The trees did look thoroughly wind-tossed, so Sue murmured apologetically to Tsur Selkie and headed out to make sure she wasn’t about to donate any possessions to the lake.
"The forecast said rain, not a storm," she said, discovering not so much a bank of clouds as a solid wall rapidly approaching from the west.
And yet, this was not nearly enough to distract her from an overwhelming awareness of Tsur Selkie following her out, of an Event Horizon just behind her. The paradox of the man was how everything he did felt at the same time momentous, and yet calming. Laura kept finding herself holding her breath as she waited to see what he did next, and then relaxing in the face of his complete composure.
"There is a theory that overuse of the teleportation platforms causes meteorological side-effects," he said, making an extended survey of the western sky.
"Sounds like an excuse for when the weather people get things wrong," Sue said, then shielded her face as what felt like half a tree’s worth of leaves pelted them.
"Awesome," Julian said.
"There will be hail," Tsur Selkie said, with the quiet certainty Laura had learned to recognise from Kaoren’s Sight Sight pronouncements.
"Double awesome."
Muinan-language text appeared abruptly on Laura’s internal interface screen.
Pandora Region Alert: Strong Winds. Hail.
"Hey, did you do that?" Julian asked, turning to Tsur Selkie. "You can message the whole city?"
"Kaoren reported the storm’s severity," Tsur Selkie said. "He and the guard detail are securing the boat house."
"Speaking of which, I’m going to run home before this hits," Sue said, and was as good as her word, dashing down the path toward her house.
"Your strawberries are going to be mush, Mum," Julian said. "Let’s move the table over them."
Laura wasn’t entirely certain how much Tsur Selkie had followed of a conversation that had bounced between English and Muinan, but he moved without wasting time on questions to help them prop the formidable whitestone table over the tiered strawberry bed.
"The chairs may be best indoors," he said, with another glance at the sky.
That said something for how severe he expected the storm to be. Nanite-grown whitestone furniture had a honeycomb structure and was not nearly as heavy as natural stone, but it was still solid stuff.
"Is Mimmit inside?" Julian asked, as he brought in the last chair.
Along with immunisations, Mimmit had had a sensor installed, and so her location could be tracked via the interface. Earlier in the week cat plus storm wouldn’t have been a concern, since Mimmit had taken a firm house cat view on life as soon as the days had started to cool, but the unusually warm day had seen her out and about, probably engaged in her ongoing flirtation with Cass' two cats.
"Moving very rapidly in this direction," Laura said, after the briefest pause. She turned and stared down the path to the boat house. The world was disappearing into greenish-black gloom, but the wind had dropped, as if the storm was holding its breath.
A parti-coloured streak shot into view.
"Go Mimmit!" Julian called, and cheered as the cat hurtled between their legs and disappeared into the house.
Other movement caught Laura’s eye, a flutter in the grass, and for a moment she mistook it for another cat. But then it repeated, again and again, and something struck the repositioned table and shattered.
Laura sent the command to close the door, and shook her head in faint wonder as the slope was replaced by a popcorn-hopping cascade of chunky balls of ice.
"Wicked," Jules said reverently.
"The islands are a useful location," Tsur Selkie said, watching the scene with an analytical air. "But comparatively exposed."
Laura’s response was forestalled by a text from her sister.
Sue: Not quite a cabin in a snowstorm but it’ll do in a pinch. Ask him to dinner.
Laura: Just he and I, a roaring fire, and my teenaged son? Nice story you’re writing, Sue.
Even so, she turned to the man beside her, refused to be distracted by the interesting combination of strength and delicacy in his profile, and said:
"It certainly isn’t weather for travel. Would you like to stay for dinner, Tsur Selkie?"
Chapter Five
It took the full measure of Laura’s fortitude to stand shoulder to shoulder with a Pocket Event Horizon as he turned his head and looked directly into her eyes. His expression didn’t change: he simply stood there, holding her gaze for far longer than was necessary.
Sue was right. Sue was very very right.
"Mum! Come see! The pool’s turned into a giant slushie!"
Laura couldn’t help but laugh, just a little, and won a flicker of a smile in response.
"I would be glad to," the Event Horizon said. "If you would call me Gidds."
"And you can call me Laura," she responded, and found it quite easy to say, nerves dropping away. An unspoken acknowledgement had been made, and everything seemed uncomplicated. He was attracted to her. She was attracted to him. They would have dinner.
"Winter here is going to rock."
They would have dinner with her teenaged son. Entertained, Laura went to look at her hail-filled pool.
"When it snows I’m going to sled all the way down the slope into the lake," Julian informed her.
"I’m sure there’s a reason why that would be fun," Laura said.
"Well, it would be if I went down on a big inner-tube…though getting out of the lake might be a bit rough. Here comes the rain."
Rain was an inadequate word. Sheets. Vertical flood rapidly becoming horizontal flood. They watched in appreciative silence.
"Living on top of a hill in the middle of a lake certainly tends to the dramatic," Laura said eventually. "Did you take a land grant in the islands as well, Gidds?"
"I haven’t yet been released for Muinan emigration," he said. "Even though I spend the majority of my time here. But after my daughters transfer to Pandora Shore, they plan to view all the possibilities of Muina before deciding how my grant is to be used."
"Are they starting soon?" Pandora Shore was the special Setari-linked school that Laura’s grandchildren attended.
"After the Thanksgiving Ceremony." He glanced at her, then added: "I return to Tare tomorrow to make the final arrangements."
"How long will it take you to finish this report thing?" Julian asked.
"As much as possible I prepare reports as I go along—else I would never keep pace. I can’t predict how long it will take for a decision to be made, since there’s a great deal of disagreement on the political side, but my part is done."
Laura processed this very deliberate communication, then carefully corralled her scattering thoughts. More practicality, less palpitations. Dinner.
"Is there anything you prefer not to eat, Gidds?"
"I avoid non-cultured meats."
Julian’s eyes went wide. "Is that because if you eat animal flesh you can feel what the animal felt when it died?"
"It’s possible," Gidds said, unfazed by the question. "Or, occasionally, impressions of an animal’s life. Vat-grown meats don’t come with such complications."
"Cheese would be okay, right? We can have fondue. I’ll make the goop, Mum. You never do it stringy enough."
Julian was an excellent cook so long as it involved cheese, for which he had an inexhaustible enthusiasm. Nothing had delighted him more than confirming that the Taren dish nymoz was indeed indistinguishable from fondue, even if the milk was vat-cultured.