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to vehemently deny this, then sank down on her haunches and said, 'Look; I
hardly know the man.' She gestured with her hands. 'I learned a lot about him
before we met, but I only met him a few days ago. In very odd circumstances.'
She shook her head, looking serious. 'I don't know who he really is.'
Dajeil rocked back and forward in her seat for a moment, staring at the meal
on the table. 'Well enough,' she said, sniffing. 'You know him well enough.'
She smoothed her ruffled hair as best she could. She stared up at the
translucent dome for a moment. 'All I knew,' she said, 'was the person he
became when he was with me.'
She looked at Ulver. 'I forgot what he was like all the rest of the time.' She
took
Ulver's hand in hers. 'You're seeing what he's really like.'
Ulver gave a long slow shrug. 'Then& ' she said, looking troubled, her tone
measured. 'He's all right. I think.'
The screens on the far side of the circular room showed fuzzy grids expanding,
swallowing, disappearing. The last field approached, was pierced to reveal a
black wash of space, and then - with a smear of rushing stars and the same
barely perceptible feeling of dislocation Ulver and Genar-Hofoen had
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experienced two days earlier when they had arrived on board the
Sleeper Service -
the
Jaundiced Outlook
was free of the GSV and peeling away on a diverging course within its own
concentric collection of fields.
'And what does that make me?' Dajeil whispered.
Ulver shrugged. She looked down at Dajeil's belly. 'Still preg-nant?' she
suggested.
Dajeil stared at her. Then she gave a small laugh. Her head went down again.
Ulver patted her hand. 'Tell me about it if you want.'
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Dajeil sniffed, dabbing at her nose with the folded napkin. 'Yes, I'm sure you
really care.'
'Oh, believe me,' Ulver told her, 'other people's problems have always held a
profound fascination for me.'
Dajeil sighed. 'Other people's are always the best problems to be involved
with,' she said ruefully.
'My thoughts exactly.'
'I suppose you think I ought to talk to him too,' Dajeil said.
Ulver glanced up at the screens again. 'I don't know. But if you have even
the least thought of it, I'd take advantage of the opportunity now, before
it's too late.'
Dajeil looked round at the screens. 'Oh, we've gone,' she said in a small
voice. She looked back at the other woman. 'Do you think he wants to see me?'
Ulver thought there was a tone of hopefulness in her voice. Her troubled gaze
flitted from one of
Ulver's eyes to the other.
'Well, if he doesn't he's a fool,' Ulver said, wondering why she was being so
diplomatic.
'Ha,' Dajeil said. She wiped her cheeks with her fingers once more and
dragged her fingers through her hair. She reached into her dress and pulled
out a comb. She offered it to Ulver. 'Would you& ?'
Ulver stood. 'Only if you say you'll see him,' she said, smiling.
Dajeil shrugged. 'I suppose so.'
Ulver stood behind Dajeil, and began to comb her long dark hair.
~ Ship?
~ Ms Seich. The
Jaundiced Outlook here.
~ I take it you've been listening. Want to contact the GSV?
~ I was listening. I have already contacted the
Sleeper Service.
Mr Genar-Hofoen and the avatar Amorphia are aboard and on their way here.
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~ Fast work, Ulver told it, and continued to gently comb Dajeil's hair.
'They're on their way,' she told her. 'Byr and the avatar.'
Dajeil said nothing.
A couple of decks further down in the accommodation section, Amorphia turned
to
Genar-Hofoen as they walked down a corri-dor. 'And it might be best not to
mention that we were Displaced aboard at the same time as Ulver,' it told the
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man.
'I'll try not to let it slip,' he said sourly. 'Let's just get this over with,
shall we?'
'Definitely the right attitude,' muttered the avatar, stepping into a lift.
They ascended to the impersonation of the tower.
XV
Snug, encapsulated in a cobbled-together nest-capsule deep inside the
accommodation section of the ex-Culture ship
Heavy Messing
, Captain Greydawn
Latesetting X of the Farsight tribe watched the blip which represented the
crippled hulk of the
Attitude Adjuster fall astern on the holo display, the screams of his uncle
Risingmoon and the other Affronters on the stricken vessel still ringing in
his mind. A hazy cloud hung around the blip of the tumbling wreck, indicating
where the ship's sensors estimated the Culture warship - which the
Heavy Messing still thought was a Deluger vessel - now was.
With his uncle dead, the fleet was now under Greydawn's command. The urge to
swing the whole assemblage about and bear down on the single Culture ship was
almost irresistible. But there would be no point; it was faster than any of
their craft; the
Heavy Messing
's Mind thought that the Culture ship might have damaged its engines during
its run-in to the attack, but even so it could probably still outstrip any of
the ships in the fleet, and so all such a course would accomplish would be to
draw them away from their intended destination, without even the realistic
prospect of revenge. They had to continue. Greydawn signalled to the six
other craft which were crewed.
~ Fellow warriors. No one feels the loss of our comrades more than I.
However, our mission remains the same. Let our victory be our first revenge.
The power we gain for our kind as a result of it will purchase the ability to
punish all such crimes against us a million-fold!
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~ The attacker's duplication of a Culture vessel's emission sig-nature
spectrum and field was astonishingly authentic, the
Heavy Messing wrote on one of the screens in front of Greydawn.
~ Their abilities have grown while you were asleep, ally, Greydawn told the
ship. He felt his gas sac tense and contract as he spoke-wrote the words,
ever conscious that anything he said might help give away the huge trick being
played on the Culture ships. ~ You see the severity of the threat they now
present.
~ Indeed, the ship replied. ~ I find it hateful that the Deluger craft killed
the
Attitude Adjuster the way it appeared to.
~ They will be chastised when we are in control of the entity at Esperi, never
fear!
11. Regarding Gravious
I
Genar-Hofoen and the avatar Amorphia appeared in the doorway at the head of
the winding stair. 'Excuse me,' Ulver said, putting down the comb and patting
Dajeil on the shoulder. She walked towards the door.
'No; please stay,' Dajeil said behind her.
Ulver turned to the older woman. 'You sure?'
Dajeil nodded. Ulver looked at Genar-Hofoen, whose gaze was fastened on
Dajeil. He seemed to shake himself out of his fixation and looked, then
smiled at
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Ulver. 'Hi,' he said. 'Yes; stay; whatever.' He crossed to Dajeil, who stood.
They both looked awkward for a moment, then they embraced; that was awkward
too, over the bulge of Dajeil's belly. Ulver and the avatar exchanged looks.
'Please; let's all sit down, shall we?' Dajeil said. 'Byr, are you hungry?'
'Not really,' he said, drawing up a chair. 'I could use a drink& ' The four of
them sat round the table.
There was some small talk, mostly between Genar-Hofoen and Dajeil, with a few
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