struggling to understand what she wanted here. Finally he just shrugged. “I’m comfortable enough, Tam. If I need to sit, I’ll sit. There’s a fax machine, right? So really, I’ve got everything I need.”
He saw right away that it wasn’t an optimal response. In fact, she seemed to find it funny.
“Have you? Are you dismissing
me
now, Philander? Don’t be foolish: left to your own devices you’ll happily starve out here.”
He frowned, not liking the condescension in her tone. Was that what she thought of him? “You’re the first human being I’ve seen in nearly a decade, Majesty. I think I’ve gotten on rather well without your assistance.”
“I suppose you have,” she said, clearly amused at his expense. “But I must attend a dinner party tonight, and I think you shall accompany me. You’ll eat; you’ll socialize; you’ll astonish me with your ability to get on.”
“Ah.” Dinner parties: loud, complicated. Bruno sighed, feeling his delicate chain of thought breaking apart already. “Bother.”
“Oh, bother yourself. For all your complaining, you do think best when you’re distracted. Leaving you here alone is really a disservice to all.” Frowning, she pinched the shoulder seam of his vest. “Bruno, where did you get this pattern? We’ll need to stop by the palace, have it dress you in something suitable. And me, for that matter; we look like a couple of time travelers.”
“From twenty years ago?”
She nodded. “At least.”
Well humph, he’d been trying to continue his apparent funny streak. He was pretty sure there’d been a time whenTamra had laughed at his jokes, finding them witty and apropos. So long ago? Perhaps he
should
go partying with her, freshen up the skills a bit. With six whole months until disaster struck, he could hardly begrudge himself a single evening’s fellowship, could he? Particularly when the Queen herself commanded it.
He grunted suddenly, recalling that “disaster” meant, literally, “bad star.” Perhaps
that
could be made into a joke later. Or perhaps not, since nothing leaped immediately to mind. Jokes you had to think about were not usually the funniest. Especially if they were in bad taste to begin with. He did smile a little at that.
“What?” Her Majesty asked, marking his shift of mood.
“Er, nothing. I’ll … tell you later.”
Accepting that answer, she smiled, took his hand, threaded her fingers through his, and began leading him toward the blank vertical slab of the fax gate. “Well. It’s time, then.”
“Wait,” he protested, “it’s not evening
now
, is it?”
“It is on Maxwell Montes.”
“Maxwell Montes?
Venus?
That’s where we’re going?”
“Yep. And it occurs to me we’ve less than an hour to get ready.”
“But …” he said, realizing the futility of the words even as they left his lips. “An hour? Bother it, I’ve only just eaten breakfast.”
3 . See Appendix A: Semisafe Black Holes, this page
chapter four
in which a legendary mead hall is christened
Maxwell Montes is the highest point on Venus, reaching through fully a third of the planet’s thick, toxic atmosphere, and as such, was the first place to become marginally habitable once terraforming began. Or so Tamra informed Bruno as her Tongan courtiers—a trio of gorgeous but nearly flat-chested ladies affecting a quite implausible adolescence—fussed with the final details of his hair and clothing.
Two of the women were vaguely familiar; he’d already feigned embarrassment over forgetting their names. He had been at court for almost three decades, so there really wasn’t much excuse. The third woman, Tusité something, was one of Tamra’s personal friends, and consequently treated him with chilly regard.
Are you back, Trouble?
Her conversational barbs were subtle, though, and since he had pretty well earned them, he resolved to take them with good grace.
But still, eyeing his triple reflection, he had to ask her. “You’re
He saw right away that it wasn’t an optimal response. In fact, she seemed to find it funny.
“Have you? Are you dismissing
me
now, Philander? Don’t be foolish: left to your own devices you’ll happily starve out here.”
He frowned, not liking the condescension in her tone. Was that what she thought of him? “You’re the first human being I’ve seen in nearly a decade, Majesty. I think I’ve gotten on rather well without your assistance.”
“I suppose you have,” she said, clearly amused at his expense. “But I must attend a dinner party tonight, and I think you shall accompany me. You’ll eat; you’ll socialize; you’ll astonish me with your ability to get on.”
“Ah.” Dinner parties: loud, complicated. Bruno sighed, feeling his delicate chain of thought breaking apart already. “Bother.”
“Oh, bother yourself. For all your complaining, you do think best when you’re distracted. Leaving you here alone is really a disservice to all.” Frowning, she pinched the shoulder seam of his vest. “Bruno, where did you get this pattern? We’ll need to stop by the palace, have it dress you in something suitable. And me, for that matter; we look like a couple of time travelers.”
“From twenty years ago?”
She nodded. “At least.”
Well humph, he’d been trying to continue his apparent funny streak. He was pretty sure there’d been a time whenTamra had laughed at his jokes, finding them witty and apropos. So long ago? Perhaps he
should
go partying with her, freshen up the skills a bit. With six whole months until disaster struck, he could hardly begrudge himself a single evening’s fellowship, could he? Particularly when the Queen herself commanded it.
He grunted suddenly, recalling that “disaster” meant, literally, “bad star.” Perhaps
that
could be made into a joke later. Or perhaps not, since nothing leaped immediately to mind. Jokes you had to think about were not usually the funniest. Especially if they were in bad taste to begin with. He did smile a little at that.
“What?” Her Majesty asked, marking his shift of mood.
“Er, nothing. I’ll … tell you later.”
Accepting that answer, she smiled, took his hand, threaded her fingers through his, and began leading him toward the blank vertical slab of the fax gate. “Well. It’s time, then.”
“Wait,” he protested, “it’s not evening
now
, is it?”
“It is on Maxwell Montes.”
“Maxwell Montes?
Venus?
That’s where we’re going?”
“Yep. And it occurs to me we’ve less than an hour to get ready.”
“But …” he said, realizing the futility of the words even as they left his lips. “An hour? Bother it, I’ve only just eaten breakfast.”
3 . See Appendix A: Semisafe Black Holes, this page
chapter four
in which a legendary mead hall is christened
Maxwell Montes is the highest point on Venus, reaching through fully a third of the planet’s thick, toxic atmosphere, and as such, was the first place to become marginally habitable once terraforming began. Or so Tamra informed Bruno as her Tongan courtiers—a trio of gorgeous but nearly flat-chested ladies affecting a quite implausible adolescence—fussed with the final details of his hair and clothing.
Two of the women were vaguely familiar; he’d already feigned embarrassment over forgetting their names. He had been at court for almost three decades, so there really wasn’t much excuse. The third woman, Tusité something, was one of Tamra’s personal friends, and consequently treated him with chilly regard.
Are you back, Trouble?
Her conversational barbs were subtle, though, and since he had pretty well earned them, he resolved to take them with good grace.
But still, eyeing his triple reflection, he had to ask her. “You’re
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