Dance was...unexpectedly interesting.  She'd had to swap out the multi-team free study session, which meant having to do more of her solo work after school – not exactly a burden, since she was grounded, anyway, and not exactly high on the study facilitator's assist list, either.
    But dance...it was like math, and lacemaking, and scavage, all together; and almost like the patterns she saw in her head.  Better even than that, she thought as she stripped out of her coveralls and pulled on the clingy leggings and stretchy sleeveless shirt, once everybody in the class had the pattern down, they all did what they were supposed to do, when they were supposed to do it, and nobody got hurt, or fell, or bumped into anybody else.
    Not even her.  Theo Waitley, the clumsiest kid in Fourth Form.
    She grabbed the bit of lace out of her bag, slammed the locker and headed for the dance floor.  Bek was already there, propped up on an elbow and doing lazy leg lifts.  She dropped cross-legged to the floor next to him.
    "Hey, Theo."  He gave her a friendly nod, like he always did.  Bek had been in class since the beginning of the term, and he was good; one demo was all he ever needed, in Theo's admittedly limited experience, to pick up a dance move.   She wouldn't have blamed him for being annoyed that Professor Noni had teamed him with the new kid.  Instead, he actually seemed happy to have her as a partner.  
    "What've you got there?"  he asked, sitting up in a boneless move that reminded her of Father.
    "This?"  She held the lacy web outstretched between her fingers.  "It's a dance."
    "Really."  He leaned forward, gray eyes slightly narrowed as he traced the connections.  "I'm not sure I – oh!  It's the new suwello module we started last time!  I can see the wave..."  He extended a careful finger and traced the line.  "And here's where we all spin out into a circle..."  Bek sat back, shaking his head.  "That's pretty clever.  How'd you think of it?"    
    "Well..."  Theo bit her lip.  "I make lace for a – for something to do with my hands.  And I was thinking about how dancing was like math and like making lace, so I – what's wrong?"
    Bek was staring at her.  "Dance is like math," he repeated, and shook his head again.  "What an idea!"
    "But it is!" Theo said, surprised, and then looked at him closely.  "You're joking, aren't you?"
    "No, I'm not joking," he assured her.  "Dance is an escape from math!"
    "But you're so good at it!  Dance, I mean."
    "That's because," Bek said patiently, "dance is nothing like math.  Trust me, Theo."  He put his hand over his heart.  "Two repeats and four remedials in Fractal Trigonometry.  I'm not wrong about this."
    "What is it, then?”  she demanded.  “If it’s not math?”
    Bek looked surprised.  “A conversation,” he said, reasonably.  “What else?”
    "A –"
    "Well, well!"  Professor Noni's high and somewhat unpleasant voice cut across Theo's response.  "I don't know whether to be delighted or horrified to hear that the argument between theory and art is unabated.  The heat death of the universe will doubtless find them arguing still."  She clapped her hands.  "Everyone up!  Stretches!  Sequence Five!"

