
"Do you play, Professor Davis?" Daav yos'Phelium inquired suddenly from her side.
She glanced up with only a slight start and shook her head. "It's a counterchance board, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is. You must ask my brother to teach you—he's a fiend for the game, you know. And very good, besides." He flashed a smile up into her face, humor crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Although of course it wouldn't do for him to hear I've said so."
Anne laughed. "No, I can see that would be a—bad move."
"Precisely," he agreed, raising his glass. "I've left young Shan scouting for rabbits," he continued after a moment, gesturing toward the window and the child kneeling motionless before it, nose pressed to the glass.
"That should keep him busy until lunch," she said, grinning. "There's a shortage of rabbits on University."
"Ah. Well, there are more than enough here for him to enjoy, never fear it." He tipped his head slightly, black eyes quizzical.
Anne lifted her glass—and brought it down as a low move to the right caught her attention.
"What a beautiful cat!" she breathed.
Daav yos'Phelium turned his head. "Lady Dignity, how kind of you to join us! Come in, do, and give grace to the guest."
The cat paused in her progress across the carpet, considering him out of round blue eyes. After a moment, she sat down, brought up a paw and began to wash her face.
"Wanton," the man said calmly and Anne laughed.
"Lady Dignity?" she asked. "Is she very shy?"
"Merely shatterbrained, I fear, and a great deal set up in her own esteem. She does well in her role, however, so I don't like to complain."
"Her role?" She glanced expressively around her. "Tell me you have mice!"
He laughed—full and rich, a world apart from Er Thom's soft, infrequent laughter. "No, how could I? But she's useful, nonetheless."
Anne looked to where the cat had settled, chicken-fashion, onto the carpet, front paws tucked under creamy chest, blue eyes half-closed within the mask of darker fur.
"She frightens off unwanted guests," she suggested and Daav opened his black eyes wide.
"Isn't that why I keep a butler? No, I will tell you—" He sipped wine, glanced over at the cat, then back to Anne.
"My sister is very proper," he began earnestly, "and I am a great trial to her. She says I have no dignity and I fear she may be correct. Still, scolding will not create what the gods have not provided and I confess I grew tired of being reminded of my deficiency."
He used his chin to point at the drowsing cat. "So I have employed this lady, here, to act in my behalf. Now, whenever my sister demands to know where my dignity is, I can produce her upon the instant."
Anne stared at him, a smile growing slowly, curving her big mouth and lighting her eyes. The smile turned to a chuckle and she shook her head at him in mock severity.
"Your poor sister! I don't expect she was amused."
Daav sighed dolefully, eyes glinting. "Alas, the gods were behindhand in Kareen's sense of fun."
"Daav!" This from Shan, vigilant at the window. "Look, Daav! Cat!"
"Good gods, in my garden?" He was gone, moving across the carpet with a quick, silent stride to lean over the boy's shoulder.
Anne drifted over just in time to see an enormous orange-and-white cat slink into the bushes at the base of a small tree.
"Relchin," Daav said. "Doubtless gone birding." He glanced up at Anne. "He never catches any, you know, but the chase does amuse him."
"Exercise," she agreed, seriously.
"Indeed," he murmured and seemed about to say something else, when there was a step at the door.
"Ah, there you are, brother! We were only just wondering when you might return and free us all to dine!" He slid past Anne and crossed the room, blocking her view of Er Thom's face. "How do you find your mother my aunt?"
"A trifle—distressed—today." Er Thom's voice was soft and smooth as always, yet Anne felt apprehension shiver through her as she reached down to take Shan's hand.
"Er Thom, if your mother is not—able—to take on the burden of a guest—" she began, and that quickly he was before her, looking seriously up into her eyes.
"No such thing," he told her, softly, though she was cold with sudden dread. "She sends apology to the guest, that she will be unable to greet you instantly upon your arrival. She looks forward to the pleasure of your company at Prime Meal this evening."
She stared down into his eyes, feeling—knowing—that there was something wrong—badly wrong. Er Thom was lying to her. The thought—the surety—shocked her into still wordlessness.
"Anne?" He extended a hand and she caught it tightly, as if it were a thrown rope and she floundering far out of her depth.
"What's wrong?" she demanded, voice raspy and dry. "Er Thom—"
His fingers were firm, giving back pressure for pressure; his eyes never wavered from hers.
"My mother is—inconvenienced," he said patiently. "She is not able to meet you at once, but shall surely do so at Prime." His grip increased, painfully, but she made no move to withdraw her fingers. "You are welcome in my House, Anne. Please."
She held his eyes, his hand, for another heartbeat, trying desperately to plumb the wrongness, identify the ill. At last, defeated, she bowed her head and slid her fingers free.
"All right," she said softly, and raised her head in time to see Daav yos'Phelium's bold black eyes move slowly from her face to Er Thom's.
NUNCHEON PASSED IN a flurry of small-talk, of which Er Thom's brother apparently possessed an unending supply. It seemed absurd, Anne thought as she nibbled cheese, that she should have found him strange and formidable scarcely an hour ago. Now, he was merely an amusing young man with a flair for the dramatic and a penchant for telling the most ridiculous stories with an entirely straight face.
He's a bit like Jerzy, really, she thought around a stab of homesickness.
Er Thom's contributions to the conversation were slight: Set-ups for his cha'leket's absurd stories and tolerant corroborations of unlikely events. Mostly, he busied himself with feeding Shan bits of cheese and slices of fruit from the plate he had filled for himself.
Anne, watching surreptitiously, thought Shan accounted for nearly all of the plate's contents, and that Er Thom perhaps had a taste of cheese with his wine. Worried, she thought, and wondered how ill his mother was.
When at last nuncheon was over, Daav walked them down the long hall to the door and gave Er Thom another hug.
"Don't keep yourself far," he said and Er Thom smiled—wanly, Anne thought, and caught his brother's arm.
"Come to Prime, do."
Daav's eyes opened wide. "What, tonight?"
"Why not?"
"An excellent question. I shall come in all my finery. In the meanwhile, commend me to your mother."
Er Thom's smile this time was a little less tense. Daav bent to hug Shan and kiss his cheek.
"Nephew. Come and visit me often, eh? I think we shall deal famously."
Shan returned the embrace and the kiss with exuberance, then stood back to wave.
"'Bye, Daav."
The man bowed lightly—as between kin, Anne read. "Until soon, young Shan."
"Professor Davis." The bow he accorded her was of respect. "We shall speak again, I hope. I have read your work, you know, and would welcome a chance to discuss your ideas more fully, if you will grant it."
"That would be pleasant," she told him, returning his bow with one of Respect-to-a-Delm-Not-One's-Own. "I look forward to it."
"Good." His eyes were intent on hers and she felt again that he was utterly beyond her, more alien than she could fathom.
"In the meanwhile," he said, all gentle courtesy, "if there is any matter in which I may serve you, please know that I am entirely at your disposal."
"Thank you," she said, matching his inflection as precisely as possible. "You are gracious and—kind—to a stranger."
For one moment more, the black eyes seared into hers, then he was bowing them gracefully out the door.
"Until Prime," he called, lifting a hand as Er Thom started the landcar. "Keep well, all."