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Of course they couldn’t divulge the truth about Damorlan. “It seems a little unfair, though,” he said.

“Why unfair? After all, Clarey, the music is yours. You took Damorlan’s melodies and made them into music. You took their ulerin and made it into a musical instrument. They’re all yours, every note and bladder of them.”

She reached over and put out a hand to him. “And I’m yours, too, Clarey, if you want me,” she breathed. There was obviously no doubt in her mind that he did want her. And in his, too. One didn’t reject the Secretary of Space.

He took the chilly hand in his. The skin was odd in texture. I’m imagining things, he thought. It’s a long time since I touched a human female’s hand.

“I must be a very important Musician,” he said aloud.

She nodded, not pretending to misunderstand. “Yes, important enough to rate the original and not a reasonable facsimile. You’re a lucky man, Clarey.” And then she smiled up at him. “I can be warm and tender, I assure you.”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. For a moment he had that pang again. She would never be the same as Embelsira, but a man needed change to develop.