Viewplate A, on the uppermost deck of the vast liner, was reserved for the first-class passengers and the members of their retinues. It was an enormous room, shrouded at all times in darkness, at one end of which a viewscreen opened out onto the glory of the heavens. In nullspace, a hyperbolic section of space was visible at all times, the stars in weird out-of-focus colors forming a breathtaking display. Geometry went awry. A blazing panorama illuminated the room.
The first-class viewing-room was also known to be a trysting-place. There, under cover of darkness, ladies might meet and make love to cooks, lords to scullery-maids. An enterprising rogue with a nolight camera might make a fortune taking a quick shot of such a room and black-mailing his noble victims. But scanners at the door prevented such devices from entering.
Herndon stood staring at the fiery gold and green of the closest stars a while, his back to the door, until he heard a feminine voice whisper to him.
"Barr Herndon?"
He turned. In the darkness it was difficult to tell who spoke; he saw a girl about the height of the Lady Moaris, but in the dimness of the illumination of the plate he could see it was not the Lady. This girl's hair was dull red; the Lady's was golden. And he could see the pale whiteness of this girl's breasts; the Lady's garment, while revealing, had been somewhat more modest.
This was a lady of the court, then, perhaps enamoured of Herndon, perhaps sent by the Lady Moaris as a test or as a messenger.
Herndon said, "I am he. What do you want?"
"I bring a message from—a noble lady," came the answering whisper.
Smiling in the darkness Herndon said, "What does your mistress have to say to me?"
"It cannot be spoken. Hold me in a close embrace as if we were lovers, and I will give you what you need."