It was quite a change for a man who had virtually said he didn’t really care about the money—but Magnus noted the undercurrent of emotion that confirmed his disregard for the family fortune. Above it rode the thought that, by putting matters on a business footing, he would be shielded from personal demands.
Magnus did not disabuse him of the notion; he merely said to the Countess, “That would seem appropriate.”
“Quite.” She was poised, but there was anticipation in her eyes. “Surely we need not wait for your father’s death in order to see you again, Roger.”
“Not at all, Matilda—you are perfectly free to meet me here in Cambridge at any time; you know you will be welcome,” the professor assured her. “As to this summer—well, I am committed to a graduate seminar, but perhaps I could visit during the short vacation in August.”
“That would be delightful,” the Countess said. The slightest of smiles showed at the corners of her lips.
“I shall have to discuss it with my chairman, of course,” Roger said carefully, “but there is at least the possibility.”
Magnus noted that neither of them had said anything specific about how much stock the professor could look forward to receiving. It really didn’t matter to them, after all.
And when the closing amenities had been exchanged and the professor’s image had disappeared from above the black square, Matilda turned to Magnus, her face suffused with joy. “However did you manage that, young man?”
Magnus decided that she didn’t really want to know.
I have observed, Magnus, Fess’s voice said. Are you certain your action was ethical?
Resolving a family dispute, and reconciling a stepmother and stepson? Setting a man on the road to freeing himself from the fear of intimacy that has stunted his personal growth all his adult life? Certainly an ethical deed, Fess!
About the means, though, Magnus wasn’t quite so certain. He had given his cousin emotional assurances that he wasn’t sure were true. Moreover, he had altered the thoughts and emotions of a man who was not an enemy, without his knowledge or consent—and that definitely was unethical, so he did feel rather guilty. Not too much so, though—he had adjusted a neurosis, and had left the man better than he had found him. Besides, he could always plead necessity.
Then too, Roger had been evading his responsibility—and family was family.
“It was amazing!” Countess Matilda was flushed with excitement, sitting by the Count’s bed and talking to the whole family. “Nephew Magnus spoke very quietly and reasonably, even sympathetically—and Roger saw his point at once!”
Pelisse stared. “You mean he didn’t lose his temper?”
The Countess colored. “No, and I did not even have to speak sharply with him! Really, your Cousin Magnus is most persuasive!”
“It is primarily a matter of seeing an equitable solution that is beneficial to all parties.” Magnus felt rather uncomfortable under such effusive praise, especially since he knew just how he had done what he had done. “And, of course, such a solution is more easily seen by one who is external to the situation.”
“But I hope you will not feel that you are outside the family!” Pelisse turned a beaming face upon him—and Magnus felt a surge of the selfsame alarm he had felt in Cousin Roger. The tendrils of demand were already reaching out for him, with no compensating benefits. “I will, of course, delight in my name, and my background,” he lied. “I am honored to have helped in resolving your problems with the succession—and to know that you can manage quite well without me.”
A look of triumph lit Robert’s face, but Pelisse was startled, and the Countess was suddenly pensive. “Surely you do not intend to leave us so soon, young man!”
“I fear I must.” Magnus inclined his head politely. “I have limited time to learn of my background, and have many more courses to run. For example, I believe I will accept Cousin Roger’s invitation, so that I may see something of Terra, the source of us all.”
“Laudable.” The Countess couldn’t really object, if he was visiting family—and reinforcing the miracle he had just worked on Roger. “Surely you will visit us soon after, though?”
“I look forward to the event,” Magnus assured her. Indeed, he could look forward to it so well that he didn’t intend to let it happen. “Since I must depart today, I am glad to have been of some slight service to you.”
“Today!” Pelisse cried; and, “No, really!” the Countess said.
But the Count nodded gravely, and only said, “You must allow us to express our gratitude in some way, young man.”
“I have scarcely made a fitting return to your hospitality,” Magnus objected.
A trace of guilt flitted across Matilda’s face, and Pelisse lowered her eyes; they were shamed, for they knew just how insincere their hospitality had been. So did the Count. “You must, at least, have some token from the family, some talisman that will remind you of your roots, and of our gratitude!” He turned to his wife. “My dear, see that the young man is given one of our latest TLC robots, with a selection of bodies and a yacht to house them.”
Matilda nodded, but Magnus stared in alarm, feeling the shadow of obligation. “Surely that is far too generous, Uncle!”
“You underestimate the service you have done us,” the Count said, but Magnus could not help feeling the emotion that fairly blasted from the man—his shame and embarrassment, for he knew very well how they had sought to exploit their guest.
Magnus realized that if he did not accept the gift, they would find ways to keep after him, insisting on expiating their guilt—but if he accepted this token, they would be able to relax and forget him.
“Besides,” the Count said, “you have told us that you have old Fess and your father’s ship, which leaves him devoid of transportation, should he wish to visit us—and even devoid of communication! No, no, we must be able to congratulate him on his hard-won rank, and to thank him for your visit! You really must accept a robot of your own, Nephew!”
Magnus stilled. It was an alluring prospect, having a robot that had not served five hundred years of his ancestors before him—having a companion that he had won himself, no matter how badly overpaid he might be.
And after all, what else did the d’Armands have to offer that was really of them?
Magnus, Fess’s voice said, your father has given me to you, and made you my owner.
But there is merit in what he says, Magnus thought back, and I would feel forever guilty if I deprived Father of you for the rest of his life—especially when an alternative is available.
He was rather hurt that Fess didn’t try to argue him out of it.
CHAPTER 5
Ian stepped through, and the panel hissed behind him. He turned, to find only the blank stony surface of the Egg, pitted and rain-washed. He could see no seam. It looked for all the world like a great gray stone again. He turned away, shaking his head and marveling.
Then he remembered that he was out in the open once more, and that the keeper, or even soldiers, might still be looking for him.
He ran quickly and lightly to the cover of the nearby woods, trying to move as quietly as he could. He threaded his way between the trees, looking for a path. He found none, but finally saw a glint in the night and heard the warbling of water swirling. He pushed through the underbrush and found a small stream, sparkling in the moonlight and babbling to itself like an idiot. He was thirsty; he dropped his staff, went down on his hands and knees, and drank.