for Abnethe while I attend to other business."
"McKie?"
"Yes."
"You possess awareness that presence of yourself or other of your kind prolongs impingement of myself upon your wave?"
"That's fine."
"Your presence foreshortens flogging."
"I suspected as much."
"Suspected?"
"I understand!"
"Understanding probable. Connectives indicative."
"I can't tell you how happy that makes me," McKie said.
"You wish friend brought?"
"What's Furuneo doing?"
"Furuneo exchanges communication with . . . assistant."
"I can imagine."
McKie shook his head from side to side. He could sense the morass of misunderstanding around every attempt at communication here. No way to steer clear of it. No way at all. At the very moment when they thought they had achieved closest communication, right then they could be widest of the mark.
"When Furuneo concludes his conversation, bring him," McKie said. He hunched back against the wall. Gods of the underworld! The heat was almost unbearable. Why did Calebans require such heat? Maybe the heat represented something else to a Caleban, a visible wave form, perhaps, serving some function other sentients couldn't begin to understand.
McKie felt then that he was engaged in an exchange of worthless noises here -- shadow sounds. Reason had gone, swinging from planet to planet. He and the Caleban were striking false bargains, trying to climb out of chaos. If they failed, death would take away all the innocent and the sinful, the good and the guilty. Boats would drift on countless oceans, towers would fall, balconies crumble, and suns would move alone across unmarked skies.
A wave of relatively cold air told McKie that Furuneo had arrived. McKie turned, saw the planetary agent sprawled beside him and just beginning to sit up.
"For the love of reason!" Furuneo shouted. "What're you doing to me?"
"I needed the fresh air," McKie said.
Furuneo peered at him. "What?"
"Glad to see you," McKie said.
"Yeah?" Furuneo brought himself to a squatting position beside McKie. "You have any idea what's just happened to me?"
"You've been to Landy-B," McKie said.
"How'd you know? Was that your doing?"
"Slight misunderstanding," McKie said. "Landy-B's your home."
"It is not!"
"I'll leave you to argue that with Fanny Mae," McKie said. "Have you started the search on Cordiality?"
"I barely got it going before you . . ."
"Yes, but you've started it?"
"I've started it."
"Good. Fanny Mae will keep you posted on various things and bring your people here for reports and such as you need them. Won't you, Fanny Mae?"
"Connectives remain available. Contract permits."
"Good girl."
"I'd almost forgotten how hot it was in here," Furuneo said, mopping his forehead. "So I can summon people. What else?"
"You watch for Abnethe."
"And?"
"The instant she and one of her Palenki floggers make an appearance, you get a holoscan record of everything that happens. You do have your toolkit?"
"Of course."
"Fine. While you're scanning, get your instruments as close to the jumpdoor as you can."
"She'll probably close the door as soon as she sees what I'm doing."
"Don't count on it. Oh, one thing."
"Yes?"
"You're my teaching assistant."
"Your what?"
McKie explained about the Caleban's agreement.
"So she can't get rid of us without violating the terms of her contract with Fanny Mae," Furuneo said. "Cute." He pursed his lips. "That all?"
"No. I want you and Fanny Mae to discuss connectives."
"Connectives?"
"Connectives. I want you to try finding out what in ten billion devils a Caleban means by connectives."
"Connectives," Furuneo said. "Is there any way to turn down the furnace in here?"
"You might take that as another subject: Try to discover the reason for all this heat."
"If I don't melt first. Where'll you be?"
"Hunting -- provided Fanny Mae and I can agree on the connectives."
"You're not making sense."
"Right. But I'll try to make
"McKie?"
"Yes."
"You possess awareness that presence of yourself or other of your kind prolongs impingement of myself upon your wave?"
"That's fine."
"Your presence foreshortens flogging."
"I suspected as much."
"Suspected?"
"I understand!"
"Understanding probable. Connectives indicative."
"I can't tell you how happy that makes me," McKie said.
"You wish friend brought?"
"What's Furuneo doing?"
"Furuneo exchanges communication with . . . assistant."
"I can imagine."
McKie shook his head from side to side. He could sense the morass of misunderstanding around every attempt at communication here. No way to steer clear of it. No way at all. At the very moment when they thought they had achieved closest communication, right then they could be widest of the mark.
"When Furuneo concludes his conversation, bring him," McKie said. He hunched back against the wall. Gods of the underworld! The heat was almost unbearable. Why did Calebans require such heat? Maybe the heat represented something else to a Caleban, a visible wave form, perhaps, serving some function other sentients couldn't begin to understand.
McKie felt then that he was engaged in an exchange of worthless noises here -- shadow sounds. Reason had gone, swinging from planet to planet. He and the Caleban were striking false bargains, trying to climb out of chaos. If they failed, death would take away all the innocent and the sinful, the good and the guilty. Boats would drift on countless oceans, towers would fall, balconies crumble, and suns would move alone across unmarked skies.
A wave of relatively cold air told McKie that Furuneo had arrived. McKie turned, saw the planetary agent sprawled beside him and just beginning to sit up.
"For the love of reason!" Furuneo shouted. "What're you doing to me?"
"I needed the fresh air," McKie said.
Furuneo peered at him. "What?"
"Glad to see you," McKie said.
"Yeah?" Furuneo brought himself to a squatting position beside McKie. "You have any idea what's just happened to me?"
"You've been to Landy-B," McKie said.
"How'd you know? Was that your doing?"
"Slight misunderstanding," McKie said. "Landy-B's your home."
"It is not!"
"I'll leave you to argue that with Fanny Mae," McKie said. "Have you started the search on Cordiality?"
"I barely got it going before you . . ."
"Yes, but you've started it?"
"I've started it."
"Good. Fanny Mae will keep you posted on various things and bring your people here for reports and such as you need them. Won't you, Fanny Mae?"
"Connectives remain available. Contract permits."
"Good girl."
"I'd almost forgotten how hot it was in here," Furuneo said, mopping his forehead. "So I can summon people. What else?"
"You watch for Abnethe."
"And?"
"The instant she and one of her Palenki floggers make an appearance, you get a holoscan record of everything that happens. You do have your toolkit?"
"Of course."
"Fine. While you're scanning, get your instruments as close to the jumpdoor as you can."
"She'll probably close the door as soon as she sees what I'm doing."
"Don't count on it. Oh, one thing."
"Yes?"
"You're my teaching assistant."
"Your what?"
McKie explained about the Caleban's agreement.
"So she can't get rid of us without violating the terms of her contract with Fanny Mae," Furuneo said. "Cute." He pursed his lips. "That all?"
"No. I want you and Fanny Mae to discuss connectives."
"Connectives?"
"Connectives. I want you to try finding out what in ten billion devils a Caleban means by connectives."
"Connectives," Furuneo said. "Is there any way to turn down the furnace in here?"
"You might take that as another subject: Try to discover the reason for all this heat."
"If I don't melt first. Where'll you be?"
"Hunting -- provided Fanny Mae and I can agree on the connectives."
"You're not making sense."
"Right. But I'll try to make
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