Anderson, Poul - Maurai & Kith by Anderson Poul

Author:Anderson, Poul
Language: eng
Format: epub

The eighth International Physical Society conven-tion was held in Wellantoa. It was more colorful than previous ones, for several other nations (tribes, clans, alliances, societies, religions, anarchisms what-ever the more or less political unit might be in a par-ticular civilization) had now developed to the point of supporting physicists. Robes, drawers, breast. plates, togas joined the accustomed sarongs and tunics and kilts. At night, music on a dozen different scales wavered from upper-level windows. Those who belonged to poetically minded cultures struggled to translate each other’s compositions, and often took the basic idea into their own repertory. On the pro-fessional side, there were a number of outstanding presentations, notably a Maurai computer that used artificial organic tissue and a Brasilean mathemati-cian’s generalized theory of turbulence processes.

Loin sunna Browen was a conspicuous attender. Not that many people asked him about his Thrilling Adventure with the Pirates. That had been years ago, after all, and he’d given short answers from the first. “They kept us on some desert island till the ransom came, then they set us off near Port Arberta after dark. We weren’t mistreated. Mainly we were bored.” Lorn’s work on stellar evolution was more interesting.

However, the big balding man disappeared several times from the convention lodge. He spoke to odd characters down on the waterfront; money went from hand to hand; at last he got a message that brought a curiously grim chuckle from him. Promptly he went into the street and hailed a pedicab.

He got out at a house in the hills above the city. A superb view of groves and gardens sloped down to the harbor, thronged with masts under the, afternoon sun. Even in their largest town, the Sea People didn’t like to be crowded. This dwelling was typical: white-washed brick, red the roof, riotous flowerbeds. A pennant on the flagpole, under the Cross and Stars, showed that a shipmaster lived here.

When he was home. But the hired prowler had said Captain Makintairu was currently at sea. His wife had stayed ashore this trip, having two children in school and a third soon to be born. The Merican dis-missed the cab and strode over the path to the door. He knocked.

The door opened. The woman hadn’t changed much, he thought: fuller of body, a patch of gray in her hair, but otherwise—He bowed. “Good day, my lady Alisabeta,” he said.

“Oh!” Her mouth fell open. She swayed on her feet. He was afraid she was about to faint. The irony left him.

“I’m sorry,” he exclaimed. He caught her hands. She leaned on him an instant. “I’m so sorry. I never meant—I mean—”

She took a long breath and straightened. Her laugh was shaky. “You surprised me for fair,” she said.

“Come in.”

He followed her. The room beyond was sunny, quiet, book-lined. She offered him a chair. “W-w-would you like a glass of beer?” She bustled nervously about. “Or I can make some tea. If you’ d rather. That

,

is . . . tea. Coffee?”

“Beer is fine, thanks.” His Maurai was fairly fluent; any scientist had to know that language.

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