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“I…  I find them… graceful,”

    she said.
    Harlan came in again before she could flounder. “Eliza has always had a strong affinity with the firebirds. They’re regular visitors to her gardenaria. They seem at ease here. We think if we could reproduce that same mutual fondness, that level of attraction in our daughter, then—”
    “Do you talk to them, Eliza?”
    “   What? ” said Harlan.
    “My question was intended for your   wife   ,” hissed the Aunt.
    Once again, Harlan composed himself. He bowed and took a step back.
    “Well, I   do   talk to them,” Eliza said, playing with a corkscrewing strand of her hair, “they seem to enjoy the sound of my voice, especially if… ”
    Aunt Gwyneth stared at her, probing her

    fain. “Go on.”
    “… especially if I sing,” Eliza said. She looked down at her feet as if she was ashamed. “It’s more a kind of humming, really. Don’t ask me why. It just feels natural. They like it and it seems to attract them. But I don’t converse with them, of course. That would be silly.”
    Aunt Gwyneth tapped her manicured fingers   together.   Her   nails,   Harlan noticed, were completely black. “Have you ever attempted to commingle with their fain?”
    “Aunt Gwyneth, is this really—?”
    “Professor, be silent!”
    Now it was Eliza’s turn to signal to her husband that she was confident enough to deal with the questions. “Yes,” she said, boldly. “Haven’t we all at some time?”

    With no success   , she added into her fain,though the sentence hardly needed to beraised. No one had ever linked into thefirebirds’ consciousness. No one. Not
    even an Aunt.
    Aunt Gwyneth made her own kind ofhumming noise. She strolled down thegardenaria a way, stopping to admire abright yellow rose. “I cannot approve yourapplication,” she said.
    Eliza covered her mouth. She looked at Harlan, who immediately placed himselfwithin Aunt Gwyneth’s line of sight. “Why?” he demanded.
    Aunt Gwyneth brushed past him.
    “   Why? ” he said again, grabbing her
    arm.
    “Harlan, what are you doing?!” Eliza
    gasped.

    Aunt Gwyneth whipped around andconfronted the professor. Her eyes werewide and green and blazing. “How   dare you touch me or question my authority? Icould have you banished to the Dead Lands for less. The imagineering of achild is a selfless act that must benefit and
    support the continuity of the Design and the welfare of all Co:pern:ica. You have already constructed one ec:centric and I am not convinced you won’t do so again.” Harlan reeled as her fain powered into him. He stumbled back, clutching at the sides of his head.
    Eliza immediately rushed to his aid. “Aunt, please stop this. Harlan means noharm. He’s a good man. Believe me. He’ssimply disappointed. We’ve wanted adaughter for so long now.”

    “Yet you only decide to call in an Aunt when your dysfunctional son has been removed to a librarium.”
    “I… ” Eliza felt the heat in her eyes. “No, it’s not like that. Penny is not a replacement for David. I love him dearly. He… ”
    Aunt Gwyneth raised a hand. “Enough,”she said. “My decision is made. I cannotgrant approval for a daughter at this time.” She glanced down. Boon was pawingplaintively at Harlan’s leg. One of thefirebirds had landed on a fence post andseemed to be carefully observing thesituation. The other had flown away. Aunt Gwyneth pressed her hands together andwent on another of her little walks. “Yourhusband will recover in a moment. When
    he does, he will be aware that I have

    branded him with a warning. This is not something  to  be  taken  lightly.   His temperament is partially the reason for your son’s ec:centricity and should have been dealt with by your first Aunt. But it is not the entire reason your son now finds himself removed from the Design. You are responsible, too, Eliza Merriman.”
    “Me? Are you saying