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our side as we could have dared to hope.
"Well, then I'd best get to it." Aimeric stood slowly and nodded
at Paul and
Thorwald. "You make sure that manifesto is airtight. If there isn't some way
for me to speak, with things like this happening, I'm liable to do things that
will get diplomatic immunity revoked."
They turned back to the page in front of them, and I went downstairs. There
were five more crises exploding, and Margaret was on top of all of them; she
pointed out another one. "We need to see if we can resume classes
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soon otherwise the PPP can start forcing people to ask for refunds. Would you
have time to figure out what we'll have to do to get the Center functioning as
the Center again, in addition to being Utilitopia's leading
Heretic House?"
Call it just natural merce, or maybe I just needed to keep my skills at
flattery in shape, but I told her that what she asked me for I was incapable
of refusing. She blushed yet again and her eyes wouldn't meet mine, but
she was obviously overjoyed at the attention. I realized that I deeply
enjoyed giving her the pleasure, and that as delighted as she was, she was
almost physically passable.
Almost.
I was upstairs at a terminal in my office, trying to work out where we could
move all those bodies so that all the classes could meet at their regular
times, when there was a
gentle tap at the door.
"Venetz."
Valerie came in very hesitantly; she looked as if she might break and run.
"Are you busy?"
"Incredibly, midons, but there's always time for you."
"I just wanted ... well, to see how you were doing, and maybe to find out, oh,
just how things are."
The difference between Valerie and Margaret, it occurred to me, was that both
had
Caledon skill at flirting which is to say, none at all but where
Margaret simply communicated as best she could, Valerie actually tried to
flirt and failed miserably at it.
Still, as I looked at the clear skin, the immense luminous eyes ... and the
curves of her body ... I thought skill and communication might be highly
negotiable.
"Well," I said, "I'm exhausted because I haven't slept much, and there's much
more work in front of me than I can reasonably do. But at least so far the PPP
can't touch me personally, which is a better situation than most of you are
in, so I try to hold my share of things up." It came out much more tired and
duty-bound than I had meant it to; more
Caledon, if you will.
Her smile was still warm, and by lowering her eyes a little she
managed to give herself some look of mystery; it would have been
unusually crude for a pubescent
Occitan, but just the attempt was remarkable here. "I know how much you've
been doing for all of us. Have you ... er, had even a chance to
think a little about ... when we jammed together?"
She emphasized "jammed" just enough to make sure that I would remember what it
meant in local slang. There hadn't been any real danger that I would forget.
"Well, it was just about the last pleasant thing that happened to me," I said.
"Was there anything in particular about it you wanted to discuss?"
"Just that I'd love to ... perform with you again. And since Paul and Thorwald
seem so determined to launch this Inessentialist Movement, that means more
chances to perform, and well, you know. I wanted to know if you felt about it
the same way I feel about it."
"Sort of the ultimate in unanswerable questions, isn't it?" I wasn't
sure why I was teasing and fending in quite this way perhaps I was afraid
that she might make a more explicit suggestion soon, or perhaps I was afraid
that she would not and I would be confronted by my own arrogance.
Certainly I did not want her to leave, and I was enjoying the
sight of the little flush spreading across her cheeks, not much
caring whether it was embarrassment or excitement. "Anyway, until they get
their manifesto done, how are we to know, as true artists, whether or not we
are Inessentialists?"
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If the peeps had a bug left, that might give them a bit of a headache.
"Oh, but ... well, I think all artists are. Paul was telling me about it; his
eyes were all full of light, and just to listen to him ... what he said was
that it's about the idea that art doesn't serve a purpose, art is a purpose,
that's the only thing I can remember exactly."
Her eyes were fairly "full of light" in their own right, and the mention of
Paul's name had triggered a couple of thoughts in me. First of all, I was in
the middle of a genuinely dangerous political crisis, in which Paul had
been useful and Valerie had not, and from what Margaret had told me, I sort of
strongly suspected that Valerie had been creating a certain amount of chaos
among the people staying with us, and probably giving Paul one more thing to
worry about.
The second thought, which practically blinded me, was that although I was
certainly excited by her face and body, and the purity of her voice and the
passion of her playing were magnificent, I did not know her very well, and
what I knew I didn't like.
It had never occurred to me that I might like or dislike a donzelha.
Maybe Marcabru had been getting letters from a stranger named Giraut, after
all.
I don't know what exactly I did in that long moment of thought tossed my
hair, I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]