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said Cordane, sounding a bit anxious. He was a considerate and responsible
young man. "The gavotte's not easy to master. She's obviously danced it before
and often. They don't do that sort of thing in the Streets!"
"Dance with her next then, Cordane. You know the Street accents," urged
Deagan. Before his friends could vacillate, he took them both by the elbows
and propelled them through the onlookers to the point where the girl and
Walteron were likely to finish the gavotte. "If she's not Street, you take the
next dance, Fenn. You range enough in the Outback to identify their twang."
"Then you'll dance with her and short out her dress," said Cordane,
indignantly pulling his arm from his friend's grasp.
"Short her dress? Here in the Residence?" Deagan grinned sardonically and
jerked his head toward his father, who was laughing affably with some ranking
outworld guests. The PM's moods could change to implacable sternness when
necessary, and all three young men knew it. "Besides, shorting would bum her
between the contact points. My interest is purely theoretical. The creation is
ingenious."
"Expensive, too, I'd say," added Fenn. "She's like a lovely double-moon mist."
Cordane blinked in surprise, for the young Domainer was not usually given to
metaphors.
"Under that face veil, she could be ugly as a roake, but right now, what a
fillip to a dull dance," said Deagan. "Quickly, Corrie. The dance is ending!"
He gave his friend a push forward onto the dance area so that the slick
surface all but catapulted Cordane against Walteron.
"Look, the old lecher won't relinquish," said Deagan, irritated, as he and
Fenn watched the exchange between the two would-be partners. "Let's reinforce
before Corrie muffs it." Deagan, clutching Fenn unobtrusively at the elbow,
strode quickly over to the trio. "Oh, lovely maiden of the double-moon mists,"
he opened, with a click of this heels and a smart salute in keeping with his
elegant formal Space uniform, "my friend here" - he gestured to Fenn, since
names were never exchanged at a costumed Touch-Down dance - "is a shy and
gentle youth who, like myself, is all admiration for your raiment. My
sincerest compliments on your originality."
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"Accepted, good sir," the girl said with such composure and in such pure
Standard accents that Deagan knew that she was neither Streetie, newcomer, nor
Outback Domainer.
"Since he is so shy, may I request that you favor him with the next dance?"
Deagan continued, subtly changing his position to form, with his two friends,
a circle in front of the girl that excluded Walteron.
"The dance after the one I am claiming by right of first request," said
Cordane, with a smart clap of his boot heels and a mock glare at Deagan and
Fenn.
One could just perceive her smile through the coruscating mist of her face
veil, but her eyes, a clear, intelligent green emphasized by the shifting
shades of her attire, gleamed with amusement. A flick of her green gaze told
Deagan that she was aware of Walteron, fuming at the deft exclusion and the
man's obvious keen intention to extend his acquaintance with her.
"I put in my most humble bid for the third dance, lovely lady," said Deagan,
"and each third one afterward."
"You mean to monopolize my dances?" She looked from one importuning costumed
officer to the next, avoiding Walteron's attempts to reclaim her attention.
"Three doesn't constitute a monopoly," said Fenn, who tended to be literal.
"But assuredly offers protection," added Deagan.
"Mutual protection?" She tilted her head sideways just slightly in Walteron's
direction. Her eyes lingered on Deagan's face, and he knew she had taken the
warning,
"Please say yes," Cordane urged, with just the right note of petition in his
voice so that she could be swayed to compliance without appearing to offend
the other whilom partners. She nodded assent to Cordane.
"May I have the dance after his?" Fenn asked eagerly, inspired by Cordane's
success. The two were oblivious, as Deagan was not, to Walteron's set mouth
and angry eyes.
Fortunately the music began just at that moment and Cordane triumphantly swung
the girl onto the floor, taking their position in one of the faststeps at
which Cordane was very adept.
"Didn't think you'd be able to join us tonight, Walteron" said Deagan politely
as he, Fenn, and the older man left the dance floor.
"Sorry about that subsidence, Walteron. Trust no one was killed," Fenn added
ingenuously. "That Aldebaran Specialist'll soon sort it out, they've had so
much experience in the same sort of thing."
Walteron's eyes blazed at Deagan, and with a disgusted snort toward Fenn, he
stalked away to the refreshment room.
"What did I say to put him in such a temper?" Perplexed, the young Domainer
peered at the departing man.
"Don't worry about it." They both turned to spot Cordane and the girl twirling
amid the other enthusiastic dancers.
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She could, Deagan thought, be a trained mimic or actress, contracted for the
Celebrations, but she hadn't faltered in her pure accent of the well-bred and
highly educated. She had been quick to take advantage of their protection from
someone like Walteron, who would have been the obvious choice of a Streetie.
Of more interest to Deagan were the tiny sparkling green nodes she wore like
jewels as ear, finger, and toe rings. Two slightly larger ones were attached
as pendants on the fire circlet about her neck and on her browband. Earring
and browband set up the circuit for the face veil and the gown was generated
between the other nodes. The resultant haze of light refraction was more of an
engineering feat than a fabric maker's.
When Cordane's dance ended, Deagan and Fenn quickly joined the trio, edging
out two new contenders for her company. They chatted with her on
inconsequential topics until the music of a slow patterned dance started,
whereupon Fenn had the privilege of handing the girl in to a space in the
decorous circle.
"She's got style," Cordane said enthusiastically as he and Deagan watched from
the sidelines. "She's not a Streetie or a new-come Outbacker. Say, could she
be one of that new lot of technicians landed a few months back?"
"I thought of that possibility, too, but I handle all identity programming,
and I'd swear she couldn't be one of them."
"Oh!" Cordane sounded deflated. "Private adventurer here on a visit? Lots of
'em come for Touch-Down."
"If she had any planetary standing elsewhere, she'd've been on the official
list."
"We don't know that she isn't, do we? I only assumed she was party-crashing
because we first saw her near the garden entrance."
"A good point. I'll check the guard console."
Deagan's progress around the perimeter was hampered by envious questions,
subtle or blatant, about the identity of the lovely girl in gauze. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]