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ever been – Subadwan studied the Lord Archivist. Tanglanah was a dark-skinned pyuton with a large head and rainbow-irised eyes, each one seeming to change from second to second like the twinkle in a glass pane. Her clothes were of the richest twill. A silver brooch shaped as a lizard and as long as Subadwan’s hand clasped her undershirt.
    When she spoke her voice was husky, lacking the metallic twang of cruder pyutons. ‘I’m glad you were able to come, Subadwan, so first let me thank you.’
    ‘I came out of curiosity.’
    ‘That is an excellent motive.’
    Subadwan nodded. ‘I expect you wish that Rhannan and Aswaque also possessed my curiosity,’ she crisply replied.
    ‘When you said you came out of curiosity, you seemed to imply that this was a lesser motive. But curiosity is one of the greater motives of the conscious being. Didn’t you know? To answer your point, though, I expect to see those two at a later date.’
    ‘I talked to Rhannan about meeting you.’
    Tanglanah did not reply.
    Subadwan said, ‘What exactly did you have to say to me?’
    ‘Have you ever heard of abstract countries?’
    ‘No.’
    Tanglanah smiled. ‘Good.’
    ‘Good, why?’
    ‘Because you therefore have no preconceptions. But allow me to continue. An abstract country does not exist as a physical place, yet it is possible to feel there, to feel trees and rocks, and water on the hand. One can feel the sun’s heat on the face. I want you to experience an abstract country.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘How did I guess you would ask that question?’
    Subadwan laughed, disconcerted by Tanglanah’s attitude. ‘Gaya love me, it’s reasonable enough.’
    ‘Have you ever loved a man, Subadwan?’
    Stranger and stranger. ‘Um, yes, I have. More than one, actually.’
    ‘Then you’ll know that love is unquantifiable. It is a feeling that one can describe, experience and understand, but never quantify.’
    Subadwan leaned forward. ‘You sound like you’ve never loved anybody.’
    That seemed to take the Lord Archivist by surprise, but she replied, ‘What do you mean by love?’
    Subadwan sat back. She had expected talk of plots, strategies, secret operations. ‘Aren’t we getting a little out of the light, here, you and me?’
    Tanglanah considered. ‘No,’ she replied.
    Subadwan nodded. ‘So you really want me to say what I mean by love?’
    ‘Your understanding has no small bearing on my proposal.’
    Again Subadwan nodded. ‘Well, it’s... you said love was a feeling?’
    ‘I did.’
    ‘I don’t think it is. It’s not an emotion. Love is the source of emotions. When you’re in love you feel joy. When I loved my last man, Gaya praise him, I felt all sorts – joy, happiness, excitement. Lust. Bit of anger.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Love,’ concluded Subadwan, getting the thoughts clear in her head, ‘love is wanting to get somebody inside you, almost. Or maybe get inside them. ’
    Tanglanah nodded in agreement. ‘When we love, we want to map a person into our conscious mind, map them as deeply as we can. True love and true understanding are one and the same thing.’
    This sounded like a conclusion, but Subadwan did not want the pressure to let up on Tanglanah. ‘We?’ she asked. ‘Then you’ve loved somebody?’
    Tanglanah paused once more for thought. ‘People and pyutons are both creations,’ she said. ‘The creation I love is abstract. I want to understand it as best I can. But I have one problem.’
    Another pause. Subawan felt that here she was meant to ask what the problem was. She remained silent.
    ‘That problem,’ Tanglanah continued, ‘is familiarity. One feels a kind of ennui sometimes. Somebody who is free of familiarity needs to experience my abstract country, to understand its strange moods.’
    ‘You mean me?’
    ‘Possibly. I have not yet decided if anybody is to help me.’
    ‘Does this have anything to do with your Archive?’ Subadwan asked.
    ‘No.’
    ‘I don’t believe that.’
    ‘I would