The Dark Lady

whenever and wherever they may encounter me, and my name will be removed from the Book of the Family.”
    “You might be wrong,” said Heath. “If she was truly cutting you loose, she wouldn't have bothered sending anything at all.”
    “That would have been preferable,” I said.
    “I don't understand.”
    “The climax of Acceptance Day is the feast,” I explained, my hue fluctuating wildly as I attempted to regain control of my emotions.
    “That's why I think you're mistaken,” replied Heath. “This thing couldn't have been sent for your Acceptance Day. Bjornns are vegetarians.”
    “This is my Pattern Mother's way of telling me that I am not only disgraced, but that I am no longer even a Bjornn.”
    “What does she think you are?” he asked, staring at the rodent.
    “An eater of flesh.”
    “An eater of flesh?” he repeated curiously.
    “A Man,” I said.

21.
    Vladimir Kobrynski did not look like the popular conception of a daredevil.
    His tanned face was heavily lined, his hair was thin and receding, his nose was oversized, he was missing a portion of his left earlobe, and his teeth were crooked and miscolored. Though naturally burly and muscular, he nonetheless carried about twenty-five excess pounds, and his belly hung over his belt. The color of his arms didn't match: The right one was brown from exposure to the suns of many worlds, while the left one was quite pale, leading me to conclude that it was artificial. He walked, not with a limp, but with a certain stiffness, as if an old injury was constantly bothering him.
    It had taken us fifty-three hours to reach Solitaire, and another half hour to pinpoint Kobrynski's location, for the planet was heavily pockmarked with mountains and craters. He had erected a portocabin at the base of an extinct volcano, and Heath, after alerting him to our presence and identifying ourselves via ship-to-surface radio, had carefully maneuvered our ship down next to his.
    He was waiting for us when we emerged from the hatch, an expression of open curiosity on his face.
    “You're Heath?” he said, staring at Valentine.
    “That's right.”
    “Welcome to Solitaire. I'm always grateful for company.” He turned to me. “You must be Leonardo. Funny name for an alien.”
    “I am sorry if it offends you,” I said.
    “It takes a lot more than that to offend me,” he replied easily. Then he paused, looking from one of us to the other. “Okay,” he said at last. “I know you're not from Saltmarsh, and I know I've never met either of you before— so suppose you tell me what you're doing here and why I've suddenly become so popular.” He smiled. “I'm not enough of an egomaniac to think it's because you want to see my plasma paintings.”
    “You make it sound like we're not your only visitors,” said Heath carefully.
    “I got a radio message from someone named Venzia,” answered Kobrynski. “He ought to be here in a couple of hours. All of a sudden everyone wants to talk to me. Why?”
    “Venzia?” repeated Heath, puzzled. “How could he have caught up with us so quickly?”
    It was Kobrynski's turn to look puzzled. “You guys were having a race to see who could reach me first?”
    “In a manner of speaking,” replied Heath.
    “Why?”
    “Because we think that you're a very important man, Mr. Kobrynski,” said Heath, “and we have some questions we'd like to ask you.”
    “Why am I so important?”
    “That's one of the things we'd like to speak to you about,” said Heath.
    Kobrynski shrugged. “Why not? I've got nothing to hide.” He paused. “It's too hot out here. Come on into the cabin.” He turned to me. “You, too.”
    We followed him into the portocabin, a large structure that was filled with numerous very sophisticated computers, as well as various other machines that I could not identify. Mounted on the walls were several animal heads, each more fearsome than the last.
    “Very impressive,” said Heath.
    “The equipment or the animals?” asked Kobrynski.
    “Both,” said Heath. He pointed to one of the heads, a hideous, snarling reptile with six-inch fangs. “Isn't that a Thunder Lizard? I think I saw one once in a zoo on Lodin XI.”
    Kobrynski nodded. “It's a Thunder Lizard, all right— but you must have seen it in a museum. They've never been able to capture one alive.”
    “Where do they come from?” I asked.
    “Gamma Scuti IV.”
    “Thunder Lizards look very savage,” I observed.
    “They are,” agreed