Araminta Station by Jack Vance Page A

something I must tell her.”
    On the following day, despite Sessily’s attempt to hide holding a folder in front of her face, Arles found her sitting alone in the shade of the gadroon tree, and sat down at her table. With one plump white finger he pushed down the folder and smiled a wide toothy smile at her over the top. “Peekaboo! It’s Arles. And how is the young Trappist monk today?”
    “l plan to cut off all my hair and paint my face blue, and wear a mustache, so people won’t recognize me,” said Sessily.
    “Ha, ha! That’s marvelous! Can I do the cutting and the painting? I wonder what Master Floreste would say, especially if I painted myself red, and we showed up hand in hand!”
    “That act would be called ‘Nightmare of a Maniac .’ Floreste will never see it. I’m quitting the Mummers.”
    “Really? That’s good news! I’m out of the Mummers too, until my grades get better. We’ll be together all next summer.”
    “I think not. I’m working at Opal Springs Lodge.”
    Arles leaned forward. Today he had primed himself with a strategy from his Manual of the Erotic Arts . “There’s something I ‘d like to talk to you about. Would you like to own a space yacht?”
    “What a foolish question. Is there anyone who wouldn’t?”
    Arles said earnestly: “You and I should make plans together, about the kind of yacht we want. For instance, how do you like those new Spang Vandals? Or the Model Fourteen Nasebys with the after-saloon? They’re not so common and maybe not quite so flashing, but the appointments are truly superb! What’s your opinion?”
    “Anything would be nice,” said Sessily. “However, there’s the matter of ownership. I’m too much of a coward to steal and too poor to buy.”
    “Don’t worry there! Just trust me in that department! I’ll find the money, and we’ll buy one together, and go roaming! Think of the fun we could have!”
    Sessily gave her hand a flippant wave. “My mother has much more money than I do. Why don’t you talk it over with her? You could take your mother along too, and you’d all have a wonderful time.”
    Arles stared at her with black eyebrows lofted in displeasure. According to the Manual , girls never responded in this fashion. Was Sessily some kind of a little freak? He asked peevishly: “Wouldn’t you like to visit the Glass Towns of Clanctus? And the canals of Old Kharay? And don’t forget Xanarre, with the alien ruins and the floating cloud-cities.”
    “Right now I’ve simply got to visit the girls’ room. You sit here and dream away to your heart’s content.”
    “Wait one moment! I’ve decided to escort you to Parilia! What do you say to that?”
    “l say, make another decision, since I have different plans.”
    “Oh? With whom are you going?”
    “Tra-la-la! That’s my secret! I may even stay home and read a book.”
    “What! During Parilia? Sessily, I insist that you be serious!”
    “Arles, please excuse me! If I stand here and wet myself I will be very serious indeed!”
    Sessily departed, leaving Arles glowering after her. Sessily, so he noticed, did not go directly to the girls’ room, but stopped to talk to Glawen, where he sat alone. He looked up smiling and pointed to something in the book which lay open on the table. She put a hand on his shoulder and bent over to look; then she said something and went off to the girls’ room. When she emerged a few moments later she went directly to join Glawen, without so much as a glance elsewhere.
    With ostentatious displeasure Arles rose to his feet and left the refectory.
    Glawen, like many others, had also become captivated by Sessily. He liked her saucy mannerisms, her jaunty style of walking, her trick of glancing sideways with a half-smile hinting of delicious mischief. But whenever Glawen thought to talk with her it seemed that someone else came bustling up to monopolize her attention. He was therefore pleasantly surprised when she joined him at his table. “Well,