Part 15 (2/2)
”Because you tickle, sweetheart. There was no need for you to know. But a client certainly has no privacy with Minerva to help-and that's as it should be; we need better computer service at the Clinic, I now see. Although he does have privacy in its true sense, as all of this is covered by the Oath. Even though you are not regular staff, Ham, I'm sure you realize that.”
”Oh, certainly! Not quite so hard, Galahad. Red-hot pincers could not make me talk other than to you two. Not even to Ira. Ishtar, do you think I could learn to be a real real rejuvenator?” rejuvenator?”
”If you feel a vocation for it and want to study that hard. Let it rinse now, Galahad. You have the empathy, I'm sure. What's your index?”
” 'They're your friends, friends, boy. boy.
Don't neglect them them Birthdays and Yom Kip Kippur- ”Uh . . 'Genius-minus,' ” Hamadryad admitted.
”Takes genius,” Galahad said helpfully, ”as well as a compulsive need to work; she's a slave driver, Hammy baby.”
” 'Also Christ Christmas And Chanukah A card card or even or even candy. candy.' ”
”You're off key, dear. You're 'Genius-plus,' Ham, slightly higher than Galahad's index. I looked it up just in case-and you did ask. I'm very pleased.”
” 'Off key key'? Now you've gone too far.”
”You have other virtues, my true knight; you need not be a troubadour. Hamadear, if you search your heart and really want it, you could be an a.s.sociate technician by the time we migrate. If you intend to migrate. If not, the Clinic here always needs staff; a true vocation is scarce. But I'd tike-terribly-to have you with us. Both of us will help you.”
”Sure we will, Hammy! 'Off key' indeed! Is this colony going to be polygamous?”
”Ask Ira. Does it matter? Grab a robe and throw it around the Hamadarling, then I'll trade a quick scrub with you; I'm hungry.”
”Do you want to risk it? After what you said about my singing? I know every spot and I'll tickle them all.”
”King's Cross! I apologize! I love your singing, dear.”
”The idiom is 'King's X,' Ish. Pax, it is. Grab robes for all of us, Hammy, that's a good girl. Long legs, while I was singing-perfectly on key-I figured out that idiom that was bothering me. It's not what Minerva thought it was; a 'hook shop' is a bordello. Which makes the Born Loser's sister a hetaera-and the last piece falls into place.”
”Why, of course! No wonder she could subsidize her brother-artists always get paid more than anyone else.”
Hamadryad returned with robes, laid them on the ma.s.sage table. She said, ”I didn't know that idiom was bothering you, Galahad. I understood it the first time I heard that song.”
”I wish you had told me.”
”Is it important?”
”Only as one more clue. Ham, in a.n.a.lyzing a culture, its myths and folk songs and idioms and aphorisms are more basic than its formal history. You can't understand a person unless you understand her culture. 'His,' I should say, in speaking English-and that alone tells something basic about the culture in which our client grew up: the fact that a general term invariably takes the masculine form when both masculine and feminine are implied. It means either that males are dominant or that women have just emerged from lower status, but the language lag-there always is one-has not caught up with cultural change. The latter, in the barbarism Lazarus came from, as indicated by other clues.”
”You can tell all that just from a rule of grammar?”
”Sometimes. Hammy, I used to do this professionally, when I was old and grizzled and waiting for rejuvenation. It's detective work and no one clue is ever enough. For example, women must not have reached equal status even though other clues show them gaining it-for whoever heard of a bordello managed by a man? A guard in one, yes, and Lazarus said that he was that, too. But manager? Preposterous, by modern standards. Unless that colony on Mars was an atypical retrogression-it may have been, I don't know.”
”Continue it as we eat, kids; Mama is hungry.”
”Coming, Ish dear. Galahad, I understood that idiom without thinking about it. You see, my mother was-still is-a hetaera.”
”Really? There's a wild coincidence. So was mine, and so was Ishtar's-and we three wind up all in rejuvenation work and on the same client. Two numerically small professions-I wonder what the odds are against it?”
