“Magdalena, her hair in dozens of thin braids held back with a ribbon, prowled the main room, pausing often to peer out windows, where she'd seen heat lightning earlier. Even the seas were unusually sluggish: low tide and no hint of wind. Alexis, flat on her back in the talking-pit, elbowed her way up and smiled. "Were you this jumpy before your last recital?" The translator seemed to come back from a distance. "Hmmm? Oh--sorry, am I driving you crazy?" "No. I'd've said so." "It's the weather. I... don't like lightning." "It should be all right, the morning report said no storms this far east--no rain, and no wind." Alexis blotted her forehead on the hem of her loose shirt and scooped up the handheld comp-pad, where she was listing points for her upcoming FTL call to CLS headquarters. "I know. It's a little about tonight, too. The uncertainty, plus knowing how much perfection counts." "Tell me about that," Alexis replied gloomily. "Watch me step on someone's feet. Like maybe the Iron Duke's--" "The Esteemed zhez Zhenu--who does not dance, or participate in any pleasurable activity, according to Khyriz," Magdalena reminded her loftily.MoreLessRead More Read Less
User Reviews: