Deirdre encouraged me. “I think we have enough costumes to last us.”
I nodded reluctant assent. “If you are certain, Madame, then of course I will. I can certainly ask Hugh if he would like to take your commission, Nole. Do you want him to accompany you the rest of the way to Zang space to do fittings and so on?”
Nole beamed.
“Yes, please. I would be very grateful if you can let me have him.”
I removed my viewpad from a pocket near the collar of my cape. It seemed to appear out of nowhere. Nole’s eyes widened with surprise, and he nodded.
“Absolutely, he is the tailor for me. Very smart!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. When I turned on the screen, I was greeted by a virtual chorus of loud and brilliantly colored advertisements sponsored by the marketplace authority, all clamoring for my attention at top volume. I pushed them aside and opened a private communication channel to send a text message to Hugh. “One moment. One must observe the niceties. I don’t want to interrupt him if he’s turning a seam.”
“Can’t you just order him to come to my ship?” Nole asked, peevishly. “You are too precious with these LAIs, Thomas.”
“Now, now,” I chided him. “Just because your nurserybot made you take vitamin supplements you didn’t like when you were a tot is no reason to treat the whole group as if they are about to dose you with oils.”
“Well, they might,” Nole growled. I sent the message.
Almost at once, the viewpad pinged. When I touched the screen to answer it, another raft of unwelcome three-dimensional ads began hopping and zooming around it again. I slapped my palm flat to squash them all out of existence. When I lifted my hand, everything was gone except for the icons for the Infogrid and one local text message from Hugh.
“He’ll do it,” I said. “His rates are ridiculously low for the quality of work he does, but he won’t work on cheap fabrics. You’ll have to use the best.”
“But of course,” Nole said, with a lift of his broad shoulders. I observed that the well-cut shirt he had on was of ossifer silk in its natural deep bronze color. “Can I buy what I want here?”
“I’d be astonished if you couldn’t,” I said, glancing about at the busy booths and shops. “This is a major intersection leading not only to the edge of Imperium space, but also toward the Wichu systems.” I went into my device’s history to find Odile’s message, and forwarded a portion of it to him. “Here are the merchants you want to visit. They import top-grade textiles. Now I have two things to look forward to: your ship and your suit.”
Nole grasped my outstretched hand. “Thanks, cousin. I’ll send a flitter-cab to pick Hugh up at once. Now, remember, you haven’t seen me!”
“Not a trace,” I promised, assuming an innocent face. Deirdre and Anstruther nodded agreement. “In fact, I’m still wondering where you are.”
With a sly wink, Nole slipped away into the clamoring crowd.
CHAPTER 5
“Lady Nestorina’s images of Nole and Nalney are sorely outdated,” Madame Deirdre said, as we resumed our trek into the depths of the market. “The digitavids she has playing in her sitting room are of a couple of small boys.”
“Ah, well, her late husband was more of the archivist than she is,” I said, dodging a Wichu seller of dubious comestibles whose wares were displayed on a tray slung around his neck. They smelled good, but I had been fooled by artificial ester sprays before. The Wichu held up a handful of wriggling noodles—at least, I believed that they were noodles—but I waved him away. We plunged into the crowd of shoppers. While humans were in the majority in the market, I edged past Wichu, Uctu and Croctoid visitors in plenty.
“Their father?” Madame Deirdre asked.
“Oddly, no,” I said, glancing back at her, amusement sparkling in my eyes. “My great aunt has been married several times. Nine, I think. Her current husband is a man
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