He rested his chin on one hand, tilted his head to the side, and regarded her with amusement. "What do you imagine they'll be like?"
Diana laughed. "Don't think I'll fall for this trap. Gorgeous clothes, of course, and beautiful jewelry. Dashing horses. Stern men and shy women who possess honor and simple dignity in equal measure. I suppose they'll have weapons. And lots of dirty but sweet-faced children."
"Yes, I think you covered most of the cliches," he said approvingly, and she laughed again, half from relief and half because the whole scene between them was so transparent, without losing any of its intensity.
A hush fell over the hall. Marco's attention jerked away from her. A Chapalii dressed in the pale tunic and trousers of the steward class stood in the far doorway, holding a gold wand in his hands.
Soerensen rose. "Excuse me," he said to others at the table. "Suzanne." She rose as well, and together they collapsed their trays, deposited them in the sort bin, and walked over to the door. Soerensen received the gold wand from the steward, and after a brief conversation with the alien, he and Suzanne left the hall. At once conversation flooded back along the tables.
David ben Unbutu, unruffled at being abandoned, went back to his meal. The engineers begged pardon and left. Marco glanced at the strip on the back of his left hand. "Ah," he said. He returned his attention to Diana. "My heart, it grieves me to part from you, but I must go." He lifted her hand to his lips, brushed a kiss there, and hurried out of the hall.
Don't watch him go. Even as she thought it, she wrenched her gaze away from Marco's back only to find David ben Unbutu watching her with a wry smile on his face. Instantly, she blushed.
"Sorry," said David. "I noticed your necklace. Are you a Trinitarian, or is it just a family heirloom?"
She lifted a hand to touch the necklace, with its intertwined star, book, and cross. "I was brought up in the worship, yes," she replied. How kind of him to change the subject.
"Have you visited the chapel on board? It's very… quiet. I'm going there now."
Diana smiled, a softer smile than the one she had offered to Marco Burckhardt. She felt like an idiot, sitting down by Burckhardt only to be deserted; probably he had gone off on Soerensen's business. Probably David ben Unbutu understood her plight. "Oh," she said, noticing the four short, beaded braids hanging from his coarse black hair down the back of his neck to dangle over the collar of his tunic. "You're Orthodox."
"Orthodox Judaeo-animist," he agreed with a chuckle.
"Our village is one of the last pockets of Trinitarian animism left in western Africa, and, of course, there's a long history of engineers in our family because of it."
Behind them, through the other doors, a horde of actors swept into the dining hall.
Diana jumped up, collapsing her tray over the uneaten food. "I'd love to see the chapel."
Along the red curve passageway, down a slow lift to yellow core, and they came to the Three Faiths chapel. Diana expected it to be untenanted at this time of ship's cycle, but someone had arrived there before them. David tried to stop her in the door, but he was too slow.
Diana had never thought of Marco Burckhardt as a particularly religious sort of person. But there he sat on a back bench of the chapel. Diana was skilled at reading the nuances of body language. The slight sound of their entrance had alerted Marco to their presence, but his red-haired companion remained oblivious, as well she might, being locked in so tight an embrace.
"Oh, Goddess, Marco," said David emphatically, and with no little disgust. "Have you no respect?"
The companion took her time in allowing him to break off the kiss. Without turning to look, Marco said, "but David, dear David, we all choose our own ways of worship."
"Let's just go," Diana murmured.
"I will not," said David, showing an unexpected stubborn streak, "surrender this divine ground to your earthly pleasures, Marco."
Red-Hair leaned away from her conquest and rested her weight on a hand, cupping the curve of the ivory bench. She preened, and when she saw Diana, the smile that tipped her lips was positively triumphant.
Marco got a startled look on his face, and he turned to look directly at them. "Oh, hell," he said, seeing Diana. He covered his face with a hand. That he was sorry to be caught by her did not make her feel any better. She felt mortified. But Marco wasn't the sort of man who slinks away from confrontation; he lowered his hand, and Diana had to admire his nerve. He bent forward and whispered to Red-Hair. He had a loose-limbed grace, tall and big-framed, trim, but not slender, the kind of man who is comfortable in his body. Behind him, the stark white walls of the chapel set off the scene, framing the woman's red hair and Marco's purple shirt so boldly that Diana could, for a moment, only think that the two colors clashed.
"You will note," said David in a low voice, "that this is not in fact a circular room, but an oval. It's shaded so subtly with the carpet and a slight difference in hue in the white walls that it's hard to tell." He made a noise in his throat. "As if you care. But it's a marvelous room."
Red-Hair heaved a great, dramatic sigh-overdone, of course-and oozed up to her feet. She flung a scornful glance toward Diana and exited stage left, through an otherwise invisible door that whisked open just as she reached it and shut into the seamless wall behind her.
"Don't retreat," whispered David. "And never on holy ground."
They went in. The ceiling lofted into a dome, paling to a soft white glow at the crown. It made Diana think of standing inside an egg, nested and safe. Marco met them by the altar, which stood in the center of the room, ringed by benches.
"Well," he said, "that looked bad."
"Yes," said Diana, desperate to put a bold face on, "it did. Now I recognize her. She's a university student. Isn't she a little young for you?" Then cursed herself inwardly for saying it, since she and Red-Hair were probably much of an age.
David rolled his eyes and shook his head. It was so quiet in the chapel that Diana could hear the beads on his name braids as they clacked together.
But Marco only laughed. "Hoist with my own petard."
" 'For 'tis the sport to have the engineer hoist with his own petard: and it shall go hard. But I will delve one yard below their mines, and blow them at the moon.' "
He loved it, of course. She knew he would. He caught one of her hands and lifted it to his lips, which were cool and soft. "Golden fair, my heart is yours forever."
"If I were you," said David, sounding more amused than disgusted now, "I'd leave before you dig yourself in any deeper.''
Marco released her hand. "I'd better go see if Charles needs me," he said, and he winked at Diana and left, that fast. Leaving her breathless and embarrassed and warm.
David moved away from her, walking over to sit down on a bench. She felt all at once that she didn't have to make any excuses to David, that he wouldn't judge her. Marco had a reputation; he didn't apologize for it or even try to hide it. So why, when she sat down herself and closed her eyes, was his the first image that came to her mind? But after a while, the peace of the chapel seeped into her, and she let the silence wash over and envelop her, the silence through which the Divine spoke to each individual.
"David!" A sharp whisper.
Diana started. Suzanne Elia Arevalo hurried into the room, striding over to stand beside David, who lifted his head and regarded her quizzically.
"Charles needs you. You can't imagine-" She broke off and looked straight at Diana. "Oh, hell," she swore. "I need another woman anyway. Diana-that's right, isn't it?" Suzanne had a brisk, competent air about her. Diana felt impelled to stand up, like a soldier awaiting orders. "Are you free? I don't know how long it will take."
"I'm free for the evening," Diana admitted.