The Warlock's Companion (18 page)

He couldn't see her coming, though. That was the disadvantage.

Then the red light died over the airlock, and he knew she was in. The yellow light started pulsing, and kept on, for what seemed an eternity—but finally, the green lit.

Dar stepped up five feet from the hatch, a martini clutched in each hand, breath held in his lungs.

Then the hatch swung open, and she was there, lumpy as porridge in her space suit, but her helmet under her arm, face glowing, lips parted…

They never did get to those martinis. What good is the gin when the ice has melted?

Two hours later, Lona sat across from him in one of the latest Terran fashions, which didn't manage to obscure her splendor, especially when she was lit by candles (right under the air-exchange vent). She was finishing her bouillabaisse and a fascinating account of her odyssey through the best shops on Terra ("Well, I have to look my best when I'm talking to purchasing agents, don't I?"). Dar smiled at her out of a pleasant haze, compounded of one part gin to five parts Lona. She didn't miss a syllable as X-HB-9 cleared their bowls, but she did stop to stare as the little robot set places of almost-genuine steak in front of them. "Dar! What have you
done
!"

Well, Dar, would have preferred to have the accusation refer to less licit activities, but he'd take praise where he could get it. He gave back a foolish grin. "Aw. You noticed."

"Noticed! You wonderful man! You figured out how to cram that whole program into such a limited brain!"

"Only applying what you taught me, dear."

"Well! Such excellent application deserves reward." Her eye gleamed as she turned back to him.

"If you're going to deliver on that promise, you'd better keep your strength up."

Lona took a bite. "Done to a turn!" She didn't say which one. "Is X-HB-9 ready to manufacture?"

"Needs a little more field-testing to be certain—but, yes, I'm pretty sure it is. It'll bring you breakfast in bed tomorrow."

"Oh, goody! Just what we need for the triple contract I've lined up!"

Dar dropped his fork. "
Triple
… contract?"

"Uh-huh." Lona nodded, hair swaying. "I talked Amalgamated into renewing our contract without the exclusivity clause."

"How did you manage… NO! Cancel that! I don't want to know!''

"Poor dear." Lona reached past the candles to pat his hand. "But there's nothing to be jealous about. I didn't do anything unethical, let alone immoral."

Yes, but that didn't say what she had implied. Also, Dar kind of wondered about her ranking.

"Simple threats," Lona explained. "I told them we were thinking about opening our own dirtside sales office."

Dar's jaw dropped. Lona merrily took another bite, and he shoved his mandible back up to his maxillary. "Boy; you really don't lack for chutzpah, do you?"

"Why not? We probably
will
open a dealership on Terra, in twenty years or so."

"Actually, I was thinking about all the Maximan families getting together and opening a cooperative distributing corporation—but I think we need more leverage first. You know, get Terra totally dependent on our product, so they can't threaten to take us over. Otherwise, we might suffer a sudden horrible decline in creativity… Uh… What's the matter?"

"And you tell me
I've
got nerve," she gasped. "Good thing you don't live on Terra, Dar—you'd wind up running PEST."

Dar felt a surge of irritation. "I only want to run them out of town."

"I know," she sighed. "You never did have much respect for good old healthy self-interest. Maybe I do have a function around here, after all."

"Maybe!" Dar squawked. "I'm just the errand boy!"

Lona stared into his eyes for a long moment, then reached out to pat his hand again. "Please keep thinking that way, dear. It works wonderfully for me."

Dar was pretty sure he was supposed to feel complimented. Anyway, he glowed inside, just on general principles. "So how much is this triple deal going to bring?"

"Well, over the next three years, and with a guarantee to each company to bring out a new model, on a four-month rotation plan… just about five hundred thousand each."

Dar could feel his eyes bulge. "A
million
and a
half?"

Lona nodded, looking immensely pleased with herself.

Dar sat back, sucking in a long breath. "Yes. Well, I can see that might make a little research and development desirable, yes."

"But that's the good part about it." Lona winked. "You've already done the tough part. With a robot who serves breakfast in bed, it's just a short step to one who can load the dishwasher."

