Sometimes even when I returned to the same angle the crystal would look different than it had before.
But the most enigmatic part of all was the way the calix hummed at me.
It was a day before I even noticed the sound, and two more before I finally figured out that what it was doing was resonating to the sound of my voice.
Like everything else about the sculpture, it never seemed to react quite the same way twice, though I spent a good two hours at one point talking, humming, and singing as I tried to pin down a pattern. If there was one there, I never found it.
I reached Zurich, explained my delay to Convocant Sutherlan, filed my report, and sat back to wait for the inevitable flurry of attention that the discovery of a new verloren culture would surely stir up.
The inevitable didn't happen. Oh, there was a ripple of interest from the academic community, and a couple of government-endorsed artists stopped by to look briefly and condescendingly at the calix. But for the most part the Supreme Convocation could only come up with the political equivalent of a distracted pat on the head. With the Pindorshi situation still dominating the firstlines in the newspages, the Convocants were apparently not interested in anything so mundane as a long-lost human colony.
I can't tell you how frustrating it was, at least at first. This was, after all, probably the only shot I would ever have at interstellar fame. But gradually began to realize that all this official indifference was probably for the best.
The alternative would have meant a horde of Convocant aides and factfinders descending like locusts on Quibsh; and having worked with some of those aides, that wasn't something I would wish on anyone. Particularly not the friendly, naive people of Tawni's village.
So I did my best to philosophically put it behind me, decided to concentrate instead on finding a way to get back to Quibsh some day soon, and settled back to endure the remainder of my appointment.
Until the day, two weeks later, when Convocant Lantis Devaro came into the office.
The newspages painted Sutherlan as an elder statesman, and they lied. They painted Devaro as an aspiring future leader, and lied again, only in the opposite direction. To say Devaro was aspiring was like saying a Siltech Brahma bulldozer can push dirt around. Devaro was a charismatic man; clever, powerful, and almost pathologically ambitious. Rumor was that his ultimate goal was to challenge the blood-line tradition of the Dynad long enough to claim one of the two seats for himself, something that had never happened in two centuries of Dynad rule. The private backrooms consensus was that he had an even-money chance of making it.
I don't know what exactly he came to Sutherlan's office for that day. In hindsight, though, it was obviously just a pretext anyway. Even as he announced himself at the outer receptionist's station his eyes were surveying the aide room; and when he emerged from Sutherlan's private offices ten minutes later, he crossed directly to my desk.
"So," he said as I scrambled to my feet, "you're the one."
"Sir?" I asked, not entirely sure what he meant and not daring to make any assumptions.
"The young man who discovered that new verloren group," he amplified. "Good work, that and excellent follow-up."
"Thank you, sir," I said, trying not to stutter. Praise for underlings was almost unheard of in Convocant Sutherlan's office.
"You're quite welcome." Devaro nodded toward the calix, sitting on a corner of my desk where I placed it every morning when I came in. "I take it that's the sculpture you brought back?"
"Yes, sir," I said. "It's called a calix. Uh... would you like...?"
"Thank you," he said, crossing around behind the desk. Sliding a hand beneath the calix—he was wearing informal daytime gloves, I noticed—he picked it up.
For a long moment he gazed at and into it. I stood silently, fighting the urge to plead with him to be careful. He turned it around one way and then the other, then set it back on its stand. "Interesting," he said, turning to me again.
"Your report said the Kailth accept these as part of the verlorens' tribute."
"According to Tawni, it's all they take," I told him, breathing a little easier now that the calix was safe. "They must like art."
"Yes," he murmured, gazing at me with a thoughtful intensity that made me feel distinctly uncomfortable. "Interesting. Well, good day."
"Good day, Convocant Devaro," I said.
I watched him stride out, feeling the other aides' looks of envy on the back of my neck as I basked in the warm glow of triumph, small though it might be.
Finally, someone in authority who'd actually noted and appreciated what I'd done.
The warm glow lasted the rest of the day, through the evening, and right up until I opened my eyes the next morning.
To find the calix gone from my night table. There were four separate reception stations along the approach to Devaro's inner offices. I strode past all four of them without stopping, to the consternation of the various receptionists, and was about two steps ahead of Convocation Security when I shoved open the ornate doors and stomped into Devaro's presence.
"Ah—there you are," he said before I could even get a word out. "Come in; I've been expecting you."
"Where is it?" I demanded, starting toward him.
"It's perfectly safe," he assured me, his eyes shifting to a spot over my shoulder. "No, it's all right—let him be. And leave us."
I looked behind me, to see two guards reluctantly lower their tranglers and back out of the room. "Now," Devaro said as they closed the doors. "You seem upset."
"You had my calix stolen from my apartment," I said, turning back to glare at him. "Don't try to deny it."
His eyebrows lifted slightly, as if denial was the furthest thing from his mind.
"I had it borrowed," he corrected. "I wanted to run a few tests on it, and that seemed the quietest way to go about it."
My heart momentarily seized up. "What kind of tests? What are you doing to it?"
"It's perfectly safe," Devaro said again, standing up. From across the office a
door opened and two white-jacketed women stepped into the room. "Don't worry, we'll return it to you soon. While we're waiting, we'd like to run some tests on you."
"What sort of tests?" I asked, eying the doctors warily.
"Painless ones, I assure you," Devaro said, crossing to me and taking my arm in a friendly but compelling grip. "You'll need to sign some forms first—the doctors will show you."
"But I'm supposed to be working," I protested as he led me over to the door where the doctors waited. "Convocant Sutherlan is expecting me to be at my desk—"
"I've already taken care of Convocant Sutherlan," Devaro said. "Come, now.
You won't feel a thing." I didn't, but that was probably only because the first thing they did when we got to the examination room was put me to sleep.
I woke to find myself lying on a rolltable moving down a deserted corridor.
There was an empty growling in my stomach, an unpleasant tingling in my fingertips and forehead, and a strange difficulty in focusing my eyes. One of the two doctors was riding along with me, watching my face as I came to, and considered asking her where we were going. But I didn't feel like talking, and anyway her expression didn't encourage questions.
A few minutes later we passed through a door and I found myself back in Devaro's office. The Convocant was sitting in his chair, feet propped up informally, gazing at his desk display. "Ah—there you are," he said as the rolltable crossed to him. "That will be all, Doctor."
"Yes, sir," she said, waiting until the rolltable had come to a halt beside the desk before stepping off and disappearing back through the door.
"It's been a long day," Devaro commented. "How are you feeling?"