The Abulon Dance (8 page)

“I’m happy for you,” said Beny sarcastically. He clamped down on his feelings of anger, suspecting it was because the Serpian had no reason to be upset or embarrassed as they had. He looked at him consideringly. “Where do you keep your animal?”

“It sleeps at the foot of my bed.”

Beny thought he spotted a flash of amusement in the navy blue eyes. “You smug, self satisfied bastard,” he muttered.

“Would you care to repeat that, Ambassador?”

“No!” Beny looked about helplessly for a moment, wondering what had happened to their old, easygoing relationship.

“If I may be frank, Orosin, I understand perfectly why you are so upset about this invasion of privacy. You are worrying about aliens watching your undoubtedly bizarre love-making rituals.”

Beny’s face grew red with fury. “That remark is uncalled for! Just because you Serpians are forced to take a vow of celibacy—”

“That is irrelevant. Tell me, if the dog had not been in your bedchamber last night watching you and Eulio disporting yourselves, would you be this upset? Would you not simply have waited until morning and written a letter of gentle, diplomatic complaint?”

“Damn you, Von!” Beny stared at the Serpian. Thar-von had never talked to him like this. When he thought he could trust his voice again, he went on. “It’s more than that. We have diplomatic immunity. Our apartments are supposed to be a little piece of Merculian in the wasteland of Abulon. It is
our
laws that should apply here. That’s what makes what they have done so serious.”

“Please remember that these people are not used to dealing with I.P.A. member states. They do not know the ins and outs of intergalactic law. They are simply trying to protect important visitors from harm.”

Beny ran his fingers through his thick curls and looked at the ceiling. His hands were shaking. Thar-von studied him. After a minute’s silence, he got up and came over to sit beside him. “Are you on stimulants?”

Beny nodded numbly.

“Can I get you something to drink? I know you always get thirsty when you’re on those things.”

“You’re not my servant, Thar-von. I can get whatever I need myself.” He sniffed miserably. “What do you suggest we do?”

“I don’t think we should make a major issue of this.”

Beny wiped his eyes. “We have to make an official complaint of some sort, Von. But I agree. No big commotion. What about a letter to the Chief explaining that we appreciate the good points of the system but would have preferred to have been informed.”

“That sounds good. But no mention of the bedroom aspect, I think.”

Beny nodded. “All right. And tell him we’re disconnecting the video transmitters.”

Thar-von rose to his feet. “I will draw up the document and bring it in for your approval and signature in the morning.” He bowed and withdrew. Beny sat staring at the door after he had gone. His whole body was vibrating with tension. It was bad enough to discover they had been spied on by aliens without feeling he had been judged and found guilty by a friend for some crime he was unaware he had committed. He twisted the material of his tunic around in his hands. This was the kind of situation that could explode into major danger. He knew that. Just as he had sensed the danger in the apparently innocent meeting of Cham and that girl in the dining hall. Look where that had led! Here he was, deserted by the one person he had counted on to be there for him on this project, the only male he had ever trusted entirely.

When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he steeled himself to face the shadowed corridor and knocked on Thar-von’s door. “I’m coming in,” he shouted.

Thar-von sat beside the darkened window drinking
siva
, the fiery orange Serpian liquor. He had relaxed enough to undo the top three buttons of his tunic. As Beny came in, he turned his head but didn’t get up.

“For God’s sake, what have I done to get you so mad at me? Tell me!”

“I’m sorry,” said Thar-von in a flat voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe it’s because, for the first time, you outrank me.”

“I don’t believe that! There’s not a jealous bone in your whole body. There must be something else.”

“Talassa-ran Zox. It’s ridiculous, but I feel honor bound to spring to his defense all the time, just because he’s a Serpian. He does seem to get along well with the Abulonian men, though. I think they have discovered they share a passion for gambling.”

“It’s hard to imagine Talassa-ran having a passion for anything.”

“Well, he does. It’s the real reason he’s no longer a Raider.”

“I didn’t know he ever was one.”

“You never read the files. Anyway, I spend most of my time these days ironing out problems between Zox and your Merculian staff.”

“
Our
Merculian staff, you mean.”