Dar developed a sudden faraway look in his eyes. "With extendable arms, that shouldn't be too tough—and once you've got the telescoping arms, it could vacuum the cobwebs in the corners, and wash the walls."

"And if it can wash the walls, it can paint them!"

"Yeah." Dar grinned. "No more having to rent a painter-robot from the homecare store. I see the point. We have half the improvements figured out already. No wonder you wanted me to add another workroom before we finished mining out another ice cavity."

"Well, yes." Lona looked down, toying with her wineglass. "Actually, Dar, I was going to ask you if you could add on the northwest circular room. It isn't very large…"

"The one right next to our bedrooms on the plans?" Dar frowned. "Sure. What kind of product are you planning to develop in it?"

Lona actually blushed and lowered her eyes. "A product that would be very small at first. But it would grow. Fifteen years or so, but it would grow."

Dar stared.

Then he stood up and came around to take her hand. "Darling—are you telling me we can finally start a baby?"

She nodded, smiling up at him—and he was amazed to see her eyes fill with tears. "Yes," she whispered, just before her mouth was pre-empted.

An hour later, their breathing slowed down enough for Lona to heave a satisfied sigh, and for Dar to breathe into her ear, "Will you marry me now?"

"Uh-huh." Lona turned to him, nodding brightly. "I do think children should have that much security, at least."

"Security?" Dar pursed his lips and asked, carefully, "Does this mean you might be planning to stay home for a couple of years?"

Lona nodded, eyes huge and face solemn. "At least two years before I go kiting off to Terra again, Dar. I promise."

Cordelia sighed, misty-eyed. "I do so love happy endings."

"Yet was it truly?" Geoffrey said, frowning up at Fess. "Did she keep her promise, Fess?"

"Regrettably, she did not," the robot answered. "In practice, she
could
not—there was need for her to attend business meetings and speak with prospective clients."

Magnus asked, "Wherefore could her husband not have done so for her?"

"He was quite willing," Fess sighed, "but he lacked the gift for it, perhaps due to his earlier career as a teacher—he was obsessed with the need to tell the precise truth. He just was not as good at business as she was."

"Nor as good at aught else, from what thou sayest." Magnus added.

"Thus it seemed to himself, too. He died feeling that his life had been full and enjoyable, but insignificant."

"Papa hath said that all folk must find and know their limitations," Gregory said, "then seek to transcend them."

"It was Dar Mandra who first enunciated that aphorism, Gregory; it has been passed down from generation to generation of your family. But the operative word is seek. The attempt will surely result in better work than you would otherwise do, and may result in greater accomplishments—but may still fall short of your goal."

Gregory's eyes lost focus as he tried to digest that statement, but Geoffrey was still frowning. "Did the founder of our house, then, accomplish nothing with his life?"

"That depends on your definition of the term 'accomplish.' With his wife, he built a major company within the Maxima conglomerate, raised three children to become excellent citizens, and formed an enduring marriage that gained substance as it aged."

"Yet he did not create anything in his own right, nor invent or discover it."

"Only in that he had not found the answer to the question he had formulated, and did not realize that no answer may be an indicator of the correct answer. His son Limner, though, took that question and likewise tried to answer it: 'Why can physical objects be mapped into seven-dimensional space, when electromagnetic waves cannot?' He, too, failed to discover its solution, just as Dar had—but took the lack of an answer as an indicator."

Gregory asked, "What did Limner think it did indicate?"

"That perhaps electromagnetic waves
could
be mapped into seven dimensions; they only needed a different technique. Just as electromagnetic radiation was its own medium, the transmitter had to be its own isomorpher.''

Magnus looked up. "Yet 'twas Dar's thoughts, and the question they led to, that enabled Limner to discover that principle."

"That is so, yes."

"Then," Magnus demanded, "how can he be said to have failed?"

"He had not, of course—yet he felt that he had."

Geoffrey squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a shake. "A moment, I prithee—thou dost say he succeeded in some measure, but knew it not?"

"Precisely. Dar's feelings of failure were due to a fundamental misunderstanding of his own nature—he was not an engineer, like Lona, but a research scientist.''