*

   
    “Ms. Waitley, stand forward, if you please,” Professor Noni said.  “I need your assistance in a demonstration.”
    Theo blinked.  During the previous two demos, Professor Noni had called on Bek and on Lida – the classes lead students.  To call on the newest, least trained –
    “I’m waiting,  Ms. Waitley.”
    “Yes, ma’am!” Theo took a deep breath and stepped forward.  She met Professor Noni’s eyes and consciously straightened her shoulders.
    The dance professor smiled.  “A good stance from which to begin almost anything,” she said.  “Now, Ms. Waitley, what I want you to do is…answer me.”
    Theo blinked.  “Answer you, ma’am?”
    “Precisely.  Dance, as Mr. Tehruda has expressed it might be seen as a conversation.  I will make a ‘statement’ and you will answer me, whereupon I will answer you and so on, until our conversation is by mutual agreement, done.”  She smiled, slowly.  “Or, to put it another way; I will propose a equation, and you will refine it, and we will collaborate until we have achieved agreement.  Now.  Attend me.”
    Theo watched worriedly as Professor Noni moved her left foot forward,  back-extended her right leg,  and raised her right arm until it was a straight line from her shoulder, hand bent at a right angle, fingers pointing toward the ceiling.  And that was a completely familiar move; nothing other than the opening move in stretch sequence three.  Theo relaxed into the second move in the sequence, dropping back on the right leg, stretching the left in front, bringing her left arm up to join the right.
    Professor Noni moved into the third phrase, Theo answered with the fourth, and Professor Noni responded, a little more quickly.  The room and the small noises made by the others as they watched faded from Theo’s attention as she concentrated on her teacher’s moves – statement, answer, statement, response.  At some point they left the familiar stretches; at some point, they sped up.  Theo barely noticed, her mind's eye filled with the pattern as it would become while her body responded to the pattern as it was now.  
    They moved, describing circles and squares; they approached, retreated, sidestepped, and the conversation went on, and on…
    Professor Noni spun on a toe and lunged.  Theo leapt, spinning – and suddenly the pattern in her head and the pattern of the dance diverged.  All during the dance they had maintained a distance of between six and eight steps, and now –
    Now, they were going to be too far apart!
    Theo twisted, lunging in an attempt to mend the error, while the pattern in her head shattered and flew apart.  Professor Noni danced to one side, spun lightly and came to rest, feet flat and hands folded.  Theo staggered and went down on  one knee.
    “Enough!”  The dance instructor raised her hand.  She was, Theo saw, breathing hard, and visibly sweating.  Now that she was noticing, she was sweaty, too, though she was breathing deep and unhurriedly.
    “Tell me, Ms. Waitley – why did you "correct your statement?"
    “I’d …mis-calculated,” Theo said slowly.  “We’d been dancing at the same distance, and suddenly we were going to be further apart…”
    “Ah.  And yet it is …a natural human interaction, to come together, to part, to meet again.”  She sighed, and pushed her hand through her hair.  “Despite which – I am impressed, Ms. Waitley.  A very interesting conversation, indeed!"
    The seventh bell on the session sounded then, and she looked out at the rest of the class.
    “Dismissed,” she said quietly.

