His voice went soft. a trained master to produce—or things that hadn’t been fabbed—antiques, one-of-a-kinds, fetish objects from history. His words, the careful observations delivered by a man so far from home, or at least by a construct that felt as if it were a man, were impressive in their courage. My head was pretty soggy.
”* * *The sun sparkled on the kantohanki: snow with a frozen surface, strong enough to carry a man on skis and a bear. He gave a half-shrug, then looked out at the lake. She moved a little aside, to see how I would answer them. “Clausen doesn’t like me much,” Gaunt said, when they had reached the next level and he had caught his breath again.
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