Read Online Breath of Life (The Gaian Consortium Series) by Christine Pope - Free Book Online

was firm and unhesitating. I didn’t dare pull away. Something in his touch told me he did so now only out of necessity.
    He raised my hands to his hood and placed them against the heavy fabric. Beneath the rough, slightly nappy material my fingers traced the definite outline of a skull, one more or less of the same proportions as a human’s. For a few seconds he held my hands in place, and then he lowered them gently and released his gloved fingers from mine.  
    “You see?” he said quietly. “I am as real as you are.”
    That much seemed obvious. I could still feel the shape of his head beneath my fingertips. No horns at least, although I still couldn’t comment on the fangs or tentacles. I asked, “Then why do you hide from the world?”
    A silence then, one so long I was sure he didn’t intend to reply. He let out a little breath and said, “Because I must. Perhaps one day you will understand why.”
    I wished there were some way I could get him to confide in me. Maybe there was one, actually, but I knew I wouldn’t become his wife just to learn his secrets. And yet something in his dark, still shape spoke of a sadness I couldn’t begin to understand, one I suddenly wished I might do something to dispel. Surprising myself, I reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. I heard a sudden intake of breath, but I made myself give his arm a gentle squeeze before I let go. He really didn’t feel any different from a human—at least, a human who was well-muscled. The flesh under my fingertips had been firm and unyielding.
    “I’m sorry I woke you,” I said. “But I’m fine. I really need to get back to sleep. That paper—”
    “Of course.” His normally calm accents sounded a little ruffled to me, but he only went on, “Now that I know you’re all right.”
    “I am.”
    “Then good night, Anika.” He might have nodded; it was difficult to tell in the darkness, which was barely broken by the light of a sconce at quarter-power somewhere down the corridor.
    “Good night, Sarzhin.” I shut the door and returned to my bed.
    But although I had told the Zhore I needed my rest, I lay there for a long time and stared up at the ceiling. Somehow I still felt his gloved hands holding mine, the shape of his head beneath the muffling cloth. It would have been so easy for me to grasp the hood and pull it away, but for some reason he had trusted me not to do such a thing. Truly, the thought hadn’t even occurred to me, not until I was lying in bed and replaying the scene in my mind.  
    What I had done to earn such trust, I didn’t know.  

    He didn’t speak of the incident afterward, and so I said nothing, either. From time to time, though, I caught myself watching him out of the corner of my eye, wondering what he would do if I did reach up and push all that concealing fabric away.  
    What I would see.
    Of course I didn’t have the courage to do that.
    Later that week he asked me if I would like to assist him in the greenhouse.  
    “It’s a worthy occupation,” he told me, as the mech cleared away our breakfast plates. “You have said that you’ve helped your father, and so it seems you already know some of the rudiments of gardening. Would you like to learn more?”
    I actually was curious; even the bits and pieces I had picked up so far seemed much more interesting than nursing along a few hydroponic vegetables. If my circumstances had been different, I would have considered how valuable such knowledge would be if I decided to narrow my studies to xeno-botany. Specialists in that area were hot commodities for the GRC’s advance reconnaissance teams. But since I had no idea whether Sarzhin intended to ever let me go, I wasn’t sure whether acquiring those skills would do much more than help vary my often monotonous days.  
    It seemed to me, though, that Sarzhin had offered the diversion out of a spirit of generosity, and it would be foolish to turn him down…even though helping out in the greenhouse