“No matter how I try, it keeps coming out as two Serpians against all you Merculians.”

“But it’s not like that! It’s
never
been like that!”

“I’ve never worked so closely with you and your people before, Ben. Do you realize that five times in three days you overruled my orders?”

“So that’s it. I don’t even remember.”

“For instance, the break-in at the theater. I started an investigation, and you cancelled it, without consulting me.”

“Oh, Von, that was just a waste of time and effort. You said yourself nothing much was missing, only a few bits and pieces of hologram equipment and some other odds and ends that made no difference to the production staff and aren’t dangerous or anything. It was probably just souvenir hunters.”

“I doubt it. If you had consulted me, I would have told you my theory that the very fact of the odd choice of things to steal might prove significant. Without an investigation, we will never know.”

Beny sighed and sat down beside his friend on the recessed window seat. “Why didn’t you say something? I’m sorry. And those other times, too…I guess I forgot to check with you. Please, please tell me right away if something like this happens again. I’m new at this, too, you know.” He shook his head sadly and was silent for a moment. “Von, do you know how I feel here with you, seeing the admiration and respect in the Abulonians’ eyes when they look at you? When they look at me, its only curiosity, puzzlement, sometimes even pity. You’re athletic. You can talk about hunting and…and marathons. They don’t want to talk about music or painting and they don’t seem to have any theater in our sense of the word. If either one of us has the right to be jealous, it’s me. They feel a natural affinity with you. Now I find out they even like Zox! It hurts, Von. It really does.”

Thar-von looked at him gravely. “I didn’t realize,” he said. “They have no right to feel that way about you.” His lips quirked in a half-smile. “One of them certainly doesn’t.”

“You mean Luan, the Chief’s son?” Thar-von nodded. “He follows you about like a dog. Every time I drop into the office, he’s there, just looking at you. It must be embarrassing.”

“They say it’s good to have friends in high places.”

“If Eulio weren’t here, would you…respond to his interest?”

“Eulio
is
here.” Beny sighed. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” It occurred to him that the vow of celibacy might have a lot to do with it. Thar-von handed him the
siva
and he took a sip, coughed and handed it back. He looked up into his friend’s strong, gentle face. “Oh, damn, Von! Please don’t be mad at me any more!” He flung his arms around Thar-von’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Please?”

The Serpian tensed, then smiled down at him tolerantly. “Remember the first time you did that?”

“How could I forget! You threw me across the room.”

“You took some getting used to.”

“You took the trouble to try, Von. I’ll never forget how you came to my rescue that time at the Academy when those Lanserian thugs were beating me to a pulp. You looked out for me after that.”

“Ben, please. That’s ancient history.”

“Maybe. I just want you to know it’s not forgotten.”

“Understood.” Thar-von sipped thoughtfully at his drink. “I apologize for what I said about you and Eulio. I had no right to say any of that.”

“That’s all right, Von. I shouldn’t have mentioned your celibacy vow, either.”

Thar-von nodded. “I’m beginning to think I no longer support the concept of purity of the race,” he said quietly.

“I never understood it but I thought it was a basic Serpian tenet.”

“It is. There are historical reasons for it—so many cases of monstrous birth defects in the past—but nevertheless….”

“What’s changed your mind?”

“Abulonian women.” He paused and Beny could feel the sigh. “Even the female androids in this place arouse me. Perhaps I am losing my mind. Could it be as simple as that?”

“I thought Serpians don’t do that sort of thing.”

“We don’t, as a rule. The strain is telling on me, I guess.”

Beny nodded, his head on Thar-von’s chest. He was listening to the peculiar double thumps of the Serpian’s heart and wondered if there was any Abulonian woman in particular whom his friend found attractive. He knew better than to ask, however. He could sense that Thar-von’s unusual excursion into the personal was at an end, for now.

“What do you think of the Chief, Von?”

“The Am Quarr is a ruthless man. He does not trust us, but I think he is acting in good faith, as he understands it.”

“I guess so. What about the First Minister?”

“The difference between the two, as I see it, is that the First Minister thinks he has a sense of humor,” Thar-von remarked dryly.