* * *

    Kamele had a meeting.  Again.
    Theo shoved her mumu into its pocket, drew a soy cheese sandwich and a cup of juice from the kaf and carried them back to her room.  Coyster was curled up in the center of the rug, more or less, snoring with his tail over his nose.  Theo grinned and sat down at her desk.  She had a response paper to write for Advertance and some math problems to finish up.  Then, she thought, touching the keys lightly, she'd spend some more time with her mumu, which had become almost as fascinating as dance over the last few days.
    "Solos first," she said aloud, scrolling through what she'd already written while she had a bite of her sandwich.  Father would say that it was disrespectful of the food to concentrate on work while one ate.
    On the other hand, she thought, going back to double-check a secondary cite, she suspected that Father had never tasted soy cheese out of the kaf.
    The cite checked.  Good.  Half-way through Social Engineering, she'd been struck with the conviction that she'd flubbed it – or misunderstood the content.   she put the sandwich back on its plate and began to type.
    She was sipping juice and re-reading her response, tweaking words and patching sentences, when a flicker of green tickled her peripheral vision.  Frowning, she looked down at the bottom left corner of the screen, and the dark green Serpent of Knowledge.
    Chewing her lip, Theo considered the icon.  None of the rest of the team had gotten a mystery assignment – she'd asked.  She'd even gone back through Professor Wilit's public classnotes, and there was no mention of solo assignments made on the date the Serpent icon had showed up on her screen.
    All that being so, and after giving it some thought, Theo had deleted the icon.
    And now it was back, pulsating gently while it waited for her attention.
    Well, she thought, it could wait awhile, that was what.  She had other things in queue before it.
    Determinedly, she turned her attention back to her response paper, finished the editing and saved it before opening her math solos.
    Despite Lesset's repeated claims during their commute between classes, the problems weren't hard.  In fact, Theo thought, as she double-checked her work, they'd been kind of boring.  Sighing, she closed her math space.
    The Serpent icon was still there at the corner of the screen.  Waiting.  Theo stuck her tongue out at it, pulled her mumu out of her pocket and dropped to the rug next to Coyster, who stretched out of his curl, and relaxed bonelessly, licking his nose, all without opening his eyes.
    Theo tapped her mumu on and called up the advanced diagnostic.  It had taken her a frustratingly long time to figure out how to circumvent the self-test program, and once she'd gotten by, she'd foolishly figured the rest would be easy.  
    "The thing is," she told Coyster, who'd heard it all before, "that the trigger has to be something simple and quick, so you can turn it on and off.  Because, if you're never on the grid, somebody'll notice that.  The turn-off needs to be something that's fast, so you can go off-line immediately in an emergency – and come back on-line as fast.  Or faster."
    Coyster yawned. Noisily.
    "You just feel that way because you don't have a collar that tells everybody where you are all the time.  Think if you were a dog."
    Coyster opened one eye, glared at her pointedly, and closed it.
    "Sorry."  Theo turned her attention back to the mumu.
    The key had to be in the advanced diagnostic, she told herself for the eighty-eighth time.  She tapped the toolbox open and sat frowning at her choices:  ISOBIOS, Grid Calibration, Schedule, Unitize, Cloud Absorb.
    None of the sub-routines was helpfully labeled 'turn-off ID emission'.  In fact, there was no mention of the ID-shouter at all, though every kid knew that their mother could track them through their mumu.  You only had to be where you weren't supposed to be once, for that lesson to stick.
    Frustrated, she punched Schedule, even though by now she knew the list of sub-routines by heart.  Schedule a self-test, schedule a back-up, schedule a grid calibration.  Grumbling to herself, she chose schedule a self-test and glared down at the choices:  diagnostic or complete?
    "Chaos-driven, nidjit programs..." Theo muttered – and then frowned.  She'd been through this screen dozens of times over the last couple days.  Why was it only now that she wondered what exactly a complete self-test was.
    Cautiously, she made her choice.
    Her mumu emitted a strident, drawn-out beep.  Coyster flicked an ear and put his paw over his nose.  On the screen, words appeared.
    This diagnostic will test every resident system thoroughly.  Several functions may be unavailable or taken off-line during diagnosis. These include any function that requires syncing with the local Cloud or Grid.  Voice messaging will remain unaffected.
    Theo held her breath.
    Do you wish to continue?   
    She pressed yes.
    The next screen was a configuration chart.  She could, Theo quickly learned, instruct the machine to conduct up to sixteen consecutive test sessions.  She could also dedicate a key combination to initiate testing from outside of the diagnostic program, though she was warned to choose a non-intuitive combination, so that a test session would not begin in error.
    "I found it," Theo breathed to Coyster, who greeted this information with no visible sign of awe or joy.  Or even consciousness.
    Carefully, she set the key combo.  After some consideration, she set the loop to nine consecutive checks, reasoning that she could hit the hot keys again, if more time off-grid was required.
    Required for what was a question she had been studiously not asking herself, even as she had sought after the answer to the puzzle.  Instead, she reminded herself that the Simple at the door would have taken her under study on Oktavi evening, if Father hadn't been prepared.  Being prepared was very close to thinking ahead, and it seemed to her that an advertent scholar – which Father demonstrably was – ought always to be prepared.
    "I should test it," she said, holding the mumu in her hand.  It wouldn't be thinking ahead if she just assumed it was going to work.  In fact, it would be wishful thinking, which was almost as bad as making excuses.
    "How?"  she asked, putting the mumu on Coyster's side.  His skin rippled in protest, and he flicked his ears, but he didn't bother to even open his eyes.  
    Obviously, she didn't want to just vanish off the grid; even she could see that would be reckless.  She might, she guessed, tell Kamele what she'd done and ask for her help, in the spirit of scholarly exploration.
    On second thought, that wasn't such a good idea.  Theo picked the mumu up off of Coyster and held it in her hand, staring down at the screen.  She'd just have to wait until Oktavi, she thought, and ask Father to check her.  He could hardly refuse,  after telling her that the ID emitter could be turned off.
    It wasn't the best solution – she wanted to test her work right now, and Oktavi was days away.  On the other hand, it would have to do; and anyway, it wasn't like she planned on actually using it; it was only a precaution.  In the meantime, she had more than enough to keep her busy – worrying about the Review Board for one, and why they'd asked for an extension to decide her case.  Kamele seemed to think that the extended time for discovery and deliberation was good news.  Theo – or, at least, her stomach – thought otherwise.
    She could also, she told herself firmly, think about dance, work on her lace, and do extra-credit solos.
    And, if she got bored, she could see about really deleting the Serpent icon on her computer.
    As a matter of fact, she had an idea about that.
    She rolled to her feet and approached the desk.  The Serpent of Knowledge was still down in the left hand corner, still pulsing, oh-so-patiently waiting for her attention.
    Sighing, Theo slid into the chair and tapped the icon.  Once.
    A menu bar appeared in the center of her screen.
                ｫ    Enforcer Theory, Annotated
                ｫ    Safety Office History, Delgado University
                ｫ    Surveillance History, Delgado
                ｫ    Map, Interior
                ｫ    Map, Exterior
                ｫ    Timetable, Real Time
                ｫ    Algorithm
                    
