The Algebraist Read Online Free PDF

Slovius, and was the life-work of people like Chief Seer-in-waiting Fassin Taak, to meet with and talk to the Dwellers, to adapt to their language, thoughts and metabolism, to - sometimes virtually, at a remove, sometimes literally - float and fly and dive and soar with them amongst the clouds of Nasqueron, and through their conversations, their studies, their notes and analyses, make what sense they could of what their ancient slow-living hosts told them and allowed them to access, and so enrich and enlighten the greater, quicker meta-civilisation which presently inhabited the galaxy.
    ‘And, ah, Jaal?’ Slovius glanced at his nephew, who looked sufficiently surprised for the older male to add, ‘The, oh, what’s their name… ? Tonderon. Yes. The Tonderon girl. You two are still betrothed, aren’t you?’
    Fassin smiled. ‘We are indeed, uncle,’ he said. ‘She is returning from Pirrintipiti this evening. I’m hoping to meet her at the port.’
    ‘And you are… ?’ Slovius gestured with one flipper hand. ‘Still content?’
    ‘Content, uncle?’ Fassin asked.
    ‘You are happy with her? With the prospect of her being your wife?’
    ‘Of course, uncle.’
    ‘And she with you?’
    ‘Well, I hope so, I believe so.’
    Slovius looked at his nephew, holding his gaze for a moment. ‘Mm-hmm. I see. Of course. Well.’ Slovius used one of his flipper hands to wave some of the blue glowing liquid over his upper chest, as though he was cold. ‘You are to be wed when?’
    ‘The date is fixed for Allhallows, Jocund III,’ Fassin said. ‘Somewhat under half a year, body time,’ he added helpfully.
    ‘I see,’ Slovius said, frowning. He nodded slowly, and the action caused his body to rise and fall slightly in the pool, producing more waves. ‘Well, it is good to know you might finally be settling down at last.’
    Fassin considered himself to be a dedicated, hard-working and productive Seer who spent well above the average amount of time at the sharp end of delving, actually with the Nasqueron Dwellers. However, due to the fact that he liked to complete each interlude of this real, useful life with what he called a ‘proper holiday’, the older generation of Sept Bantrabal, and especially Slovius, seemed to think he was some sort of hopeless wastrel. (Indeed, Uncle Slovius seemed reluctant to accept the term ‘proper holiday’ at all. He preferred to call them ‘month-long blind-drunk stoned-out benders getting into trouble, fights and illicit orifices in the flesh pots of--’ well, wherever; sometimes Pirrintipiti, the capital of ‘glantine, sometimes Borquille, capital of Sepekte, or one of Sepekte’s other cities, sometimes one of the many pleasure habitats scattered throughout the system.)
    Fassin smiled tolerantly. ‘Still, I shan’t be hanging up my dancing shoes just yet, uncle.’
    ‘The nature of your studies over your last, say, three or four delves, Fassin. Have they followed what one might term a consistent course?’
    ‘You confuse me, uncle,’ Fassin admitted.
    ‘Your last three or four delves, have they been in any way linked thematically, or by subject, or through the Dwellers you have conversed with?’
    Fassin sat back, surprised. Why ever would old Slovius be interested in this ? ‘Let me think, sir,’ he said. ‘On this occasion I spoke almost exclusively with Xonju, who provided information seemingly at random and does not fully appear to understand the concept of an answer. Our first meeting and all very preparatory. He may be worth following up, if we can find him again. He may not. It might take all of the months between now and my next delve to work out--’
    ‘So this was a sampling expedition, an introduction?’
    ‘Indeed.’
    ‘Before that?’
    ‘A protracted conference, with Cheuhoras, Saraisme the younger, Akeurle Both-twins, traav Kanchangesja and a couple of minors from the Eglide adolescent pod.’
    ‘Your subjects?’
    ‘Poetry, mostly. Ancient, modern,