Read Online Galaxies Like Grains of Sand by Brian W. Aldiss - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brian W. Aldiss
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and gazed about him. The image of his lovely and headstrong daughter knocked against his head. “Cobalt, when you are an old old woman — I pray that time will never come for you — but when it does...your father’s love will still nestle with you. I shall be gone, but my love will remain in your bones.”
Eventually he climbed stiffly down from the stallion and ate a small meal from porcelain bowls packed in a china bowl. He wiped his lips on a silk napkin.
“Hup, now, Leg of Leather,” he called, when he had packed the box in place behind the saddle, and the stallion began to carry him home. The Vale disappeared behind their backs, sinking beneath the spine of the ridge; the apple trees sank. Man and horse jogged down the black side of Blighted Profile, jogged among the hard-boiled boulders, through the little landslides of dust and quartz, towards the arid plain. It was possible to see now that they were going down into an almighty crater hundreds of miles in diameter, of which Blighted Profile was a crumpled lip.
The ground was like a scab. Making their way to the river course, they had to skirt the machines locked in frigid battle.
“...clear and hold operation Flea...self-making severe R Level stratum forecast Lockwood 546 Rising 541...clear and hold...”
“Cancelled liaison random territory sweep parameters 577819 closing vector 772816... Punitive cover, punitive cover...”
“Zero. Counteract...” Their voices were harsh and crackling.
Man and horse continued down the river bed. Far behind, a boy followed, forlorn as a hawk, and as determined.
The ashes grew thin, the mud crumpled into a sandy soil. Trees grew again, standing apart from each other.
“Nearly home now, Leg of Leather,” Chun Hwa said. The trees never quite became a wood. They emerged from among their slim trunks, where painted posts marked new territory.
The country grew green ahead. Fenced parkland was as bright and trim as a sunshade. As man and animal approached it, a section of parkland began to change, to become unclear, like an image in a looking glass slowly misted by breath. Illusions grew in the air, huge cubes of nothingness interpenetrated other similar cubes, the looking glass gave back an insubstantial image of itself. Responding to the creatures which approached, curtains of molecules rose into the air as if fountains had been brought into play. The molecules twisted, misted, glittered, frosted, and formed reflecting surfaces, one behind the other, ranked and arranged, to define the walls of the rooms of Chun Hwa’s summer home.
By the time man and mount reached the home, its walls were opaque.
Coaxing the stallion, Chun Hwa rode it slowly through the house, and called in a low voice for his wife, Wangust Ilsont. Leaving Leg of Leather in his own quarters, he went on foot to seek her. The temperature, like winter sunshine, warmed and refreshed him.
Wangust was integrating with two servants. She dismissed them, came forward, and placed her vellum palms against his paper ones. They matched their breathing, working carefully down from pectoral to abdominal, till their heartbeats slowed to a unified beat which reached throughout the arched structure of their touch.
Age had her in its web. Its strands slowed her when she sought to move, capturing limbs that had so long been lithe. Now only her eyes were not grey. Beside her waited her leopardess, Coily, gazing up at her with a love like gorsefire.
Only when their pulses modulated each other in a Pasanarada rhythm did Wangust gently resolve the contact, letting her fingers fall until they buried themselves in the fur of the cat. “I have not seen you for a week, Sustainer. A tour time of life, that is too long. Days are shuttered without you. What quest have you been pursuing?”
“What quest? Is quest the word? Thinking, my Love, and addressing empty words to myself. They were not fit for those ears of yours. But they suited the weather. I have so little future
Eventually he climbed stiffly down from the stallion and ate a small meal from porcelain bowls packed in a china bowl. He wiped his lips on a silk napkin.
“Hup, now, Leg of Leather,” he called, when he had packed the box in place behind the saddle, and the stallion began to carry him home. The Vale disappeared behind their backs, sinking beneath the spine of the ridge; the apple trees sank. Man and horse jogged down the black side of Blighted Profile, jogged among the hard-boiled boulders, through the little landslides of dust and quartz, towards the arid plain. It was possible to see now that they were going down into an almighty crater hundreds of miles in diameter, of which Blighted Profile was a crumpled lip.
The ground was like a scab. Making their way to the river course, they had to skirt the machines locked in frigid battle.
“...clear and hold operation Flea...self-making severe R Level stratum forecast Lockwood 546 Rising 541...clear and hold...”
“Cancelled liaison random territory sweep parameters 577819 closing vector 772816... Punitive cover, punitive cover...”
“Zero. Counteract...” Their voices were harsh and crackling.
Man and horse continued down the river bed. Far behind, a boy followed, forlorn as a hawk, and as determined.
The ashes grew thin, the mud crumpled into a sandy soil. Trees grew again, standing apart from each other.
“Nearly home now, Leg of Leather,” Chun Hwa said. The trees never quite became a wood. They emerged from among their slim trunks, where painted posts marked new territory.
The country grew green ahead. Fenced parkland was as bright and trim as a sunshade. As man and animal approached it, a section of parkland began to change, to become unclear, like an image in a looking glass slowly misted by breath. Illusions grew in the air, huge cubes of nothingness interpenetrated other similar cubes, the looking glass gave back an insubstantial image of itself. Responding to the creatures which approached, curtains of molecules rose into the air as if fountains had been brought into play. The molecules twisted, misted, glittered, frosted, and formed reflecting surfaces, one behind the other, ranked and arranged, to define the walls of the rooms of Chun Hwa’s summer home.
By the time man and mount reached the home, its walls were opaque.
Coaxing the stallion, Chun Hwa rode it slowly through the house, and called in a low voice for his wife, Wangust Ilsont. Leaving Leg of Leather in his own quarters, he went on foot to seek her. The temperature, like winter sunshine, warmed and refreshed him.
Wangust was integrating with two servants. She dismissed them, came forward, and placed her vellum palms against his paper ones. They matched their breathing, working carefully down from pectoral to abdominal, till their heartbeats slowed to a unified beat which reached throughout the arched structure of their touch.
Age had her in its web. Its strands slowed her when she sought to move, capturing limbs that had so long been lithe. Now only her eyes were not grey. Beside her waited her leopardess, Coily, gazing up at her with a love like gorsefire.
Only when their pulses modulated each other in a Pasanarada rhythm did Wangust gently resolve the contact, letting her fingers fall until they buried themselves in the fur of the cat. “I have not seen you for a week, Sustainer. A tour time of life, that is too long. Days are shuttered without you. What quest have you been pursuing?”
“What quest? Is quest the word? Thinking, my Love, and addressing empty words to myself. They were not fit for those ears of yours. But they suited the weather. I have so little future
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