Gordon R. Dickson by Wolfling Page B

warningly.
    “I’m sorry,” said Jim, looking steadily at the taller man. “The explanation doesn’t concern me—it concerns the Emperor. So I’m not going to give it to you. And you’re not going to force me to give it. In the first place, you can’t. And in the second place, it would be impolitic of you to try, since you’re the one who’s sponsoring me for adoption.”
    Slothiel stood perfectly still.
    “Believe me,” said Jim, this time persuasively, “if I was free to answer you, I would. Let me make you a promise. If by the time the party is over you haven’t had an assurance either from the Emperor or from Vhotan that I had good reason not to tell you, then I’ll answer any question you have about the whole thing. All right?”
    For a long second longer Slothiel remained rigid, his eyes burning down at Jim. Then, abruptly, the tension leaked out of him, and he smiled his old, lazy smile.
    “You know, you have me there, Jim,” he drawled. “I can hardly forcibly question the very lesser human I’m sponsoring for adoption, can I? Particularly since it would be impossible to keep the fact quiet. You’ll make a good man at wagering for points, if by some freak chance you ever should happen to get adopted, Jim. All right, keep your secret—for now.”
    He disappeared.
    “Jim,” said Ro, “I worry about you.”
    For some reason, the words rang with unusual importance in his mind. He looked about at her sharply and saw why they had. She was looking at him with concern, but it was a different sort of concern from that which she lavished on all her pets and which she had heretofore lavished on him. And the tone of her voice had conveyed a difference to match.
    He was suddenly, unexpectedly, and deeply touched. No one, man or woman, had worried about him for a very very long time.
    “Can’t you at least tell me why you say Galyan’s suggesting the party because Melness is a very clever man?” Ro asked. “It sounds as if you’re saying that there’s some connection between Galyan and Melness. But that can’t be between a Highborn and one of the lesser races.”
    “How about you and me,” said Jim, remembering that new note in her voice.
    She blushed, but this, as he had come to learn, did not mean as much with her as it might have with another woman.
    “I’m different!” she said. “But Galyan isn’t. He’s one of the highest of Highborn. Not just by birth—by attitude, too.”
    “But he’s always made it a point to make a good deal of use of men of the lesser races.”
    “That’s true… .” She became thoughtful. Then she looked back up at him. “But you still haven’t explained… .”
    “There’s nothing much to explain,” said Jim, “except for that part that I say is really a matter belonging to the Emperor rather than to me. I said what I did about Melness being a clever man because men can make mistakes out of their own cleverness, as well as out of foolishness. They can try too hard to cover something up. In Melness’ case, when Adok first took me to meet him, Melness went to a great deal of trouble to make it look as if he resented my being placed under his responsibility.”
    Ro frowned.
    “But why should he resent …”
    “There could be a number of reasons, of course,” said Jim. “For one—and the easiest answer—the fact that he resented a Wolfling like myself being sponsored for adoption when a man like him stands no chance of such sponsorship, just because he is so useful in his capacity as a servant. But, by the same token, Melness should have been too clever to let me know that resentment, particularly when there was a possibility that I might end up as a Highborn myself, in a position to resent him in return.”
    “Then why did he do it?” asked Ro.
    “Possibly because he thought I might be a spy sent by the Highborn to investigate the world of servants,” said Jim, “and he wanted to set up a reason for harassing or observing me while I was