Free Damia by Anne McCaffrey Page B

frozen from the BX.”
    “And you did this since the generators shut down,” Afra protested, amazed that a Prime would go to such effort for a T-4.
    The Rowan dismissed that consideration with a wave. “Minutes! Lusena . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    “A friend?” Afra asked to end the uneasy silence that filled the room.
    “The only mother I remember,” the Rowan replied. She tipped her head in a shrug. “And more than a mother. Have you ever lost someone close to you?”
    Afra shook his head, wishing for something to divert her sad shift of mood. “No. But I cried for nights when my sister—” He broke off too late and regarded the Rowan sheepishly. “I was only six and she and I always enjoyed a special rapport. I forgave you taking her from me when she said that you’d save a place for me.”
    The Rowan grinned. “Goswina called up the image of such a charming little boy. And she was so anxious not to sully family honor because we both knew we could not work together. I did sense that your family would have been so pleased had we come to terms.” Her grin turned mischievous again. “I’d always wanted a little brother. You seemed perfect for the role.”
    “Green skin notwithstanding?”
    Rowan laughed. “Skin’s only the outer layer, Afra.” She reached up to ruffle his hair. Caught off guard by such an intimate gesture, Afra nearly ducked away but then submitted meekly to the fondling: quite different from Kama’s. “Sorry to maul you about, Afra. I realize that Capellans are too methody to indulge, but I don’t think you’re as methody as you were.” She cocked a knowing eyebrow at him and he managed to suppress a blush, if only to thwart her intention. “Rebellious yet collected, controlled, studious, clever-fingered, quick-minded, slyly humorous, openly amusing. The many-faceted Afra.”
    Abruptly she altered mood again. “I’m glad that Goswina mentioned you. We work well together.” Then she compressed her lips, scowling until he looked at her, wondering what he had done wrong. Her gray eyes piercedhim. “Afra, mostly I need a friend.” She preempted his hasty assurances. “I can’t leave Callisto. I can never conduct my own search for a mate. I have to wait to see what Reidinger finds to send me.” She grimaced, quite distorting her beauty. Then, as she flicked her long silver hair to her back, she added, “That I have to accept as part and parcel of being a Prime, but I
have
to have one friend.” She regarded him steadily.
    Afra had never experienced such an onslaught of emotions before. His face went numb and his mind raced in the tightest possible confused circles, hoping she wouldn’t probe at such a delicate moment. The Rowan was offering a deeper relationship than any he had ever had with another human being, even with Goswina. Less than Reidinger had hinted at but, for many reasons, more than Afra had any right to expect. A Prime was begging him to drop the careful choreography of acquaintance in the hopes of the most miraculous of friendships.
    Slowly, dropping his mental shields, Afra extended his hand to her, palm up. The Rowan looked at it, catching her breath and appearing for a long moment as if she would retreat further into herself. Impulsively Afra grabbed her hand. She jerked at the touch, then made her fingers unclench.
    What would you have me do, my friend?
Afra asked across this tactile bonding, tighter than mere telepathy. Slowly the Rowan relaxed and slowly her marvelous smile lit her face to beauty.
    Afra made his bow deep and respectful. He doubted she ever made amends to any of the other Tower personnel. A Prime and the second in command of a Tower needed to cultivate their rapport—a rapport which must develop and intensify. To what degree? Afra wondered, once again recalling Reidinger’s remark. Was that behind the Rowan’s apologetic behavior? In the seconds it took to complete the bow, Afra decided it would be very unwise to anticipate. The