    Theo blinked.
    Whatever it was, it had done exactly what she'd asked it to do, and more thoroughly than any search program she'd ever used.  She bit her lip, one hand fisted on her knee, the other hovering over the selection key.
    There isn't, she thought, any assignment.
    On the other hand, she was interested in the information.  So what if there wasn't an assignment?  Information for its own sake was --
    "Theo?"  Kamele's voice echoed down the hallway.  "I'm home!  I hope you're hungry!"

* * *

    "Admin has okayed the trip," Kamele said, sounding tired and relieved and anxious all at once.  At least she was eating, Theo thought, helping herself to another slice of spice bread with veggie-paste stuffing.  'Course, it was hard to turn down spice bread.
    "When will you be leaving?"  Theo asked, trying to remember where Melchiza was, exactly, with reference to Delgado.
    "The in time to make the next outgoing liner – call it two days," Kamele murmured, and Theo put her bread down, staring.
    "That's, um... really soon," she managed.  
    Kamele nodded.  "It is.  We're very fortunate that Vashtara is due in at the station, and has room for passengers."
    Theo chewed her lip.  "How long – how long will you be gone?"  She'd stayed with Lesset a couple days at a time when Kamele and Father had gone on vacations, just like Lesset had stayed with her when her mother went away.  Once they'd taken a whole eight-day.  That time, Theo had stayed with Aunt Ella in her cluttered apartment.  
    "The return trip may be a day or two sooner or later, depending on transition links.  I thing we ought to assume most of two hundred  days."
    Theo sat back on the stool, a gone feeling in her stomach.
    "Close your mouth, Theo.  You look like one of Jen Sar's prize fish."  Kamele had a bite of spice bread.
    "You're going to be gone --"  I'll miss you! Theo thought, and took a breath, and tried to sound calm and matter-of-fact.  "I guess I'll be staying with Aunt Ella, then."
    "Oh, no."  Kamele shook her head and reached for her cup.  "You'll be coming with me."
    "Coming – to Melchiza?  I can't go to Melchiza!"
    Kamele looked up.  "Of course you can.  Tomorrow, you'll file for solo studies from your teachers and pack.  Your immunizations are up-to-date, but they'll screen us on-station, anyway."  She paused, looking at Theo consideringly.  "Coyster will need to be returned to Professor Kiladi."
    She was going to strangle, Theo thought, around the buzzing in her ears.  Her chest was tight and she was suddenly very sorry that she'd eaten quite so much spice bread.
    "But, I can't!  Not for – what about dance?  What about the Review Board?  I – why can't I stay with Father, too?"
    "Because you're  not a cat," Kamele said crisply.  "Really, Theo.  You're behaving as if this were a punishment instead of an opportunity to learn."
    "I don't," Theo said breathlessly, "want to learn."
    That was stupid.  She knew it the second the words tumbled out of her mouth.  But of course, it was too late to call them back.
    Kamele shook her head.  "The situation is quite settled, Theo.  Whining isn't going to change it.  I must say, however, that I'd never expected to hear my daughter say that she doesn't want to learn."
    Theo bit her lip.  "Kamele --"
    Her mother raised a hand.  "It's a shock, I know.  Very sudden. Unfortunately, there's nothing to be done.  I suggest that you sleep on it."

