He shrugged. There was no point in wondering at it. He slid down from the chair. It was still daylight outside, and he could not go out again until night. How he would get out was another problem; but the spirit had been good to him so far, and he would worry about that difficulty when the time came. He stretched himself out on the moss—it was very soft—pillowed his head on his arm, and was very quickly asleep.
When Magnus entered the dining room in black complet and snowy shirtfront and neckcloth, Pelisse clapped her hands. “Oh! How handsome you look!”
Robert glared at her. “Overdoing it a bit, aren’t we, Pelisse?”
“Oh, do be still, Robert! Even you must admit that he looks ever so elegant!”
“Yes, Robert, you must,” Aunt Matilda said, with a glare.
“Well … a sight better than that outlandish outfit he was wearing this afternoon,” Robert mumbled. Magnus felt his face flush, and was all the more careful to hold his expression immobile. “Literally outlandish, of course, and quite medieval—just the sort of thing you would wear on my homeworld.”
“Yes, but not in civilized society, is it, old boy?” Magnus let the “old boy” pass. “Perhaps you mean modern society—though I do note that these garments tend much more toward the turn of the century.”
“Turn of the century?” Robert looked up, frowning. “Stuff and nonsense! Lapels much wider then, don’t you know, and trousers much looser!”
“I was speaking of the turn of the Eighteenth Century into the Nineteenth—the decade that began in 1810, as a matter of fact.”
Robert could only glare at him, and Magnus realized, with a shock, that the young man probably knew nothing about the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries, didn’t know that the clothes he was wearing were very clearly based on those of the Regency.
Aunt Matilda filled the gap. “You must remember, children, that your cousin’s garb was that of his own culture; it is our costumes that would look outlandish there.”
“Like his thee’s and thou’s, eh?” Robert muttered. Magnus felt his face flame again, and resolved to make no more slips.
“Yes, quite. Robert, perhaps tomorrow you will escort Magnus to the family tailor? And the haberdasher, of course.”
Robert turned red, and his jaw set—but he ground out, “Yes, Aunt.”
“Very good.” Matilda favored them all with a bright smile. “Now, then, shall we dine?”
The robots began serving, and Magnus reflected on the lovely, charming family from which he had come.
He was braced for the shopping expedition with Cousin Robert the next day, and it was just as grueling as he had feared. Robert began with whining complaints and progressed to sniping comments very quickly. Magnus responded as politely as he could, but couldn’t quite keep back a few remarks of his own.
For example, when the airlock door dilated and Magnus found himself staring at the inside of a small but luxurious rocket boat, Robert snapped, “Don’t look so surprised. You can’t just walk where you please on an asteroid, you know. No air.”
“Of course.” Magnus stepped in and sat down. Robert followed suit, grumbling, “Don’t know why Mama picked me for this little chore. Pelisse would have been more than happy to show you around.”
“Whereas you, of course, are delighted.”
“No, not a bit.” Robert turned to frown at him. “Planned on a morning’s practice at polo, actually. Where’d you get an idea like that?”
Magnus found himself wondering if Robert knew what the word “sarcasm” meant.
“Deuced inconvenience,” Robert complained. “Why’d you have to come, anyway?”
Magnus ground his teeth and said, “To discover my origins, Cousin Robert—what kind of people I came from, what kind of environment had formed them.”
“Had your father to look at, didn’t you?”
“Indeed,” Magnus agreed, “but one person is not necessarily representative of the whole family.” Thank Heaven, he added silently to himself. “Don’t know why we have to have dashed outsiders,” Robert went on as though he had not heard. “Doing quite well enough by ourselves.”
Magnus began to wonder if the man knew he was speaking aloud.
“Bad enough trying to sort out the inheritance as it is,” Robert griped. “Of course, Pelisse will take care of that—but still, it’s a dashed nuisance.”
Magnus gave him a sharp glance. “Inheritance? Why should that be a problem? Has someone died recently?”
“Not yet, y’—” Robert bit off the expletive, which was just as well, Magnus thought grimly. Then his cousin went on. “Death that’s coming, of course. Uncle can’t last much longer, more’s the pity, and his son’s made it very clear he doesn’t want the inheritance. That leaves it to Pelisse, don’t y’ see.”
“No, I don’t.” Magnus frowned. “Isn’t your inheritance patrilineal?”
“What?” Robert gave him a narrow look. “Don’t use your fancy terms on me, my man! Say what you mean in clear language, dash it all!”
Magnus was beginning to think that he had overrated Robert’s intelligence, as well as his education. “Don’t you inherit, as the remaining male?”
“No, I don’t—I’m the poor relation. Don’t you know anything?”
“Nothing more than I’m told,” Magnus said shortly, “and I would thank you for doing so.”
“Well, I’m a third cousin,” Robert snapped, “from the Orlin branch-parents died young, and I was as close to this family as to t’other. So, no, I don’t inherit, though I expect Uncle’s left me well enough off. Have m’ biological parents’ estate coming, in any case, when I reach my majority.”
“Majority?” The man was clearly in his twenties! Magnus decided not to ask—he just accepted the prevailing wisdom. “So Pelisse will become Countess,” Magnus inferred.
“No reason not to,” Robert muttered, but he gave Magnus an uneasy glance, leaving his guest wondering just how Pelisse was supposed to fix any problems arising from the inheritance. In fact, of course, Robert hadn’t mentioned what the problem was, really. Somehow, Magnus thought he didn’t want to know.
Their flier circled around a huge, pastel layer-cake of a building and docked. They stepped out into an air lock. As they walked down the tube and through the dilating door, Magnus said, “Surely you could have your own robot tailors, and order anything from outside by video screen.”
“Of course, of course,” Robert said impatiently, “but then there wouldn’t be any shopping, hey? Nor any reason to get out of the house at all. Let’s have a quick one, then get on to the tailor’s.”
Magnus was relieved to discover that Robert was referring to an alcoholic drink. He wasn’t so relieved when the “quick one” turned into two or three.
The tailor was a robot, after all, and all he had to do to measure Magnus was to have him stand against a wall screen that did the job in less than a second. Then they sauntered down rows of fabrics, with Robert brightly extolling the virtues of each until Magnus selected a few, just to shut him up—he thought they were rather gaudy, himself, but they were Robert’s recommendations. His cousin seemed to think Magnus’s preference for quieter fabrics was very unsophisticated.
“And have that delivered by 1700 hours,” Robert told the robot tailor as they left.
It bowed. “As you wish, sir.”
As they strolled out of the store, Magnus protested, “There was no reason for haste.”