A Song for Lya by George R. R. Martin Page B

lasted, wasn't it?"
    “Right,” Gourlay said. “He didn't like the planet, took a quick demotion to assistant administrator someplace else. I didn't care much, to tell the truth. He was the nervous type, always giving orders to prove who was boss."
    “And Valcarenghi?” I asked.
    Gourlay made a smile look like a yawn. “Dino? Dino's OK, the best of the lot. He's good, knows he's good. He's only been here two months, but he's gotten a lot done, and he's made a lot of friends. He treats the staff like people, calls everybody by his first name, all that stuff. People like that."
    I was reading, and I read sincerity. It was Valcarenghi that Gourlay was affectionate toward, then. He believed what he was saying.
    I had more questions, but I didn't get to ask them. Gourlay got up suddenly. “I really shouldn't stay,” he said. “You want to rest, right? Come up to the top in about two hours and we'll go over things with you. You know where the tube is?"
    We nodded, and Gourlay left. I turned to Lyanna. “What do you think?"
    She lay back on the bed and considered the ceiling. “I don't know,” she said. “I wasn't reading. I wonder why they've had so many administrators. And why they wanted us."
    “We're Talented,” I said, smiling. With the capital, yes. Lyanna and I have been tested and registered as psi Talents, and we have the licenses to prove it.
    “Uh-huh,” she said, turning on her side and smiling back at me. Not her vampire half-smile this time. Her sexy little girl smile.
    “Valcarenghi wants us to get some rest,” I said. “It's probably not a bad idea."
    Lya bounced out of bed. “OK,” she said, “but these twins have got to go."
    “We could push them together."
    She smiled again. We pushed them together.
    And we did get some sleep. Eventually.
    Our luggage was outside the door when we woke. We changed into fresh clothes, old casual stuff, counting on Valcarenghi's notorious lack of pomp. The tube took us to the top of the Tower.
    The office of the planetary administrator was hardly an office. There was no desk, none of the usual trappings. Just a bar and lush blue carpets that swallowed us ankle high, and six or seven scattered chairs. Plus lots of space and sunlight, with Shkea laid out at our feet beyond the tinted glass. All four walls this time.
    Valcarenghi and Gourlay were waiting for us, and Valcarenghi did the bartending chores personally. I didn't recognize the beverage, but it was cool and spicy and aromatic, with a real sting to it. I sipped it gratefully. For some reason I felt I needed a lift.
    “Shkeen wine,” Valcarenghi said, smiling, in answer to an unasked question. “They've got a name for it, but I can't pronounce it yet. But give me time. I've only been here two months, and the language is rough."
    “You're learning Shkeen?” Lya asked, surprised. I knew why. Shkeen is rough on human tongues, but the natives learned Terran with stunning ease. Most people accepted that happily, and just forgot about the difficulties of cracking the alien language.
    “It gives me an insight into the way they think,” Valcarenghi said. “At least that's the theory.” He smiled.
    I read him again, although it was more difficult. Physical contact makes things sharper. Again, I got a simple emotion, close to the surface—pride this time. With pleasure mixed in. I chalked that up to the wine. Nothing beneath.
    “However you pronounce the drink, I like it,” I said.
    “The Shkeen produce a wide variety of liquors and food-stuffs,” Gourlay put in. “We've cleared many for export already, and we're checking others. Market should be good."
    “You'll have a chance to sample more of the local produce this evening,” Valcarenghi said. “I've set up a tour of the city, with a stop or two in Shkeentown. For a settlement of our size, our night life is fairly interesting. I'll be your guide."
    “Sounds good,” I said. Lya was smiling too. A tour was unusually considerate. Most Normals feel