The Dark Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

an ashtray and an unused set of writing instruments, there was nothing on it: no papers, no computer terminal, nothing. The chair behind the desk was tall and narrow, and as I walked over I noticed that there was a small cushion on it to support Abercrombie's lower back. There were three high-backed leather chairs, expensive but uncomfortable, lined up along one of the walls, and between two of them was an onyx pedestal which held a small crystal bowl of Altairian design. A row of windows behind the desk overlooked an acre of shrubbery which had been meticulously trimmed into an intricate maze.
    To keep my mind from dwelling on my isolation, I once again considered the best means of addressing my host when he finally arrived. He had already indicated some displeasure with the Dialect of Affinity, and since I had not requested the meeting, I rejected the Dialect of Supplication. The problem was that I didn't know if I was a guest, which would require the Dialect of Honored Guests, or a paid consultant, which would lend itself to the Dialect of Peers. And, of course, there was always the likelihood that I was merely to be an employee for a week, which would support either the Dialect of Craftsmen or (if there were to be no social intercourse between us at all) the Dialect of Business.
    I was still pondering the problem when a door opened and Malcolm Abercrombie, dressed in browns and ambers as if to complement the decor of the room, entered the study and walked directly to his desk. A sweet-smelling Spican cigarette protruded from a solid gold holder in his mouth.
    He sat down, took a final puff of his cigarette, then removed it from its holder and snuffed it out in the ashtray. He leaned back on his chair, fingers interlaced across his stomach, and stared at me. I stood perfectly still and tried to effect an air of serenity.
    “Leonardo, right?” he said at last.
    “Right you are, Malcolm,” I responded.
    He frowned. “Call me Mr. Abercrombie.”
    So much for the Dialect of Peers. I quickly changed to the Dialect of Craftsmen. “Whatever you wish, Mr. Abercrombie. I assure you that I meant no offense.”
    “I'll let you know when I'm offended,” he replied. He stared at me again. “You look uncomfortable standing there. Grab a seat.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “A chair,” he said with a look of distaste on his face. “Unless your race is happier standing up. It makes no difference to me.”
    I turned to the three straight-backed leather chairs that were positioned against a wall.
    “Shall I pull it up to your desk so that we may converse more easily?” I suggested as I walked over to one of them.
    “Leave it where it is,” he said gruffly. “We'll raise our voices if we have to.”
    “As you wish,” I said, carefully seating myself on the chair.
    “I suppose I should offer you a drink or something,” said Abercrombie. He paused. “ Do you people drink?”
    “I have already had my daily ration of water,” I answered. “And my metabolism cannot accommodate human stimulants or intoxicants.”
    “Just as well,” he said. He stared at me again. “You know, you're the first alien I've ever allowed inside this house.”
    “I feel highly honored, Mr. Abercrombie,” I said. I decided that the Dialect of Craftsmen was indeed the appropriate one since the Dialect of Peers did not permit social lies.
    “Except for a couple of servants who didn't work out,” he added. “Finally had to kick them out on their asses.”
    “I am sorry to hear it.”
    He shrugged. “It was my own fault for hiring aliens in the first place.”
    “You have hired me, ” I pointed out.
    “Temporarily.”
    We sat in silence for a moment. Then he inserted another cigarette in his holder, lit it, and looked across the room at me.
    “What the hell are you doing with a name like Leonardo?” he demanded suddenly.
    “When I was younger, I aspired to be an artist,” I replied. “I was not talented enough, but I have always kept