[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"This our stop?" Gelert asked, craning his neck a little to look out the window.
"Three more," Lee said. "This one's a local."
The doors opened, and the two Alfen, a dark-complected, ebon-eyed man, and a tall fair woman with
streaming silver hair, strolled out, followed by their luggage. Lee watched them go, especially the woman,
and wondered how some-one in a T-shirt and jeans could manage to look so much like exiled royalty. It
was more than just carriage, or bearing ... there was something else going on. Lee glanced sideways and
saw all her fellow passengers watching the Alfen, too, though they, like her, were trying not to be caught
at it. Even the Kewa were covertly slanting their spines in that direc-tion, like two brown brooms trying
to peek around a corner.
Lee sat back as the maglev started up again, watching the curve of the tracks before them pour past.
After a few more stops, the one they wanted came up, and Lee and Gelert got out, their luggage floating
along behind them. "You see a display anywhere?" Gelert said, gazing up and down the ring.
"Over there..." They made their way to the tall stack of displays by a large hex cluster set aside for
custom transits. The XX-designated gate wouldn't be patent for an hour yet, and there was as yet no sign
of any other commission mem-bers. "Here's where you get your nap," Lee said.
Gelert heaved a sigh and looked around. There was a waiting lounge not far away, with a bar next to it.
"No," he said. "I have some journals to read: I might as well get caught up. You want to go do some
shopping?"
"Not today. Might take a walk, though."
"Right. I'll watch this for you." Gelert nosed Lee's lug-gage to activate the follow-me function, and
wandered off toward the bar, the bags trundling obediently along behind him.
Lee walked around the ring a little ways, looking at stores and newsstands with no great interest, until she
came to a facility map. The structure of Kennedy's ring facility was open to the sky, but not to either
side—the signs hover-ing just below the glass ceiling were usually the only way to tell where you were.
But the facility map confirmed for Lee what she'd expected: she was still on the landward side of the ring,
and there was access to an observation platform not too far away.
She walked on a little farther and went up the escalator, then showed her SlipCase to the reader by the
glass doors; they opened and let her out on the platform. Lee stepped out into the salt breeze, looking
around. The square platform was glass brick underfoot, and surrounded by the stanchions of a general
restraint field. To her back was salt marsh, and then the endless jumble of the roofs of Brooklyn and
Queens. Before her was the rest of the ring, stretching away to either side, following the old lines of
Sheepshead Bay and reach-ing out to complete the great glass-roofed circle in the wa-ters of New York
Inlet. Far off to her right was Manhattan, crowned with towers, glistening, bristly and brittle in the early
sun.
She stood there for a few minutes, smelling seaweed and ocean, listening to the wind hissing in the
marshgrass and the distance-attenuated sound of surf rolling up on the Rockaway beaches. Up here, the
tension that had kept her up all night seemed unreal. But so did the shape that had appeared in her
commwall, indistinct, its voice altered.
Why be so obvious about it? Lee thought. Why not just assume a virtual seeming that has nothing
whatsoever to do with his or her or its real shape? Heaven only knew there were enough commwall
utilities that would let you do some-thing of the kind. What's served by turning up in my office with I
AM IN DISGUISE written all over you?
It was puzzling enough. But more troubling was the idea that her visitor had put into her head. Every now
and then you hear some speculation about some weird or powerful Alfen artifact, something else
that can affect its surround-ings the way fairy gold does ... the same kind of syncatalytic response.
The roses, whenever they're mentioned, seem to be something like that. Though as far as I can
tell, the Elves never comment past the basic insistence that there's'no such thing.'
Yet that's not what my visitor thought. It was sure they were real. And that they would have
power here: that even a single one of them could be used somehow. And maybe not just as a way
to reveal Alfen technology, render it inactive. Something that powerful, if you understood it, could
very likely have applications as a weapon...
She wandered forward to lean on the neutral top of one of the stanchions, gazing out at the sun-glitter on
the water, the cloud shadows that slid across it. Her concerns about who might be behind this, who might [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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"This our stop?" Gelert asked, craning his neck a little to look out the window.
