Read Online Ardor on Aros by Andrew J. Offutt - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew J. Offutt
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I didn’t think of it, then. I was unaware of any reason to dissemble with her, and I am not much of a liar anyhow.
“A blow on the head,” I said, choosing the lesser lie, the natural one. One doesn’t go about introducing oneself as a visitor from another planet, after all. Not if one has anything resembling sense.
“A blow on the head made you unable to mind-speak?”
I nodded.
“Ugh! It must be worse than blindness! Ugh!” She shivered, shaking her head. But then: “Did Kro Kodres give you anything for me?”
What a woman! Acted a little insulted because I claimed no reward. Didn’t say thanks. Then asked calmly if I had anything for her, sitting there with the two dead creatures stiffening at our feet. Their presence, by the way, didn’t seem to disturb her in the least, any more than the blood on her body. “Ugh,” she said, that was all; as if she’d looked in the mirror and seen that her hair was coming undone. She had accepted my brief statement about Kro Kodres’ death, again with nothing resembling emotion or remorse. She did not sympathize with my “affliction,” she merely thought how awful it would be. Now she asked, calmly and conversationally, if he had given me anything for her. Without a word, even the usual hollow words, of sympathy or— something .
And she hadn’t thanked me. Nor was she making any effort to close her legs.
To call her a strange woman would be to say that Einstein was a bright fellow. I was shaken. I still am, a bit, thinking back on it. But there’s no use piling up nouns and adjectives and superlatives: she was the strangest human being I’d ever encountered. I suppose she still is. Of course now I’ve some idea why. At that time—at that time she was obviously tough, and thus far she’d neither done nor said anything I expected.
And…she looked…familiar.
“Uh—yes,” I said. “A ring, and a message.” I wondered if the message was for her. He had never said.
Her eyes sparkled. “Save the message—where is the ring?”
“Uh—” I glanced at the Vardor mounts. Saw the waterbags, fat, nearly full. I nodded and unstrapped mine and dumped it out on the ground. The ring rattled in the neck, then plopped into the dust. I started to bend for it.
And a slender, strong-looking hand shot out and snatched it up. I looked up in fresh surprise; she had got up and come over without a sound or a flicker to apprise me that she was other than still sprawled between the corpses. And she’d grabbed that ring as if it were Kidd’s long-lost treasure. I straightened, watching her.
She looked even better standing. She was the kind of girl that a man first sees nude and immediately thinks she looks as good or better that way as clothed, which is of course always a mistake. She was as close to perfect as a woman can get without being ridiculous about it, despite the fact that she was dirty, and blood-splashed, and stringy-haired. I wondered what she’d look like clean and brushed ad ready for the boudoir, and I had a hard time trying to visualize improvements. I knew she’d be spectacular, clothed. Dazzling. She was, even now.
Her teeth flashed in a smile, and her eyes sparkled delightedly. She had her precious ring.
Later I wished I’d done a little bartering with that precious ring!
Blood—Vardor blood—trickled slowly from her, unnoticed now as she drew the ring on her finger—the left index. She held it up, smiling, her eyes flashing black jewels of…avarice? Call it ineffable delight.
Those black eyes rose to me. That petulant mouth stretched into a grin—yes, a grin, not a smile. Again, my mind flickered a light along its hallways; she looked familiar. But there wasn’t time to think about that:
“Ah, that feels better. Now I am whole! You have clothing, and plenty of food and water,” she nodded at the saddlebags near the hobbled slooks, “and both mount and pack animal. Well! Good fortune, Hank Ahdah!”
And she closed her right hand
“A blow on the head,” I said, choosing the lesser lie, the natural one. One doesn’t go about introducing oneself as a visitor from another planet, after all. Not if one has anything resembling sense.
“A blow on the head made you unable to mind-speak?”
I nodded.
“Ugh! It must be worse than blindness! Ugh!” She shivered, shaking her head. But then: “Did Kro Kodres give you anything for me?”
What a woman! Acted a little insulted because I claimed no reward. Didn’t say thanks. Then asked calmly if I had anything for her, sitting there with the two dead creatures stiffening at our feet. Their presence, by the way, didn’t seem to disturb her in the least, any more than the blood on her body. “Ugh,” she said, that was all; as if she’d looked in the mirror and seen that her hair was coming undone. She had accepted my brief statement about Kro Kodres’ death, again with nothing resembling emotion or remorse. She did not sympathize with my “affliction,” she merely thought how awful it would be. Now she asked, calmly and conversationally, if he had given me anything for her. Without a word, even the usual hollow words, of sympathy or— something .
And she hadn’t thanked me. Nor was she making any effort to close her legs.
To call her a strange woman would be to say that Einstein was a bright fellow. I was shaken. I still am, a bit, thinking back on it. But there’s no use piling up nouns and adjectives and superlatives: she was the strangest human being I’d ever encountered. I suppose she still is. Of course now I’ve some idea why. At that time—at that time she was obviously tough, and thus far she’d neither done nor said anything I expected.
And…she looked…familiar.
“Uh—yes,” I said. “A ring, and a message.” I wondered if the message was for her. He had never said.
Her eyes sparkled. “Save the message—where is the ring?”
“Uh—” I glanced at the Vardor mounts. Saw the waterbags, fat, nearly full. I nodded and unstrapped mine and dumped it out on the ground. The ring rattled in the neck, then plopped into the dust. I started to bend for it.
And a slender, strong-looking hand shot out and snatched it up. I looked up in fresh surprise; she had got up and come over without a sound or a flicker to apprise me that she was other than still sprawled between the corpses. And she’d grabbed that ring as if it were Kidd’s long-lost treasure. I straightened, watching her.
She looked even better standing. She was the kind of girl that a man first sees nude and immediately thinks she looks as good or better that way as clothed, which is of course always a mistake. She was as close to perfect as a woman can get without being ridiculous about it, despite the fact that she was dirty, and blood-splashed, and stringy-haired. I wondered what she’d look like clean and brushed ad ready for the boudoir, and I had a hard time trying to visualize improvements. I knew she’d be spectacular, clothed. Dazzling. She was, even now.
Her teeth flashed in a smile, and her eyes sparkled delightedly. She had her precious ring.
Later I wished I’d done a little bartering with that precious ring!
Blood—Vardor blood—trickled slowly from her, unnoticed now as she drew the ring on her finger—the left index. She held it up, smiling, her eyes flashing black jewels of…avarice? Call it ineffable delight.
Those black eyes rose to me. That petulant mouth stretched into a grin—yes, a grin, not a smile. Again, my mind flickered a light along its hallways; she looked familiar. But there wasn’t time to think about that:
“Ah, that feels better. Now I am whole! You have clothing, and plenty of food and water,” she nodded at the saddlebags near the hobbled slooks, “and both mount and pack animal. Well! Good fortune, Hank Ahdah!”
And she closed her right hand
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