Read Online Damia by Anne McCaffrey - Free Book Online

Gollee announced, with another of his reckless winks. Shortly, they were seated at a table in an eating house with a pleasant ambience. There wassoft music, subdued lighting, excellent appointments, and a discreet menu that appeared in the top of their table as soon as they were seated.
    The selection was literally otherworldly, for it listed dishes from every one of the Central Worlds. Gollee appeared to be far more sophisticated than his years, for he rattled off a description of items that Afra had never heard of. Afra tried not to let his ignorance or confusion show. Then Gren held up a hand to beckon an attendant. As the man came in answer to the summons, Gren looked earnestly at Afra.
    “I know some of the specialties of this restaurant that I think you might like.”
    “We-ell.” Gren’s self-assurance and the good-natured way in which he had steered Afra throughout the day easily convinced Afra to accede. He gave a rueful smile. “I haven’t had much experience with off-world dining.”
    The waiter regarded Afra in surprise while Gollee’s encouraging smile became very worldly indeed.
    “One man’s homeworld is another’s tourist spot. My friend is in from Capella. How about serving us a platter of dainties that’d tempt him to appreciate Terran cuisine?” The attendant seemed reluctant. “Is Luciano on today?”
    “Luciano?” That did impress the man.
    “The very same.” Gollee nodded pleasantly, as if discussing menus with Luciano was a habit. “Would you tell him that the G-man is showing a friend of his boss about this aul’ sod and we need to consult.”
    The waiter raised his eyebrows. “G-man? I’ve heard about you.” He gave a hitch to the white apron tied about his loins. “I’ll tell him you’re in again.”
    Luciano himself appeared between the platter of dainties and the soup. He gave Afra a friendly nod as Gollee introduced him.
    At that moment, Afra had a mouthful of an unexpectedly peppery savory and just caught himself resorting to telepathy to answer. He flapped his hands, first indicating his busy mouth and then giving the concerned chef the ok sign.
    “Spicy? Not spicy enough? Too spicy?” Luciano asked with professional concern.
    “Too spicy, I’d say,” Gollee suggested with a laugh. “I’m accustomed to your brand of seasoning, but Afra must think he’s being poisoned. Look at his face and how his eyes are watering.”
    The arch look on Luciano’s face startled Afra so much that he ventured to splutter around his mouthful: “No! No! ’Sgreat. I like . . . spices.”
    Luciano was instantly mollified. “Ah, a man with educated tastes.”
    “Not only that, Luciano,” Gren said, grinning with sheer malice, “he got the ol’ man by the balls and had him laughing.” Gren shot the astounded Afra a conspiratorial wink. “And that’s no bull, my friend.”
    “You did that?” and clearly Afra had ascended ranks in Luciano’s estimation. “To the great man?” and the fiery Italian gestured in the direction of the distant Blundell complex.
    Afra washed the rest of his mouthful down with water so that he could remedy this slightly skewed version of the morning’s business.
    “It was just a short interview . . .” he began.
    “With Prime Reidinger which he survived unscathed,” Gren said, nodding his head up and down, his eyes wide with admiration. “Afra made him a gift and got him to laugh.”
    “The great man laughed?” Luciano awarded Afra a respectful glance.
    “And,” Gollee paused significantly, “Reidinger immediately gave him a two-day leave. I’m to see this tourist doesn’t get into trouble his first time on Earth.”
    “Ah, how wise of you to bring him here to eat, Gollee,” Luciano said, beaming with approval. “And you have a formidable guide, Afra,” he said, meaning to reassure, “for this one knows the very best places to go for whatever pleasures you might desire.” Luciano winked, setting one thick index finger to the