before. I don’t see where the structure of any other society will be so alien that the code would fail.”
“I’m not suggesting that the code become fluid.”
“That’s good. Then perhaps you do understand Hoorka.”
“Do the two of you do nothing but argue all day?” Both men turned to the doorshield to see Valdisa standing there, a gentle smile on her face, her hands on her hips in mock disgust. Short dark hair frothed the side of her thin, finely-featured face and neck. A nightcloak was clasped around her shoulders, masking her figure.
“Come in, m’Dame,” the Thane said. She nodded. Her lithe, athletic body moved with a grace that the Thane remembered with pleasure and envy. She sat on the foot of the bed, near the Thane.
Cranmer had sat back in his floater again, half-reclining, his head staring at the ceiling. “I was informing our revered Thane that sometimes the creation has to transcend the creator—my old line, I realize—but all things are subject to modification, if they want to survive.”
Valdisa laughed, a crystalline sound. “Not a philosophy that would appeal to him, neh?” She placed a cool hand briefly over the Thane’s, then withdrew it. The Thane glanced at her; she smiled in return.
“Or to most Hoorka, I would hope.” The Thane chuckled to show that he was jesting, but he was remembering Valdisa’s hand. “Cranmer’s simply caught up in a vision of the perfect thesis, neatly bound and impervious to logic.”
“And life isn’t definable in terms of a thesis, then? Gods, my colleagues will be profoundly disappointed to hear that. They’ll mull it over for a year and then write a paper on it. Smash their entire concept of reality . . .” He thumped the voicetyper for emphasis. The three of them laughed. Cranmer looked from Valdisa to the Thane. He shoved the floater back from his desk and stretched his arms out, fingers interlocked. Joints cracked aridly, and Valdisa winced.
“I guess I should wander off and see who’s on kitchen duty,” Cranmer said. “Thinking’s hard enough work for us sedentary types—and from the look on m’Dame Valdisa’s face, she has business to discuss. Yah?”
Valdisa nodded, smiling. “And you should take some exercise. That’s a flabby body you carry with you.”
“Would I then stand a chance with you, m’Dame?” Cranmer struck a melodramatically romantic pose.
“Possibly, sirrah.” Over-coyly.
“I’ll see the two of you later, then.” Cranmer, whistling a motet off-key, waved a hand at the two Hoorka as he left the room. Valdisa watched the doorshield close again behind him and turned to the Thane.
“I’ll miss the little man when he leaves us,” she said.
The Thane, looking at the papers neatly stacked beside the typer, nodded his head in agreement. “As will I. I need his objectivity, however galling it sometimes becomes.”
“Well, he was right; I do have business to discuss with you.” Valdisa pulled a flimsy from the breast pocket of her nightcloak. Paper crackled as she unfolded it. “You said to notify you when the next contract arrived. I just received one.” She glanced at the document. “From a Jast Claswell of the Bard’s Guild, to attempt the killing of an E. J. Dausset, of the Engineers.”
The Thane sighed as he moved, stretching out a hand to take the flimsy from Valdisa. He moved so that the light from the hoverlamp fell full on the paper, putting him in shadow. “I know I’m due next in the rotation. Who was I to be teamed with?”
“D’Mannberg.”
The Thane nodded and handed the contract back to Valdisa. As her eyes watched him, he walked a few steps toward the wall. He rested his hand on the cool rock, then turned back to her. “Move him back in the rotation and have Aldhelm posted to go with me.” He wiped his hand, damp from the chill of the rock, absently on his cloak. He looked up to see surprise raise Valdisa’s eyebrows, but she lowered her gaze at first contact and
“I’m not suggesting that the code become fluid.”
“That’s good. Then perhaps you do understand Hoorka.”
“Do the two of you do nothing but argue all day?” Both men turned to the doorshield to see Valdisa standing there, a gentle smile on her face, her hands on her hips in mock disgust. Short dark hair frothed the side of her thin, finely-featured face and neck. A nightcloak was clasped around her shoulders, masking her figure.
“Come in, m’Dame,” the Thane said. She nodded. Her lithe, athletic body moved with a grace that the Thane remembered with pleasure and envy. She sat on the foot of the bed, near the Thane.
Cranmer had sat back in his floater again, half-reclining, his head staring at the ceiling. “I was informing our revered Thane that sometimes the creation has to transcend the creator—my old line, I realize—but all things are subject to modification, if they want to survive.”
Valdisa laughed, a crystalline sound. “Not a philosophy that would appeal to him, neh?” She placed a cool hand briefly over the Thane’s, then withdrew it. The Thane glanced at her; she smiled in return.
“Or to most Hoorka, I would hope.” The Thane chuckled to show that he was jesting, but he was remembering Valdisa’s hand. “Cranmer’s simply caught up in a vision of the perfect thesis, neatly bound and impervious to logic.”
“And life isn’t definable in terms of a thesis, then? Gods, my colleagues will be profoundly disappointed to hear that. They’ll mull it over for a year and then write a paper on it. Smash their entire concept of reality . . .” He thumped the voicetyper for emphasis. The three of them laughed. Cranmer looked from Valdisa to the Thane. He shoved the floater back from his desk and stretched his arms out, fingers interlocked. Joints cracked aridly, and Valdisa winced.
“I guess I should wander off and see who’s on kitchen duty,” Cranmer said. “Thinking’s hard enough work for us sedentary types—and from the look on m’Dame Valdisa’s face, she has business to discuss. Yah?”
Valdisa nodded, smiling. “And you should take some exercise. That’s a flabby body you carry with you.”
“Would I then stand a chance with you, m’Dame?” Cranmer struck a melodramatically romantic pose.
“Possibly, sirrah.” Over-coyly.
“I’ll see the two of you later, then.” Cranmer, whistling a motet off-key, waved a hand at the two Hoorka as he left the room. Valdisa watched the doorshield close again behind him and turned to the Thane.
“I’ll miss the little man when he leaves us,” she said.
The Thane, looking at the papers neatly stacked beside the typer, nodded his head in agreement. “As will I. I need his objectivity, however galling it sometimes becomes.”
“Well, he was right; I do have business to discuss with you.” Valdisa pulled a flimsy from the breast pocket of her nightcloak. Paper crackled as she unfolded it. “You said to notify you when the next contract arrived. I just received one.” She glanced at the document. “From a Jast Claswell of the Bard’s Guild, to attempt the killing of an E. J. Dausset, of the Engineers.”
The Thane sighed as he moved, stretching out a hand to take the flimsy from Valdisa. He moved so that the light from the hoverlamp fell full on the paper, putting him in shadow. “I know I’m due next in the rotation. Who was I to be teamed with?”
“D’Mannberg.”
The Thane nodded and handed the contract back to Valdisa. As her eyes watched him, he walked a few steps toward the wall. He rested his hand on the cool rock, then turned back to her. “Move him back in the rotation and have Aldhelm posted to go with me.” He wiped his hand, damp from the chill of the rock, absently on his cloak. He looked up to see surprise raise Valdisa’s eyebrows, but she lowered her gaze at first contact and
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