The City And The Stars - Arthur C. Clarke [49]
And yet, even while they baffled him, they aroused within his heart a feeling he had never known before. When—which was not often, but sometimes happened—they burst into tears of frustration or despair, their tiny disappointments seemed to him more tragic than Man’s long retreat after the loss of his galactic empire. That was something too huge and remote for comprehension, but the weeping of a child could pierce one to the heart.
Alvin had met love in Diaspar, but now he was learning something equally precious, and without which love itself could never reach its highest fulfilment but must remain ever incomplete. He was learning tenderness.
If Alvin was studying Lys, Lys was also studying him, and was not dissatisfied with what it had found. He had been in Airlee for three days when Seranis suggested that he might like to go further afield and to see something more of her country. It was a proposal he accepted at once—on condition that he was not expected to ride one of the village’s prize racing beasts.
‘I can assure you,’ said Seranis, with a rare flash of humour, ‘that no one here would dream of risking one of their precious animals. Since this is an exceptional case, I will arrange transport in which you will feel more at home. Hilvar will act as your guide, but of course you can go wherever you please.’
Alvin wondered if that was strictly true. He imagined that there would be some objection if he tried to return to the little hill from whose summit he had first emerged into Lys. However, that did not worry him for the moment as he was in no hurry to go back to Diaspar, and indeed had given little thought to the problem after his initial meeting with Seranis. Life here was still so interesting and so novel that he was still quite content to live in the present.
He appreciated Seranis’ gesture in offering her son as his guide, though doubtless Hilvar had been given careful instructions to see that he did not get into mischief. It had taken Alvin some time to get accustomed to Hilvar, for a reason which he could not very well explain to him without hurting his feelings. Physical perfection was so universal in Diaspar that personal beauty had been completely devalued; men noticed it no more than the air they breathed. This was not the case in Lys, and the most flattering adjective that could be applied to Hilvar was ‘homely’. By Alvin’s standards, he was downright ugly, and for a while he had deliberately avoided him. If Hilvar was aware of this, he showed no sign of it, and it was not long before his good-natured friendliness had broken through the barrier between them. The time was to come when Alvin would be so accustomed to Hilvar’s broad, twisted smile, his strength and his gentleness that he could scarcely believe he had ever found him unattractive, and would not have had him changed for any consideration in the world.
They left Airlee soon after dawn in a small vehicle which Hilvar called a ground-car, and which apparently worked on the same principle as the machine that had brought Alvin from Diaspar. It floated in the air a few inches above the turf, and although there was no sign of any guide-rail, Hilvar told him that the cars could run only on predetermined routes. All the centres of population were linked together in this fashion, but during his entire stay in Lys Alvin never saw another ground-car in use.
Hilvar had put a great deal of effort into organising this expedition, and was obviously looking forward to it quite as much as Alvin. He had