from her face, it was banded in the back and went streaming bushily down her spine. His imagination provided him with a pleasing echo composite of Della racing down a windy passageway, long tress fluttering behind.
". . . But Lydia and I never had a son." His garrulous host had gone on to another subject by now. "Still, I think it would be best if the Wheelship remained in the Anselm line, don't you?"
"To be sure." Jared had lost track of the conversation.
"And the only way that can come about without complications is through Unification between you and my niece."
This, Jared reasoned, should be the cue for the girl to step from concealment. But she didn't budge.
The Upper Level had recovered from his arrival and now he listened to the sounds of a normal world--children shouting at play, women grotto-cleaning, men busy at their chores, a game of clatterball in progress on the field beyond the livestock pens.
The Wheel gripped his arm and said, "Well, we'll get better acquainted later on. There'll be a formal dinner this period where you'll Familiarize yourself with Della. But, first, I've had a recess prepared for your convenience."
Jared was led off along the row of residential grottoes. But they hadn't gone far when he was drawn to a halt.
"The Prime Survivor says you have a remarkable pair of ears, my boy. Let's hear how good they are."
Somewhat embarrassed, Jared turned his attention to the things about him. After a moment his ears were drawn to the ridge running along the far wall.
"I hear something on that ledge," he said. "There's a boy lying up there listening out over the world."
Anselm drew in a surprised breath. Then he shouted, "Myra, your child up on that shelf again?"
A woman nearby called out, "Timmy! Timmy, where are you?"
And a slight, remote voice answered, "Up here, Mother."
"Incredible!" exclaimed the Wheel. "Utterly incredible!"
As the formal dinner neared its end, Anselm thudded his drinking shell down on the slab and assured the other guests, "It was quite remarkable! There was the lad, _all the way across the world_. But Jared heard him anyway. How'd you do it, my boy?"
Jared would have let the matter drop. He'd had his fill of uneasiness, each guest having taken the full Ten Touches.
"There's a smooth dome behind the ledge," he explained wearily. "It magnifies the tones from the central caster."
"Nonsense, my boy! It was an amazing feat!"
The slab came alive with murmurs of respect.
Adviser Lorenz laughed. "Listening to the Wheel tell about it, I'd almost suspect our visitor might be a Zivver."
An uncomfortable hush followed. Jared could hear the Adviser's complacent smile. "It was remarkable," Anselm insisted.
There was a lull in the conversation and Jared steered the talk away from himself. "I enjoyed the crayfish, but the salamander was especially good. I've never tasted anything like it before."
"Indeed you haven't," Anselm boasted. "And we have Survivoress Bates to thank. Tell our guest how you manage it, Survivoress."
A stout woman across the slab said, "I had an idea meat would taste better if we could get away from soaking it directly in boiling water. So we tried putting the cuts in watertight shells and sinking them in the hot springs. This way the meat's _dry_ cooked."
On the edge of his hearing, Jared sensed that Della was listening to his slight movements.
"The Survivoress used to prepare salamander even better," offered Lorenz.
"When we still had the big boiling pit," the woman said.
"When you _still_ had it?" Jared asked, interested.
"It dried up a while back, along with a couple others," Anselm explained. "But I suppose we'll be able to do without them."
The other guests had begun drifting off toward their grottoes--all except Della. But still she ignored Jared.
The Wheel gripped his shoulder, whispered "Good luck, my boy!"
and headed for his own recess.
Someone turned off the echo caster, ending the activity period, and
". . . But Lydia and I never had a son." His garrulous host had gone on to another subject by now. "Still, I think it would be best if the Wheelship remained in the Anselm line, don't you?"
"To be sure." Jared had lost track of the conversation.
"And the only way that can come about without complications is through Unification between you and my niece."
This, Jared reasoned, should be the cue for the girl to step from concealment. But she didn't budge.
The Upper Level had recovered from his arrival and now he listened to the sounds of a normal world--children shouting at play, women grotto-cleaning, men busy at their chores, a game of clatterball in progress on the field beyond the livestock pens.
The Wheel gripped his arm and said, "Well, we'll get better acquainted later on. There'll be a formal dinner this period where you'll Familiarize yourself with Della. But, first, I've had a recess prepared for your convenience."
Jared was led off along the row of residential grottoes. But they hadn't gone far when he was drawn to a halt.
"The Prime Survivor says you have a remarkable pair of ears, my boy. Let's hear how good they are."
Somewhat embarrassed, Jared turned his attention to the things about him. After a moment his ears were drawn to the ridge running along the far wall.
"I hear something on that ledge," he said. "There's a boy lying up there listening out over the world."
Anselm drew in a surprised breath. Then he shouted, "Myra, your child up on that shelf again?"
A woman nearby called out, "Timmy! Timmy, where are you?"
And a slight, remote voice answered, "Up here, Mother."
"Incredible!" exclaimed the Wheel. "Utterly incredible!"
As the formal dinner neared its end, Anselm thudded his drinking shell down on the slab and assured the other guests, "It was quite remarkable! There was the lad, _all the way across the world_. But Jared heard him anyway. How'd you do it, my boy?"
Jared would have let the matter drop. He'd had his fill of uneasiness, each guest having taken the full Ten Touches.
"There's a smooth dome behind the ledge," he explained wearily. "It magnifies the tones from the central caster."
"Nonsense, my boy! It was an amazing feat!"
The slab came alive with murmurs of respect.
Adviser Lorenz laughed. "Listening to the Wheel tell about it, I'd almost suspect our visitor might be a Zivver."
An uncomfortable hush followed. Jared could hear the Adviser's complacent smile. "It was remarkable," Anselm insisted.
There was a lull in the conversation and Jared steered the talk away from himself. "I enjoyed the crayfish, but the salamander was especially good. I've never tasted anything like it before."
"Indeed you haven't," Anselm boasted. "And we have Survivoress Bates to thank. Tell our guest how you manage it, Survivoress."
A stout woman across the slab said, "I had an idea meat would taste better if we could get away from soaking it directly in boiling water. So we tried putting the cuts in watertight shells and sinking them in the hot springs. This way the meat's _dry_ cooked."
On the edge of his hearing, Jared sensed that Della was listening to his slight movements.
"The Survivoress used to prepare salamander even better," offered Lorenz.
"When we still had the big boiling pit," the woman said.
"When you _still_ had it?" Jared asked, interested.
"It dried up a while back, along with a couple others," Anselm explained. "But I suppose we'll be able to do without them."
The other guests had begun drifting off toward their grottoes--all except Della. But still she ignored Jared.
The Wheel gripped his shoulder, whispered "Good luck, my boy!"
and headed for his own recess.
Someone turned off the echo caster, ending the activity period, and
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