“Then she’ll know that she’s safe in trusting me further?”
“With her more tender emotions, yes. In either case, her anger only means that she needs your sympathy and emotional support more than ever.”
“She shall have it, then,” Magnus said with conviction. “Of course; it would be nice to know that it will end someday…”
“We cannot be sure of that,” Herkimer said, “and ‘someday’ may be years away—but yes, I think there will be an end to this constant anger. You should at least have a temporary respite with the distractions of a planet-side mission.”
“I deserve a break?” Magnus smiled. “Well, I could use one. Still, I can sympathize.”
The phrase called up vivid memories that he would prefer stayed buried. Magnus pushed them to the back of his mind by turning to the orbital survey of their destination planet. “Well, if Alea and I are going to be traveling companions, let’s study the world on which we’re going, to journey. Have you been able to find anything more about the history of their colonizing?”
“No, Magnus. I have cross-indexed, correlated, even searched a list of key words, but have found only that notation, and a brief and somewhat sarcastic news item about a society of neo-pagans departing from Terra to establish their own notion of Utopia on a distant planet.”
“Did the reporter wish them well?”
“In a manner of speaking. He was of the opinion that Terra would be better off without such borderline lunatics.”
“Because they did not embrace one of the major religions?”
“No, Magnus, because they embraced any religion at all.”
“That reporter must have had a rather broad definition of lunatics.”
“He claimed that it was technically accurate in their case, since they did worship a moon-goddess.”
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough how sincere they were, and whether or not their descendants accepted those beliefs. How long till we drop into orbit around the planet, Herkimer?”
“Seven hours and thirty-six minutes, Magnus. You might want to pack some’ supplies and change to your local wardrobe.”
Magnus didn’t ask where it had come from; he knew Herkimer would have fabricated clothing based on images from the orbital survey, and that he would find a complete ensemble hanging in his wardrobe. “Tell Alea, would you? I don’t think she’d appreciate hearing it from me just now.”
2
Alea came to join him at the air lock saying, “You could have told me yourself, you know.” Magnus looked up at her in surprise. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear my voice if you didn’t have to.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Alea scoffed. “Of course I want to talk with you.” Her eyes were bright; she fairly glowed with eagerness. “What do you think they’ll be like? Tall? Short? Anything like us?”
Magnus smiled, relieved at her change of mood. “I think they’ll have two arms, two legs, and one head each.”
She gave him a glare but was too excited to do it well. “They can’t be as tall as we are, can they?”
“Well, they can, of course,” Magnus said, “but they may also be much shorter. We don’t have any way of judging size there—not by the height of their houses. They’ll have built them to their own scale. We can be fairly sure, though, that they’ll speak some variation of Terran Standard speech.”
“Do all the colonies speak that way?”
“Most, though there are a few that deliberately revived an older language. The general rule is: the closer the dialect is to Terran Standard, the more rigid its government.”
Alea frowned. “Then my peo—the Midgarders must have spoken an almost pure form.”
“It had drifted a bit they had worked in quite a few words from old German—but it was very easy to understand. It was interesting that the dwarves and giants had thicker accents than the Midgarders, though.”
“Well, yes.” Alea kept the frown, thinking. “Their governments weren’t anywhere nearly as strict, after all.”
Magnus replied, “By that rule, I suppose these people should have developed a dialect that’s halfway to being a new language. Neolithic societies didn’t usually have central governments, after all.”
“I thought the Sumerians and the Egyptians were Neolithic.”
“They were, but they don’t seem to be the model’s these colonists used,” Magnus said with a smile tight with irony. “They seem to have been more inclined to the practices of Native American and prehistoric Northern European cultures.”
“Didn’t like cities, I suppose,” Alea said, “but I can’t blame them—those pictures you showed me of a real city were enough to make me shudder.”
“They have their disadvantages,” Magnus admitted. “Great fun if you’re rich, I understand, but I wouldn’t know personally.”
Alea stared at him, “You have a ship like this and you don’t think you’re rich?”
“It’s my only asset,” Magnus explained. “I’m what they call ‘cash poor.’ ”
Herkimer’s voice intruded. “Atmospheric testing complete. The oxygen-nitrogen mixture is quite breathable, though a little thinner than my shipboard atmosphere, and has no organisms that are likely to resist your broadband inoculations.”
“Then we can go out?” Alea asked, eagerness barely restrained.
“You can.” The air lock door slid open. “Enjoy your stay. ”
She waited impatiently for the local air to replace the ship’s—in spite of his assurances, Herkimer didn’t want to risk contamination of their only possible refuge. Magnus looked down at her fondly, remembering his own early excitement at visiting strange worlds.
“Should I call you ‘Gar’ again, now that we’ll be ashore?” Alea asked.
“That would be wise,” Gar agreed. “There’s only a slight risk that there might be agents from an advanced society among these people, but I’d rather not take the chance that anyone here has heard of Magnus d’Armand.”
Alea thought he was being silly—since he had been Gar Pike on six separate planets now and started some sort of revolution on each of them, the chances seemed greater that rival agents would have heard of Gar than of Magnus. Still, it was his choice. “There shouldn’t be any problem with my using my own name, should there?”
“No,” Magnus agreed. “I don’t think anyone is tying the name Alea Larsdatter to rebellion and turbulence yet.”
Alea was about to ask about that “yet” when the door slid open before her. With a shout of joy, she ran down the ramp into the fragrant spring night and the calf-high grass, swinging her traveler’s staff end over end and whirling about in an impromptu dance of joy at being outside again.
Gar followed more slowly, smiling with pleasure at her delight.
Alea spun to a halt, hands on her hips, eyes flashing, teeth bared in a grin. “What monster shall we hunt, Gar Pike?”
“Why, whatever we find.” Gar returned her grin. “A dictator or tyrant will do, though I’d rather have a corrupt king. Let us walk the night road and listen with our minds to the people in that little village half a mile away. Perhaps their dreams will tell us what sort of government rules this world.”
“I could use the practice.” Alea pivoted to stand by his side, chin high, smile tight with amusement. “After all, you’ve only just taught me how to read minds.”
“You’ve only just learned,” Gar corrected. “It’s not the sort of thing one can teach—either you have the talent, or you don’t.”
“Still, it was good of you to let me practice on you. I wonder if I’ll be able to read anyone else’s mind yet.”