Local Custom Read Online Free Page A

said, patiently. "Does she spell her name with an 'e' or without an 'e'?"

    An 'e' was the fifth letter of the Terran alphabet. Surely, he thought, half-panicked, surely he had at some time seen Anne's written name? He closed his eyes, saw the old-fashioned ink pen held firmly in long, graceful fingers, sweeping a signature onto the mauve pages of an ambassadorial guest book.

    "A—" he spelled out of memory for the clerk's benefit. "n, n, e. D, a, v, i, s."

    "Hokay." She turned back to her board as Er Thom opened his eyes, feeling oddly shaken.

    The clerk muttered to herself—he paid her no mind. Terran naming systems, he thought distractedly, Terran alphabet, and, gods help him, a Terran woman, bold and brilliant— alien . But a woman still, with Terran blood in her and genes so far outside the Book of Clans that—

    OK!"

    Er Thom shook himself out of his reverie as the clerk's cry of jubilation penetrated, and stepped forward.

    "Yes?"

    She looked up at him, lashes fluttering, and he saw that she was not so young as he had thought. Cosmetics had been used to simulate the dewy blush of first youth across her cheek and her eyes were artfully painted, with silver sequins sprinkled across her lashes. Er Thom schooled his face to calm politeness. Local custom, he reminded himself sternly. As a trader he dealt with local custom in many guises on many worlds. So on this world faces were painted. Merely custom, and nothing to distress one.

    "Don't know if this is your friend or not," the woman was saying, "but she's the only Davis in Comparative Ling. Wait a sec, here's the card." She frowned at it before handing it over. "Lives in Quad S-two-seven-squared. You know where that is?"

    "No," he said, clutching the card tightly.

    The woman stood, leaning over the counter to point. Her breasts flattened against the marble, and swelled toward the margin of the low-cut blouse. Er Thom turned to look along the line of her finger.

    "Go back out the way you came," she told him, "turn right, walk about four hundred yards. You'll see a sign for the surrey. Go down the stairs and hit the summonplate. When the surrey comes, you sit down and code in this right here, see?" She ran her finger under a string of letters and numbers on the card he held.

    "Yes, I see."

    "OK. Then you lean back and enjoy the ride. The surrey stops, you get out and go upstairs. You'll be in a big open space—Quad S. Best thing to do then is either ask one of the residents to help you find the address or go to the Quad infobooth, punch up your friend's code—that's right under the name, there—and tell her to come get you. Clear?"

    "Thank you," said Er Thom, bowing thanks and remembering to give a smile. Terrans set great store by smiles, where a Liaden person would merely have kept his face neutral and allowed the bow to convey all that was necessary.

    "That's OK," said the woman, flashing her silvered lashes. "If your friend's not home, or if it turns out it's not your friend, come on back and I'll see if I can help you some more."

    There was an unmistakable note of invitation there. Hastily, Er Thom reviewed his actions, trying to determine if he had inadvertently signaled a wish for her intimate companionship. As far as he could determine, he had indicated no such thing, unless the smile was to blame. Bland-faced, he bowed once more: Gratitude for service well-given, nothing else.

    "Thank you," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. He turned on his heel and walked away.

    Behind him, the Information clerk watched him wistfully, twining her fingers in her hair.

     

    THE SURREY RIDE was longer than he had expected from the clerk's explanation. Er Thom sat rigid in the slippery plastic chair, clutching the thin plastic card and occasionally looking down at it.

    "Anne Davis," the Terran letters read. "ID: 7596277483ZQ." He committed the ID to memory, then the Quad code, department number and assignment berth. It did not take long; he had a