She had stood within a single gigantic diamond, and through splintered radiance heard what might yet prove to be words of hope.
As if it followed her train of memories, Luna rose at her back. The mainsail filled with wan light, and glare cast a trembling road.
She put the helm over. Fabric crackled, water strewed brightness and gurgled, the boat came about.
“Aleka Kame,” said the phone.
She started. Who might that be?
“Dolores Nightborn to Aleka Kame, to Alice Tarn,” ran the voice. Female, it spoke colorless Anglo, but instantly she knew where it came from. “Acknowledge.”
The blood thundered in her ears. The finger shook that reached to touch the instrument. Its panel, going luminous, was like a tiny window. “I, I receive,” she heard out of her throat.
While the stammer traveled, she had more than a second to imagine its paths. It responded to a message that must have been routed through Oahu, addressed to her personally. Since she had left the number of this ‘\ phone in the local database, in case anyone wanted to ‘ make contact with her, the system did not need to instigate a search that might have gone around the planet. It passed the call directly out to sea. It likewise knew the central from which the call reached Earth. So her reply was riding a beam up to a relay satellite, was hurtling down to Luna, was surely passing through another station that encrypted it, was arriving at a place where waited the lady Lilisaire.
“Should we have occasion to communicate in confidence, I will be Dolores Nightborn, Should ever you be asked, that identity has been entered as a Terran resident ofjychopolis, and you may say you met her on your visit and share with her an interest in marine biology.”
Photons crossed space. The flatscreen formed an image, the head and shoulders of a middle-aged woman, caucasoid, plump, totally undistinguished. And as synthetic as her voice, Aleka knew, an electronic phantom. “Hail,” the face greeted. “Are you alone, and will you have time free in the near future?”
“Yes. Yes to both!” Aleka’s heart slammed. She’d ripping well make free time, whatever demands anybody else tried to lay on her.
Transmission lag. She twisted about and stared at the Moon. Against its ashen-bright almost-disc, no points of light showed as they did on dark parts. If she took out her optic and magnified, she would see traces of human presence. No need. She knew what life laired yonder.
“It is well.” The face smiled, the voice purred. “Aleka Kame, I want you to—“ It broke off. Then, anxiously: “Dear, could I ask a favor of you? You remember me telling you about my kinswoman Mary Carfax in San Francisco Bay Integrate, don’t you? Old and frail and living by herself. She insists she’s all right, but when last we talked she looked terrible and I’m worried. Could you hop over, call on her personally, and let me know what you think? Til be your thank-slave, and next time you’re on the Moon I may have something rather wonderful to show you.”
Lilisaire had remembered to switch on a program that remade dialect as well as sound and sight. It was oddly comforting, in this huge stillness, to discover that she too could be momentarily forgetful.
Though what had shaken her self-command?
“Should I have need to convey a message to you in full secrecy, I will send you on a harmless pretext to Mary Carfax,, my Earthside agent nearest your dwelling place. She is another false identity, a sophotect. From it you will receive instructions.”
Why this roundabputness? Who might be listening in?
Something rather wonderful. What Lilisaire had spoken of, that day in the diamond pagoda at Zamok Vysoki?
“Yes, I w-will be glad to,” Aleka said. Her mouth had gone dry. How to mislead the possible eavesdropper? She seized an idea that winged past. “I’ve been wanting a short vacation anyhow.” Her taking it at this crisis would earn her reproaches, but her kind of service necessarily gave broad discretion, and she could quite logically ask what difference her staying on the scene would make. “Give me a few days to disengage here.”