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"Plus ca change," murmured Llysette after her long silence. "So hard you try
to stay away from what happens in the world, and still they find you. They
find me, and, again, my songs are for those in power. But sing I must, or I
will beat notes, all my life, and learn the students will not. I do not beat
notes, and the rhythms are not there. Half cannot even accompany themselves."
"Will it get better as you get better students?"
"Who would know? Some, like Marlena, they are good. Or Jamella. The others ...
I give them vocalizes. These to train their voices. The brain it is smart, but
the muscles, they are stupid. They will not learn vocalises."
"Is that because they feel stupid singing nonsense syllables?"
Llysette shrugged. "Nonsense is in their heavy skulls."
"Thick skulls?"
"Matters it at all? They will not change."
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Was everyone like that? I thought I'd learned, but had I? Or was I repeating
the same patterns in a different way?
Even on the new road with its passing lanes, it took almost an hour from
Vanderbraak Centre into the car park behind the small structure that housed
LBI.
The shop was empty, not surprisingly, since LBI wasn't for browsers but for
those who knew what they wanted and who could explain it quickly for busy
people and desperate ones, I reflected.
Bruce bowed to Llysette, then nodded to me. "I would look forward to all your
visits, Johan, if you would bring this lovely lady more often."
"I'll see what I can do, but her schedule is far more cramped than mine."
"Truly a pity." He grinned.
A new SII machine stood on the counter, and my eyes went to it.
"It looks good, but it's not that much better than what you have. I'd wait
until next year, or longer if you can."
"I can certainly wait."
"What you requested is in my office."
We followed him. A box with the SII logo stood on his desk, beside the small
SII difference engine.
Bruce eased the door closed. "We do take certain precautions here, but they
don't work against personal eavesdropping, only against electronics."
I offered a faint smile as he opened the top of the box and extracted two
silver cylinders.
"These are a pen and pencil set. They work, but I won't guarantee how well or
how long." He lifted a squared-off hand calculator from the box and set it on
the desk beside the silvered pen and pencil. "This won't do as much as its
size says it should, but it does operate." He smiled wryly. "You put them in
the jacks at the bottom and point. The delete key is the activator, but it
won't work that way unless both pen and pencil are in place. It uses standard
batteries, but they're only good for two uses, three at the outside. I'd
suggest bringing some spares."
Llysette shivered, and I understood why. I felt like shivering myself.
Firearms, bad as they were, felt cleaner, but there was no way I could carry
firearms into Deseret. I squeezed her hand.
"Now this...." Bruce lifted the electric hair blower and bowed to Llysette.
"Rechargeable batteries in the base, and they'll recharge if you just plug it
in. The batteries only work for the special function." He offered a wry smile.
"When the temperature switch is down to the 'C' and pushed in and the blower
is on low, when you hold the blower trigger you'll get the de-ghosting or
spirit removal effect." He looked at me. "I thought your bride should have
some protection also, something ... appropriate."
Llysette could handle a Colt-Luger. I still had several white scars on my
shoulder and back to prove it. So I had no doubts that she could handle
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Bruce's blower/de-ghoster. "Thank you."
"I also," offered my soprano, with a warm but ginger smile.
"Think nothing of it."
"You haven't lost your touch," I said.
"There are definitely times that I wish I had, Johan."
"Me, too except about that time, I find I'd be dead if I had." I counted out
the bills, eight hundred dollars' worth. "I hope that's enough."
Bruce gave a crooked grin. "So do I. I'd rather not deal with your insurance."
"I'd rather you didn't have to either."
"When do you leave?" Bruce asked as I lifted the box.
"Not for another few weeks. Right now, it looks like we'll be there a bit over
a week. Llysette's doing three performances and giving some master classes."
Bruce inclined his head to Llysette. "I wish I could be there to hear you."
"You are kind."
"No ... selfish. One doesn't get to hear the greatest diva of the generation
often."
Llysette blushed, but she needed and deserved the praise it wasn't flattery,
but praise.
"This could lead to closer engagements," I pointed out.
"I certainly hope so."
I looked down at the box. "Thank you ... again. You've been a great help when
no one else cared."
"We aim to please."
I let it go. Bruce didn't seem to want to accept my real gratitude, and I'd
have to find another way.
The sun was still shining and the white clouds still puffy as I carried the
SII box out to the Stanley and slipped it into the trunk. Then I seated
Llysette, and then myself, lighting off the steamer.
"To Borkum ... shopping and a good meal."
She smiled, and for a time we pushed away the implications of the box the
steamer carried.
8
ON Tuesday, we boarded the early-morning Quebec Express in Lebanon and rode it
into New Amsterdam. We had an hour wait there, spent mostly at a corner table
at a so-called café off the main station floor, before we boarded the Columbia
Special to the capital. At least, I hadn't received any more of the ominous
clips and no one had attempted any more burglaries, but I had few doubts that
the respite was more than temporary.
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The Special went to the Baltimore and Potomac station just off the new Mall,
and even with stops, it was less than seven hours after leaving Lebanon that
we stepped out into the seemingly perpetual drizzle that covered the Federal
District in late fall.
"That is?" asked Llysette, pointing to the mist-shrouded marble obelisk to the
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