Songs From the Stars Read Online Free PDF Page B

groves and isolated farmsteads. To the east, the main avenues fanned out into a sweep of manufactories, workshops, residential neighborhoods and manse grounds, attenuating back into the canyons that climbed up into the higher Sierras, as if the town had chosen to turn its back on the western landscape that sent the soul soaring out over vast natural vistas to bask in the craggy ambiguity pulling the mind toward the looming mountain strongholds of the unknown to the east.
    The tradehouses and inns and civic buildings of Market Circle were built along the rim of the circular park in the center. Trees dappled most of the park, but its center was a clear circular bull's-eye where scores of varicolored eagles were tethered like carnival balloons. As Lou descended toward them, he saw that scores of people were drifting through the park toward his landing point; his Clear Blue Lou blue eagle was an easily recognizable ensign and by now, most of the town would be aware of his arrival.
    A small crowd was already milling around as he landed, waving and shouting his name in greeting. By the time he set foot on the grass, someone had tethered his eagle, someone else had unfastened his pack for him, and he was surrounded by a babble of greetings, invitations, and the inconsequential, as if this were simply another casual visit by La Mirage's favorite perfect master. Dinner invitations, pleas for personal council, sexual come-ons—both subtle and overt—a wineskin tossed into his hands, a pipe of reef stuck in his mouth—welcome to La Mirage!
    Puffing on the reef between courtesy swallows of wine, Lou made his way out of the park amidst the ebb and swirl of his casual reception committee. None of the major mavens had turned out to greet him, nor had any Lightnings or Eagles—though of course there was a Sunshine messenger hanging back at the periphery. Apparently, the movers and shapers were trying to be as cool as was possible under the circumstances.
    People began to melt away into the general traffic as he circled around the thoroughfare toward the Exchange. Market Circle was crowded as usual, but the vibes were all wrong for this time of day.' The taverns and smokehouses were buzzing with nighttime-sized crowds, and the general tune of the conversation was not exactly a holiday air. Many of the tradehouses he passed did not seem open for business. The establishments of the astrologers and soothsayers, on the other hand, were bursting at the seams with worried customers. La Mirage had the ozone reek of a storm waking to break, and you could hardly say the town had no reason to be nervous.
    The big redwood-and-glass geodesic dome of the Exchange dominated the northern quadrant of Market Circle, and ordinarily merchants and mages would be pouring in and out of the main entrance and a dozen wagons would be lined up outside the freight dock. The Exchange was the commercial and karmic heart of La Mirage. Here the mountain William tribes came to sell their components to the manufacturers and craftsmen of the town and Aquaria beyond. Here La Mirage displayed its products for out-of-town buyers. Here white scientists came to acquire somewhat gray knowledge by osmosis, though of course they wouldn't admit it. Here presided Levan the Wise, Arbiter of the Exchange, passing on the whiteness of questionable goods, adjudicating commercial disputes, renting out space, and in general maintaining the dynamic harmony.
    But today the Exchange seemed neither dynamic nor harmonious. The place was more than half-empty. The outer ring of the Exchange floor under the dome was divided up into display areas rented out by purveyors of La Mirage's products. Ordinarily, this would be a continuous sweep of marvelous goods on sale for fancy prices, awash in buyers and hype. Now half the stalls were vacant. The central area was usually a raucous camp of mountain Williams, selling the components that made all of it possible, getting stoned, making music, dancing,