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"But trivial."
"Not for Farrises, according to Loyce. What makes Farrises different?"
Klyd opened the window so he could breathe deeply of the cold night air. In
the dimness, Valleroy could just see that the channel was drenched in
sweat.When he spoke, his voice was low, almost too controlled. "There is a
theory that the Sime mutation is still evolving. We've classified eight
distinct Sime variants, none of which is ideal. The Farris family produces the
channels of the highest capacities and greatest tolerances. We also suffer
from the widest range of ailments unknown among others. Entran complications
are only a minor part of that."
"If Denrau were here, wouldn't he do what was needed to avoid complications?"
"You're not Denrau."
"I know." Valleroy sat down on the bed. He found himself wishing forlornly
that his mother hadn't fled Sime Territory but had joined a Householding
instead. Watching the channel, Valleroy saw him start to shiver in the cold
air. He went to the window, hand out to close it. Klyd's hands were there
before his. The sensitive laterals were half extended, seeking the cold to
numb the pain. The contact was made before Valleroy realized what was
happening. Klyd's hands closed over his, tense but gentle.
Valleroy said, "I promise not to be angry this time, if you promise not to
fake it."
With a swift surge of movement, Klyd turned full toward him, gripping his
wrists in that peculiar hold. He laid his head on the Gen shoulder, face
averted, not seeking the fifth contact point of transfer. Valleroy almost
staggered as the channel's full weight came against him. He didn't feel
anything happening except the nearly imperceptible vibration of the moist
laterals against his skin.
An instant later, Klyd stood erect. "How did you& ?"He shook his head,
bewildered. "I thought you didn't know how to induce "
"Idon't know," said Valleroy, shaken. "If there's anything more I should do,
you'll have to tell me& before Imil finds out I didn't do it."
"Youwanted to do that to me, didn't you?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"No, of course you don't," said Klyd wonderingly. "Not yet." He sat down on
the bed.
"Stop talking in riddles."
"There's another theory," the channel continued, as if he hadn't heard."The
theory of the symmetry of nature. If there are so many different types of
Simes, there must also be different types of Gens."
"I don't follow you."
"No, I don't suppose you do. Perhaps it's just as well. Right now, you'd
better get some sleep."
"You do feel better?"
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"Yes."
Valleroy retreated to the door, still not sure what exactly he'd done. As he
opened the door, Klyd called, "Naztehr& "
"Yes, Sectuib."
"Thank you. Denrau couldn't have been better."
"You're welcome," said Valleroy, surprised to find that he really meant it.
The next morning, as Valleroy worked his way from one studio to the next, he
often caught glimpses of Loyce studying him covertly. During the noon break,
Valleroy wiped his hands on a rag and approached the Companion. "Good
morning."
"It certainly is!" Loyce agreed. He glanced around to make sure there was
nobody within earshot "He's magnificent this morning. How did you do it? I
couldn't have managed with less than a transfer."
Valleroy didn't have a chance to reply. Just then Brennar came in with a rack
of wedding dresses from which Valleroy was to select the ones he wanted to
sketch.
Later that afternoon, three of Imil's lovely girls came through escorting the
three new candidates. Valleroy scarcely had time to wave, though he knew they
passed behind him several times. When they left, he got the vague impression
they were headed for a tour of the fields.
Shortly after that, the Sectuib's flying squad swept into the studio clearing
the way and making ready for the galloping administrator, who followed right
on their heels.
"Sectuib Nashmar," said Valleroy, rising from his last sketch.
"Naztehr.I've been looking through your work. Beautiful!"
"Thank you."
"I wonder if we could prevail upon you for a specialfavor? "
"I am at your service, Sectuib."
"The Tarinalar Collection.If we could have just one real sketch from that& say
the Martesa& "
"Well, I suppose so. Why not? It's your time, isn't it?"
Nashmar beamed, making his dark skin and shockingly blond hair all the more
striking. "No other artist could possibly do the Martesa! I'll see that you
get a copy of the catalog and full credit in print." He raised his voice,
"Renita, pose the Martesa. Neztehr Hugh is going to do the Martesa for the
cover!"
Valleroy struggled not to groan as the girls in the studio squealed with
exquisite joy. He just couldn't see anything so exciting about another
outlandish costume, but he resolved to do the best he could.
The ensuing bustle made the mad rush of the last few days seem like a
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leisurely vacation. Streams of lighting technicians with their lenses and
mirrors, mountains of backdrop material, flushed models, half-clothed, dashing
about as if preparing for a royal visit& all these boiled around Valleroy as
be stood mutely in the center of the main salon while they turned one of the
studios into an imperial coronation scene.
When Valleroy was finally allowed to enter, Nashmar was posing two new models
on the heavily draped dais. Not only were the models new to Valleroy, but both [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]