The females, for their part, returned fertilised to their lairs in the shola tress, where they would lay their eggs and hibernate for the winter. In spring their young would be born and take wing in another, though lesser, display of alien biological wonder.
We drank our beers and watched the female spindizzies pass overhead in small groups.
There was a murmur of comment in the crowd behind us, and we turned to see Matt moving through the parting press towards us. He was accompanied by Chandranath, the director of the exhibition centre, and◦– I was surprised to see◦– none other than Darius Dortmund.
The off-worlder wore the same white suit as the other day, and in the fading twilight he seemed even paler than the first time we met.
Dortmund bent towards Matt to say something as they approached, and Matt was scowling at the off-worlder’s remarks.
I did not notice the fourth member of their group until they were almost upon us. She was walking in their wake, a slim blonde woman I judged to be in her late thirties, elfin and smiling. I thought at first that she was a native Ashentay, and that she was partnering Dortmund, an idea I found disconcerting.
They joined us and a waiter dispensed drinks. Chandranath introduced Dortmund, redundantly, as we’d all made his acquaintance, and then the woman, who I now saw was not alien.
“Lieutenant van Harben of the Mackinley Police Department,” Chandranath said.
We exchanged handshakes and small talk, and I found myself standing next to van Harben at the rail while the others discussed art-related topics amongst themselves.
She smiled up at me, playing with the stem of her wine glass. Her eyes were startlingly green. “I read about you and your friends before I came to Chalcedony,” she said. Her voice was soft, tinged with an accent I judged to be Northern European.
I smiled. “Don’t believe everything you read,” I quipped. A lot had been reported about how Matt, Maddie, Hawk and I had stumbled on the secret of the Yall, not a quarter of it accurate.
“I didn’t,” she said. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you in the flesh.”
I gestured towards Dortmund, who was pontificating on some subject in his characteristic manner: that is, speaking but not visually addressing his audience. He was gazing out to sea at the female spindizzies drifting inland.
“Did you come to Chalcedony with Dortmund?” I asked. It was the most diplomatic way I could think of ascertaining whether or not they were together.
She stabbed a glance at the off-worlder, saying, “That… man? No. No, of course not. I came here six months ago to take up the post of Lieutenant with the Mackinley Police Department.”
I nodded, sipping my drink to hide my reaction: I had that involuntary, sexist male response of surprise when I encountered a woman in an unexpected role. Call me ignorant, but my image of Detective Inspectors was of burly, middle-aged, cynical men with alcohol dependencies.
“But I take it you’re off duty tonight, Lieutenant?”
“Wrong, Mr Conway,” she said. “I might be out of uniform, but I’m working. I’m heading a team to ensure that everything here runs like clockwork.”
I smiled. I hadn’t heard that archaic expression since my childhood.
I think it was then that I knew I was going to screw up my courage and, at some point in the evening, ask Lieutenant van Harben if she would care for a drink, or even a meal, later that week.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your first name,” I said. “And it doesn’t feel right calling you Lieutenant all night.”
She laughed, and proffered her hand again. “Of course, I’m sorry. I’m Hannah.” And it might have been my imagination, or hope, but I detected that she held onto my hand for a moment longer than etiquette required.
“So you’ve made the acquaintance of Mr Darius Dortmund,” I said.
She leaned towards me and said in a lowered tone, “Can’t stand the man. There’s something about him… he’s not only arrogant, but creepy.”
I raised my glass. “I’ll second that, Hannah.”
“He got into an argument with Matt Sommers ten minutes ago about the validity of his artwork◦– and particularly this exhibition. Dortmund claimed it transgressed art and strayed onto the territory of cultural profanity.”
“What did Matt say?”
“He was brilliant. He said all art was about broadening human◦– and alien◦– understanding of experience, and as such his current artwork was doing that. He cited the compliance of the Elan themselves in the project. Dortmund started to object, but that’s when Director Chandranath suggested we go outside to watch the spindizzies.”
“What did you think of them?”
She shook her head. “I can safely say I’ve never ever seen anything quite so beautiful.”
“Have you ventured out of Mackinley since your arrival?”
She shook her head. “Too busy with work.”
“The coast, especially north of here, is spectacular. I live up at Magenta Bay.”
She nodded. “I’ve read about your ship, the Mantis.”
“You should come up some time. I’ll show you around. The foothills have a series of incredible waterfalls…” I stumbled to a halt, blushing like a schoolboy.
She reached out, gripped my hand, and tipped her head to one side. “I’d like that,” she said.
She released my hand just as there was another commotion among those gathered behind us. Heart racing, I turned to see a tiny, blue-green figure step daintily through the crowd towards us.
He was perhaps three feet tall, and thin, with long spindly legs which had two sets of knees. His torso seemed disproportionately compacted, and his arms◦– again with double joints◦– too long. His facial features were almost reassuringly normal, in that he had two large eyes and a long mouth. I found myself thinking the alien’s head resembled some kind of bushbaby or lemur.
He paused before our group, bobbing slightly on the suspension of his bi-jointed legs.
Matt made the introductions. “This is Heanor, Ambassador of the Elan. Heanor, I’d like to introduce you to my good friends.”
As Matt spoke our names, the alien Ambassador looked at us each in turn, shaping a graceful gesture in the air before his chest. “I am pleased to meet you,” he said in a high, reedy voice, then looked up at Matt and went on, “I am happy with the conjunction of events, Mr Sommers. I am happy to see the exhibition commence. I would be pleased if you might commence the opening ceremony.”
Matt nodded graciously, cleared his throat and said, “Ladies and gentlemen…” A hush settled over the assembled guests. “I’m not going to make a big speech. My art speaks for itself, I hope. I will say, however, that this piece marks a radical departure in my work, as you will shortly appreciate. Also, I would like to thank the kindness and understanding of the Elan people in affording me the opportunity to bring from their homeworld the Epiphany Stones that comprise this installation, entitled Concordance.” He bowed his head to Heanor, and murmured something I took to be in the Elan language, and then, “My eternal gratitude.”
I happened to glance at Dortmund, then. He was watching the artist with an expression which mixed annoyance and disgust.
Matt raised his arms. “Please, if you would care to make your way to the main hall…”
Hannah caught my eye, tipped her head and gave a quick smile. “Shall we?”
We moved with the crowd towards the entrance.