The others in the room were murmuring now, and it sounded to Athor like murmurs of agreement. By the gods, was the whole department turning against him? Athor’s expression became that of one who found his mouth full of something bitter and couldn’t get rid of it.
“Let you remain with us so that you’ll be better able to ridicule us tomorrow? You must think I’m far gone in senility, young man!”
Theremon said, “But I’ve explained that my being here won’t make any difference. If there is an eclipse, if Darkness does come, you can expect nothing but the most reverent treatment from me, and all the help I can give in any crisis that might follow. And if nothing unusual happens after all, I’m willing to offer my services in the hope of protecting you, Dr. Athor, against the wrath of the angry citizens who—”
“Please,” a new voice said. “Let him stay, Dr. Athor.”
Athor looked around. Siferra had come in, unnoticed by him.
“I’m sorry I’m late. We had a little last-minute problem at the Archaeology office that upset things a little, and—” She and Theremon exchanged glances. To Athor she said, “Please don’t be offended. I know how cruelly he’s mocked us. But I asked him to come here this evening, so that he could find out at first hand that we really were right. He’s—my guest, Doctor.”
Athor closed his eyes a moment. Siferra’s guest! It was too much. Why not invite Folimun too? Why not invite Mondior!
But he had lost his appetite for further dispute. Time was running short. And obviously none of the others minded having Theremon here during the eclipse.
What did it matter?
What did anything matter now?
Resignedly Athor said, “All right. Stay, if that’s what you want. But you will kindly refrain from hampering us in our duties in any fashion. Understood? You’ll keep out of the way as much as possible. You will also remember that I am in charge of all activities here, and in spite of your opinions as expressed in your columns, I will expect full cooperation and full respect—”
21
Siferra crossed the room to Theremon’s side and said quietly, “I didn’t seriously expect you to come here this evening.”
“Why not? The invitation was serious, wasn’t it?”
“Of course. But you were so savage in your mockery, in all those columns you wrote about us—so cruel—”
“ ‘Irresponsible’ is the word you used,” Theremon said.
She reddened. “That too. I didn’t imagine you’d be able to look Athor in the eye after all those horrid things you said about him.”
“I’ll do more than look him in the eye, if it turns out that his dire predictions were on the mark. I’ll go down on both knees before him and humbly beg his pardon.”
“And if his predictions turn out not to have been on the mark?”
“Then he’ll need me.” Theremon said. “You all will. This is the right place for me to be, this evening.”
Siferra gave the newspaperman a startled glance. He was always saying the unexpected thing. She hadn’t managed to figure him out yet. She disliked him, of course—that went without saying. Everything about him—his profession, his manner of speaking, the flashy clothes he usually wore—struck her as tawdry and commonplace. His entire persona was a symbol, to her, of the crude, crass, dreary, ordinary, repellent world beyond the university walls that she had always detested.
And yet, and yet, and yet—
There were aspects of this Theremon that had managed to win her grudging admiration, despite everything. He was tough, for one thing, absolutely unswervable in his pursuit of whatever he might be after. She could appreciate that. He was straightforward, even blunt: quite a contrast to the slippery, manipulative, power-chasing academic types who swarmed all around her on the campus. He was intelligent, too, no question about that, even though he had chosen to devote his particular brand of sinewy, probing intelligence to a trivial, meaningless field like newspaper journalism. And she respected his robust physical vigor: he was tall and sturdy-looking and in obvious good health. Siferra had never had much esteem for weaklings. She had taken good care not to be one herself.
In truth she realized—improbable as it was, uncomfortable as it made her feel—that in some way she was attracted to him. An attraction of opposites? she thought. Yes, yes, that was an accurate way of putting it. But not entirely. Beneath the surface dissimilarities, Siferra knew, she had more in common with Theremon than she was willing to admit.
She looked uneasily toward the window. “Getting dark out there,” she said. “Darker than I’ve ever seen it before.”
“Frightened?” Theremon asked.
“Of the Darkness? No, not really. But I’m frightened of what’s going to come after it. You should be too.”
“What’s going to come after it,” he said, “is Onos-rise, and I suppose some of the other suns will be shining too, and everything’s going to be as it was before.”
“You sound very confident of that.”
Theremon laughed. “Onos has risen every morning of my life. Why shouldn’t I be confident it’ll rise tomorrow?”
Siferra shook her head. He was beginning to annoy her again with his pigheadedness. Hard to believe that she had been telling herself only moments before that she found him attractive.
She said coolly, “Onos will rise tomorrow. And will look down on such a scene of devastation as a person of your limited imagination is evidently incapable of anticipating.”
“Everything on fire, you mean? And everyone walking around drooling and gibbering while the city burns?”
“The archaeological evidence indicates—”
“Fires, yes. Repeated holocausts. But only in one small site, thousands of miles from here and thousands of years ago.” Theremon’s eyes flashed with sudden vitality. “And where’s your archaeological evidence for outbreaks of mass insanity? Are you extrapolating from all those fires? How can you be sure that those weren’t purely ritual fires, lit by perfectly sane men and women in the hope that they would bring back the suns and banish the Darkness? Fire which got out of hand each time and caused widespread damage, sure, but which were in no way related to any mental impairment on the part of the population?”
She gazed at him levelly. “There’s archaeological evidence of that too. The widespread mental impairment, I mean.”
“There is?”
“The tablet texts. Which only this morning we just finished keying in against the philological data provided by the Apostles of Flame—”
Theremon guffawed. “The Apostles of Flame! Wonderful! So you’re an Apostle too! What a shame, Siferra. A woman with a figure like yours, and from now on you’ll have to muffle yourself up in one of those terrible shapeless bulky robes of theirs—”
“Oh!” she cried, stifling a red burst of anger and loathing. “You don’t know how to do anything but mock, do you? You’re so convinced of your own righteousness that even when you’re staring right at the truth all you can do is make some pitiful joke! Oh—you—you impossible man—”
She swung around and headed swiftly across the room.
“Siferra—Siferra, wait—”
She ignored him. Her heart was pounding in rage. She saw now that it had been a terrible mistake to invite someone like Theremon to be here on the evening of the eclipse. A mistake, in fact, ever to have had anything to do with him.
It was Beenay’s fault, she thought. Everything was Beenay’s fault.
It was Beenay, after all, who had introduced her to Theremon, one day at the Faculty Club many months before. Apparently the newspaperman and the young astronomer had known each other a long time and Theremon regularly consulted Beenay on scientific matters that were making news.