Wave Without A Shore

X

Waden Jenks tolerated the sitting, suffered in silence, because to admit discomfort and then go on to bear it was to admit he was constrained. Herrin prolonged the misery in self-contained humor, took whatever shots might be minutely necessary, sketched from several angles, after resetting the lighting with meticulous care.

And Waden, perched on his uncushioned chair, sat rigidly obedient.

"The lighting," Herrin said, "will be from a number of sources. I take the seasons into account; apprentices are running the matter in the computer, so that the lighting will be exact from season to season, the sun hovering hour by hour in a series of what appear to be design-based apertures. The play of—"

"Spare me. I'll see the finished effect. I trust your talent."

Herrin smiled, undisturbed. Darkened an area beneath the chin and smiled the more.

"A little haste," said Waden. "I have appointments."

"Ah?"

"A ship in orbit. An ordinary thing."

"Ah."

"There is some hazard. This is McWilliams's Singularity."

Herrin lifted an eyebrow, nonplused.

"An irregular client, one of the more troublesome. I'd like you to be there, Artist."

Both eyebrows. "Me? Where, at the port?"

"The Residency, my friend."

"What, you want sketches?"

Waden smiled. "I find the opinion of the second mind of Freedom—an asset. You have an insight into character. I value your assessment. Observe the man and tell me what you'd surmise about him."

"Interesting. An interesting proposal. I bypass your naïve assumption. I'll come."

"Of course you will."

He stopped in midshadow, made it a reflective pause, studiously ignoring Waden, refusing at this moment to interpret him.