references, of course, thus gaining the temporary ownership of such a vehicle. One may even be a potential buyer, though I am uncertain whether the roads of Alphenlicht are wide enough for such extravagance."
"You do have roads?" she asked in wide-eyed innocence.
"You mock. Quite rightly. You will remember, however, that I told you we are beginning to build such things. We have even recently completed a hydroelectric plant, and there is an Alphenlicht radio station by which means the people may be informed of matters of mutual interest. Avalanche warnings.
Things of that kind." He negotiated a tricky turn at the avenue with casual mastery, darting up the entrance ramp to fit them between two hurtling truck behemoths without seeming to notice he had done so. Marianne, who had braked in reflex, leaned back and relaxed. He was not going to kill them both. So much was obvious. "I rather like it," he purred, patting the dashboard with proprietary interest. "Do you think it appropriate for a Prime Minister?"
She considered this judiciously. "Well, it is a little ostentatious. But a Prime Minister should be, at least a little."
"It will acquire importance when Aghrehond drives it. Aghrehond does my driving; he is also my friend, first factotum of the republic, and the guardian Nestor of my youth. He will be enormously pleased with this machine. It will contribute to his already overpowering dignity."
"You're going to buy it, then?"
He cocked his head, considering. "If it continues to behave well. Have you noticed the tendency of some things to behave well at first, as though knowing they are on trial, only to turn recalcitrant and balky when they believe they have been accepted?"
Marianne flushed in the darkness. He had not been speaking of her, but she applied his words to her own case. She had behaved well when they had first met, an interesting experience, a previously unknown relative, no troubling overtones, and she had felt free to be herself. Now she knew she was turning balky, for good reason, but he would not know that.
Well, one could be balky without letting it appear on the surface. She commanded herself to be charming. He would find her charming. Her citadel might keep its portcullis down, but she would not be obvious about it. So she seduced herself with promises and turned her attention back to him with a newly kindled radiance.
"I had a typewriter like that once," she said. "The only time it ever worked was in the repair shop where I bought it, and in the repair shop when I took it back—every time I took it back."
He laughed. "I had a Jaguar XKE—you know the one? It has twelve cylinders and a complexity of electrical system beside which the space probes are models of simplicity. Whenever it went more than fifty kilometers from the garage where its mechanic waited, it had an electrical tantrum and stopped running. It was so very pretty, even standing still—which is what it mostly did—that I left it for a very long time in the garage, simply to look at it now and then. However, since it had not been purchased as sculpture, it seemed unwise to continue giving it house room. I then put a curse upon the engineers who had designed it, and British Leyland went bankrupt soon thereafter."
"You claim responsibility for that?" she asked, uncertain whether he was serious or not.
"Absolutely." His voice was utterly serious. Then he turned and she saw his eyes. "Marianne, you are a good audience for my silliness. You are young enough almost to believe me."
"No," she protested. "I didn't, really."
"No," he echoed, "you almost did." Then his voice changed.
"I could have done it, Marianne. A Magus could do such a thing. But it would be self-indulgent, and a Magus does not build his powers—or even retain them—by being self-indulgent. Those who do so go by other names."
She was surprised at this abrupt change of tone, evidence that something was on his mind other than the evening. However, he gave her no
"You do have roads?" she asked in wide-eyed innocence.
"You mock. Quite rightly. You will remember, however, that I told you we are beginning to build such things. We have even recently completed a hydroelectric plant, and there is an Alphenlicht radio station by which means the people may be informed of matters of mutual interest. Avalanche warnings.
Things of that kind." He negotiated a tricky turn at the avenue with casual mastery, darting up the entrance ramp to fit them between two hurtling truck behemoths without seeming to notice he had done so. Marianne, who had braked in reflex, leaned back and relaxed. He was not going to kill them both. So much was obvious. "I rather like it," he purred, patting the dashboard with proprietary interest. "Do you think it appropriate for a Prime Minister?"
She considered this judiciously. "Well, it is a little ostentatious. But a Prime Minister should be, at least a little."
"It will acquire importance when Aghrehond drives it. Aghrehond does my driving; he is also my friend, first factotum of the republic, and the guardian Nestor of my youth. He will be enormously pleased with this machine. It will contribute to his already overpowering dignity."
"You're going to buy it, then?"
He cocked his head, considering. "If it continues to behave well. Have you noticed the tendency of some things to behave well at first, as though knowing they are on trial, only to turn recalcitrant and balky when they believe they have been accepted?"
Marianne flushed in the darkness. He had not been speaking of her, but she applied his words to her own case. She had behaved well when they had first met, an interesting experience, a previously unknown relative, no troubling overtones, and she had felt free to be herself. Now she knew she was turning balky, for good reason, but he would not know that.
Well, one could be balky without letting it appear on the surface. She commanded herself to be charming. He would find her charming. Her citadel might keep its portcullis down, but she would not be obvious about it. So she seduced herself with promises and turned her attention back to him with a newly kindled radiance.
"I had a typewriter like that once," she said. "The only time it ever worked was in the repair shop where I bought it, and in the repair shop when I took it back—every time I took it back."
He laughed. "I had a Jaguar XKE—you know the one? It has twelve cylinders and a complexity of electrical system beside which the space probes are models of simplicity. Whenever it went more than fifty kilometers from the garage where its mechanic waited, it had an electrical tantrum and stopped running. It was so very pretty, even standing still—which is what it mostly did—that I left it for a very long time in the garage, simply to look at it now and then. However, since it had not been purchased as sculpture, it seemed unwise to continue giving it house room. I then put a curse upon the engineers who had designed it, and British Leyland went bankrupt soon thereafter."
"You claim responsibility for that?" she asked, uncertain whether he was serious or not.
"Absolutely." His voice was utterly serious. Then he turned and she saw his eyes. "Marianne, you are a good audience for my silliness. You are young enough almost to believe me."
"No," she protested. "I didn't, really."
"No," he echoed, "you almost did." Then his voice changed.
"I could have done it, Marianne. A Magus could do such a thing. But it would be self-indulgent, and a Magus does not build his powers—or even retain them—by being self-indulgent. Those who do so go by other names."
She was surprised at this abrupt change of tone, evidence that something was on his mind other than the evening. However, he gave her no
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