"Three more," Lee said. "This one's a local."
The doors opened, and the two Alfen, a dark-complected, ebon-eyed man, and a tall fair woman with
streaming silver hair, strolled out, followed by their luggage. Lee watched them go, especially the woman,
and wondered how some-one in a T-shirt and jeans could manage to look so much like exiled royalty. It
was more than just carriage, or bearing ... there was something else going on. Lee glanced sideways and
saw all her fellow passengers watching the Alfen, too, though they, like her, were trying not to be caught
at it. Even the Kewa were covertly slanting their spines in that direc-tion, like two brown brooms trying
to peek around a corner.
Lee sat back as the maglev started up again, watching the curve of the tracks before them pour past.
After a few more stops, the one they wanted came up, and Lee and Gelert got out, their luggage floating
along behind them. "You see a display anywhere?" Gelert said, gazing up and down the ring.
"Over there..." They made their way to the tall stack of displays by a large hex cluster set aside for
custom transits. The XX-designated gate wouldn't be patent for an hour yet, and there was as yet no sign
of any other commission mem-bers. "Here's where you get your nap," Lee said.
Gelert heaved a sigh and looked around. There was a waiting lounge not far away, with a bar next to it.
"No," he said. "I have some journals to read: I might as well get caught up. You want to go do some
shopping?"
"Not today. Might take a walk, though."
"Right. I'll watch this for you." Gelert nosed Lee's lug-gage to activate the follow-me function, and
wandered off toward the bar, the bags trundling obediently along behind him.
Lee walked around the ring a little ways, looking at stores and newsstands with no great interest, until she
came to a facility map. The structure of Kennedy's ring facility was open to the sky, but not to either
side—the signs hover-ing just below the glass ceiling were usually the only way to tell where you were.
But the facility map confirmed for Lee what she'd expected: she was still on the landward side of the ring,
and there was access to an observation platform not too far away.
She walked on a little farther and went up the escalator, then showed her SlipCase to the reader by the
glass doors; they opened and let her out on the platform. Lee stepped out into the salt breeze, looking
around. The square platform was glass brick underfoot, and surrounded by the stanchions of a general
restraint field. To her back was salt marsh, and then the endless jumble of the roofs of Brooklyn and
Queens. Before her was the rest of the ring, stretching away to either side, following the old lines of
Sheepshead Bay and reach-ing out to complete the great glass-roofed circle in the wa-ters of New York
Inlet. Far off to her right was Manhattan, crowned with towers, glistening, bristly and brittle in the early
sun.
She stood there for a few minutes, smelling seaweed and ocean, listening to the wind hissing in the
marshgrass and the distance-attenuated sound of surf rolling up on the Rockaway beaches. Up here, the
tension that had kept her up all night seemed unreal. But so did the shape that had appeared in her
commwall, indistinct, its voice altered.
Why be so obvious about it? Lee thought. Why not just assume a virtual seeming that has nothing
whatsoever to do with his or her or its real shape? Heaven only knew there were enough commwall
utilities that would let you do some-thing of the kind. What's served by turning up in my office with I
AM IN DISGUISE written all over you?
It was puzzling enough. But more troubling was the idea that her visitor had put into her head. Every now
and then you hear some speculation about some weird or powerful Alfen artifact, something else
that can affect its surround-ings the way fairy gold does ... the same kind of syncatalytic response.
The roses, whenever they're mentioned, seem to be something like that. Though as far as I can
tell, the Elves never comment past the basic insistence that there's'no such thing.'
Yet that's not what my visitor thought. It was sure they were real. And that they would have
power here: that even a single one of them could be used somehow. And maybe not just as a way
to reveal Alfen technology, render it inactive. Something that powerful, if you understood it, could
very likely have applications as a weapon...
She wandered forward to lean on the neutral top of one of the stanchions, gazing out at the sun-glitter on
the water, the cloud shadows that slid across it. Her concerns about who might be behind this, who might [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]