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vulnerable with   both   hands   occupied,   he de:constructed the tray of drinks and said, “Shall we go inside?”
    Aunt Gwyneth turned on her stocky little heels. “I prefer the gardenaria. I like the freshness of the air.”
    Eliza saw an opportunity to gatherground in this. “Harlan, look what Aunt Gwyneth has done. She’s added a newconstruct to the rockery.”
    Harlan  glanced  down.   “Is  that…fungus?” he said. Growing out betweenthe rocks were three short stalks with
    large grey caps.

    “Very knowledgeable, Professor,” Aunt Gwyneth said, purring at the same low level as Boon. (The katt by now had padded away and was playing with a piece of tweedy fluff that he’d managed to imagineer – the same blue colour, Harlan noticed, as Aunt Gwyneth’s suit.) “Fungal constructs are quite a rarity these days.”
    Rarity?   thought Harlan, trying hard to keep his fain at bay. “I thought they’d been
    ”
    —

    “Limited?”
    “Yes.”
    “Not to us.”
    Harlan gave a respectful nod. Aunts hada vast catalogue of constructs to call upon,though how anything with the poornutritional value of   mushrooms   (was thatwhat they were called?) could be helpful

    to anyone was beyond him. He looked up at Aunt Gwyneth and sensed she was revelling in a minor victory. Her fatuous smile reminded him of a finger drawn across a steamed-up mirror.
    “So, may we talk about the prospect of a daughter?” He moved forward and took Eliza’s hand. “We’ve completed our application to the Higher and believe we are favourably placed to bring a new child onto Co:pern:ica. We have her image and her auma traits fixed. We merely ask for your guidance and approval, to help us bring together this happy—”
    “Tell me about your son,” said the Aunt, cutting him off without a glance. She was staring instead at two orangecoloured firebirds, which were perched in Eliza’s cherrylea tree, hiding themselves

    in the thick of the leaves.
    “Oh. Well, David… ” Eliza began, but this was just the topic she and Harlan had been fearing, and she found herself unable to go on.
    Harlan patted her hand. A gesture which suggested that he should do the talking. Drawing down calm into his auma, he said, “We imagineered David over twelve spins ago. He’s been a model son.”
    “It says in my report that he’s ec:centric, Professor.”
    Harlan laced his fingers together. The woman was thorough. He must choose his words with care. “It’s… true that he’s
    been   exhibiting   some   minor   sleep
    disturbances, but—”
    “When did these terrors begin?”

    “Well, I’d hardly describe them as—”
    “It is not your place to teach me what I know! Answer the question, Professor.”
    “Some months ago,” he said, curbing the desire to snap. Was this a test? Was this woman deliberately trying to provoke him?
    “And how does he describe the
    dreams?”
    “He doesn’t. He appears to forget everything by the morning. We’re not sure why.”
    The Aunt closed her eyes. “Who is his counsellor?”
    “Thorren Strømberg.”
    The corners of the woman’s mouth
    twitched into a sneer.
    “You disapprove of him?” asked
    Harlan.

    “I have heard he is very able,” said the Aunt, “though his methods are considered ‘questionable’ by some.”
    “In what way?” asked Eliza, looking concerned. “We took David to him in
    good faith, Aunt. We only want what’s
    best for our—”
    “It is of no matter,” Aunt Gwyneth muttered. She flapped a hand, startling the firebirds out of the tree. They fluttered away and landed on the slanting roof of the pod. Her sober gaze travelled with them and stayed there. “I wish to ask you a question,   Eliza.   You  put   in   your application that you would like your daughter to inherit the demeanour of those creatures. Why was that?”
    Once again, Eliza seemed a little lost for words.