Beny smiled. “Maybe we just don’t understand Abulonian jokes.” He paused. “Sort of like Merculians with Serpian proverbs,” he added.

“‘The beasts do not change their shape when the light seeps out of the forest’,” Thar-von said, his voice dropping into the sing-song pattern he used when quoting.

“Exactly,” Beny said, with a smile. “You just proved my point.”

SEVEN

“Let’s hit the high spots, baby, if there are any in this wilderness.” Triani flung his arm over Cham’s shoulders. Together they strolled around to the back of the flat-topped pyramid-shaped complex where they lived and stopped to look around. The narrow walkways that led off in several directions were damp from a recent shower. In the shadow of a clump of spiky bushes, a small boy was watching them.

“Which way do we go?” asked Cham, looking down first one lane and then another as they twisted out of sight among the jumble of wooden buildings.

“You want some action?” The boy had sidled up to them and was looking up at Triani with hopeful, dark eyes.

“You got it, kid. Just lead the way.”

The boy turned to his left and started confidently down the cobbled walkway. Every few steps he glanced back over his shoulder, shading his eyes in the bright sunlight to make sure they were following. His narrow brown face looked older than the rest of him. “On the way, baby, pretend I’m blind and make me see what you see.” Cham looked up at him questioningly. “An artist must be very observant. You have to know how a person holds his head while talking or listening, how they move, the way they sit on a chair or sip a glass of wine. You must know the subtle differences between the sexes. All of them. You never know what role will come your way. Open your eyes, lover.”

“I’ll try.” Cham sounded doubtful but he looked about him intently as he started to talk. “We’re on a winding street, swept clean by squads of shiny-headed androids. Some of them are just finishing now. They never raise their copper eyes from their work. They all wear the same baggy brown pants and tunics. They have no expression at all.”

“Good. What about the buildings.”

“They seem to be shops—workshops, I think. They’re dim and narrow and go back a long way from the street. Some of them are open all the way through and you can catch sight of colorful gardens out the back door.” He stopped speaking. Quana was across the street, walking beside a tall, gaunt woman whose black hair looked as if shellacked to her skull. Between them walked a large greenish watch dog. Quana looked right at him, then her eyes slid aside and she turned away, with a scared expression. The smile died on Cham’s lips and he kept on walking.

“Cut you dead, eh sweetie?”

“She’s in trouble because of me. Maybe if I explained to her parents…about us, I mean. Do you think that would help?”

“Explained what? That you’re perfectly capable of laying their precious daughter, who appears to have the hots for you, but you don’t feel like it because you’re living with a notorious letch who exhausts you every night?”

“Aw don’t. Please.” Cham hung his head and scuffed his red boots on the uneven paving stones. “It’s not like that.”

“Don’t be so sensitive, you’ll live longer.” In spite of the glib words, Triani was aware of the pain in the beautiful face and hated himself for being the cause of it. He grimaced briefly. “Look, if you want to make up with your stiff-necked girlfriend and her parents, why not send them tickets for opening night? Holy shit! Is this the best you can do for us, kid?” The boy had stopped at a dim doorway of a place that looked like some sort of café. He was gesturing them inside, a wide grin on his face.

“I don’t think I want to go in there,” said Cham, hanging back. Triani only shrugged, disengaged himself from Cham and went through the open door. After a moment, Cham followed. When he looked back, the boy had disappeared. Inside, three men stood around a rectangular table with a recessed top, playing an intense game. They were using black and white counters and what looked like large, spongy triangles. A fat man with a thick neck was keeping score with the help of some sort of an abacus. They were obviously gambling. Stacks of paper cards with writing on them changed hands at intervals. Discordant music came faintly from a battered speaker at the back of the room. The men were drinking the native, brown ale and wiping the foam from their mouths with the back of a hand. Only one man was smiling but he didn’t look friendly.

They paused to look up as Triani walked in. A man with a blue earring in his misshapen ear was wearing one of the distinctive figurines carved from blue crystal that Serpian men often wore. The fat man nodded. The one with a scar running the length of his cheek looked him up and down insolently, a faint smile on his lips.