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Authors: Alan Dean Foster
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friend.
“Sweet tidings to you, Desvendapur.”
He set his scri!ber aside, mildly irritated at having been interrupted in midcomposition. “Good day, Heul. Are you on off-time?”
“For a little while.” She settled herself on the bench next to his, straddling it with her abdomen, her trulegs splayed out to either side. “You’re still working, even here?”
“The curse of creativity.” He made a soft, humorous gesture to take the edge off his tone. “Even a soother needs soothing. I find that in all of Honydrop, this place does that for me.”
“Only this place?” Reaching out with a truhand, she stroked his slick, blue-green thorax just below the breathing spicules.
Idly, he mused on the slenderness of her ovipositors, curled up over her lower abdomen. “There are others,” he conceded with grudging warmth.
They made inconsequential but diverting chatter for a while. Then her tone changed. “Am I wrong, or in the intervals when we were talking days ago did you mention that you would like to visit Geswixt?”
He fought to suppress his initial reaction. While his face was inflexible, his limbs were not. He felt he largely succeeded in hiding from this female what he was feeling. “A change of scenery, however transitory, is always a welcome diversion.”
She indicated disagreement and clicked her mandibles sharply for emphasis. “Not if it means going outside. Personally, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to go to the trouble of visiting Geswixt. Everything I’ve heard about the place suggests that it’s a grim, spare little mining station, with nothing in the way of amenities.” She gestured with a truhand. “Less so even than Honydrop.”
“What do they mine there?” he asked absently. “What kind of ore?”
She gestured uncertainty. “I do not know. I think I remember hearing something about an ongoing dig for nonferrous materials, but I don’t believe they’ve actually hit an ore body yet. They’re still searching.”
“And tunneling a lot, I imagine. A mine would mean many tunnels. A great deal of earth and rock would have to be moved.”
She eyed him curiously. “Why, yes, I suppose so.” Light flashed off the multifarious golden mirrors that were her eyes. “Anyway, if you really want to go there and have a look around, I’ve found someone who might take you.”
His hearts pounded a little faster. “That is interesting. Would I know this person?”
“Perhaps. Her name is Melnibicon. She’s a driver.” When Des indicated his ignorance, Heulmilsuwir elaborated. “We’ve met a number of times, in the course of checking her manifests. It seems that there is a need for a certain medicine in Geswixt. A small quantity of a little-used enzymatic catalyst. Rather than wait to have it shipped from Ciccikalk, our department is sending some over the mountains to Geswixt. A quick courtesy run. Melnibicon is taking it. Since her transport will be pretty much empty except for a single package of medication, I thought she might have room for a passenger.”
“You asked her on my behalf?” Had he not made a conscious effort to suppress it, Desvendapur might have been moved to affection.
“I knew you were interested, and I have enjoyed your recitals so much—and your company.”
“I thought travel was prohibited between Honydrop and Geswixt.” He watched closely for any reaction.
“Restricted. Not prohibited. Otherwise, clearing the requisite bureaucratic strictures would prevent Melnibicon from making the trip. Officially, casual travel is not supposed to take place. But now and again, people do make the journey.” Leaning forward, she reached into a beautifully embroidered, hand-woven abdominal pouch and handed him an embossed plastic rectangle.
“This is where you will find her. She’s leaving mid-midday so she can make it back before dark. It is better to do these things on the cusp of the moment. Too much planning can lead to exposure. Are you going to meet
“Sweet tidings to you, Desvendapur.”
He set his scri!ber aside, mildly irritated at having been interrupted in midcomposition. “Good day, Heul. Are you on off-time?”
“For a little while.” She settled herself on the bench next to his, straddling it with her abdomen, her trulegs splayed out to either side. “You’re still working, even here?”
“The curse of creativity.” He made a soft, humorous gesture to take the edge off his tone. “Even a soother needs soothing. I find that in all of Honydrop, this place does that for me.”
“Only this place?” Reaching out with a truhand, she stroked his slick, blue-green thorax just below the breathing spicules.
Idly, he mused on the slenderness of her ovipositors, curled up over her lower abdomen. “There are others,” he conceded with grudging warmth.
They made inconsequential but diverting chatter for a while. Then her tone changed. “Am I wrong, or in the intervals when we were talking days ago did you mention that you would like to visit Geswixt?”
He fought to suppress his initial reaction. While his face was inflexible, his limbs were not. He felt he largely succeeded in hiding from this female what he was feeling. “A change of scenery, however transitory, is always a welcome diversion.”
She indicated disagreement and clicked her mandibles sharply for emphasis. “Not if it means going outside. Personally, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to go to the trouble of visiting Geswixt. Everything I’ve heard about the place suggests that it’s a grim, spare little mining station, with nothing in the way of amenities.” She gestured with a truhand. “Less so even than Honydrop.”
“What do they mine there?” he asked absently. “What kind of ore?”
She gestured uncertainty. “I do not know. I think I remember hearing something about an ongoing dig for nonferrous materials, but I don’t believe they’ve actually hit an ore body yet. They’re still searching.”
“And tunneling a lot, I imagine. A mine would mean many tunnels. A great deal of earth and rock would have to be moved.”
She eyed him curiously. “Why, yes, I suppose so.” Light flashed off the multifarious golden mirrors that were her eyes. “Anyway, if you really want to go there and have a look around, I’ve found someone who might take you.”
His hearts pounded a little faster. “That is interesting. Would I know this person?”
“Perhaps. Her name is Melnibicon. She’s a driver.” When Des indicated his ignorance, Heulmilsuwir elaborated. “We’ve met a number of times, in the course of checking her manifests. It seems that there is a need for a certain medicine in Geswixt. A small quantity of a little-used enzymatic catalyst. Rather than wait to have it shipped from Ciccikalk, our department is sending some over the mountains to Geswixt. A quick courtesy run. Melnibicon is taking it. Since her transport will be pretty much empty except for a single package of medication, I thought she might have room for a passenger.”
“You asked her on my behalf?” Had he not made a conscious effort to suppress it, Desvendapur might have been moved to affection.
“I knew you were interested, and I have enjoyed your recitals so much—and your company.”
“I thought travel was prohibited between Honydrop and Geswixt.” He watched closely for any reaction.
“Restricted. Not prohibited. Otherwise, clearing the requisite bureaucratic strictures would prevent Melnibicon from making the trip. Officially, casual travel is not supposed to take place. But now and again, people do make the journey.” Leaning forward, she reached into a beautifully embroidered, hand-woven abdominal pouch and handed him an embossed plastic rectangle.
“This is where you will find her. She’s leaving mid-midday so she can make it back before dark. It is better to do these things on the cusp of the moment. Too much planning can lead to exposure. Are you going to meet
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