“Nothing like a romantic moon,” she told me. “A little wine, and a silver-tongued Fastigat to make the worlds move.”
“It does not take wine or a Fastigat to move the world,” I told her, thinking of my own love.
“I am relieved to hear it,” she said then, laughing as she wept. We had then a good deal of reason to weep.
But even then, during her meeting with the Procurator, she thought all that Fastigat stuff unnecessary. The memory of Mallia alone wrung her quite enough.
So, she took a deep breath and said to this old, conniving man: “You want me to go to Dinadh, is that it?”
The Procurator nodded. “We want someone to go, and the only people they will allow are Leelson, his mother, or you. Leelson’s mother has refused to go. Leelson himself, we can’t find. That leaves you. You’re already proficient in basic Nantaskan. Dinadh speaks a dialect of Nantaskan. And I’ll send a Fastigat with you.”
“Please. No,” she cried.
He reached toward her, pleadingly. “Lutha. Please. We’ll pick someone who isn’t … intrusive. Someone tactful.”
She snorted.
“Some Fastigats can be,” he said in an offended tone.
“The Dinadhi will allow me a companion?” She sneered. “Someone nonfamily?”
“If he goes as your assistant or servant, yes. You’ll need some such to help with your son. You’ll have to take the boy.”
She laughed again, this time incredulously. “You’re joking, of course.” He knew how ridiculous the idea was. Even the invigilators who had summoned her to this meeting had been aware of the problem Leely presented. They’d brought a whole crèche team with them to take care of Leely while she was away.
He shook his head at her, leaning forward to pat her knee, an avuncular gesture. “Believe me, Lutha, I wouldn’t ask it if it weren’t necessary. The Dinadhi won’t accept you without the boy.”
“You expect me to drag a child across half a dozen sectors to … ” This child, she said to herself. This particular child, with his particular problems.
“Spatiotemporally, it’s not half a dozen sectors,” he told her. “I wish it were, quite frankly. We’d be safer!”
She made herself relax, slowly picked up the cup once more, finding it fresh, steaming hot.
“Will you go?” he asked.
“Do I have a choice?” she grated. “If I don’t go, you’ll—”
“Nothing,” he assured her. “Really nothing. We have the power to compel you, but compelling you would be useless. We need your willing, intelligent cooperation. It’s up to you whether you give it or not.”
As though that old devil conscience would have let her say no! “You know me,” she said angrily. “You knew I wouldn’t say no. Didn’t you?”
As he did. As Fastigats did. Lutha told me all about Fastigats. Fastigats get to know people very quickly, very well, very completely, as had this bald, quirky old empath across from her who hadn’t come right out and told her he was one of them. Who hadn’t needed to, any more than Leelson had, when they had been together.
“You’re going to be fine,” Leelson had said often during her later stages of pregnancy, soothing her in moments of dismay.
“I know,” she’d snapped. “Women have been having babies for hundreds of thousands of years.”
“Well, yes. But I don’t regard that as particularly comforting, do you?” He made a face at her, making her laugh. “Stars have been blowing up into novas for billions of years, but that doesn’t make their near vicinity desirable.”
“If you intend a similarity, I am offended,” she said. “Though I may have assumed the proportions of a nova, I have no intention of bursting. I merely scream when I stand up, because it hurts to stand up! This may sound like an explosion, but actually—”
“We are not Firsters. You could have—” he interrupted gently.
“Don’t tell me. Of course I could have.” Could have chosen not to be pregnant. Could have chosen to delay the development of the fertilized egg. Could have had the baby developed in a biotech uterus, given crèche birth. She hadn’t chosen that. Why not? She didn’t know why not! Why had he gotten her pregnant in the first place? Fastigats could control that if they wanted to! Obviously, he hadn’t wanted to!