* * *

    It was impossible.  She couldn't sleep.  Her stomach hurt.  Her head hurt.
    And she was not going to go to Melchiza.  Kamele couldn't make her.  She had rights.  The right to an education and to peer-bonding and, and – well, rights, anyway.  She understood that Aunt Ella might not want to have her and Coyster underfoot in her tiny space.   But Father was used to them.  Father --
    Why, Kamele probably hadn't even asked him! There couldn't have been time.
    Theo sat up in bed, rolling Coyster over in her haste.  He huffed and jumped down, hitting the floor with an irritable thump!
    At the desk, Theo snatched up her mumu – and hesitated with her finger on the quick-dial.
    She needed advice -- and it came to her that she might have to argue – to persuade.  It was too easy to ignore text or a call; too easy to say, "Theo, your mother has you in her care," and let that be an end to it.  
    But, they were leaving soon, before week's end even, and tomorrow was full of errands, packing, closing up the apartment.  When would she have time to even go cross-campus to his office?  Could she meet him, she wondered, for lunch?  Could she --
    Go to his house...tonight?
    She bit her lip, sending a glance her mumu's screen.
    Four-eights after ninebells.  The curfew....
    The Eyes don't watch everything... The voice whispered from memory, and Theo shot a guilty glance at her 'book.
    It couldn't, she thought, hurt to ...look

* * *

    So far, her information had been accurate.
    Or at least, Theo thought, shivering in the brisk wind as she slipped between the neat rows of Skoots, it had been accurate about the things she had thought to ask.  She hadn't thought to ask the temp and conditions outside the Wall.  Instead, she guessed that coveralls and a sweater would be warm enough.
    Well, she'd been wrong.
    The Skoots were for the use of residents of the Wall, which meant, Theo told herself firmly for the the eighth time, she had a perfect right to use one.  Despite the firmness, she didn't quite convince herself.  Besides, even if she did have a perfect right to use a Skoot, she wasn't supposed to be out after tenbells and what Kamele would do if she ever found out that Theo had snuck out while she was sleeping and took a Skoot to Leafydale Place – Theo swallowed and hunched down next to her vehicle of choice.
    To what extent are you willing to fund this choice? she heard Father ask from memory.  How much sorrow are you willing to cause?
    She bit her lip, and didn't try to pretend that she was shivering only from the cold.  Closing her eyes, she reviewed her plan and her preparations.
    She had memorized the routes and the timetable; she had researched how to operate a Skoot on manual.  She had turned her mumu's ID emitter off.  The trip to Leafydale Place would hardly take more than an eighth; she'd have a bell to talk to Father, and then return by the unwatched streets, park the Skoot and be back in the apartment before Kamele was up.
    "But," she told herself, "you won't be if you don't leave soon."
    She thought about leaving the Skoot, slipping back in through the unwatched door, letting herself back into the apartment, curling up in bed next to Coyster...
    ...who would have to stay on Delgado while she went to Melchiza, without her team, or her dance lessons, or Oktavi dinners with Father...
    "I'm not," she said, reaching for the Skoot's control panel, "just going to give up."
    Which meant she'd better get on with the  plan.
    She depressed the switch and the little electric motor hummed quietly into wakefulness.  Theo carefully pushed it out of line, took up the stance recommended in the article, and put her foot on the go-button.
    The Skoot accelerated, leapt over the incline and sailed out into plain air.  Theo grabbed the bars and bent her knees, lowering her center of gravity.  The Skoot hit the ramp, jolting her,  and raced downward, toward the unwatched service road.
    Toward home.

