* * *
The Tenbor Entity gave Merinel a night of peace, as requested, and when she awoke she found a mechanical silver dove perched on her headboard, singing a vaguely familiar tune in warbling tones.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It is called ‘The Coronation of Thanloule,’” replied the Entity. “Thanloule herself being the traditional Sun-Goddess of the Trylm – the queen of suffering and triumph. Your neighbor Artung recommended it as the ideal way to achieve wakefulness on days of special portent.”
“Yes, I recognize it now. We have often been the unwilling beneficiaries of Artung’s enthusiasm for it.”
“I prevailed upon him to refrain from performing it only on the condition that I do so in his place. I trust you found my rendition equally inspiring.”
“Not even remotely – for which I am grateful.” She reached for Tench before remembering the events of the previous day, and withdrew her hand slowly. “How is my husband?”
“The cocoon is in perfect working order. Tench will make the journey in complete safety.”
“Well, that’s a comfort. And a change.”
The dove cooed mournfully, spreading its metallic wings. Merinel turned to stroke its finely articulated feathers.
“I’m sorry, Tenbor,” she said. “I spoke without thinking.”
The dove composed itself. “Speech without thought,” it observed. “I admit that I am baffled by this ability. All the more reason, I suppose, to deliver Tench to a more capable healer.”
“Capable, if not sane,” Merinel remarked.
“The Szerar Entity is beyond your power to influence; therefore let it be my concern,” the dove replied. “You, in turn, must prepare for that which I cannot accomplish: the foreward journey. I have created an intelligent garment identical in form to that which you wore as a young woman; you must reaccustom yourself to its use and study the data contained therein. Care must be arranged for Abixandra – I have a proposal to offer you in that regard, if you are willing. Finally, there is the matter of … the matter of your bodyguard.”
The hesitation caught Merinel's attention even before she grasped the import of the words – she could not recall ever hearing the Tenbor Entity stammer – and she turned to stare. The dove, in response, turned its attention to a knurl in the headboard, and an indicator band on its throat flushed pink.
“My what?”
The dove went so far as to simulate the clearing of its throat before continuing. “Please believe me when I assure you that the idea was not my own,” it apologized. “But given the strength of community sentiment, manifested in large part by the sheer number of volunteers …”
“Oh my God.”
“I insisted on a single companion for you,” the dove reassured her. “But to have denied them even this would have created stress and anxiety throughout the Dish. Therefore, the duties implicit in my stewardship compelled me to …”
Merinel waved the dove into silence. “I am only too happy,” she groaned, “to sacrifice my privacy for the psychological well-being of my neighbors.” She raised her head from her hands and smiled wanly. “No, really. It’s all right. Tell me – how was my champion selected?”
The dove resumed its examination of the knurl. “Certain inhabitants suggested that the situation might present a healthy outlet for the subconscious aggression that is the natural legacy of the biological mind, and therefore …”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
The dove preened for a long moment before continuing. “At the end of the …evaluation, the observers achieved consensus regarding the most efficacious combatant. He assured me he would not call upon you until a reasonable hour, but I fear his definition of such a time may differ from your own.”
At this point a soft chime indicated that the front door had been opened. From the foyer, a steely slither was followed by a crash.
“Bot!” a voice called out. “Your master’s cable-stand was poorly secured, and has fallen. Please right it.”
Merinel sighed and arose, routing her mutter-band to Adimar's in order to inform him that the hall sentry had no lifting power, and to explain the concept of the coat rack.