The Companions Read Free Page B

ameliorated by familial affection. Affection for Paul, familial or otherwise, had been eroding for years.
    Prior experience with similar situations suggested that Paul would soon propose to his concs, Poppy, Marigold, Salvia, and Lavender, that it would be fun to get sister Jewel involved in their games. Foreseeing this, I’d done what I could to minimize damage by putting away everything breakable during a temporary lull the night before. I’d packed an overnight bag and readied my street robe and veil by the door. An hour ago, I’d linked Shiela Alred to say that I’d be coming over to the sanctuary as soon as I could escape unnoticed.
    Shiela had said a few pointed words about people who made the same mistake a lot more than twice, which I chose to ignore. My boss, not Shiela, my real boss, Gainor Brandt, had asked me to continue living with Paul if I could bear it. Thus far I had found it bearable, barely. When Paul wasworking, as he usually was, he was civil, if arrogant, and living with him gave me a lot more breathing room than any space I could have afforded on my own. It was only during these libidinous fits of his that he took all four of the concs out of their cases, overdosed them and himself on moodsprays, and mindlessly metamorphosed into an idiot satyr, ecstatically disregarding the wreckage he was causing. Each time it happened, I prayed that someone, somewhere, would be in such desperate need of a linguist they’d overlook Paul’s extortionate fees and hire him for a long, long-term project off planet. This time it hadn’t happened, but the blind hope had persuaded me to overstay a sensible departure time. Now noises offstage indicated the culminating incident was imminent.
    â€œJooo-ell,” came a happy little voice through the door. “Come out, Jooo-ell.” This was followed by a wild giggle, then a crash, then another voice, “Jooo-ell-ee. Pow-ie wans you in on the funzies. Jooo-ell-ee.”
    Concs were a familiar sight on the podways, but none I had seen elsewhere talked like willful children. Concs had limited vocabularies, true, and their voices were quite high, but they were not prattling and manic in the way Paul’s concs inevitably were. I could only suppose that concs, who were said to be infinitely adaptable, had responded to Paul’s preference for feral childishness that could in an instant become dangerous. Now, though the wee conc voices were still nonthreatening, I knew the next step would be an assault on my door in which the concs would join wholeheartedly. Not that they had hearts. On several such occasions I’d had to call security to get me out of the apartment intact. Each time Paul had regarded this as an act of “disloyalty,” which he wasn’t quick to forgive.
    â€œJooo-ell,” Lavender cried again. “Tum tum ow-oot wif us.”
    Reason would do no good, so I resorted to duplicity. With my robe on and veil over my head, I tapped my link into ready, and spoke the code for Paul’s library, his “work”room, at the far end of our apartment. He never let a call to that link go unanswered, even when, as in this case, he had trouble remembering where it was. The summoner screeched insistently over the pattering of androgynous little feet accompanying the arrhythmic thuds of Paul caroming from wall to wall.
    When he answered, I would pretend the call was from some VIP and ask him to hold. While he did so, I’d get out through the service door by the food service core.
    I put the link to my ear and heard his strangled bellow: “Wha…Paw…Paul Delis here…”
    It took a moment to realize I’d heard it through the door, not through the link. Someone else had reached him first. I didn’t wait to find out who before grabbing my bag and scooting down the hall in the opposite direction, wondering why I hadn’t left two days ago while things were still relatively sane. It was