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his shoulder at the
Duchess.
"I should offer my best wishes to the woman on whose shoulders my quiller is
riding," he said. "I hope you will excuse me."
"Certainly, Maijstral." They sniffed each other's ears.
Maijstral turned to Vanessa.
"Congratulations on your performance last night, by the way," she said. "That
was fast work."
"Thank you, Vanessa. Very kind."
Maijstral sniffed her and moved away. As he passed in front of the gallery he
saw Kingston, the policeman, sitting alone at one of the tables, his glance
fixed unhappily on
Geoff Fu George. Kingston was dressed in mufti and ap-
peared to have something bulky under his left arm. Maijstral smiled and walked
on.
The knot around the Duchess had thinned. Maijstral stepped toward her. He
noticed that she was wearing the traditional stripes of bright paint on her
cheeks: they were burnt orange, to match her silks. She looked up and saw him;
she smiled.
"Maijstral. I'm pleased to see you here."
HOUSE OF SHARDS | 127
"Your grace, I wouldn't have missed it. I was surprised not to see you
earlier."
Roberta waved a hand. "All the preparations for the debut tonight. There's
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still so much to be seen to."
"I wouldn't be too concerned. These things have a habit of looking after
themselves."
Roberta's answer was tart. "Not around me, they don't. I
see to them myself, or they don't get done."
"Perhaps it's best you've been keeping busy, then."
She began strapping on her helmet. "Wish me luck, Maijstral."
"With all my heart, your grace. And my pocketbook."
Roberta seemed pleasantly surprised. "You can't have got good odds. All the
betting seems to be on second or third place. Have you heard that Pearl
Woman's been hurt?''
Maijstral looked at her. "I wouldn't have too much con-
fidence in that, you grace. I seem to be finding a lot of takers for my bets."
She frowned and gazed at him for the space of half a moment. "Do you truly?
Who, may I ask?"
' 'Kotani. Fu George. And Miss Runciter held a tote ticket for the Pearl."
Roberta's violet eyes glittered. "Interesting." She reached out a hand. "Thank
you, Maijstral."
"Your obedient servant."
He kissed the hand and stepped away, and behind him there was a sudden loud
murmuring, as of a crowd expe-
riencing surprise. Maijstral turned and saw Lord Qlp un-
dulating along the gallery toward him, its five eyes peering in his direction.
Lady Dosvidern, demurely avoiding the slime trail, followed the Drawmiikh.
Maijstral braced himself for the odor. When it arrived the smell almost
knocked him down. The volume of conversation from the audience increased
radically as a wave of the Drawmiikh's scent
128 | WALTER JON WILLIAMS
rolled over them. Khosali, with noses more sensitive than those of humans,
seemed particularly affected.
Maijstral bowed, summoned his resolve, and made ap-
proximate sniffs toward Lord Qlp's head. To inhale at all required
considerable willpower. The Drawmiikh ignored
Maijstral and continued its motion, forcing Maijstral to move fast to keep
from being knocked aside.
Lord Qlp halted in front of Roberta. "Lord Qlp," she said, and sniffed it. It
reared back, its foremost eye looking directly in her face, and made a series
of sucking sounds.
"Are not the Protocols correct?" Lady Dosvidern trans-
lated. ' 'Is it not the Time of Exchange? Is not the Exchange correct in its
commodity?''
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Roberta gazed at the Drawmiikh for a long moment. It seemed to be expecting an
answer. She looked at Lady
Dosvidern for help. Lady Dosvidern's ears flicked back and forth, signalling
her own bewilderment.
Roberta turned her eyes back to Lord Qlp. "I cannot say, my lord," she said.
Lord Qlp's reply was loud and violent. Its whole body trembled with the force
of its ejaculation. "Interference!"
Lady Dosvidern said. Her expression was bewildered, but her voice was calm and
firm. "Your grace must guard the
Protocols!"
