The Dark Lady

answer. I don't know about you, but I'm going out for a walk.” He paused at the door. “Are you sure you won't come along?”
    “I am sure,” I replied. “The paths are very slippery, and I am not well coordinated.”
    “So what?” he said. “Neither am I.”
    “You are very graceful,” I said.
    He snorted contemptuously. “You always wanted to be an artist. Well, I always wanted to be a cat burglar, dressed in black, climbing up the sides of buildings and sneaking into milady's boudoir to steal her jewels.” He smiled wryly. “The one time I tried I slipped off a roof, fell onto a balcony, and broke my leg in three places.” He shrugged. “So much for graceful— and so much for the romantic life of a cat burglar.” He opened the door, and a blast of cold air blew past him. “If I'm not back in an hour, call the authorities and tell them to start looking for my frozen corpse. I'd like a modest funeral: four or five hundred floral wreaths, video coverage, nothing special. And don't tell my family— Heaths die in bed, not falling down mountains.”
    “I will observe your wishes,” I said.
    He grimaced.
    “That was a joke, Leonardo.”
    “Oh.”
    He muttered something that the wind drowned out, and then closed the door behind him.
    I waited for a moment, then walked to the desk in the living room and pulled out my stylus and stationery, intent upon finishing the letter I had begun writing earlier in the day.
    My Revered Pattern Mother:
    Yes, you were right. I have indeed become contaminated by my association with Men. I do not deny it... though I am certain that if you would relent and just consent to speak to me, I could explain how the present situation came to pass.
    Tai Chong has assured me that I am in no trouble with the human authorities. Although I was an unwitting participant, I neither initiated nor contributed to the theft of the art objects on Charlemagne nor the kidnapping of the Dark Lady. Once I realized what Valentine Heath's intentions were, I did everything within my power to dissuade him. Such is the Rule of Honor; I live by the Rule of Honor.
    And yet you tell me that my contamination is such that it cannot be expiated, and that I may not return to Benitarus II. You are my Pattern Mother, and your voice is one with the House of Crsthionn, so I must obey you.
    Please know, though, that while my conduct has dishonored the House, I shall nonetheless try to comport myself in a manner that will bring no further discredit upon the race of Bjornn during the few months that remain before my contract with the Claiborne Galleries has been fulfilled.
    And yet, I have a terrible premonition that this will not be the simple task that, in my ignorance, I thought it would be when I first left the House. It seems like I have been abroad in the galaxy for a century, though in fact it has been little more than five Galactic Standard months. And the more I associate with Men, the less I understand them.
    Tai Chong, for instance, has been in every way a surrogate Pattern Mother to me. She is always considerate of my needs and thoughtful of my comfort, and constantly urges me to follow the moral dictates of my conscience. Yet I have come to believe that she knows full well that some of the paintings she purchases and resells have been illegally obtained, and she neither reports the transgressors to the authorities nor cancels the transactions. Hector Rayburn has always behaved in a cordial manner, yet he assumes that the eventual termination of his employment contract is a foregone conclusion, and the fact seems to amuse rather than horrify him. Valentine Heath is quite the most charming Man I have ever met, and at the same time I cannot conceive of a crime that he would not be willing to perpetrate. Malcolm Abercrombie donates millions of credits to charity, and yet, unbelievably, he has totally rejected the responsibilities of House and Family.
    How am I to understand these strange beings, Pattern Mother? How can I purify myself when I must remain constantly in their company? At a time when I need your guidance most, it has been denied to me.
    The only course open to me in my situation is ritual suicide, and yet that is the one act explicitly denied me by your insistence that I fulfill the contract between the House of Crsthionn and the Claiborne Galleries. Thus, cast out and isolated from all that I hold dear, I must make my way alone among this almost incomprehensible race in whose company I