* * *

    The article was finished, polished, and on its way to the journal that had commissioned it; all of the mid-term student papers had been perused, marked up, and returned to their authors, who would hopefully learn something from his comments.  He had finished reading his entire backlog of journals, and was reclined in his chair, one ear on the audio from the Orbital Traffic Scanner, and both eyes closed.  
    “Truly,” he said to Mandrin, who was napping in her usual spot on the desk, “it’s nothing short of amazing what one can accomplish when one is unencumbered by child and mistress.”
    Mandrin vouchsafed no reply to this observation, if indeed she heard him.  Indolent creatures, cats.  
    Well.
    “Scallion,” the OTS crackled around the permanently irritated voice of second shift master on Delgado Station.  “If that vee isn’t adjusted by my next refresh, that’s a megadex fine.”
    “Ain’t nothing the matter with our vee, Station Master, except a big, griefen cruise ship in the way.”
    “If you want to pay the fine, Scallion, that’s –“
    “This is Vashtara, out of Ibenvue.”  The new voice was crisp, no-nonsense and bore a heavy  accent.  “I infer that it is we who have muddled the station master’s calculations.  It is suggested that the pilot of the ship Scallion bring the vessel to a slightly tangential course which retains the precious vee, perhaps on the propitious heading 027 047 087. This heading will avoid holing the big, griefen cruise ship, which will please me perhaps even more than it will please Scallion.”
    There was a pause, while pilot and station master likely did their math, then the rather subdued voice of Scallion’s pilot.  “That’s good to do it.  Station master?”
    The sigh was audible even through the static.  “Adopt and amend course, Scallion.”
    Jen Sar Kiladi shifted in his chair, lazily considering the exchange.  The pilot of the Vashtara had been …marginally within her melant’i.  That she had broadcast the amended course, rather than beaming a private suggestion to the station master hinted of a …situation between –
    From downstairs…a sound.
    The man in the chair opened his eyes and came silently to his feet.  On the corner of the desk, Mandrin had raised her head, ears pricked, staring at the doorway.
    The sound came again, stealthily.  The sound of the garden door. Being closed.
      Silent, he glided across the dancing starfields, plucking the Gallowglass cane from its place near the door as he passed through.  He paused in the shadow at the top of the stairs, the stick held cross-body at waist level, one hand curved 'round the crook.
    Quiet footsteps from below, and the sound of soft, irregular breathing.  He took a breath himself, deep and deliberate – and waited.
    On Delgado, a handgun was unlikely.  On Delgado, let it be known, sneaking into a man's house was all but unheard of.  Which meant he might be facing someone desperate to the point of foolishness.
    Or a professional.
    The footsteps passed from carpet to wood – and did not strike the tuned board.  He let the point of the stick go, free hand flashing out to the switch as Mandrin rushed past, taking the stairs in one long leap.  The hall light flared from dim to brilliant and at the bottom of the flight, a thin figure with pale, wind-knotted hair threw up an unsteady hand to shield her eyes.
    "Ow,"  she said.  And, then, as Mandrin threw herself against coveralled knees.  "Hey."
    At the top of the stairs, he took a careful breath, and if he leaned a moment on the cane, it was not...only... to be certain that the blade was well-seated.
    Theo blinked up at him.  "I have to talk to you," she said, her voice wobbling, though with adrenaline, he thought, rather than fright.  And she pled necessity.
    He sighed quietly and inclined his head.
    "Very well," he said.  "Would you like some tea?"

