Yu left her own chair and joined him. They were both young.
“And we can soon go home,” she said when they stopped for breath.
His forebodings came upon him again. At this victorious moment he defied them. “And we will cope with whatever we find there.”
Her gladness wavered. “Do you truly expect trouble?”
“We’ll come back with a fame we can turn into power. We’ll cope.” His fingers stroked her cheek. “Do not be afraid, blossom.”
“Never,” she told him, “while we have one another.” And she murmured a few ancient lines that she treasured, from the Book of Songs:
“Wind and rain, dark as night, The cock crowed and would not stop.
Now that I have seen my lord, How can I any more be sad?”
CHAPTER 4
The mad old man lay dying. To him came Selim ibn Ali Zeyd.
The suite was high in a hospital. Windows open to an autumnal afternoon, let in the barest rustle of traffic. A breeze fluttered gauzy white drapes. The windows looked out over the crowded roofs of Istanbul, a Byzantine wall, and the Golden Horn, on which danced boats and little waves. Beyond, hills lifted in tawniness darkened by trees and lightened by homes.
Zeyd trod softly to the bedside and bowed.
Osman Tahir squinted up from his pillow. Bald head, mummy face, shriveled hands, brought forth the massiveness of the bones underneath. His voice was almost a whisper, hoarse and slow, but the words marched without stumbling. “You are very welcome.”
He spoke in Arabic, for Zeyd had no Turkish. Either one could have used English or French. The courtesy was regal.
“I am honored that you wanted me here, sir,” Zeyd answered. “So many wish to pay you their last respects, and the physicians will let so few in.”
“Officious bastards. But, true, I’ve only driblets of strength left.” Tahir grinned. “Time was, you may recall, when I could rough-and-tumble in the Assembly all day, run ten kilometers before the evening prayer, carouse till midnight, make love till dawn, and be back ahead of the opposition, ready to browbeat them further.”
You old scoundrel, Zeyd could not help thinking. Nevertheless it’s more or less true. This man, soldier and politician, had shaken history and gone on to reach for the stars. We’re all of us mortal, though Biomedicine may have given us a hundred years or better of healthy life, but in the end the organism has used itself up. “It is as God wills,” he said.
Tahir nodded. “We’ll not waste time on politeness. I had my reasons for insisting you come. Not that I’m not glad to see you — however much I envy you, envy you —”
Zeyd had been to Epsilon Indi.
Tahir must draw several harsh breaths before he could go on: “The damned nurse will throw you out bloody soon. I need to rest — ha! As if an extra three or four days till I’m done make any difference.”
He was always like this, Zeyd thought. A trademark. And he made shrewd use of it. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“You can tell me . . . the prospects . . . of the Envoy mission.”
Startled, Zeyd protested, “I’m not in the organization, sir. I admire what you have done for us, but I know nothing except what the news releases say.”
An English word snapped forth. “Bullshit! With your record, the connections you are bound to have in the space community —” The voice had risen. Overtaxed, it broke in violent wheezing.
Alarmed, Zeyd stooped close. Tahir waved him back. “Be honest with me,” he commanded.
Zeyd straightened, as if coming to attention. “Well, sir, yes, I — I do hear things. I can’t confirm or disconfirm them. The status of the project is certainly unsure.”
A fist doubled on the coverlet. “Because of the war, this damned, stupid, useless war in space,” Tahir rasped. The hand unfolded, trembled outward, groped for Zeyd’s, and clung like a child’s. “But they’re not going to cancel the undertaking, are they?” Tahir pleaded. “They won’t?”
The most straightforward answer possible would be the best, Zeyd decided. “As nearly as I can discover, no. It’s on standby now, as you know, and all the bureaucrats of all the countries involved are being noncommittal. But it does seem as if people within the Foundation, working together regardless of nationality — I do get the impression they’re holding their own. We can hope work will resume not too long after hostilities end.” Whenever that may be.