[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

She'd certainly given me something to think about.
Page 169
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Chapter Forty-Three: PICNIC
Put on any deadline and time accelerates. The clockwork of the universe runs
off an overwound mainspring. Four days went down the Jakes, zip! And I did not
waste much time sleeping.
Ardath and I translated. And translated. And translated. She read, translating
aloud. I wrote till my hands cramped. Occasionally Silent took over for me.
I spot-checked by slipping in documents already done, especially those both
Tracker and I had worked. Not once did I catch a misinterpretation.
That fourth morning I did catch something. We were doing one of those lists.
This soiree must have been so big that if held today, we'd call it a war. Or
at least a riot. On and on. So-and-so of such-and-such, with Lady Who's-is,
sixteen titles, four of which made sense. By the time the heralds finished
proclaiming everyone, the party must have died or encroaching senility.
Anyway, along about the middle of the list I heard a little catch in her
breath. Aha! I said to myself. A bolt strikes close. My ears pricked up.
She went on smoothly. Moments later I was not sure I had not imagined it.
Reason told me the name that startled her would not be the one she was
speaking. She was toddling along at my writing pace. Her eyes would be well
ahead of my hand.
Not one of the names that followed clanged any bell.
I would go over the list later, just in case, hoping she had deleted
something.
No such luck.
Come afternoon she said, "Break, Croaker. I'm going for tea. You want some?"
"Sure. Maybe a hunk of bread, too." I scribbled another half minute before
realizing what had happened.
What? The Lady herself offering to fetch? Me putting in an order without
thinking? I got a case of the nerves. How much was she role-playing? How much
pretending for fun? It must be centuries since she got her own tea. If ever.
I rose, started to follow, halted outside my cell door.
Fifteen steps down the tunnel, in the grungy, feeble lamplight, Otto had
cornered her against the wall. He was talking some shit. Why I had not
foreseen the problem I do not know. I doubted that she had. Surely it was not
one she faced normally.
Otto got pushy. I started to go break it up then vacillated. She might be
angered by my interference.
A light step from the other direction. Elmo. He paused. Otto was too
single-minded to notice us.
"Better do something," Elmo said. "We don't need that kind of trouble."
She did not appear frightened or upset. "I think maybe she can handle it."
Otto got a "no" that could not be misinterpreted. But he did not accept it. He
Page 170
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
tried to lay hands on.
He got a ladylike slap for his trouble. Which angered him. He decided to take
what he wanted. As Elmo and I moved forward, he disappeared in a flurry of
kicks and punches that set him down in the muck on the floor, holding his
belly with one arm and that arm with the other. Ardath went on as though
nothing had happened.
I said, "I told you she could handle it."
"Remind me not to overstep myself," Elmo said. Then he grinned and tapped my
arm. "Bet she's mean on the horizontal. Eh?"
Damned if I did not blush. I gave him a foolish grin. It only confirmed his
suspicions. What the hell. Anything would have. That is the way those things
go.
We lugged Otto to my room. I thought he would puke up his guts. But he
controlled himself. I checked for broken bones. He was just bruised. "All
yours, Elmo," I said, for I knew the old sergeant was rehearsing a few choice
words.
He took Otto by the elbow and said, "Step down to my office, soldier." He
started dirt tumbling from the tunnel overheads when he explained the facts of
life.
When Ardath returned she behaved as if nothing had happened. Perhaps she
missed us watching. But after half an hour she asked, "Can we take a break? Go
outside? Walk?"
"You want me to come?"
She nodded. "We need to talk. Privately."
"All right."
To tell the truth, whenever I lifted my nose from my work I got a little
claustrophobic myself. My venture westward reminded me how good it is to
stretch one's legs. "Hungry?" I asked. "Too serious to make a picnic?"
She looked startled, then charmed, by the idea. "Good. Let's do that."
So we went to the cook and baker and filled a bucket and went topside. Though
she did not notice everyone smirking, I did.
There is but one door in the Hole. To the conference room, behind which
Darling's personal quarters lie. Neither my quarters nor Ardath's had so much
as a curtain closure. Folks figured we were off for the privacy of the wide
open spaces.
Dream on. Up there there would be more spectators than down below. They just
would not be human.
The sun was maybe three hours short of setting when we stepped outside, and it
smacked us right in the eyes. Rough. But I expected it. Should have warned
her.
We strolled up the creek, breathing slightly sagey air and saying nothing. The
desert was silent. Not even Father Tree stirred. The breeze was insufficient
to sigh in the coral. After a while I said, "Well?"
Page 171
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"I needed to get out. The walls were closing in. The null made it worse. I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

  • zanotowane.pl
  • doc.pisz.pl
  • pdf.pisz.pl
  • drakonia.opx.pl