* *

    "So," Father murmured sometime later.  They'd finished the pot of tea, and made serious inroads into the plate of cheese and crackers while Theo told out the story.  She was cuddled into one corner of the doublechair, a blanket over her shoulders and Mandrin on her lap.  He was in his usual chair, legs in front of him and crossed at the ankle, his stick leaning against the side table.
    "So," he said again.  "Quite an extraordinary adventure.  Allow to mention, however, that the Skoots do call in."
    "I know that," Theo said, though she hadn't until she'd asked the Serpent icon.
    "Indeed," he said politely.  "Therefore, you intended to be caught out?"
    "No," she said, looking down to stroke Mandrin.  She looked up and met his eyes.  "I ran it on manual."
    One eyebrow lifted.  "Forgive me, Theo.  The fact that you've had training on the Skoots momentarily slipped my mind."
    "Well, I haven't," she blurted.  "And I did have a couple seconds where I thought maybe – but after that it was easy."
    There was a small pause while he sipped his tea.  "Certainly," he murmured courteously.  "Easy."
    "But about this trip of Kamele's," Theo said.  "I need your advice."
    He shook his head.  "You don't need my advice, child."
    Relief warmed her.  "So, I will stay here, then.  There's a form we can file with the Social Center, and we don't even have to get Marjene to countersign, if you and Kamele..."  
    "Theo."
    Her voice – just stopped, and her chest felt ...squeezed.  Father hadn't moved, but he looked – taller, his face stern.
    "You really cannot continue to willfully ignore the facts of your culture," he said, his voice clipped, and ...impersonal, like she was one of his students – or, no.  Like he'd talk to the Simple outside the Wall.  Cold.
    "In fact," he continued, "your mother has decided what will be done.  There is no discussion necessary.  There are no choices.  I suggest you bow to circumstance.  As I have."
    A blaze of heat came up from her belly, and she was on her feet, Mandrin spilled off her lap, the blanket flung back.
    "Bow to circumstance!"  Her voice was shrill, as she leaned over him.  "You don't care!  You don't care that we're not here!  You don't care if we ever come back!  Why did you even let us live here?"  She gasped, and sat down as suddenly as she'd stood up, leaning to one side, crying.
    "Are you quite through?"  he asked, keeping his voice cool and grim.  It was an effort; an effort to look sternly on her, bird-thin and disordered from her first flight, bent sideways as if she favored a broken wing.  
    Sobbing, Theo nodded.
    "The answer to your question," he said, gripping the arms of the chair and forcing himself to stay seated, "is that I grew up in a Liaden clanhouse.  After I gained my majority, I did ...fieldwork with a team.  I am accustomed to having people about me.  I function better – I'm happier and more productive – when I am able to share myself with other people."
    She had stopped crying, though she remained in that wilted pose against the cushions.
    "As to whether I would care if you – or your mother – never returned...Yes.  I would care.  A very great deal."
    Silence.  He took a careful breath and stood.  Put his hand lightly on her shoulder.
    "It's beyond late, child.  Call your mother, and let her know you're safe and well.  Also, tell her about that research wire, if you would."  She looked at him, pale face damp.  He gave her a smile.  "It will give her something useful to do while she waits for your return."
    Her lips twitched, and she reached out to take his hand, hers cool and unsteady.  She looked down and rubbed her finger over the old puzzle ring.
    "Funny," she said, her voice blurry now that temper and adrenaline had run their courses.  "You never said where you got that."
    He felt a smile tug at his mouth and his hand moved to stroke her hair.
    "I had it from my grandmother," his voice said.  "Call Kamele now, sweeting.  She'll worry."