Pictoria (The Ammonite Galaxy Series, Book 4)

Chapter 22

BY SATURDAY, CIMMA was able to walk perfectly well. But she told them all in no uncertain terms that she wasn't about to go bare planet, even if it did mean that she would see her daughter get married.

"I will go up to the 21st floor on the 256th skyrise, and will organize some sort of a feast for everybody," she informed them. "There is simply no way I am going to go bare planet on Valhai, not at my age."

Grace tried to convince her, without much success. It was only when Arcan offered to transport Cimma to the scene in a bubble, that she gave in.

"Very well, but only for the actual vows themselves, and only for a couple of minutes, at most."

Grace hugged her. "At least you will be there. Thank you, Matri."

Cimma managed a faint grin. "Goodness knows what your father would have thought about all this."

"He would have banished me from Valhai, but somebody got there before him, so he wouldn't have been able to do anything."

"He would probably turn over in his sarcophagus if he could."

"Yes. But he didn't get to live through the changes we have."

Cimma looked thoughtful. "No, you're right. He didn't. Who knows, he might have agreed to come and live on Kwaide with me."

They stared at each other, and then burst out laughing. Such a thing was absolutely impossible to imagine.

"Thank you for saying you will come – even if it is only a minute or two."

"You will have to paint the wedding scene for posterity. After all, it will be the only wedding ever celebrated bare planet on Valhai."

Grace nodded. "I will. I haven't had much time to practice since this—" she held out her battered hands, "—but it is something I want to keep up with."

"You should. You are good at it. And you will find a way to paint with a few fingers missing, you'll see." Then Cimma caught sight of Grace's face and held up her own hands. "All right, I know they'll never have a high cost-to-bulk ratio, but for me they do. Like the Xianthan highlander paintings. Remember?"

Grace gave her a hug. "Thank you Maestra. I will paint you a picture of my wedding then. I promise."

"Hmm. Don't you dare forget! And don't think I'm going to dress up for the occasion."

"Seeing that the rest of us will be in bodywraps and mask packs, the last thing we need is for you to appear in a gold-weave robe."

"Good. Because I won't."

"On the other hand," said Grace wickedly. "Perhaps you might consider not coming in a dressing-gown."

They laughed. Nowadays Cimma dressed neatly but very simply in the traditional Kwaide long tunic, but there had been a time when she had lived in her dressing-gown. "Times have changed," she said.

Grace nodded. "You can say that again!"

THEY WERE STANDING on the first floor of the 256th skyrise, ready to step out of the airlock onto the terrace as soon as Mandalon 50 arrived. The visitor was hovering around their heads, almost as if nothing had changed; as if he were still the rather annoying video-camera and not a fully adapted bimorph. Six was swatting at him lazily.

"For something that might live a million years you can be awfully irritating," he grumbled. "Do you have to buzz around my head like that?"

"That's because you are only a category 3b, and can't understand my higher plane."