Neeva interjected, with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, “Fortunately for those who embrace only the agrarian lifestyle, our people are not of a hive mentality. While we sometimes communicate telepathically, that by no means indicates that we all agree, or think alike. There are many of us who find endless pastoralism stultifying boring and tedious. Some Linyaari prefer to study science and physics, to enjoy the challenge and adventure of space travel and other more technological pursuits. We have many among our kind who are inventors, who design the devices, techniques, and programs we need, and adapt alien technologies to our purposes. We spacefarers serve our people as envoys and traders to supply new markets for Linyaari skills and goods, and to bring back those things our people prefer not to manufacture for ourselves.”
“And we are content that you do so, Vue()haanye, and even grateful for the many conveniences, improvements, and innovations you bring us, so long as you do not undertake to do your work here, or make us join you out there,” said another white-skinned Linyaari with a slight shudder. “One journey in the blackness of space will serve most of us for a lifetime. And how you can live out most of your life inside a large machine, however beautifully decorated, is beyond me.”
“I must admit,” Khaari said, “after ghaanyi in a space ship, I do love coming home-to the agrarian life where one grazes, not from a hydroponics tank, but in a real garden or field with bugs and birds and unexpected treats among the wildflowers and weeds.”
“There are not many birds here, honored lady, the pendotn-een-uniformed attendant of the peridot-blanketed Ancestor Khaari rode said sadly “Great grandfather here sadly misses their singing.”
“As do I,” said the aagroni sadly. “As do I.
( l/^^ isia Manjari’s pout at losing the junk man and ^56.^ y^L his -wild cat as victims rapidly disappeared ”^ ^.when her sandaled foot encountered a hard object on the ground. “Ouch!” she said, and bent down to pick up what she had thought was an offending rock, in order to fling it after Becker. Then she saw what it was.
“Two unicorn horns? That girl only had one. Daddy,” she said to her father, a figure she alone could see. She saw him as she always saw him now, dressed in his finest ceremonial clothes with the blood just beginning to flow from the wound in his neck, the way it had flowed the day he died. “Where did the other one come from? The junk man said he gave me the only one. He said he had no more. He was lying, the low-born space scum.”
“You must never let people get away with lying to us, Kisla. You should punish him,” her father told her.
“Oh, yes. I will. Daddy, of course I will. I’ll make him tell. But if these horns are real, which one is hers, do you think?”
“Kisla, I think this is a grave matter upon which you should consult your Uncle Edacki. He will be able to advise and help you.”
“Yes, Daddy, I’ll do just that,” she said. She turned to her staff. The androids were quite accustomed to Kisla’s seemingly solo conversations and paid no attention to them. “I want you to finish loading the container and then stop at the registration office and find out the junk mans name and where his ship is docked. We’ll be wanting to pay him a call later. Right now I am going to visit my guardian. In the meantime, take these things to my personal hangar and have the workmen begin integrating the useful parts into my vessels. Await my instructions there.”
“As you wish. Lady Kisia,” said the latest model among them. Since most of Uncle Edacki’s human servants were too slow and stupid to suit her, he had instead given her four of his androids for her staff. They were obedient, and were not always crying or bleeding like the human servants.
Count Edacki Ganoosh gave his ward a slow, appreciative smile as he handled the unicorn horns she had brought him. Kisia ManJan was psychotic, of course, but she was not as stupid as many people assumed. And perhaps the craziness -would lessen, over time. After all, it -was bound to be a shock to a young girl to see her father kill her mother and then himself after being denounced as an arch-criminal in front of the most respected citizens of Kezdet. He’d been there that night, and it had certainly shocked him. Since Kisia -was a very selfcentered girl, one might have assumed that discovering that she was adopted, and had been born the illegitimate daughter of a prostitute, would have been the main shock of that night to her, but once it turned out that her parents had died before the state could officially confiscate all their holdings, and that she, Kisia, was their only heir, that part of the horror seemed to have slipped her mind. The government had still confiscated most of the Manjari empire, but Count Edacki, as the girl’s appointed guardian, had pleaded that the girl was not a criminal and should be left -with certain holdings among the Baron’s legitimate enterprises, enough to constitute a solid trust fund for her upkeep, education, and a hefty income for the remainder of her life. Count Edacki secretly suspected the girl also knew of certain secret holdings the government had not yet located. Large holdings, he believed. It was such a difficult job to gain the trust of an orphaned child. The count was thus pleased for more reasons than one that she had decided to show him the unicorn horns.