TWO HUNDRED THREE: Herdcreatures I
203
******
> “Alden, wake up.”
The whispered urgings were accompanied by a soft smell like toast and citrus fruit. Alden opened his eyes groggily to see that a lamp had been pulled out of the wall above where he lay. It was a glowing white box that made him squint and shade his face with an arm clad in the navy silk pajamas he’d bought during his shopping spree at Needle & Wheedle. The sight of the pajama sleeve reminded him that he was wearing them as auriad coverage, which reminded him more quickly than the surprise lamp could that he’d gone to bed in the cottage at the art’h siblinghold.
And the person whispering at him, using three different Artonan words for “Wake up,” was his host.
Alden rolled onto his side to see Stuart standing at the edge of the bed, holding a ceramic cup full of something steamy. Through the transparent wall behind him, the view was of a dark forest and a stream that flashed with zansees.
Alden checked the time. It was just before eight in the morning on Anesidora, but that was a couple of hours sooner than he had expected to be up. He’d gone to bed late and set his alarm to account for the time difference as well as he could.
“This is so early for you, isn’t it?” he asked.
They’d spent a few hours together last night, quietly taking care of their own separate work. That had been a comfortable change of pace from most of their previous visits. Companionable studying, without either of them needing to explain difficult personal matters or worrying about how they were conveying complex subjects to a person with an alien background. Stuart had been catching up on schoolwork he’d missed due to votary duties. Alden had reviewed the instruction manual for the lab car and made a tentative plan for one of his nightmare bokabv kills.