masks, carved out of jade, ivory, crystal. Supposed to be incredibly beautiful. They are on a planet called Demea, which circles a star called 82 Eridani. The catch is that 82 Eridani is congruent to an edge of the Maze."
"82 Eridani," murmured Ysao. "Demea. I remember something about that place...."
"What's the Maze?" Jimson asked.
Leiko answered him. "It's a place in the Hype. It's dangerous. The concentration of red dust—matter—is intense. They haven't mapped it very well. Ships jump around it. Some have been lost there."
Russell said, "A year ago, Shev Allard's ship Emeraude went into the Maze and didn't come out." Something in his tone made Jimson look at him. But his face was giving nothing away, except the equivocation of pain.
"I've never piloted near the Maze," Leiko said.
"We'll be near it. Not in it."
"Ysao engineer. You as navigator?—" Russell nodded—"Can I say yes tentatively?' Leiko asked.
"No," Russell said. "I need someone I can count on."
Leiko bristled. "Yes, then, Starcaptain! I'll try anything once, even piracy and the Maze. I'll get you past it. But I hope you struck a hard bargain with De Vala!"
"I did," Russell said. "Expenses no matter what, and ten thousand credits if we deliver a Mask."
"Done," said Leiko.
Russell slapped his right hand down on the table. Leiko covered it with both of hers. Ysao laid his huge hands on top of the pile, and Russell put his left hand on Ysao's. "Done," he repeated. The piled-up hands confirmed a contract. Jimson looked away. He was out of it. It hurt.
Leiko said joyfully, "When do we leave?"
Russell shrugged. "I'll let you know. Say—three days?"
Jimson said, jolted into speech, "Three days!"
The hands parted. Russell touched his shoulder. "It won't be a long trip," he said. "Ten days in, ten days out, and then we'll be back. Don't you think three days is long enough for us to say goodbye?"
"Sure," said Jimson shortly. What the hell, he thought, it wouldn't help if I said no. But we've fourteen years to catch up on, minus one night, and we've barely had a chance to say hello.
Chapter 8
Leiko and Jimson rode the movalongs back to the house alone. Leiko rode with her hands in her pockets and her shoulders hunched. Jimson felt the distance growing between them. When she happened to look his way and notice him she smiled, a pleasant gentle smile, a stranger's smile.
He followed her around the house as she packed her gear. "Lady?" he said finally, to her bent back.
She turned around. "Hey?"
"You've already left, haven't you?"
"You knew I would go back to the Hype."
"Yes." What's it like, then? Dark and dust. No stars. And people go out there and out there.
Like Russell.
"Give me something?" she asked quietly.
"What?"
"Something to hang on my wall. I never looked at pictures before I met you. Give me a print for over my bed."
Automatically Jimson reached for the print of the Polish Rider. No. That landscape was not Leiko's. He went looking for a print, a copy of an Old Terran tapestry. Mountains, a tiny temple shrine, and two sages toiling upwards to a peak hidden by a pearly cloud... "Here." It was serene and remote as starlight.
"Um. I like this."
"That's you."
"The little old woman with the bundle?"
"Yes. You'll look like that when you're eighty."
"When I'm eighty I'll be drunk in a bar somewhere, in some Port city, telling lies about my notorious past."
When I'm eighty, Jimson thought, I'll be famous. Too bad I won't be around to appreciate it.
You're famous now, Alleca. Big deal.
"What are you thinking?" She sat on the bed.
"About fame."
"You like being famous?"
"I don't care."
"When you first started to draw, did you think about it?"
"No." I first started to draw, he thought, when the doctors told me that I was sick, that I would always be sick, and never well. And I started to draw everything, anything, frantic because there was a world, a dozen worlds, a universe to see, and they had just taken
"82 Eridani," murmured Ysao. "Demea. I remember something about that place...."
"What's the Maze?" Jimson asked.
Leiko answered him. "It's a place in the Hype. It's dangerous. The concentration of red dust—matter—is intense. They haven't mapped it very well. Ships jump around it. Some have been lost there."
Russell said, "A year ago, Shev Allard's ship Emeraude went into the Maze and didn't come out." Something in his tone made Jimson look at him. But his face was giving nothing away, except the equivocation of pain.
"I've never piloted near the Maze," Leiko said.
"We'll be near it. Not in it."
"Ysao engineer. You as navigator?—" Russell nodded—"Can I say yes tentatively?' Leiko asked.
"No," Russell said. "I need someone I can count on."
Leiko bristled. "Yes, then, Starcaptain! I'll try anything once, even piracy and the Maze. I'll get you past it. But I hope you struck a hard bargain with De Vala!"
"I did," Russell said. "Expenses no matter what, and ten thousand credits if we deliver a Mask."
"Done," said Leiko.
Russell slapped his right hand down on the table. Leiko covered it with both of hers. Ysao laid his huge hands on top of the pile, and Russell put his left hand on Ysao's. "Done," he repeated. The piled-up hands confirmed a contract. Jimson looked away. He was out of it. It hurt.
Leiko said joyfully, "When do we leave?"
Russell shrugged. "I'll let you know. Say—three days?"
Jimson said, jolted into speech, "Three days!"
The hands parted. Russell touched his shoulder. "It won't be a long trip," he said. "Ten days in, ten days out, and then we'll be back. Don't you think three days is long enough for us to say goodbye?"
"Sure," said Jimson shortly. What the hell, he thought, it wouldn't help if I said no. But we've fourteen years to catch up on, minus one night, and we've barely had a chance to say hello.
Chapter 8
Leiko and Jimson rode the movalongs back to the house alone. Leiko rode with her hands in her pockets and her shoulders hunched. Jimson felt the distance growing between them. When she happened to look his way and notice him she smiled, a pleasant gentle smile, a stranger's smile.
He followed her around the house as she packed her gear. "Lady?" he said finally, to her bent back.
She turned around. "Hey?"
"You've already left, haven't you?"
"You knew I would go back to the Hype."
"Yes." What's it like, then? Dark and dust. No stars. And people go out there and out there.
Like Russell.
"Give me something?" she asked quietly.
"What?"
"Something to hang on my wall. I never looked at pictures before I met you. Give me a print for over my bed."
Automatically Jimson reached for the print of the Polish Rider. No. That landscape was not Leiko's. He went looking for a print, a copy of an Old Terran tapestry. Mountains, a tiny temple shrine, and two sages toiling upwards to a peak hidden by a pearly cloud... "Here." It was serene and remote as starlight.
"Um. I like this."
"That's you."
"The little old woman with the bundle?"
"Yes. You'll look like that when you're eighty."
"When I'm eighty I'll be drunk in a bar somewhere, in some Port city, telling lies about my notorious past."
When I'm eighty, Jimson thought, I'll be famous. Too bad I won't be around to appreciate it.
You're famous now, Alleca. Big deal.
"What are you thinking?" She sat on the bed.
"About fame."
"You like being famous?"
"I don't care."
"When you first started to draw, did you think about it?"
"No." I first started to draw, he thought, when the doctors told me that I was sick, that I would always be sick, and never well. And I started to draw everything, anything, frantic because there was a world, a dozen worlds, a universe to see, and they had just taken
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