She might have never left city memory, the illusion was so complete, but there was a certain sensation, a knowing, that her body was being deluded and stimulated, and not just her mind. It was a moot distinction. So many distinctions were moot on Thistledown.

We are all such children! she thought, sipping her glass and considering the distant volcano. Maybe Garry’s right to chuck it all and let old age claim him. Maybe we are all burned out after forty years, and he’s only being honest.

The room control chimed melodiously. She leaned back in the chair and said languorously, “Yes?”

“Two men wish to speak with you, Ser Lanier. One is your husband and the other is Pavel Mirsky.”

Involuntarily, she shivered. Speak of two devils. “Drop the islands and give me the standard setting.” The porch, beach, volcano and ocean vanished and were replaced by a small room decorated in classical Hexamon spareness. “All right.”

Garry appeared in the middle of the room. “Hello, Karen.”

“How are you?” She fingered the cool bowl of her wine-glass, both glad to see him—she had not blanked out her worry—and curiously irritated. But their quiet discord had gone on for so long, she did not want to let him know her emotions. That was her armor.

“I’m fine. I’ve been thinking about you.”

“I wondered if you were up here,” she said defensively, struggling to keep her voice mellow.

“I wanted to talk to you before now, but I didn’t want to interrupt your conference.”

“Please do,” she said. An image came to her mind of whom she wanted to be like now: the American actress of the early twentieth century, Bette Davis, cool and contentious, armored but desirable. The apartment pictors could not do that for her, however.

“We need to speak with Suli Ram Kikura.”

“She’s still in city memory, keeping the chickens from pecking at each other.”

“Problems?”

“It’s not going well, Garry.” She looked away from the image, noticed her finger actually in the wine, removed it, and set the glass down. “I’m resting. What about Mirsky? What’s happening?” There; the curiosity had escaped.

“Have you been following the Nexus proceedings?”

She shook her head.

“There’s very big trouble coming.” He explained the situation.

The time had come to shift gears; this was not strictly a personal call. Still, the shift did not come easily. “That doesn’t sound like the Nexus at all. Without consulting Earth?”

“Mirsky’s told us some amazing things,” Lanier said, “and frankly, I don’t like the Nexus denying his request. I think reopening the Way, and leaving it open, is a very bad idea.”

“Suli hasn’t heard his story?”

“No.”