Ulver nodded sympathetically and returned to her book.
Dajeil ordered food for two; a slave tray appeared with plates, bowls, jugs and goblets. A couple of floor-running servitors appeared and started clearing up the debris left by Ulver's sudden Displacement from the Grey Area to the Jaundiced Outlook; the feather-light stuffing from the pillows proved a particular problem. The serving tray started arranging the place settings on the table and distributing the bowls of food; Dajeil watched this graceful, efficient display in silence. Ulver Seich gazed intently at the book and turned a page. Then a ship-slaved drone appeared. It floated by Dajeil's shoulder. "Yes?" she said.
"We are now leaving the bay," the Jaundiced Outlook told her. "The journey to the GSV's external envelope will take two and a half minutes."
"Oh. Right. Thank you," Dajeil said.
Ulver Seich looked up. "Would you ask the Grey Area to transfer my stuff here?"
"That has already been accomplished," the drone said, already moving towards the stairs.
Ulver nodded again, put the book's marker-ribbon into place, closed the volume and placed it by the side of her plate.
"Well, Ms Gelian," she said, clasping her hands on the table. "It would appear we are to be travelling companions."
"Yes," Dajeil said. She started to serve herself some food. "Have you been with Byr long, Ms… Seich, wasn't it?" she asked.
Ulver nodded. "Only met him a few days ago. I was sent to try and stop him getting here. Didn't work out. I ended up stuck on a tiny little module thing with him. Just us and a drone. For days. It was awful."
Dajeil passed a couple of bowls over to Ulver. "Still," she said, smiling thinly, "I'm sure romance blossomed."
"Like hell," Ulver said, levering a few sunbread pieces from a bowl into her plate. "Couldn't stand the man. Only slept with him the last couple of nights. Partially boredom, I suppose. All the same, he's quite handsome. Bit of a charmer, really. I can see what you saw in him. So, what went wrong between you two?"
Dajeil stopped, a spoon poised on the way to her mouth. Ulver smiled disarmingly at her over jaws munching a mouthful of fruit.
Dajeil ate, drank a little wine and dabbed at her lips with a napkin before replying. "I'm surprised you don't know the whole story."
"Who ever knows the whole story?" Ulver said airily, waving her arms about. She put her elbows on the table. "I bet even you two don't know the whole story," she said, more quietly.
Again, Dajeil took her time before replying. "Perhaps the whole story isn't worth knowing," she said.
"The ship appears to think it is," Ulver replied. She tried some fermented fruit juice, rolling it round her palate before swallowing it and saying, "Seems to have gone to an awful lot of trouble to arrange a meeting between you two."
"Yes, well, it is an eccentric, isn't it?"
Ulver thought about this. "Very intelligent eccentric," she said. "I'd imagine that something it thought worth pursuing like that might be… you know; worthy of concern. No?" she asked with a self-deprecating grimace.
Dajeil shrugged. "Ships can be wrong, too," she said.
"What, so none of it matters a damn?" Ulver said casually, choosing a small roll from a basket.
"No," Dajeil said. She looked down, smoothing her dress over belly. "But…" She stopped. Her head went down, and she silent for a while. Ulver looked over, concerned.
Dajeil's shoulders shook once. Ulver, wiping her lips, threw down the napkin and went over to the other woman, squatting by her and tentatively putting out one arm round her shoulders. Dajeil moved slowly towards her, eventually resting her head on the crook of Ulver's neck.
The ship drone entered from the winding stair; Ulver shooed it away.
A couple of screens on the far wall lit up, showing what Ulver guessed was the hull of the Sleeper Service, gradually drawing further away. Another couple of screens showed an approaching wall of gridded grey. She guessed the two minutes the drone had mentioned earlier had passed.
Dajeil cried for a little while. After a few minutes, she asked, "Do you think he still loves me? At all?"
Ulver looked pained for a moment; only the ship's sensors registered the expression. She took a deep breath. "At all?" she said. "Yes, definitely."
Dajeil sniffed hard and looked up for the first time. She gave a sort of half-despairing laugh as she wiped some tears from her cheeks with her fingers. Ulver reached for a clean napkin and completed the job.
"It doesn't really mean much to him any more," Dajeil said to the younger woman, "does it?"
Ulver folded the tear-darkened napkin carefully. "It matters to him a lot now, because he's here. Because the ship brought him here just for this, hoping the two of you would talk."
"But the rest of the time," Dajeil said, sitting upright again and throwing her head and hair back. "The rest of the time, it doesn't really bother him, does it?"
Ulver took an almost exaggeratedly deep breath, looked as though she was about to vehemently deny this, then sank down on her haunches and said, "Look; I hardly know the man." She gestured with her hands. "I learned a lot about him before we met, but I only met him a few days ago. In very odd circumstances." She shook her head, looking serious. "I don't know who he really is."
Dajeil rocked back and forward in her seat for a moment, staring at the meal on the table. "Well enough," she said, sniffing. "You know him well enough." She smoothed her ruffled hair as best she could. She stared up at the translucent dome for a moment. "All I knew," she said, "was the person he became when he was with me." She looked at Ulver. "I forgot what he was like all the rest of the time." She took Ulver's hand in hers. "You're seeing what he's really like."
Ulver gave a long slow shrug. "Then…" she said, looking troubled, her tone measured. "He's all right. I think."
The screens on the far side of the circular room showed fuzzy grids expanding, swallowing, disappearing. The last field approached, was pierced to reveal a black wash of space, and then — with a smear of rushing stars and the same barely perceptible feeling of dislocation Ulver and Genar-Hofoen had experienced two days earlier when they had arrived on board the Sleeper Service — the Jaundiced Outlook was free of the GSV and peeling away on a diverging course within its own concentric collection of fields.
"And what does that make me?" Dajeil whispered.
Ulver shrugged. She looked down at Dajeil's belly. "Still pregnant?" she suggested.
Dajeil stared at her. Then she gave a small laugh. Her head went down again.
Ulver patted her hand. "Tell me about it if you want."
Dajeil sniffed, dabbing at her nose with the folded napkin. "Yes, I'm sure you really care."
"Oh, believe me," Ulver told her, "other people's problems have always held a profound fascination for me."
Dajeil sighed. "Other people's are always the best problems to be involved with," she said ruefully.
"My thoughts exactly."
"I suppose you think I ought to talk to him too," Dajeil said.
Ulver glanced up at the screens again. "I don't know. But if you have even the least thought of it, I'd take advantage of the opportunity now, before it's too late."
Dajeil looked round at the screens. "Oh, we've gone," she said in a small voice. She looked back at the other woman. "Do you think he wants to see me?" Ulver thought there was a tone of hopefulness in her voice. Her troubled gaze flitted from one of Ulver's eyes to the other.