“I wondered if I was being untrue to my Katrin,” he said. “But they are really the same person, aren’t they? If I were to pursue some other woman now, I would know I was committing a betrayal. But how can I betray Katrin with herself?”
An uncertain look crossed Red Katrin’s face. “I’ve downloaded them both,” she said hesitantly, “and I’m not certain that the Dark and Fair Katrins are quite the same person. Or ever were.”
Not the same–of course he knew that. Fair Katrin was not a perfect copy of her older sib–she had flaws, clear enough. She had been damaged, somehow. But the flaws could be worked on, the damage repaired. Conquered. There was infinite time. He would see it done.
She drew her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. Her green eyes were pensive. “Matters of love,” she said, “and happiness.”
And further she would not say.
Davout took Fair Katrin to Tangier for the afternoon and walked with her up on the old palace walls. Below them, white in the sun, the curved mole built by Charles II cleaved the Middle Sea, a thin crescent moon laid upon the perfect shimmering azure. (Home! home!, the waters cried.) The sea breeze lashed her blonde hair across her face, snapped little sonic booms from the sleeves of his shirt.
“I have sampled some of the Silent One’s downloads,” Davout said. “I wished to discover the nature of this artificial tranquility with which he has endowed himself.”
Fair Katrin’s lips twisted in distaste, and her fingers formed a scatologue.
“It was . . . interesting,” Davout said. “There was a strange, uncomplicated quality of bliss to it. I remember experiencing the download of a master sitting zazen once, and it was an experience of a similar cast.”
“It may have been the exact same sensation.” Sourly. “He may have just copied the Zen master’s experience and slotted it into his brain. That’s how most of the vampires do it–award themselves the joy they haven’t earned.”
“That’s a Calvinistic point of view,” Davout offered. “That happiness can’t just happen, that it has to be earned.”
She frowned out at the sea. “There is a difference between real experience and artificial or recapitulative experience. If that’s Calvinist, so be it.”
She looked up at him, straw-hair flying over an unreadable expression. “Davout the Conqueror,” she said.
She nodded, holding his eyes for a long moment. “Yes,” she said. “I know.”
He took Katrin the Fair in his arms and kissed her. There was a moment’s stiff surprise, and then she began to laugh, helpless peals bursting against his lips. He held her for a moment, too surprised to react, and then she broke free. She reeled along the wall, leaning for support against the old stones. Davout followed, babbling, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
She leaned back against the wall. Words burst half-hysterical from her lips, in between bursts of desperate, unamused laughter. “So that’s what you were after! My God! As if I hadn’t had enough of you all after all these years!”
“I apologize,” Davout said. “Let’s forget this happened. I’ll take you home.”
She looked up at him, the laughter gone, blazing anger in its place. “The Silent One and I would have been all right if it hadn’t been for you–for our sibs!” She flung her words like daggers, her voice breaking with passion. “You lot were the eldest, you’d already parceled out the world between you. You were only interested in psychology because my damned Red sib and your Old one wanted insight into the characters in their histories, and because you and your dark bitch wanted a theory of the psyche to aid you in building communities on other worlds. We only got created because you were too damned lazy to do your own research!”