”Not too high, as both professions require strong empathy. But if you want to know, ask Minerva,” advised Ishtar, ”and hand me that robe. I don't like blowdry and I don't want to get chilled while rustling food. Hamasweet, why didn't you follow your mother's profession? With your beauty you would be a star.”
Hamadryad shrugged. ”Oh, I know what I look like. But Mother can s.n.a.t.c.h a man away from me just by lifting her little finger-except that I avoid the chance. Beauty has little to do with it-you saw a man turn me down just today. Lazarus himself told us what it takes to make a great artist-a spiritual quality a man can feel. My mother has it. I don't.”
”I follow your reasoning,” Ishtar said as they went through her lounge into the b.u.t.tery. There she screened the menu offered by the kitchen down below. ”My mother has it, too. Not especially pretty, but what she has, men want. Still want, although she's retired.”
”Long Legs,” Galahad said soberly, ”you do all right. You've got it too.”
”Thank you, my knight, but that's not true. I sometimes have it for one man. Or two at most. And sometimes not at all, as I can get buried in our profession and forget about s.e.x. I told you how many years I had been celibate. I wouldn't have found you, dear, would never have risked 'Seven Hours' -had not our client had me so terribly emotional. Quite unprofessionally, Hamadryad; I was as silly as a schoolgirl on a warm spring night. But, Galahad, Tamara-my mother-has it all the time and for anyone who needs her. Tamara never set a price, she didn't need to; they showered gifts on her. She's retired now and considering whether to rejuvenate again. But her fans won't leave her alone; she still gets endless offers.”
Galahad said sorrowfully, ”That's what I would like to be. But I'm that 'Born Loser.' If a man tried that profession, he'd kill himself in a month.”
”In your case, dear Galahad, it might take a little longer. But eat and restore your strength; we're going to put you in the middle of the bed tonight.”
”Does that mean I'm invited?” asked Hamadryad.
”That's one way of putting it. A more accurate statement would be that I'm inviting myself. Galahad made it clear in the shower that his plans for the night include you, dear. But he didn't mention me.”
”Oh, he did, too! Anyhow he's h.o.r.n.y about you all the time; I can feel it.”
”He's homy-end of message and off. Will steaks and random garnish do, or do you each wish to choose? I don't feel imaginative.”
”Suits me. Ish, you should put Galahad under contract. While he's groggy.”
”Privacy, dear.”
”Sorry. I just blurted it out. Because I'm so fond of you both.”
”Big-a.r.s.ed b.i.t.c.h won't marry me,” said Galahad. ”And me so good and pure and modest. Claims I tickle. Will you marry me, little Hamadear?”
”What? Galahad, you're the world's worst tease. You not only don't want me to; you know I'm committed to the Senior even though he refused me. Until Ish tells me to drop it. If she does.”
Ishtar finished ordering, wiped the screen. ”Galahad, don't tease our baby. I want both Hamadryad and me to be free of other contracts as long as either of us has any chance of getting our client interested in cohabitation, or progeny, or both. Not just a lark but something he can take seriously.”
”So? Then why in the name of all the fertility G.o.ds did you arrange to have both of you pregnant at once? I don't get it. I hear the whir, but the figures won't add.”
”Because, my stupid darling, I didn't dare wait. The Director may come back any time.”
”But why you two? With maybe ten thousand healthy host-mothers registered and available? And why two?”
”Dearest man, I'm sorry I said you were stupid-you aren't; you're just male. Hamadryad and I know exactly what risks we are taking and why. We don't look pregnant and won't for weeks yet, and if either of us can jockey Lazarus into a contract, an abortion takes ten minutes. Professional host-mothers won't do for this job; it has to be bellies over which I have some control and women I trust utterly. Bad enough that I had to trust a gene surgeon and risk a proscribed procedure-Ira may have to get me out of that if anything slips.
”But you know as well as I do, sweet Galahad, that even an ordinary clone sometimes goes wild. I wish I had four female bellies I could use, not two. Eight. Sixteen! Increase the chances of getting one normal fetus. In another month-long before it shows-we'll know what we're carrying. If the odds fail both of us-well, I'm ready to start over again and Hamadryad is, too.”
”As many times as necessary, Ishtar. I swore it.”
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