"Oh, the poor ancestor!" Tears brimmed Cordelia's eyes. "To die feeling so, when 'twas not true!"

"Oh, do not pity him, Cordelia. He recognized his true success as a husband, a father, and a stalwart member of the community. In his old age, he counted accomplishments in scholarship and commerce to be relatively inconsequential, as indeed they were."

Gregory stared, scandalized. "Why! How canst thou say the discovery of new knowledge is of no consequence!"

"Only relatively, Gregory, only relatively. For Dar's measure of worth was in adding to the happiness of other people—and in that, he had succeeded enormously. Now hush, children. It is time to sleep. Tomorrow, we will begin to solve the mystery of the castle."

The rain came down, and it hit with thunder. Rod jolted awake wide-eyed, lurching up on one elbow to stare at the ceiling. The only light was the soft glow of the will-o'-the-wisp Gwen had lit on Fess's saddle before they settled down. Rain roared on the tent.

"How long has it been going on, Fess?" Rod murmured.

"It began only ten minutes ago, Rod."

Then the whole tent-top turned bright with lightning, barely gone before thunder bellowed. Rod turned and looked down at his youngest, and sure enough, the little boy lay rigid, eyes wide, scared witless by the thunder but too proud to cry out.

"You know there's nothing to be scared of, don't you?" Rod said conversationally.

"Aye, Papa." Gregory relaxed a little. "The lightning will not hurt us, nor will a tree fall on us—we pitched our tent far from the branches."

"And lightning bolts are much more likely to strike a higher object, such as a tree or the castle. Yes." But Rod reached out a hand anyway, and Gregory's fingers seized on his like a little vise.

"Oh! 'Tis glorious," Cordelia breathed.

The whole tent flashed bright again as thunder slammed down at them. It showed Magnus and Geoffrey halfway to the door. Darkness struck, and Rod could just barely hear Geoffrey say, "I do so love a storm!"

" 'Tis grand," Magnus agreed. The gloom lightened, and the sound of the rain became even louder.

" 'Ware the rain." Gwen was sitting up beside Rod, facing the door. "Doth it come toward thee?"

"No, Mama, 'tis at the tent's back." Lightning flared with a thunder blast, and Rod saw the boys hunkered belly-down with their chins on their fists, gazing out, and Cordelia wriggling up between them.

" 'Tis right atop us," Gregory murmured. "There is no delay 'twixt lightning flash and thunder."

Rod smiled; ever the scientist! Well, if it let the boy share his siblings' pleasure, what harm? "Don't you want to look at it, too?"

Gregory looked up at him, then smiled. "Aye!" He turned and crawled toward the door.

Rod caught Gwen's hand and squeezed a little. She returned the pressure and murmured, "Why should they have the sight to themselves, my lord?"

"Hey, the family .ought to stay together, right?" Rod rolled up to his hands and knees. "After you, dear."

"What, durst I trust thee so?"

"Sure, the kids are awake. But let's go side by side, if you doubt me."

Gwen giggled and they rubbed elbows as they came to their feet and stepped over to join their offsprings. Lightning blazed as they came to the doorway, thunder crashing down around their heads. Rod looked up in time to catch the last sight of the tower tops in silhouette—and stiffened.

"Hist!" Geoffrey cried.

They all fell totally silent, ears straining.

" 'Twas not the last boom of the thunder alone," Magnus said.

"I hear a lass wailing," Cordelia answered.

Rod started to say what he'd heard, then bit his tongue and stared up at the unseen tower with narrowed eyes. Gwen's hand tightened on his arm.

Gregory said it for him. "I do hear a man's laughter."

"Aye, and 'tis as wicked and foul a laugh as ever I've heard," Magnus agreed.

"I, too, hear it, my lord," Gwen murmured.

"He's gloating," Rod said softly. "I don't know what about…"

"The maid?" Cordelia guessed. "Doth he rejoice at having made her weep?"

"I mislike this castle," Magnus said, his voice hard.

Thunder tore at the stones, bleached white by the lightning.