"Well, I do know a technical definition. Uh... Hazel, you know Jubal Harshaw. A member of the Senior's family."
"For years. Any way you mean the wold."
"He has a definition-"
"Yes, I know."
"A definition of love mat I think would let Richard use the word honestly in speaking to Gretchen. Dr. Harshaw says that 'the word "love" designates a subjective condition in which me welfare and happiness of another person are essential to one's own happiness.' Richard, it seems to me that you exhibited mat relationship toward Gretchen."
"Me? Woman, you're out of your mind. I just want to get her into a helpless situation so mat I can paddle her bottom whenever I like and make it turn pink. Hard. Brutal." I threw out my chest, tried to look macho-not too convincingly; I was going to have to do something about mat paunch. Well, hell, I'd been sick.
"Yes, Richard. Hazel, I mink the tea party is over. Will you two come to my rooms? I haven't seen either of you for too long. And I'll call Choy-Mu; I don't mink he knows that Richard is now free of me Lethe field."
"Good deal," I agreed. "And is Father Schultz around? Would one of you ladies fetch my cane, please? I mink I could walk around there and get it... but I'm not sure I should risk it yet."
Hazel said firmly, "I'm sure mat you should not, and you've walked enough. Teena-"
"Where's the riot?"
"May I have a lazy seat? For Richard."
"Why not mice?"
"One is enough."
"Chop chop. Richard, stay with it; she's weakening. Our knocked-up warrior."
Hazel's chin dropped. "Oh. I forgot we weren't under privacy. Teena'"
"Don't fret about it; I'm your chum. You know that."
"Thanks, Teena."
We all stood up to leave the pool. Xia stopped me, put her arms around me, looked at me and said, quietly but loudly enough to include Hazeclass="underline" "Richard, I've seen nobility before, but not often. I'm not pregnant; it's not necessary to marry me, I don't need or want a husband. But you're invited to honeymoon with me any time Hazel can spare you. Or, better yet, both of you. I think you're a shining knight. And Gretchen knows it." She kissed me emphatically.
When my mouth was free I answered, "It's not nobility, Xia; I just have an unusual method of seduction. See how easily you fell for it? Tell her. Hazel."
"He's noble."
"See?" Xia said triumphantly.
"And he's scared silly someone will find out."
"Oh, nonsense! Let me tell about my fourth-grade teacher."
"Later, Richard. After you've had time to polish it. Richard tells excellent bedtime stories."
"When I'm not paddling, that is. Xia, does your bottom turn pink?"
It appears that I had had breakfast at some hour past noon. That evening was most pleasant but my memory of it is spotty. I can't blame it on alcohol; I did not drink all that much. But I learned that the Lethe field has a mild side effect that alcohol can potentiate; Lethe may affect the memory erratically for a while after the patient is no longer under it. Ah, well-tan-staafl! A few gaps in memory are not the hazard that addiction to a hard drug is.
I do recall that we had a good time: Hazel, me, Choy-Mu, Xia, Ezra, Father Hendrik, and (after Teena found her for us and Hazel talked to her) Gretchen. All of us who had escaped from the Raffles-even the two pairs of redheads who rescued us were with us part of the evening, Cas and Pol, Laz and Lor. Nice kids. Older than I am, I learned later, but it doesn't show. On Tertius, age is a slippery concept.
Xia's quarters were too small for such a number but a crowded party is the best kind.
The redheads left us and I got tired and went in and lay down on Xia's bed. There was some murderous card game going on for forfeits in the other room; Hazel seemed to be the big winner. Xia went "broke" by whatever rules they were playing and joined me. Gretchen bet unwisely on the next pot and took the other side of the bed. She used my left shoulder as a pillow, Xia having already claimed the right one. From me other room I heard Hazel say, "See you and raise you one galaxy."
Father Hendrik chuckled. "Sucker! Big bang, my dear girl, far triple forfeits. Pay up." That is the last I remember.
Something was tickling my chin. Slowly I woke and slowly I managed to open my eyes, and found myself staring into the bluest eyes I have ever seen. They belonged to a kitten, bright orange in color but with perhaps some Siamese ancestry. He was standing on my chest just south of my Adam's apple. He buzzed pleasantly, said "Blert?" and resumed licking my chin; his scratchy little scrap of tongue accounted for the tickle that had wakened me.
I answered, "Blert," and attempted to lift a hand to pet him, found I could not because I still had a head on each shoulder, a warm body against each side of me.
I turned my head to the right to speak to Xia-I needed to get up and find her refresher-and teamed that it was not Xia but Minerva who was now using my starboard shoulder.
I made a hasty situation assessment and found that I lacked sufficient data. So, instead of using an honorific to Minerva that may or may not have been appropriate, I simply kissed her. Or let myself be kissed, after showing willingness. Being pinned down from both sides and with a small cat creature standing on my chest I was almost as helpless as Gulliver, hardly able to be active as initiator of a kiss.
However, Minerva does not need help. She can manage.
Talent.
After she turned me loose, kissed for keeps, I heard a voice from my left: "Don't I get a kiss, too?"
Gretchen is a soprano; this voice was tenor. I turned my head.
Galahad. I was in bed with my doctor. Well... with both my doctors.
When I was a lad in Iowa, I was taught that, if I ever found myself in this or an analogous situation, the proper gambit was to run screaming for the hills to save my "honor" or its hom-ologue for males. A girl could sacrifice her "honor" and most of them did. But, if she was reasonably discreet about it and eventually wound up married with nothing worse than a seven-months child, her "honor" soon grew back and she was officially credited with having been a virgin bride, entitled to look with scorn on sinful women.
But a boy's "honor" was more delicate. If he lost it to another male (i.e., if they got caught at it), he might, if lucky, wind up in the State Department-or, if unlucky, he would move to California. But Iowa had no place for him.
This flashed through my mind in an instant-and was followed by a suppressed memory: a Boy Scout hike when I was a high school freshman, a pup tent shared with our assistant Scoutmaster. Just that once, in the dark of night and in silence broken only by a hoot owl- A few weeks later that Scout leader went away to Harvard... so of course it never happened.
0 tempora, o mores-that was long ago and far away. Three years later I enlisted and eventually bucked for officer and made it... and was always extremely circumspect, as an officer who can't resist playing with his privates cannot maintain discipline. Not until the Walker Evans affair did I ever have any reason to worry about blackmail.
I tightened my left arm a little. "Certainly. But be careful; I seem to be inhabited."
Galahad was careful; the kitten was not disturbed. It is possible that Galahad kisses as well as Minerva does. Not better. But just as well. Once I decided to enjoy the inevitable I did enjoy it. Tertius is not Iowa, Boondock is not Grinnell; there was no longer any reason to be manacled by the customs of a long-dead tribe.
"Thank you," I said, "and good morning. Can you de-cat me? If he stays where he is, I am likely to drown him."
Galahad surrounded the kitten with his left hand. "This is Pixel. Pixel, may I present Richard? Richard, we are honored to have been joined by Lord Pixel, cadet feline in residence."
"How do you do. Pixel?"
"Blert." "Thank you. And what's become of the refresher? I need it!"