Certain Symmetry Read Online Free PDF Page A

Rin had some more tea, and set the cup
aside. He would need to acquaint himself with this new iteration of
Val Con. No doubt this skimmer race victory would bring to him any
number of gentle inquiries as to the ...availability... of the
nadelm. He made a note to speak--unofficially, of course!--to
cousin Nova regarding Val Con's current standing with regard to the
marriage mart. In the meanwhile, his own business beckoned.
    He brought his attention once more to the
news screen, noted that several of his more minor investments were
performing with gratifying efficiency; read with bored interest the
listing of contract-marriages negotiated and consummated; learned
of a brawl in mid-Port between the crews of a Terran freighter and
a Liaden tug; scanned the list of performances, contests and
displays scheduled for this, the last day of Festival,
and--blinked.
    Fal Den ter'Antod Clan Imtal had died.
    Pat Rin called for more information and
quickly learned that Fal Den's kin had published a suicide to the
Council of Clans and had declined, as was their right, to provide
particulars. Business partners and allies of Clan Imtal were
advised that the Clan was in full mourning; that the viewing box
and pleasure tents held by Imtal would be closed for the remainder
of the season, and that those who had been engaged in Balancing
accounts with Fal Den should soon find themselves satisfied.
    Pat Rin closed his eyes.
    He could not name himself a close friend of
Fal Den ter'Antod, but he had certainly known the man, and had
placed a certain value upon him. Neither a great beauty nor a great
intellect, Fal Den possessed charm and an engaging forthrightness
of manner that made him an agreeable and even welcome companion.
His faults included a belief in the forthrightness of others and a
rather thin skin, yet despite these he capably managed both an
impeccable melant'i and the not-inconsiderable interests of his
family on the Port. To believe that Fal Den was dead, and by his
own hand...
    Pat Rin opened his eyes, reached out and
touched the discreet pearly button set into his desk.
    Fal Den dead. He had seen him only three
days past, on the arm of Hia Cyn yo'Tonin, which was deplorable of
course, and had Fal Den been the sibling Pat Rin did not possess,
he would have been moved to whisper a word in his ear...
    The door to his office slid open and the
excellent pel'Tolian, his general man, stepped within and
bowed.
    "Good day, Lord Pat Rin."
    "Alas, I must disagree," Pat Rin returned.
"I find it thus far a singularly distressing day."
    "Perhaps matters will improve, as the hours
move on," Mr. pel'Tolian suggested.
    "Perhaps they will. Certainly, it is
possible. In the meantime, however, I must request you to procure a
mourning basket and have it delivered to the House of Imtal. I will
write the card myself."
    "Very good, sir." The man bowed. "Shall you
wish to partake of a meal?"
    "A light nuncheon. And a glass of the
jade."
    "Very good, sir," Mr. pel'Tolian said again
and went away, the door sliding silently shut behind him.
    Pat Rin sat with his eyes closed for perhaps
the count of twelve, then turned to deal with his mail.
    There were four letters and two packets. Two
letters were solicitations of funding for ventures so wonderfully
risky that to describe them as "speculative" was to overreach the
facts by several magnitudes of wishful thinking. Such letters
originated with the same sort of person who thought it
...fitting... to invite him--as multi-season champion at pistol and
short arms at Teydor's--to join hunting parties on distant
outworlds where he might slog through underbrush for days and fire
mini-cannons at blameless creatures while enjoying the company of
those to whom nothing was more pleasurable.... He dropped both
solicitations into the recycler.
    Next was an invitation from Eyan yo'Lanna to
make one of her house party, proposed for the middle of next
relumma. That was good--sufficient time to have the tailor produce
something