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Authors: Gillian Andrews
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everything. That could not be changed, however much it pained her to admit it.
Amanita went on, supremely unaware of the jostling emotions her calm words had aroused in Grace, “I heard that Vion visited you the other day, and that it wasn’t a virtual visit.”
“He wished to pay his respects to Xenon 48.”
“Yes, I was told that too. Was that the sole purpose of his visit?”
“That, again, Amanita, is nothing to do with you.”
Amanita shook her head. “I must beg to differ, Grace. As female head of the 256 th Sellite skyrise I may require all females of the same house to report to me any non-virtual visits.”
Grace’s eyes flashed. “If you must know he gave my mother a check-up at the same time. He prescribed a sleeping draft.”
“So I was right!” Amanita congratulated herself.
Cimma finally appeared, not very pleased to be disturbed by her daughter-in-law. “Amanita,” she said.
“Cimma. I wish you would put that stupid knife down!”
“I expect you do.”
“Well? Are you going to put it down?”
“No.”
“As female head of the skyrise, I am telling you to put that knife down, Cimma!”
“I can’t do that, Amanita. I need it for protection.”
“You are perfectly safe.”
“That’s what you want us to think. But I know better. Anyway, nice of you to call, but I am very busy. Cut—”
“I called to invite you both for dinner,” interrupted Amanita. “You can come up tomorrow night. I thought we ought to . . . that is, we thought you would like to visit with us non-virtually.”
Grace’s first reaction was to turn the invitation down flat. But she had promised Vion that she would make more of an effort. And it might be good for her mother to see Xenon. So she nodded.
“Fine. Come up at eight. Oh, and Grace . . .?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t have any more non-virtual visits without asking my permission first, will you?”
“Of course I will ask your permission,” said Grace in dulcet tones. The day Almagest turns blue, she thought.
Amanita gave an acid smile. “Cutting the connexion,” she said.
At last Grace was left to herself. She was so cross that she found she was shaking after the encounter with Amanita. Whatever had her brother seen in the wretched woman? She turned back to the interscreen with relief.
Using Vion’s skyrise pass, she was able to access any information she wanted about the programs. She had started with a back search to see what had happened to the past candidates after they had donated, and found very little.
All the previous candidates had mysteriously vanished into the rarified Valhai air. Grace spent the rest of the day trying without success to trace the missing candidates. None of them had been listed as residents of Valhai. But none of their names were down on any passenger manifests as leaving the planet. They had quite simply disappeared.
Finally, Grace turned her attention to the current batch of candidates. She quickly found out about the boy who had died in transit, and that another of the apprentices was under Vion 48’s treatment due to an almost incapacitating terror of shut-in spaces. The other ten were apparently doing well. It would be another year and a half before the first operations were carried out – as they normally were – under the attentive eye of the investor.
Exactly at eight the following evening Grace called up the orthogel lift at the front of her floor, and shepherded her mother inside. Grace had tried to make an effort, and dress in something which would meet Amanita’s approval, but Cimma was wearing the dressing gown, though she had changed the thin robe underneath. The lethal Xianthan knife was still clutched in her hand.
Grace was glad that she had made the effort. Amanita was clad in a very high-priced gold weave gown, and had even decked the children out in embroidered finery. Grace would have been definitely in trouble had she not made any effort at all. Even so, her lack of face highlights
Amanita went on, supremely unaware of the jostling emotions her calm words had aroused in Grace, “I heard that Vion visited you the other day, and that it wasn’t a virtual visit.”
“He wished to pay his respects to Xenon 48.”
“Yes, I was told that too. Was that the sole purpose of his visit?”
“That, again, Amanita, is nothing to do with you.”
Amanita shook her head. “I must beg to differ, Grace. As female head of the 256 th Sellite skyrise I may require all females of the same house to report to me any non-virtual visits.”
Grace’s eyes flashed. “If you must know he gave my mother a check-up at the same time. He prescribed a sleeping draft.”
“So I was right!” Amanita congratulated herself.
Cimma finally appeared, not very pleased to be disturbed by her daughter-in-law. “Amanita,” she said.
“Cimma. I wish you would put that stupid knife down!”
“I expect you do.”
“Well? Are you going to put it down?”
“No.”
“As female head of the skyrise, I am telling you to put that knife down, Cimma!”
“I can’t do that, Amanita. I need it for protection.”
“You are perfectly safe.”
“That’s what you want us to think. But I know better. Anyway, nice of you to call, but I am very busy. Cut—”
“I called to invite you both for dinner,” interrupted Amanita. “You can come up tomorrow night. I thought we ought to . . . that is, we thought you would like to visit with us non-virtually.”
Grace’s first reaction was to turn the invitation down flat. But she had promised Vion that she would make more of an effort. And it might be good for her mother to see Xenon. So she nodded.
“Fine. Come up at eight. Oh, and Grace . . .?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t have any more non-virtual visits without asking my permission first, will you?”
“Of course I will ask your permission,” said Grace in dulcet tones. The day Almagest turns blue, she thought.
Amanita gave an acid smile. “Cutting the connexion,” she said.
At last Grace was left to herself. She was so cross that she found she was shaking after the encounter with Amanita. Whatever had her brother seen in the wretched woman? She turned back to the interscreen with relief.
Using Vion’s skyrise pass, she was able to access any information she wanted about the programs. She had started with a back search to see what had happened to the past candidates after they had donated, and found very little.
All the previous candidates had mysteriously vanished into the rarified Valhai air. Grace spent the rest of the day trying without success to trace the missing candidates. None of them had been listed as residents of Valhai. But none of their names were down on any passenger manifests as leaving the planet. They had quite simply disappeared.
Finally, Grace turned her attention to the current batch of candidates. She quickly found out about the boy who had died in transit, and that another of the apprentices was under Vion 48’s treatment due to an almost incapacitating terror of shut-in spaces. The other ten were apparently doing well. It would be another year and a half before the first operations were carried out – as they normally were – under the attentive eye of the investor.
Exactly at eight the following evening Grace called up the orthogel lift at the front of her floor, and shepherded her mother inside. Grace had tried to make an effort, and dress in something which would meet Amanita’s approval, but Cimma was wearing the dressing gown, though she had changed the thin robe underneath. The lethal Xianthan knife was still clutched in her hand.
Grace was glad that she had made the effort. Amanita was clad in a very high-priced gold weave gown, and had even decked the children out in embroidered finery. Grace would have been definitely in trouble had she not made any effort at all. Even so, her lack of face highlights
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