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Book: Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men by Robert N. Charrette
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Authors: Robert N. Charrette
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me."
Scowling, Sorli said, "If I have not yet convinced you of the danger, we are lost." He tapped the privacy screen around her monitor. "Your tools tell you that I do not lie. Believe them, if you will not believe me. We come to the cusp. We must act,"
"Convince me."
Sorli drew himself up. Without further argument, he turned and departed. As the door slid shut behind him, Pamela touched the intercom.
"Get Mr. McAlister on the line."
She needed a word with her watchdog.
Making himself presentable after his fight with Winston took time. John considered getting Kelley on the phone and calling off the date, but Faye convinced him otherwise. By the time he had cleaned himself up, he was running half an hour late. He snatched bits and pieces of an outfit from his closet, mostly with an eye to hiding the bruises. The only way to hide his bruised and scraped hands was to wear gloves; he hoped Kelley would take it as a fashion statement.
He was pushing an hour late when he arrived at her dorm. To his relief, she buzzed him in rather than just telling him to get lost. She came down to the lobby promptly, but stayed aloof all the way to the Northsider Club. They had missed the first set and Kim Murphey was well into her second set when they arrived, but the music soon mellowed Kelley and by the end of the third and final set, she was talking easily. Neither of them mentioned the afternoon's fight, encouraging John to hope that she had either missed it or not realized it had been he.
He wanted the evening to last forever, forever delaying the time when he'd have to deal with the repercussions of the afternoon's fight. He suggested they go to the Frilly Cow for a snack, and she agreed. When they were settled in a booth and had put in their order, he started on a topic that seemed safe.
"You seemed to like the concert."
"Yeah. It was good. It's nice to hear real instruments once in a while."
"Real instruments?"
"Yeah. You know, instead of synthesized sound. The boards are light-years ahead of what they used to be, but there's something different about a real instrument that even an individuator can't dupe."
"Maybe it's the player."
"Or the company."
The company? Had she really said that?
Their order arrived, saving John from immediately saying something stupid. Once the Cokes and burgers were on the table, their talk took a sudden turn to other, safer things like classes and assignments and professors. Eventually, the conversation rolled around to the music again.
"Yeah. The music's fine. But the lyrics." She rolled her eyes. "The lyrics are always so, like, imaginative."
"You think so? I've always been fascinated by the stories they tell. Do you ever think that there might be something more than simple imagination behind the stories in the songs?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Like, maybe some of the stories aren't just stories. Like, maybe they're some kind of distorted history."
"History? With all those witches and ghosts and magic talismans and stuff?"
"Why not?" Kelley quirked an eyebrow at him, so he tried another tack. "I mean, couldn't stuff like that be symbolism for other things?"
"I suppose." Her agreement was hesitant.
"Suppose it was. For the sake of argument. Don't you have to wonder what might be behind those stories?"
She looked dubious. She was clearly beginning to think he was an idiot. If he shut up now, she'd know for sure. His only hope was to keep talking and bring the conversation back to a place she found more acceptable. But how? Since dropping the subject cold would just freeze ideas about his weirdness in her head, he'd have to work himself out into safer areas.
"Give me a minute, here. If you suppose that there is a real story behind the song, you have to suppose that there are real events and real people in it, right?" She nodded dubiously. "Given that. And given that there isn't anything like magic in the real world . . ." That seemed to score points. Keep talking, boy. "A lot of
Scowling, Sorli said, "If I have not yet convinced you of the danger, we are lost." He tapped the privacy screen around her monitor. "Your tools tell you that I do not lie. Believe them, if you will not believe me. We come to the cusp. We must act,"
"Convince me."
Sorli drew himself up. Without further argument, he turned and departed. As the door slid shut behind him, Pamela touched the intercom.
"Get Mr. McAlister on the line."
She needed a word with her watchdog.
Making himself presentable after his fight with Winston took time. John considered getting Kelley on the phone and calling off the date, but Faye convinced him otherwise. By the time he had cleaned himself up, he was running half an hour late. He snatched bits and pieces of an outfit from his closet, mostly with an eye to hiding the bruises. The only way to hide his bruised and scraped hands was to wear gloves; he hoped Kelley would take it as a fashion statement.
He was pushing an hour late when he arrived at her dorm. To his relief, she buzzed him in rather than just telling him to get lost. She came down to the lobby promptly, but stayed aloof all the way to the Northsider Club. They had missed the first set and Kim Murphey was well into her second set when they arrived, but the music soon mellowed Kelley and by the end of the third and final set, she was talking easily. Neither of them mentioned the afternoon's fight, encouraging John to hope that she had either missed it or not realized it had been he.
He wanted the evening to last forever, forever delaying the time when he'd have to deal with the repercussions of the afternoon's fight. He suggested they go to the Frilly Cow for a snack, and she agreed. When they were settled in a booth and had put in their order, he started on a topic that seemed safe.
"You seemed to like the concert."
"Yeah. It was good. It's nice to hear real instruments once in a while."
"Real instruments?"
"Yeah. You know, instead of synthesized sound. The boards are light-years ahead of what they used to be, but there's something different about a real instrument that even an individuator can't dupe."
"Maybe it's the player."
"Or the company."
The company? Had she really said that?
Their order arrived, saving John from immediately saying something stupid. Once the Cokes and burgers were on the table, their talk took a sudden turn to other, safer things like classes and assignments and professors. Eventually, the conversation rolled around to the music again.
"Yeah. The music's fine. But the lyrics." She rolled her eyes. "The lyrics are always so, like, imaginative."
"You think so? I've always been fascinated by the stories they tell. Do you ever think that there might be something more than simple imagination behind the stories in the songs?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Like, maybe some of the stories aren't just stories. Like, maybe they're some kind of distorted history."
"History? With all those witches and ghosts and magic talismans and stuff?"
"Why not?" Kelley quirked an eyebrow at him, so he tried another tack. "I mean, couldn't stuff like that be symbolism for other things?"
"I suppose." Her agreement was hesitant.
"Suppose it was. For the sake of argument. Don't you have to wonder what might be behind those stories?"
She looked dubious. She was clearly beginning to think he was an idiot. If he shut up now, she'd know for sure. His only hope was to keep talking and bring the conversation back to a place she found more acceptable. But how? Since dropping the subject cold would just freeze ideas about his weirdness in her head, he'd have to work himself out into safer areas.
"Give me a minute, here. If you suppose that there is a real story behind the song, you have to suppose that there are real events and real people in it, right?" She nodded dubiously. "Given that. And given that there isn't anything like magic in the real world . . ." That seemed to score points. Keep talking, boy. "A lot of
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