High Couch of Silistra Read Online Free PDF Page B

locked the cube and letter in his private vault and called the house computer to alter the dinner plan. It clicked disapprovingly. I leaned against the blue wall in that blue room that I had thought never to see again. Caught up tight in the weave of some strong time skein, I felt very helpless. M’lennin made no move to leave, but lit a pipe and threw one leg over his desk and leaned there, puffing the mild aromatic smoke.
    “Who are these guests we keep waiting?” I asked, to remind him.
    “The new Liaison Second, bound to Arlet, and his pilot. We Liaisons would rather fly than walk.”
    “What?” I clutched my chald. Still tighter wove the weave. “What happened to the old Liaison Second?”
    “He died of natural causes. He was an old man,” said M’lennin, eyeing me curiously. “Did you know him? You seem upset.”
    “No,” I whispered, “but I must go to Arlet from here.” Now I knew why I had felt need to hurry here. I shook my head and rubbed my hands across my eyes.
    “To Arlet? In connection with the chaldra?” he asked.
    “I must meet with a Day-Keeper there. I had thought to take residence in Well Arlet, but under another name. There is need for secrecy. I have much to discuss with you, M’len, and little time.”
    He waved me out of the room, and followed, palming the door shut. We hurried down the corridor, past three doors on the left. Before the fourth he stopped.
    “Perhaps we can settle this here, and you will not have to journey to Arlet. The new Liaison Second, Khaf-Re Dellin, and his pilot must stay here a few days. He is young, and has never before been to Silistra. The old Liaison’s death was sudden, and Dellin is being shoved into this thing unprepared. He needs more than briefing and language tapes before taking on the second-greatest Well on Silistra. I must work with him before he settles into his responsibilities.” He grinned. “I may ask your aid with him. Who knows Silistrans better than the Well-Keepress of Astria?” He leaned against the wall, fingering his beard.
    “Tomorrow,” he continued, for I had not replied, “I will start early with you, at sun’s rise, if you wish, and we will see what can be learned from the letter and viewer. There is ample time to arrange your passage with Dellin, if we decide it is prudent. Tonight we will eat and enjoy each other’s company, and Dellin will meet the high-couch of Silistra.” He rubbed his hands together. “This is really most opportune.”
    “But I would start—”
    “No,” he interrupted me firmly. “No chaldra, no business, no predictions. Not tonight. Tonight you see to my aid and comfort, tomorrow I to yours. It is a fair trade.” He touched the red block beside the door, it glowed, and the panel slid soundlessly aside.
    “You will find it unchanged,” said he, and waved me within.
    It was true. The room that had been mine two years ago was exactly as I had left it. I shivered as I entered. M’lennin followed, and the door closed us in. I stood in the midst of all the off-world opulence imaginable. Thrah-skins from Torth covered the floor, multicolored and luminous, and the pile was ankle-deep. The curtains were wine plush, heavy-napped and glowing, like tiers of strung rubies, woven on the looms of Pleiatus. The Pleiatu are the master weavers of the known galaxy, and their magnificent dyes are their greatest secret. The table and two chairs were carved from the white bone of the wistwa, giant sea-beast of Oguast. The windows behind the tables, framed by those bloodred curtains, were quartz crystal slabs from M’lennin’s home planet, M’ksakka. The only thing Silistran-made was the couch itself. It was double to my own thala well-couch, crafted by Astria’s own masters.
    I was unsettled that M’lennin had done this thing. There was no dust on the wistwa table, no wrinkle in the resplendent silken hangings from Kost. It was as if he had made a shrine of this place. It felt wrong; I did not like