The Dragon Man - Brian Stableford [50]
Sara had been aware for a long time that heads would turn whenever she came into town, and that her presence was always being noticed by passers-by. On the whole, though, the people who noticed her did so discreetly. It simply wasn’t done for strangers to look too long and hard at a child, let alone speak to one. Sara always looked at other children herself, and almost always recognized any who were within two or three years of her own age, but the etiquette involved in two groups of parents coming together to negotiate any contact more elaborate than a casual nod and a friendly smile was complicated, and there never seemed to be any pressing need to make contact in real space when contact in virtual space was so easy and relaxed.
This was different. For one thing, she was unescorted. She was also sporting a decoration manifestly designed to be noticed and admired—not to mention the two hummingbirds dancing in the air before her.
For the first time in her life, Sara became acutely conscious of the difference between merely being noticed and being the centre of attention.
She didn’t wait to find out when and how the hummingbirds would settle their dispute. She bolted for the door of Linda Chatrian’s shop. It wasn’t until she heard it slide shut behind her that she paused to regret the fact that she must have looked like a silly coward to thirty, forty or even fifty pairs of interested eyes.
She had to pull herself together as she approached the desktop in reception, glad that it was only manned by a screen-based AI. Start again, she instructed herself, firmly. You have to get used to being out and about without half a dozen parents forming a protective wall between you and the world.
Fortunately, Ms. Chatrian wasn’t busy. Sara didn’t have to sit in reception for long—which was perhaps as well, given that Sara had always found the tailor’s reception area rather uncomfortable. It was so very clean and orderly by comparison with the communal rooms in the hometree that she was always anxious about the possibility of leaving accidental smudges on the glossy furniture, or misting the polished surfaces of the desk and occasional table by breathing out too vigorously.
“It’s coming along nicely,” the tailor observed, warily, when Sara was admitted to her presence. “Any hummingbirds come fluttering round it yet?”
“Two, when I got out of the cab,” Sara admitted. “There might be a problem.”
“What problem?” Ms. Chatrian asked, through slightly-pursed lips.
“I left my window open the other night,” Sara explained, “but no hummingbirds flew in. I got shadowbats instead.”
“Really?” said the tailor. “They’re quite pretty when they’re in flight, aren’t they? I’ve had a few requests for sublimate accessories, but they’re not quite my style. Sublimation technology is progressing by leaps and bounds, so I suppose we’ll all get used to it soon enough, but detachable shadows...I was talking about them to your Father Stephen only the other week, and he called them ‘airy-fairies from Cloudcuckooland’. It’s a joke, you see....”
“I know,” Sara said, patiently. “Father Aubrey told it to me before he told it to Father Stephen, and Father Gustave explained it. The shadowbats were attracted by the scent of the rose. They were soaking it up from the air—getting drunk on it.”
“I’m sure you’re mistaken, Sara,” Ms. Chatrian said, in her most imperious adults-know-best voice.
“I’m sure I’m not,” Sara countered, feeling that she had been cowardly enough for one day.
Linda Chatrian was too worldly wise to be so easily wrong-footed. “What did your parents say about it?” she asked.
“I haven’t told them,” Sara said, flatly. “I thought it was a matter between you and me.”
“Me?” the tailor said, disingenuously. “I don’t see that it concerns me. I supplied exactly what you asked for. Colibri is designed to attract hummingbirds...but I suppose