Roberta considered this for half a second. "I have every intention," she said
firmly, "of doing just that."
The answer seemed to please Lord Qlp. It bent its head and began to make
gagging sounds. Many in the audience turned away or covered their eyes.
There was a thump. Lord Qlp had disgorged another object. There was a moment
of silence.
"Thank you, my lord," said Roberta. Lord Qlp, after reversing its rearmost
eye, began to undulate the way it had come without bothering to turn around.
HOUSE OF SHARDS | 129
"Allow me, your grace." Maijstral moved quickly. He unfolded his handkerchief
and bent to retrieve the object.
He wrapped the thing neatly in his handkerchief and rose. It was wet and
implastic. Roberta had already signalled a robot.
Lord Qlp moved quickly to the exit and disappeared.
Relieved, the audience began to chatter and wave hand-
kerchiefs to disperse the stench.
"Thank you, Maijstral," Roberta said. Maijstral gave the object to the robot,
and Roberta gave instructions for the thing to be delivered to her rooms.
"I wonder," Maijstral said, "how Lady Dosvidern deals with its lordship's
odor."
"She's probably had surgery on her nasal centers."
"I should have thought of that." He looked at her. "Do you suppose that Lady
Dosvidern could offer enlightenment on this . . . excrescence, your grace?"
"I've already asked. She's as puzzled as I." She looked over Maijstral's
shoulder, and her face turned cold.' 'Here's that Asperson person," she said.
"I suppose her media globes got an eyeful of what just happened."
"My condolences, your grace. I'm sure you'll handle any awkward questions."
"How can I answer questions when I don't know what just happened?" Her ears
turned down in annoyance, and then she shrugged. "Well, I'll just have to
pretend omnis-
cience." She brightened a bit. "That could be fun, I sup-
pose."
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"Enjoy, your grace."
"Thanks for your assistance, Maijstral. I'll have the hand-
kerchief returned." She began strapping on her helmet.
Maijstral turned, bowed toward Kyoko Asperson as the journalist advanced
toward Roberta, and wondered where to sit. Kotani, the Marchioness, Fu George,
and Vanessa
130 | WALTER JON WILLIAMS
were standing in a knot, and appeared to be taking care not to look in his
direction. Maijstral saw Zoot talking to the armed female Khosalikh who had
been his tail, and he considered for a moment the temptation to drop by Zoot's
table and see how she handled it.
Pearl Woman, dressed in white silks, was poised by one entrance. An expression
of annoyance was visible through the white stripes on her face, and Maijstral
guessed she had made her grand entrance only to be upstaged by the arrival of
Lord Qlp. Advert, looking uncertain, was fluttering by her elbow. Maijstral
strolled toward them.
"Luck, Pearl," he offered, and sniffed her. "Good af-
ternoon, Advert." He couldn't help but notice that if Pearl
Woman was still wearing her pearl, it was hidden under her helmet strap.
"Thanks, Maijstral. I daresay I'll need it." She flexed one leg carefully. "I
should warm up for a few moments.
Pardon me."
"Certainly." She moved off. Maijstral admired the sub-
tlety of her limp for a brief moment, then he turned to
Advert.
"Will you join me at my table?"
"Yes. Thank you, Mr. Maijstral."
"My pleasure." He escorted her into the gallery. Advert bit her lip and
clutched at something in her pocket.
"Are you anxious for Pearl Woman?" Maijstral asked.
"She'll be all right, you know. That leg injury won't in-
capacitate her."
"She asked me to bet." She raised her hand from her pocket and mutely
displayed two credit chips. Maijstral could clearly see the imprints of her
nails on her palm.
"She gave you money to bet on her?"
She swallowed and gave a quick nod. "Fifty novae. I
HOUSE OF SHARDS | 131
don't know where she got it. She hasn't any money herself.
Borrowed it from someone, I suppose."
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"She wants you to bet her to win."
"Yes."
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