Read Online Pawn’s Gambit by Timothy Zahn - Free Book Online

The point is that I’m taking advantage of you by keeping you here. I think you’d be better off living in a community with other people.”
    â€œYes, I suppose you would think that.” Heather’s lip curled, and for the first time since I’d met her I heard bitterness in her voice. “You probably think it’s been beer and skittles for me. Well, it hasn’t.” She glowered at some unknown memory; but even as I groped for something to say, her anger turned to sadness, and when she spoke again her voice was quiet. “I went blind almost a year before the war; two weeks after my eighteenth birthday. I had a small brain tumor in the back of my head and was taking an experimental interferon derivative. Somehow, something went wrong with the batch they were giving me, and at about the same time I caught some kind of viral infection. The combination nearly killed me—they told me afterwards that I had delirium, high fever, and an absolutely crazy EEG trace for nearly forty hours. When I recovered, the tumor was shrinking and I was blind. That first morning, when I woke up … I thought I was either dead or insane.” Her eyes closed, and she shivered violently. After a moment she continued. “People hate me, Neil. Either hate me or are afraid of me, especially now that civilization’s becoming a thing of the past.”
    â€œWhy would people hate you?” I asked. “I mean, that’s a pretty drastic reaction.”
    She hesitated, and a series of unreadable expressions flashed across her face. The moment passed, and she shrugged. “I guess its because I’m blind. It makes me an oddball and—well, something of a parasite.”
    I snorted. “You’re no parasite.”
    â€œYou’re very kind, Neil. But I know better.”
    I shook my head, thinking of all the work she did around here. To me it was perfectly obvious that she was pulling her own weight, if not a little more. I wondered why she couldn’t see that; and, in response, a fragment from a half-forgotten poem swam up from my subconscious. “‘O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us / To see oursels as others see us . . .’” I murmured, trailing off as the rest of the piece drifted from my grasp.
    Surprisingly, Heather picked up where I’d left off: “‘It wad frae mony a blunder free us.
    â€œâ€˜And foolish notion:
    â€œâ€˜What airs in dress an’ gait wad lea’e us,
    â€œâ€˜And ev’n devotion!’”
    She paused for a moment, as if listening to the last echoes from her words. “I’ve always liked Robert Burns,” she said quietly.
    â€œThat’s the only thing of his I know,” I confessed. “My father used to quote it at us whenever our views of life were at odds with his. Despite your own estimation, Heather, the fact is that you’re a very talented and hardworking woman and no one in his right mind is going to care whether you’re blind or not. People won’t think any less of you because of that.”
    A wry smile touched her lips. “You’re not being consistent, Neil dear. That’s exactly what you seem to think people are doing to you. If they can judge you by your face, why can’t they judge me by my blindness?”
    She had me there. I wanted to tell her that was different, but it was obvious she wouldn’t buy any explanation like that—her blindness made it impossible for her to realize just how strongly my appearance affected everyone who saw it. I tried to think up some other reasoning I could use … and suddenly it dawned on me what I was doing. Here I was, sitting next to a lovely woman who was very possibly the last person on Earth who could endure my company—and I was trying to send her away from me!
    Insanity has never run in my family, unless you count our military traditions. I’d tried being noble and honest, and my